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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17160-0.txt b/17160-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cfd020f --- /dev/null +++ b/17160-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11697 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary +Schools, by Various + +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: Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary Schools + Edited With Notes, Study Helps, And Reading Lists + +Author: Various + +Editor: Margaret Ashmun + +Release Date: November 26, 2005 [EBook #17160] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PROSE AND POETRY *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + +MODERN PROSE AND POETRY FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS + +EDITED + +WITH NOTES, STUDY HELPS, AND READING LISTS + +BY + +MARGARET ASHMUN, M.A. + +_Formerly Instructor in English in the University of Wisconsin_ +_Editor of Prose Literature for Secondary Schools_ + + +BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +The Riverside Press Cambridge + + +COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + +_All selections in this book are used by special permission of, and +arrangement with, the owners of the copyrights._ + +The Riverside Press +CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS +U.S.A + + * * * * * + +Transcribers Note: There are several areas where a pronunciation guide +is given with diacritical marks that cannot be reproduced in a text +file. The following symbols are used: + +Symbols for Diacritical Marks: + +DIACRITICAL MARK SAMPLE ABOVE BELOW +macron (straight line) ¯ [=x] [x=] +2 dots (diaresis, umlaut) ¨ [:x] [x:] +1 dot • [.x] [x.] +grave accent ` [`x] or [\x] [x`] or [x\] +acute accent (aigu) ´ ['x] or [/x] [x'] or [x/] +circumflex ^ [^x] [x^] +caron (v-shaped symbol) [vx] [xv] +breve (u-shaped symbol) [)x] [x)] +tilde ~ [~x] [x~] +cedilla ¸ [,x] [x,] + +Also words italicized will have undescores _ before and after them and +bold words will have = before and after them. + +Footnotes have been moved to the end of the text. Minor typos have +been corrected. + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +It is pleasant to note, among teachers of literature in the high school, +a growing (or perhaps one should say an established) conviction that the +pupil's enjoyment of what he reads ought to be the chief consideration +in the work. From such enjoyment, it is conceded, come the knowledge and +the power that are the end of study. All profitable literature work in +the secondary grades must be based upon the unforced attention and +activity of the student. + +An inevitable phase of this liberal attitude is a readiness to promote +the study of modern authors. It is now the generally accepted view that +many pieces of recent literature are more suitable for young people's +reading than the old and conventionally approved classics. This is not +to say that the really readable classics should be discarded, since they +have their own place and their own value. Yet it is everywhere admitted +that modern literature should be given its opportunity to appeal to high +school students, and that at some stage in their course it should +receive its due share of recognition. The mere fact that modern writers +are, in point of material and style, less remote than the classic +authors from the immediate interests of the students is sufficient to +recommend them. Then, too, since young people are, in the nature of +things, constantly brought into contact with some form of modern +literature, they need to be provided with a standard of criticism and +choice. + +The present volume is an attempt to assemble, in a convenient manner, a +number of selections from recent literature, such as high school +students of average taste and ability may understand and enjoy. These +selections are not all equally difficult. Some need to be read rapidly +for their intrinsic interest; others deserve more analysis of form and +content; still others demand careful intensive study. This diversity of +method is almost a necessity in a full year's course in reading, in +which rigidity and monotony ought above all things to be avoided. + +Although convinced that the larger part of the reading work in the high +school years should be devoted to the study of prose, the editor has +here included what she believes to be a just proportion of poetry. The +poems have been chosen with a view to the fact that they are varied in +form and sentiment; and that they exhibit in no small degree the +tendencies of modern poetic thought, with its love of nature and its +humanitarian impulses. + +An attempt has been made to present examples of the most usual and +readable forms of prose composition--narration, the account of travel, +the personal essay, and serious exposition. The authors of these +selections possess without exception that distinction of style which +entitles them to a high rank in literature and makes them inspiring +models for the unskilled writer. + +A word may be said as to the intention of the study helps and lists of +readings. The object of this equipment is to conserve the energies of +the teacher and direct the activities of the student. It is by no means +expected that any one class will be able to make use of all the material +provided; yet it is hoped that a considerable amount may prove +available to every group that has access to the text. + +The study questions serve to concentrate the reading of the students, in +order to prevent that aimless wandering of eye and mind, which with many +pupils passes for study. Doubtless something would in most instances be +gained if these questions were supplemented by specific directions from +the teacher. + +Lists of theme subjects accompany the selections, so that the work in +composition may be to a large extent correlated with that in +literature.[1] The plan of utilizing the newly stimulated interests of +the pupils for training in composition is not a new one; its value has +been proved. _Modern Prose and Poetry_ aims to make the most of such +correlation, at the same time drawing upon the personal experience of +the students, to the elimination of all that is perfunctory and formal. +Typical outlines (suggestions for theme writing) are provided; these, +however, cannot serve in all cases, and the teacher must help the pupils +in planning their themes, or give them such training as will enable them +to make outlines for themselves. + +It will be noted that some suggestions are presented for the +dramatization of simple passages of narration, and for original +composition of dramatic fragments. In an age when the trend of popular +interest is unquestionably toward the drama, such suggestions need no +defense. The study of dramatic composition may be granted as much or as +little attention as the teacher thinks wise. In any event, it will +afford an opportunity for a discussion of the drama and will serve, in +an elementary way, to train the pupil's judgment as to the difference +between good and bad plays. Especially can this end be accomplished if +some of the plays mentioned in the lists be read by the class or by +individual students. + +A few simple exercises in the writing of poetry have been inserted, in +order to give the pupils encouragement and assistance in trying their +skill in verse. It is not intended that this work shall be done for the +excellence of its results, but rather for the development of the pupil's +ingenuity and the increasing of his respect for the poet and the poetic +art. + +The collateral readings are appended for the use of those teachers who +wish to carry on a course of outside reading in connection with the +regular work of the class. These lists have been made somewhat extensive +and varied, in order that they may fit the tastes and opportunities of +many teachers and pupils. In some cases, the collateral work may be +presented by the teacher, to elaborate a subject in which the class has +become interested; or individual pupils may prepare themselves and speak +to the class about what they have read; or all the pupils may read for +pleasure alone, merely reporting the extent of their reading, for the +teacher's approval. The outside reading should, it is needless to say, +be treated as a privilege and not as a mechanical task. The +possibilities of this work will be increased if the teacher familiarizes +herself with the material in the collateral lists, so that she can adapt +the home readings to the tastes of the class and of specific pupils. The +miscellaneous lists given at the close of the book are intended to +supplement the lists accompanying the selections, and to offer some +assistance in the choice of books for a high school library. + +M.A. + +NEW YORK, February, 1914. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +A DAY AT LAGUERRE'S _F. Hopkinson Smith_ + +QUITE SO _Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ + (In _Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories_) + +PAN IN WALL STREET _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ + +THE HAND OF LINCOLN _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ + +JEAN VALJEAN _Augusta Stevenson_ + (In _A Dramatic Reader_, Book Five) + +A COMBAT ON THE SANDS _Mary Johnston_ + (From _To Have and to Hold_, Chapters XXI and XXII) + +THE GRASSHOPPER _Edith M. Thomas_ + +MOLY _Edith M. Thomas_ + +THE PROMISED LAND _Mary Antin_ + (From Chapter IX of _The Promised Land_) + +WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME _Walt Whitman_ + +WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER _Walt Whitman_ + +VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT _Walt Whitman_ + +ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA _Translated by George Herbert Palmer_ + +ODYSSEUS _George Cabot Lodge_ + +A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE _William Dean Howells_ + (In _Suburban Sketches_) + +THE WILD RIDE _Louise Imogen Guiney_ + +CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS _Dallas Lore Sharp_ + (In _The Lay of the Land_) + +GLOUCESTER MOORS _William Vaughn Moody_ + +ROAD-HYMN FOR THE START _William Vaughn Moody_ + +ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILLIPINES _William Vaughn Moody_ + +THE COON DOG _Sarah Orne Jewett_ + (In _The Queen's Twin, and Other Stories_) + +ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN _Richard Watson Gilder_ + +A FIRE AMONG THE GIANTS _John Muir_ + (From _Our National Parks_) + +WAITING _John Burroughs_ + +THE PONT DU GARD _Henry James_ + (Chapter XXVI of _A Little Tour in France_) + +THE YOUNGEST SON OF HIS FATHER'S HOUSE _Anna Hempstead Branch_ + +TENNESSEE'S PARTNER _Bret Harte_ + +THE COURSE OF AMERICAN HISTORY _Woodrow Wilson_ + (In _Mere Literature_) + +WHAT I KNOW ABOUT GARDENING _Charles Dudley Warner_ + (From _My Summer in a Garden_) + +THE SINGING MAN _Josephine Preston Peabody_ + +THE DANCE OF THE BON-ODORI _Lafcadio Hearn_ + (From _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_, Volume I, Chapter VI) + + +LETTERS: + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + (From _The Life of Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ by Ferris Greenslet) + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO E.S. MORSE + (By permission of Professor Morse) + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TO JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + (From _Some Letters of William Vaughn Moody_) + +BRET HARTE TO HIS WIFE + (From _The Life of Bret Harte_ by Henry C. Merwin) + +LAFCADIO HEARN TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN + (From _Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn_) + +CHARLES ELIOT NORTON TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + (From _Letters of Charles Eliot Norton_) + +EXERCISES IN DRAMATIC COMPOSITION + +MODERN BOOKS FOR HOME READING + + + + +MODERN PROSE AND POETRY FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS + + + + +A DAY AT LAGUERRE'S + +F. HOPKINSON SMITH + + +It is the most delightful of French inns, in the quaintest of French +settlements. As you rush by in one of the innumerable trains that pass +it daily, you may catch glimpses of tall trees trailing their branches +in the still stream,--hardly a dozen yards wide,--of flocks of white +ducks paddling together, and of queer punts drawn up on the shelving +shore or tied to soggy, patched-up landing-stairs. + +If the sun shines, you can see, now and then, between the trees, a +figure kneeling at the water's edge, bending over a pile of clothes, +washing,--her head bound with a red handkerchief. + +If you are quick, the miniature river will open just before you round +the curve, disclosing in the distance groups of willows, and a rickety +foot-bridge perched up on poles to keep it dry. All this you see in a +flash. + +But you must stop at the old-fashioned station, within ten minutes of +the Harlem River, cross the road, skirt an old garden bound with a fence +and bursting with flowers, and so pass on through a bare field to the +water's edge, before you catch sight of the cosy little houses lining +the banks, with garden fences cutting into the water, the arbors +covered with tangled vines, and the boats crossing back and forth. + +I have a love for the out-of-the-way places of the earth when they +bristle all over with the quaint and the old and the odd, and are mouldy +with the picturesque. But here is an in-the-way place, all sunshine and +shimmer, with never a fringe of mould upon it, and yet you lose your +heart at a glance. It is as charming in its boat life as an old Holland +canal; it is as delightful in its shore life as the Seine; and it is as +picturesque and entrancing in its sylvan beauty as the most exquisite of +English streams. + +The thousands of workaday souls who pass this spot daily in their whirl +out and in the great city may catch all these glimpses of shade and +sunlight over the edges of their journals, and any one of them living +near the city's centre, with a stout pair of legs in his knickerbockers +and the breath of the morning in his heart, can reach it afoot any day +before breakfast; and yet not one in a hundred knows that this ideal +nook exists. + +Even this small percentage would be apt to tell of the delights of +Devonshire and of the charm of the upper Thames, with its tall rushes +and low-thatched houses and quaint bridges, as if the picturesque ended +there; forgetting that right here at home there wanders many a stream +with its breast all silver that the trees courtesy to as it sings +through meadows waist-high in lush grass,--as exquisite a picture as can +be found this beautiful land over. + +So, this being an old tramping-ground of mine, I have left the station +with its noise and dust behind me this lovely morning in June, have +stopped long enough to twist a bunch of sweet peas through the garden +fence, and am standing on the bank waiting for some sign of life at +Madame Laguerre's. I discover that there is no boat on my side of the +stream. But that is of no moment. On the other side, within a biscuit's +toss, so narrow is it, there are two boats; and on the landing-wharf, +which is only a few planks wide, supporting a tumble-down flight of +steps leading to a vine-covered terrace above, rest the oars. + +I lay my traps down on the bank and begin at the top of my voice:-- + +"Madame Laguerre! Madame Laguerre! Send Lucette with the boat." + +For a long time there is no response. A young girl drawing water a short +distance below, hearing my cries, says she will come; and some children +above, who know me, begin paddling over. I decline them all. Experience +tells me it is better to wait for madame. + +In a few minutes she pushes aside the leaves, peers through, and calls +out:-- + +"Ah! it is that horrible painter. Go away! I have nothing for you. You +are hungry again that you come?" + +"Very, madame. Where is Lucette?" + +"Lucette! Lucette! It is always Lucette. Lu-c-e-t-t-e!" This in a shrill +key. "It is the painter. Come quick." + +I have known Lucette for years, even when she was a barefooted little +tangle-hair, peeping at me with her great brown eyes from beneath her +ragged straw hat. She wears high-heeled slippers now, and sometimes on +Sundays dainty silk stockings, and her hair is braided down her back, +little French Marguérite that she is, and her hat is never ragged any +more, nor her hair tangled. Her eyes, though, are still the same +velvety, half-drooping eyes, always opening and shutting and never +still. + +As she springs into the boat and pulls towards me I note how round and +trim she is, and before we have landed at Madame Laguerre's feet I have +counted up Lucette's birthdays,--those that I know myself,--and find to +my surprise that she must be eighteen. We have always been the best of +friends, Lucette and I, ever since she looked over my shoulder years ago +and watched me dot in the outlines of her boat, with her dog Mustif +sitting demurely in the bow. + +Madame, her mother, begins again:-- + +"Do you know that it is Saturday that you come again to bother? Now it +will be a _filet_, of course, with mushrooms and tomato salad; and there +are no mushrooms, and no tomatoes, and nothing. You are horrible. Then, +when I get it ready, you say you will come at three. 'Yes, madame; at +three,'--mimicking me,--'sure, very sure.' But it is four, five, +o'clock--and then everything is burned up waiting. Ah! I know you." + +This goes on always, and has for years. Presently she softens, for she +is the most tender-hearted of women, and would do anything in the world +to please me. + +"But, then, you will be tired, and of course you must have something. I +remember now there is a chicken. How will the chicken do? Oh, the +chicken it is lovely, _charmant_. And some pease--fresh. Monsieur picked +them himself this morning. And some Roquefort, with an olive. Ah! You +leave it to me; but at three--no later--not one minute. _Sacré! Vous +êtes le diable!_" + +As we walk under the arbor and by the great trees, towards the cottage, +Lucette following with the oars, I inquire after monsieur, and find that +he is in the city, and very well and very busy, and will return at +sundown. He has a shop of his own in the upper part where he makes +_passe-partouts_. Here, at his home, madame maintains a simple +restaurant for tramps like me. + +These delightful people are old friends of mine, François Laguerre and +his wife and their only child Lucette. They have lived here for nearly a +quarter of a century. He is a straight, silver-haired old Frenchman of +sixty, who left Paris, between two suns, nearly forty years ago, with a +gendarme close at his heels, a red cockade under his coat, and an +intense hatred in his heart for that "little nobody," Napoleon III. + +If you met him on the boulevard you would look for the decoration on his +lapel, remarking to yourself, "Some retired officer on half pay." If you +met him at the railway station opposite, you would say, "A French +professor returning to his school." Both of these surmises are partly +wrong, and both partly right. Monsieur Laguerre has had a history. One +can see by the deep lines in his forehead and by the firm set of his +eyes and mouth that it has been an eventful one. + +His wife is a few years his junior, short and stout, and thoroughly +French down to the very toes of her felt slippers. She is devoted to +François and Lucette, the best of cooks, and, in spite of her scoldings, +good-nature itself. As soon as she hears me calling, there arise before +her the visions of many delightful dinners prepared for me by her own +hand and ready to the minute--all spoiled by my belated sketches. So +she begins to scold before I am out of the boat or in it, for that +matter. + +Across the fence next to Laguerre's lives a _confrère_, a brother exile, +Monsieur Marmosette, who also has a shop in the city, where he carves +fine ivories. Monsieur Marmosette has only one son. He too is named +François, after his father's old friend. Farther down on both sides of +the narrow stream front the cottages of other friends, all Frenchmen; +and near the propped-up bridge an Italian who knew Garibaldi burrows in +a low, slanting cabin, which is covered with vines. I remember a dish of +_spaghetti_ under those vines, and a flask of Chianti from its cellar, +all cobwebs and plaited straw, that left a taste of Venice in my mouth +for days. + +As there is only the great bridge above, which helps the country road +across the little stream, and the little foot-bridge below, and as there +is no path or road,--all the houses fronting the water,--the Bronx here +is really the only highway, and so everybody must needs keep a boat. +This is why the stream is crowded in the warm afternoons with all sorts +of water craft loaded with whole families, even to the babies, taking +the air, or crossing from bank to bank in their daily pursuits. + +There is a quality which one never sees in Nature until she has been +rough-handled by man and has outlived the usage. It is the picturesque. +In the deep recesses of the primeval forest, along the mountain-slope, +and away up the tumbling brook, Nature may be majestic, beautiful, and +even sublime; but she is never picturesque. This quality comes only +after the axe and the saw have let the sunlight into the dense tangle +and have scattered the falling timber, or the round of the water-wheel +has divided the rush of the brook. It is so here. Some hundred years +ago, along this quiet, silvery stream were encamped the troops of the +struggling colonies, and, later, the great estates of the survivors +stretched on each side for miles. The willows that now fringe these +banks were saplings then; and they and the great butternuts were only +spared because their arching limbs shaded the cattle knee-deep along the +shelving banks. + +Then came the long interval that succeeds that deadly conversion of the +once sweet farming lands, redolent with clover, into that barren +waste--suburban property. The conflict that had lasted since the days +when the pioneer's axe first rang through the stillness of the forest +was nearly over; Nature saw her chance, took courage, and began that +regeneration which is exclusively her own. The weeds ran riot; tall +grasses shot up into the sunlight, concealing the once well-trimmed +banks; and great tangles of underbrush and alders made lusty efforts to +hide the traces of man's unceasing cruelty. Lastly came this little +group of poor people from the Seine and the Marne and lent a helping +hand, bringing with them something of their old life at home,--their +boats, rude landings, patched-up water-stairs, fences, arbors, and +vine-covered cottages,--unconsciously completing the picture and adding +the one thing needful--a human touch. So Nature, having outlived the +wrongs of a hundred years, has here with busy fingers so woven a web of +weed, moss, trailing vine, and low-branching tree that there is seen a +newer and more entrancing quality in her beauty, which, for want of a +better term, we call the picturesque. + +But madame is calling that the big boat must be bailed out; that if I +am ever coming back to dinner it is absolutely necessary that I should +go away. This boat is not of extraordinary size. It is called the big +boat from the fact that it has one more seat than the one in which +Lucette rowed me over; and not being much in use except on Sunday, is +generally half full of water. Lucette insists on doing the bailing. She +has very often performed this service, and I have always considered it +as included in the curious scrawl of a bill which madame gravely +presents at the end of each of my days here, beginning in small printed +type with "François Laguerre, Restaurant Français," and ending with +"Coffee 10 cents." + +But this time I resist, remarking that she will hurt her hands and soil +her shoes, and that it is all right as it is. + +To this François the younger, who is leaning over the fence, agrees, +telling Lucette to wait until he gets a pail. + +Lucette catches his eye, colors a little, and says she will fetch it. + +There is a break in the palings through which they both disappear, but I +am half-way out on the stream, with my traps and umbrella on the seat in +front and my coat and waistcoat tucked under the bow, before they +return. + +For half a mile down-stream there is barely a current. Then comes a +break of a dozen yards just below the perched-up bridge, and the stream +divides, one part rushing like a mill-race, and the other spreading +itself softly around the roots of leaning willows, oozing through beds +of water-plants, and creeping under masses of wild grapes and +underbrush. Below this is a broad pasture fringed with another and +larger growth of willows. Here the weeds are breast-high, and in early +autumn they burst into purple asters, and white immortelles, and +goldenrod, and flaming sumac. + +If a painter had a lifetime to spare, and loved this sort of +material,--the willows, hillsides, and winding stream,--he would grow +old and weary before he could paint it all; and yet no two of his +compositions need be alike. I have tied my boat under these same willows +for ten years back, and I have not yet exhausted one corner of this +neglected pasture. + +There may be those who go a-fishing and enjoy it. The arranging and +selecting of flies, the joining of rods, the prospective comfort in high +water-boots, the creel with the leather strap,--every crease in it a +reminder of some day without care or fret,--all this may bring the flush +to the cheek and the eager kindling of the eye, and a certain sort of +rest and happiness may come with it; but--they have never gone +a-sketching! Hauled up on the wet bank in the long grass is your boat, +with the frayed end of the painter tied around some willow that offers a +helping root. Within a stone's throw, under a great branching of gnarled +trees, is a nook where the curious sun, peeping at you through the +interlaced leaves, will stencil Japanese shadows on your white umbrella. +Then the trap is unstrapped, the stool opened, the easel put up, and you +set your palette. The critical eye with which you look over your +brush-case and the care with which you try each feather point upon your +thumb-nail are but an index of your enjoyment. + +Now you are ready. You loosen your cravat, hang your coat to some rustic +peg in the creviced bark of the tree behind you, seize a bit of charcoal +from your bag, sweep your eye around, and dash in a few guiding +strokes. Above is a turquoise sky filled with soft white clouds; behind +you the great trunks of the many-branched willows; and away off, under +the hot sun, the yellow-green of the wasted pasture, dotted with patches +of rock and weeds, and hemmed in by the low hills that slope to the +curving stream. + +It is high noon. There is a stillness in the air that impresses you, +broken only by the low murmur of the brook behind and the ceaseless song +of the grasshopper among the weeds in front. A tired bumblebee hums +past, rolls lazily over a clover blossom at your feet, and has his +midday luncheon. Under the maples near the river's bend stands a group +of horses, their heads touching. In the brook below are the patient +cattle, with patches of sunlight gilding and bronzing their backs and +sides. Every now and then a breath of cool air starts out from some +shaded retreat, plays around your forehead, and passes on. All nature +rests. It is her noontime. + +But you work on: an enthusiasm has taken possession of you; the paints +mix too slowly; you use your thumb, smearing and blending with a bit of +rag--anything for the effect. One moment you are glued to your seat, +your eye riveted on your canvas, the next, you are up and backing away, +taking it in as a whole, then pouncing down upon it quickly, belaboring +it with your brush. Soon the trees take shape; the sky forms become +definite; the meadow lies flat and loses itself in the fringe of +willows. + +When all of this begins to grow upon your once blank canvas, and some +lucky pat matches the exact tone of blue-gray haze or shimmer of leaf, +or some accidental blending of color delights you with its truth, a +tingling goes down your backbone, and a rush surges through your veins +that stirs you as nothing else in your whole life will ever do. The +reaction comes the next day when, in the cold light of your studio, you +see how far short you have come and how crude and false is your best +touch compared with the glory of the landscape in your mind and heart. +But the thrill that it gave you will linger forever. + +But I hear a voice behind me calling out:-- + +"Monsieur, mamma says that dinner will be ready in half an hour. Please +do not be late." + +It is Lucette. She and François have come down in the other boat--the +one with the little seat. They have moved so noiselessly that I have not +even heard them. The sketch is nearly finished; and so, remembering the +good madame, and the Roquefort, and the olives, and the many times I +have kept her waiting, I wash my brushes at once, throw my traps into +the boat, and pull back through the winding turn, François taking the +mill-race, and in the swiftest part springing to the bank and towing +Lucette, who sits in the stern, her white skirts tucked around her +dainty feet. + +"_Sacré!_ He is here. _C'est merveilleux!_ Why did you come?" + +"Because you sent for me, madame, and I am hungry." + +"_Mon Dieu!_ He is hungry, and no chicken!" + +It is true. The chicken was served that morning to another tramp for +breakfast, and madame had forgotten all about it, and had ransacked the +settlement for its mate. She was too honest a cook to chase another into +the frying-pan. + +But there was a _filet_ with mushrooms, and a most surprising salad of +chicory fresh from the garden, and the pease were certain, and the +Roquefort and the olives beyond question. All this she tells me as I +walk past the table covered with a snow-white cloth and spread under the +grape-vines overlooking the stream, with the trees standing against the +sky, their long shadows wrinkling down into the water. + +I enter the summer kitchen built out into the garden, which also covers +the old well, let down the bucket, and then, taking the clean crash +towel from its hook, place the basin on the bench in the sunlight, and +plunge my head into the cool water. Madame regards me curiously, her +arms akimbo, re-hangs the towel, and asks:-- + +"Well, what about the wine? The same?" + +"Yes; but I will get it myself." + +The cellar is underneath the larger house. Outside is an old-fashioned, +sloping double door. These doors are always open, and a cool smell of +damp straw flavored with vinegar greets you from a leaky keg as you +descend into its recesses. On the hard earthen floor rest eight or ten +great casks. The walls are lined with bottles large and small, loaded on +shelves to which little white cards are tacked giving the vintage and +brand. In one corner, under the small window, you will find dozens of +boxes of French delicacies--truffles, pease, mushrooms, pâté de foie +gras, mustard, and the like, and behind them rows of olive oil and +olives. I carefully draw out a bottle from the row on the last shelf +nearest the corner, mount the steps, and place it on the table. Madame +examines the cork, and puts down the bottle, remarking sententiously:-- + +"Château Lamonte, '62! Monsieur has told you." + +There may be ways of dining more delicious than out in the open air +under the vines in the cool of the afternoon, with Lucette, in her +whitest of aprons, flitting about, and madame garnishing the dishes each +in turn, and there may be better bottles of honest red wine to be found +up and down this world of care than "Château Lamonte, '62," but I have +not yet discovered them. + +Lucette serves the coffee in a little cup, and leaves the Roquefort and +the cigarettes on the table just as the sun is sinking behind the hill +skirting the railroad. While I am blowing rings through the grape leaves +over my head a quick noise is heard across the stream. Lucette runs past +me through the garden, picking up her oars as she goes. + +"_Oui, mon père._ I am coming." + +It is monsieur from his day's work in the city. + +"Who is here?" I hear him say as he mounts the terrace steps. "Oh, the +painter--good!" + +"Ah, _mon ami_. So you must see the willows once more. Have you not +tired of them yet?" Then, seating himself, "I hope madame has taken good +care of you. What, the '62? Ah, I remember I told you." + +When it is quite dark he joins me under the leaves, bringing a second +bottle a little better corked he thinks, and the talk drifts into his +early life. + +"What year was that, monsieur?" I asked. + +"In 1849. I was a young fellow just grown. I had learned my trade in +Rheims, and I had come down to Paris to make my bread. Two years later +came the little affair of December 2. That 'nobody,' Louis, had +dissolved the National Assembly and the Council of State, and had issued +his address to the army. Paris was in a ferment. By the help of his +soldiers and police he had silenced every voice in Paris except his own. +He had suppressed all the journals, and locked up everybody who had +opposed him. Victor Hugo was in exile, Louis Blanc in London, +Changarnier and Cavaignac in prison. At the moment I was working in a +little shop near the Porte St. Martin decorating lacquerwork. We workmen +all belonged to a secret society which met nightly in a back room over a +wine-shop near the Rue Royale. We had but one thought--how to upset the +little devil at the Élysée. Among my comrades was a big fellow from my +own city, one Cambier. He was the leader. On the ground floor of the +shop was built a huge oven where the lacquer was baked. At night this +was made hot with charcoal and allowed to cool off in the morning ready +for the finished work of the previous day. It was Cambier's duty to +attend to this oven. + +"One night just after all but he and two others had left the shop a +strange man was discovered in a closet where the men kept their working +clothes. He was seized, brought to the light, and instantly recognized +as a member of the secret police. + +"At daylight the next morning I was aroused from my bed, and, looking +up, saw Chapot, an inspector of police, standing over me. He had known +me from a boy, and was a friend of my father's. + +"'François, there is trouble at the shop. A police agent has been +murdered. His body was found in the oven. Cambier is under arrest. I +know what you have been doing, but I also know that in this you have had +no hand. Here are one hundred francs. Leave Paris in an hour.' + +"I put the money in my pocket, tied my clothes in a bundle, and that +night was on my way to Havre, and the next week set sail for here." + +"And what became of Cambier?" I asked. + +"I have never heard from that day to this, so I think they must have +snuffed him out." + +Then he drifted into his early life here--the weary tramping of the +streets day after day, the half-starving result, the language and people +unknown. Suddenly, somewhere in the lower part of the city, he espied a +card tacked outside of a window bearing this inscription, "Decorator +wanted." A man inside was painting one of the old-fashioned iron +tea-trays common in those days. Monsieur took off his hat, pointed to +the card, then to himself, seized the brush, and before the man could +protest had covered the bottom with morning-glories so pink and fresh +that his troubles ended on the spot. The first week he earned six +dollars; but then this was to be paid at the end of it. For these six +days he subsisted on one meal a day. This he ate at a restaurant where +at night he washed dishes and blacked the head waiter's boots. When +Saturday came, and the money was counted out in his hand, he thrust it +into his pocket, left the shop, and sat down on a doorstep outside to +think. + +"And, _mon ami_, what did I do first?" + +"Got something to eat?" + +"Never. I paid for a bath, had my hair cut and my face shaved, bought a +shirt and collar, and then went back to the restaurant where I had +washed dishes the night before, and the head waiter _served me_. After +that it was easy; the next week it was ten dollars; then in a few years +I had a place of my own; then came madame and Lucette--and here we are." + +The twilight had faded into a velvet blue, sprinkled with stars. The +lantern which madame had hung against the arbor shed a yellow light, +throwing into clear relief the sharply cut features of monsieur. Up and +down the silent stream drifted here and there a phantom boat, the gleam +of its light following like a firefly. From some came no sound but the +muffled plash of the oars. From others floated stray bits of song and +laughter. Far up the stream I heard the distant whistle of the down +train. + +"It is mine, monsieur. Will you cross with me, and bring back the boat?" + +Monsieur unhooked the lantern, and I followed through the garden and +down the terrace steps. + +At the water's edge was a bench holding two figures. + +Monsieur turned his lantern, and the light fell upon the face of young +François. + +When the bow grated on the opposite bank I shook his hand, and said, in +parting, pointing to the lovers,-- + +"The same old story, Monsieur?" + +"Yes; and always new. You must come to the church." + + +NOTES + +=Harlem River=:--Note that this river is in New York City, not in France +as one might suppose from the name of the selection. + +=Devonshire=:--A very attractive county of southwestern England. + +=filet=:--A thick slice of meat or fish. + +=charmant=:--The French word for _charming_. + +=Roquefort=:--A kind of cheese. + +=Sacré! Vous êtes le diable=:--Curses! You are the very deuce. + +=passe-partouts=:--Engraved ornamental borders for pictures. + +=gendarme=:--A policeman of France. + +=Napoleon III=:--Emperor of the French, 1852-1870. He was elected +president of the Republic in 1848; he seized full power in 1851; in +1852, he was proclaimed emperor. He was a nephew of the great Napoleon. + +=confrère=:--A close associate. + +=Garibaldi=:--Giuseppe Garibaldi, an Italian patriot (1807-1882). + +=Chianti=:--A kind of Italian wine. + +=Bronx=:--A small river in the northern part of New York City. + +=Restaurant Français=:--French restaurant. + +=the painter=:--A rope at the bow of a boat. + +=C'est merveilleux=:--It's wonderful. + +=Mon Dieu=:--Good heavens! + +=pâté de fois gras=:--A delicacy made of fat goose livers. + +=Château Lamonte, '62=:--A kind of wine; the date refers to the year in +which it was bottled. + +=Oui, mon père=:--Yes, father. + +=mon ami=:--My friend. + +=the little affair of December 2=:--On December 2, 1851, Louis Napoleon +overawed the French legislature and assumed absolute power. Just a year +later he had himself proclaimed Emperor. + +=Louis=:--Napoleon III. + +=Victor Hugo=:--French poet and novelist (1802-1885). + +=Louis Blanc=:--French author and politician (1812-1882). + +=Changarnier=:--Pronounced _shan gär ny[=a]'_; Nicholas Changarnier, a +French general (1793-1877). + +=Cavaignac=:--Pronounced _ka vay nyak'_; Louis Eugene Cavaignac, a +French general (1803-1857). He ran for the Presidency against Louis +Napoleon. + +=Porte St. Martin=:--The beginning of the Boulevard St. Martin, in +Paris. + +=Rue Royale=:--_Rue_ is the French word for _street_. + +=Élysée=:--A palace in Paris used as a residence by Napoleon III. + +=one hundred francs=:--About twenty dollars. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What does the title suggest to you? At what point do you change your +idea as to the location of Laguerre's? Do you know of any picturesque +places that are somewhat like the one described here? Could you +describe one of them for the class? Why do people usually not appreciate +the scenery near at hand? What do you think of the plan of "seeing +America first"? What is meant here by "my traps"? Why is it better to +wait for Madame? Why does Madame talk so crossly? What sort of person is +she? See if you can tell accurately, from what follows in later pages, +why Monsieur left Paris so hastily. How does the author give you an idea +of François Laguerre's appearance? Why does the author stop to give us +the two paragraphs beginning, "There is a quality," and "Then came a +long interval"? How does he get back to his subject? Why does he not let +Lucette bail the boat? Who does bail it at last? Why? Do you think that +every artist enjoys his work as the writer seems to enjoy his? How does +he make you feel the pleasure of it? Why is there more enjoyment in +eating out of doors than in eating in the house? Why does the author +sprinkle little French phrases through the piece? Is it a good plan to +use foreign phrases in this way? What kind of man is Monsieur Laguerre? +Review his story carefully. Why was the police agent murdered? Who +killed him? Why has Monsieur Laguerre never found out what became of +Cambier? + +This selection deals with a number of different subjects: Why does it +not seem "choppy"? How does the author manage to link the different +parts together? How would you describe this piece to some one who had +not read it? Mr. Smith is an artist who paints in water-colors: do you +see how his painting influences his writing? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Madame Laguerre +Old-fashioned Garden +The Ferry +Sketching +An Old Pasture +The Stream +Good Places to Sketch +Learning to Paint +An Old Man with a History +An Incident in French History +Getting Dinner under Difficulties +A Scene in the Kitchen +Washing at the Pump +The Flight of the Suspect +Crossing the Ocean +penniless +The Foreigner +Looking for Work +A Dinner out of Doors +The French Family at Home +The Cellar +Some Pictures that I Like +A Restaurant +A Country Inn +What my Foreign Neighbors Eat +Landscapes +The Artist + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=The Stream=:--Plan a description of some stream that you know well. +Imagine yourself taking a trip up the stream in a boat. Tell something +of the weather and the time of day. Speak briefly of the boat and its +occupants. Describe the first picturesque spot: the trees and flowers; +the buildings, if there are any; the reflections in the water; the +people that you see. Go on from point to point, describing the +particularly interesting places. Do not try to do too much. Vary your +account by telling of the boats you meet. Perhaps there will be some +brief dialogues that you can report, or some little adventures that you +can relate. Close your theme by telling of your arrival at your +destination, or of your turning about to go back down the stream. + +=An Old Man with a History=:--Perhaps you can take this from real life; +or perhaps you know some interesting old man whose early adventures you +can imagine. Tell briefly how you happened to know the old man. Describe +him. Speak of his manners, his way of speaking; his character as it +appeared when you knew him. How did you learn his story? Imagine him +relating it. Where was he when he told it? How did he act? Was he +willing to tell the story, or did he have to be persuaded? Tell the +story simply and directly, in his words, breaking it now and then by a +comment or a question from the listener (or listeners). It might be well +to explain occasionally how the old man seemed to feel, what expressions +his face assumed, and what gestures he made. Go on thus to the end of +the story. Is it necessary for you to make any remarks at the last, +after the man has finished? + +=A Country Inn=:--See the outline for a similar subject on page 229. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Day at Laguerre's and Other Days F. Hopkinson Smith +Gondola Days " " " +The Under Dog " " " +Caleb West, Master Diver " " " +Tom Grogan " " " +The Other Fellow " " " +Colonel Carter of Cartersville " " " +Colonel Carter's Christmas " " " +The Fortunes of Oliver Horn " " " +Forty Minutes Late " " " +At Close Range " " " +A White Umbrella in Mexico " " " +A Gentleman Vagabond " " " + (Note especially in this, _Along the Bronx_.) +Fisherman's Luck Henry van Dyke +A Lazy Idle Brook (in _Fisherman's Luck_) " " +Little Rivers " " +The Friendly Road David Grayson +Adventures in Contentment " " + +For information concerning Mr. Smith, consult:-- + +A History of Southern Literature, p. 375., Carl Holliday +American Authors and their Homes, pp. 187-194 F.W. Halsey + +Bookman, 17:16 (Portrait); 24:9, September, 1906 (Portrait); 28:9, +September, 1908 (Portrait). Arena, 38:678, December, 1907. Outlook, +93:689, November 27, 1909. Bookbuyer, 25:17-20, August, 1902. + + + + +QUITE SO + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH + +(In _Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories_) + + +I + +Of course that was not his name. Even in the State of Maine, where it is +still a custom to maim a child for life by christening him Arioch or +Shadrach or Ephraim, nobody would dream of calling a boy "Quite So." It +was merely a nickname which we gave him in camp; but it stuck to him +with such bur-like tenacity, and is so inseparable from my memory of +him, that I do not think I could write definitely of John Bladburn if I +were to call him anything but "Quite So." + +It was one night shortly after the first battle of Bull Run. The Army of +the Potomac, shattered, stunned, and forlorn, was back in its old +quarters behind the earth-works. The melancholy line of ambulances +bearing our wounded to Washington was not done creeping over Long +Bridge; the blue smocks and the gray still lay in windrows on the field +of Manassas; and the gloom that weighed down our hearts was like the fog +that stretched along the bosom of the Potomac, and infolded the valley +of the Shenandoah. A drizzling rain had set in at twilight, and, growing +bolder with the darkness, was beating a dismal tattoo on the tent,--the +tent of Mess 6, Company A, --th Regiment, N.Y. Volunteers. Our mess, +consisting originally of eight men, was reduced to four. Little Billy, +as one of the boys grimly remarked, had concluded to remain at +Manassas; Corporal Steele we had to leave at Fairfax Court-House, shot +through the hip; Hunter and Suydam we had said good-by to that +afternoon. "Tell Johnny Reb," says Hunter, lifting up the leather +sidepiece of the ambulance, "that I'll be back again as soon as I get a +new leg." But Suydam said nothing; he only unclosed his eyes languidly +and smiled farewell to us. + +The four of us who were left alive and unhurt that shameful July day sat +gloomily smoking our brier-wood pipes, thinking our thoughts, and +listening to the rain pattering against the canvas. That, and the +occasional whine of a hungry cur, foraging on the outskirts of the camp +for a stray bone, alone broke the silence, save when a vicious drop of +rain detached itself meditatively from the ridge-pole of the tent, and +fell upon the wick of our tallow candle, making it "cuss," as Ned Strong +described it. The candle was in the midst of one of its most profane +fits when Blakely, knocking the ashes from his pipe and addressing no +one in particular, but giving breath, unconsciously as it were, to the +result of his cogitations, observed that "it was considerable of a +fizzle." + +"The 'on to Richmond' business?" + +"Yes." + +"I wonder what they'll do about it over yonder," said Curtis, pointing +over his right shoulder. By "over yonder" he meant the North in general +and Massachusetts especially. Curtis was a Boston boy, and his sense of +locality was so strong that, during all his wanderings in Virginia, I do +not believe there was a moment, day or night, when he could not have +made a bee-line for Faneuil Hall. + +"Do about it?" cried Strong. "They'll make about two hundred thousand +blue flannel trousers and send them along, each pair with a man in +it,--all the short men in the long trousers, and all the tall men in the +short ones," he added, ruefully contemplating his own leg-gear, which +scarcely reached to his ankles. + +"That's so," said Blakely. "Just now, when I was tackling the commissary +for an extra candle, I saw a crowd of new fellows drawing blankets." + +"I say there, drop that!" cried Strong. "All right, sir, didn't know it +was you," he added hastily, seeing it was Lieutenant Haines who had +thrown back the flap of the tent, and let in a gust of wind and rain +that threatened the most serious bronchial consequences to our +discontented tallow dip. + +"You're to bunk in here," said the lieutenant, speaking to some one +outside. The some one stepped in, and Haines vanished in the darkness. + +When Strong had succeeded in restoring the candle to consciousness, the +light fell upon a tall, shy-looking man of about thirty-five, with long, +hay-colored beard and mustache, upon which the rain-drops stood in +clusters, like the night-dew on patches of cobweb in a meadow. It was an +honest face, with unworldly sort of blue eyes, that looked out from +under the broad visor of the infantry cap. With a deferential glance +towards us, the new-comer unstrapped his knapsack, spread his blanket +over it, and sat down unobtrusively. + +"Rather damp night out," remarked Blakely, whose strong hand was +supposed to be conversation. + +"Quite so," replied the stranger, not curtly, but pleasantly, and with +an air as if he had said all there was to be said about it. + +"Come from the North recently?" inquired Blakely, after a pause. + +"Yes." + +"From any place in particular?" + +"Maine." + +"People considerably stirred up down there?" continued Blakely, +determined not to give up. + +"Quite so." + +Blakely threw a puzzled look over the tent, and seeing Ned Strong on the +broad grin, frowned severely. Strong instantly assumed an abstracted +air, and began humming softly, + + "I wish I was in Dixie." + +"The State of Maine," observed Blakely, with a certain defiance of +manner not at all necessary in discussing a geographical question, "is a +pleasant State." + +"In summer," suggested the stranger. + +"In summer, I mean," returned Blakely with animation, thinking he had +broken the ice. "Cold as blazes in winter, though,--isn't it?" + +The new recruit merely nodded. + +Blakely eyed the man homicidally for a moment, and then, smiling one of +those smiles of simulated gayety which the novelists inform us are more +tragic than tears, turned upon him with withering irony. + +"Trust you left the old folks pretty comfortable?" + +"Dead." + +"The old folks dead!" + +"Quite so." + +Blakely made a sudden dive for his blanket, tucked it around him with +painful precision, and was heard no more. + +Just then the bugle sounded "lights out,"--bugle answering bugle in +far-off camps. When our not elaborate night-toilets were complete, +Strong threw somebody else's old boot at the candle with infallible aim, +and darkness took possession of the tent. Ned, who lay on my left, +presently reached over to me, and whispered, "I say, our friend 'quite +so' is a garrulous old boy! He'll talk himself to death some of these +odd times, if he isn't careful. How he _did_ run on!" + +The next morning, when I opened my eyes, the new member of Mess 6 was +sitting on his knapsack, combing his blond beard with a horn comb. He +nodded pleasantly to me, and to each of the boys as they woke up, one by +one. Blakely did not appear disposed to renew the animated conversation +of the previous night; but while he was gone to make a requisition for +what was in pure sarcasm called coffee, Curtis ventured to ask the man +his name. + +"Bladburn, John," was the reply. + +"That's rather an unwieldy name for everyday use," put in Strong. "If it +wouldn't hurt your feelings, I'd like to call you Quite So,--for short. +Don't say no, if you don't like it. Is it agreeable?" + +Bladburn gave a little laugh, all to himself, seemingly, and was about +to say, "Quite so," when he caught at the words, blushed like a girl, +and nodded a sunny assent to Strong. From that day until the end, the +sobriquet clung to him. + +The disaster at Bull Run was followed, as the reader knows, by a long +period of masterly inactivity, so far as the Army of the Potomac was +concerned. McDowell, a good soldier but unlucky, retired to Arlington +Heights, and McClellan, who had distinguished himself in Western +Virginia, took command of the forces in front of Washington, and bent +his energies to reorganizing the demoralized troops. It was a dreary +time to the people of the North, who looked fatuously from week to week +for "the fall of Richmond"; and it was a dreary time to the denizens of +that vast city of tents and forts which stretched in a semicircle before +the beleaguered Capitol,--so tedious and soul-wearing a time that the +hardships of forced marches and the horrors of battle became desirable +things to them. + +Roll-call morning and evening, guard-duty, dress-parades, an occasional +reconnaissance, dominoes, wrestling-matches, and such rude games as +could be carried on in camp made up the sum of our lives. The arrival of +the mail with letters and papers from home was the event of the day. We +noticed that Bladburn neither wrote nor received any letters. When the +rest of the boys were scribbling away for dear life, with drumheads and +knapsacks and cracker-boxes for writing-desks, he would sit serenely +smoking his pipe, but looking out on us through rings of smoke with a +face expressive of the tenderest interest. + +"Look here, Quite So," Strong would say, "the mail-bag closes in half an +hour. Ain't you going to write?" + +"I believe not to-day," Bladburn would reply, as if he had written +yesterday, or would write to-morrow: but he never wrote. + +He had become a great favorite with us, and with all the officers of the +regiment. He talked less than any man I ever knew, but there was nothing +sinister or sullen in his reticence. It was sunshine,--warmth and +brightness, but no voice. Unassuming and modest to the verge of +shyness, he impressed every one as a man of singular pluck and nerve. + +"Do you know," said Curtis to me one day, "that that fellow Quite So is +clear grit, and when we come to close quarters with our Palmetto +brethren over yonder, he'll do something devilish?" + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Well, nothing quite explainable; the exasperating coolness of the man, +as much as anything. This morning the boys were teasing Muffin Fan" [a +small mulatto girl who used to bring muffins into camp three times a +week,--at the peril of her life!] "and Jemmy Blunt of Company K--you +know him--was rather rough on the girl, when Quite So, who had been +reading under a tree, shut one finger in his book, walked over to where +the boys were skylarking, and with the smile of a juvenile angel on his +face lifted Jemmy out of that and set him down gently in front of his +own tent. There Blunt sat speechless, staring at Quite So, who was back +again under the tree, pegging away at his little Latin grammar." + +That Latin grammar! He always had it about him, reading it or turning +over its dog's-eared pages at odd intervals and in out-of-the-way +places. Half a dozen times a day he would draw it out from the bosom of +his blouse, which had taken the shape of the book just over the left +breast, look at it as if to assure himself it was all right, and then +put the thing back. At night the volume lay beneath his pillow. The +first thing in the morning, before he was well awake, his hand would go +groping instinctively under his knapsack in search of it. + +A devastating curiosity seized upon us boys concerning that Latin +grammar, for we had discovered the nature of the book. Strong wanted to +steal it one night, but concluded not to. "In the first place," +reflected Strong, "I haven't the heart to do it, and in the next place I +haven't the moral courage. Quite So would placidly break every bone in +my body." And I believe Strong was not far out of the way. + +Sometimes I was vexed with myself for allowing this tall, simple-hearted +country fellow to puzzle me so much. And yet, was he a simple-hearted +country fellow? City bred he certainly was not; but his manner, in spite +of his awkwardness, had an indescribable air of refinement. Now and +then, too, he dropped a word or a phrase that showed his familiarity +with unexpected lines of reading. "The other day," said Curtis, with the +slightest elevation of eyebrow, "he had the cheek to correct my Latin +for me." In short, Quite So was a daily problem to the members of Mess +6. Whenever he was absent, and Blakely and Curtis and Strong and I got +together in the tent, we discussed him, evolving various theories to +explain why he never wrote to anybody and why nobody ever wrote to him. +Had the man committed some terrible crime, and fled to the army to hide +his guilt? Blakely suggested that he must have murdered "the old folks." +What did he mean by eternally conning that tattered Latin grammar? And +was his name Bladburn, anyhow? Even his imperturbable amiability became +suspicious. And then his frightful reticence! If he was the victim of +any deep grief or crushing calamity, why didn't he seem unhappy? What +business had he to be cheerful? + +"It's my opinion," said Strong, "that he's a rival Wandering Jew; the +original Jacobs, you know, was a dark fellow." + +Blakely inferred from something Bladburn had said, or something he had +not said,--which was more likely,--that he had been a schoolmaster at +some period of his life. + +"Schoolmaster be hanged!" was Strong's comment. "Can you fancy a +schoolmaster going about conjugating baby verbs out of a dratted little +spelling-book? No, Quite So has evidently been a--a--Blest if I can +imagine _what_ he's been!" + +Whatever John Bladburn had been, he was a lonely man. Whenever I want a +type of perfect human isolation, I shall think of him, as he was in +those days, moving remote, self-contained, and alone in the midst of two +hundred thousand men. + + +II + +The Indian summer, with its infinite beauty and tenderness, came like a +reproach that year to Virginia. The foliage, touched here and there with +prismatic tints, drooped motionless in the golden haze. The delicate +Virginia creeper was almost minded to put forth its scarlet buds again. +No wonder the lovely phantom--this dusky Southern sister of the pale +Northern June--lingered not long with us, but, filling the once peaceful +glens and valleys with her pathos, stole away rebukefully before the +savage enginery of man. + +The preparations that had been going on for months in arsenals and +foundries at the North were nearly completed. For weeks past the air had +been filled with rumors of an advance; but the rumor of to-day refuted +the rumor of yesterday, and the Grand Army did not move. Heintzelman's +corps was constantly folding its tents, like the Arabs, and as silently +stealing away; but somehow it was always in the same place the next +morning. One day, at length, orders came down for our brigade to move. + +"We're going to Richmond, boys!" shouted Strong, thrusting his head in +at the tent; and we all cheered and waved our caps like mad. You see, +Big Bethel and Bull Run and Ball's Bluff (the Bloody B's, as we used to +call them,) hadn't taught us any better sense. + +Rising abruptly from the plateau, to the left of our encampment, was a +tall hill covered with a stunted growth of red-oak, persimmon, and +chestnut. The night before we struck tents I climbed up to the crest to +take a parting look at a spectacle which custom had not been able to rob +of its enchantment. There, at my feet, and extending miles and miles +away, lay the camps of the Grand Army, with its camp-fires reflected +luridly against the sky. Thousands of lights were twinkling in every +direction, some nestling in the valley, some like fire-flies beating +their wings and palpitating among the trees, and others stretching in +parallel lines and curves, like the street-lamps of a city. Somewhere, +far off, a band was playing, at intervals it seemed; and now and then, +nearer to, a silvery strain from a bugle shot sharply up through the +night, and seemed to lose itself like a rocket among the stars,--the +patient, untroubled stars. Suddenly a hand was laid upon my arm. + +"I'd like to say a word to you," said Bladburn. + +With a little start of surprise, I made room for him on the fallen tree +where I was seated. + +"I mayn't get another chance," he said. "You and the boys have been very +kind to me, kinder than I deserve; but sometimes I've fancied that my +not saying anything about myself had given you the idea that all was +not right in my past. I want to say that I came down to Virginia with a +clean record." + +"We never really doubted it, Bladburn." + +"If I didn't write home," he continued, "it was because I hadn't any +home, neither kith nor kin. When I said the old folks were dead, I said +it. Am I boring you? If I thought I was--" + +"No, Bladburn. I have often wanted you to talk to me about yourself, not +from idle curiosity, I trust, but because I liked you that rainy night +when you came to camp, and have gone on liking you ever since. This +isn't too much to say, when Heaven only knows how soon I may be past +saying it or you listening to it." + +"That's it," said Bladburn, hurriedly, "that's why I want to talk with +you. I've a fancy that I shan't come out of our first battle." + +The words gave me a queer start, for I had been trying several days to +throw off a similar presentiment concerning him,--a foolish presentiment +that grew out of a dream. + +"In case anything of that kind turns up," he continued, "I'd like you to +have my Latin grammar here,--you've seen me reading it. You might stick +it away in a bookcase, for the sake of old times. It goes against me to +think of it falling into rough hands or being kicked about camp and +trampled under foot." + +He was drumming softly with his fingers on the volume in the bosom of +his blouse. + +"I didn't intend to speak of this to a living soul," he went on, +motioning me not to answer him; "but something took hold of me to-night +and made me follow you up here. Perhaps, if I told you all, you would be +the more willing to look after the little book in case it goes ill with +me. When the war broke out I was teaching school down in Maine, in the +same village where my father was schoolmaster before me. The old man +when he died left me quite alone. I lived pretty much by myself, having +no interests outside of the district school, which seemed in a manner my +personal property. Eight years ago last spring a new pupil was brought +to the school, a slight slip of a girl, with a sad kind of face and +quiet ways. Perhaps it was because she wasn't very strong, and perhaps +because she wasn't used over well by those who had charge of her, or +perhaps it was because my life was lonely, that my heart warmed to the +child. It all seems like a dream now, since that April morning when +little Mary stood in front of my desk with her pretty eyes looking down +bashfully and her soft hair falling over her face. One day I look up, +and six years have gone by,--as they go by in dreams,--and among the +scholars is a tall girl of sixteen, with serious, womanly eyes which I +cannot trust myself to look upon. The old life has come to an end. The +child has become a woman and can teach the master now. So help me +Heaven, I didn't know that I loved her until that day! + +"Long after the children had gone home I sat in the schoolroom with my +face resting on my hands. There was her desk, the afternoon shadows +falling across it. It never looked empty and cheerless before. I went +and stood by the low chair, as I had stood hundreds of times. On the +desk was a pile of books, ready to be taken away, and among the rest a +small Latin grammar which we had studied together. What little despairs +and triumphs and happy hours were associated with it! I took it up +curiously, as if it were some gentle dead thing, and turned over the +pages, and could hardly see them. Turning the pages, idly so, I came to +a leaf on which something was written with ink, in the familiar girlish +hand. It was only the words 'Dear John,' through which she had drawn two +hasty pencil lines--I wish she hadn't drawn those lines!" added +Bladburn, under his breath. + +He was silent for a minute or two, looking off towards the camps, where +the lights were fading out one by one. + +"I had no right to go and love Mary. I was twice her age, an awkward, +unsocial man, that would have blighted her youth. I was as wrong as +wrong can be. But I never meant to tell her. I locked the grammar in my +desk and the secret in my heart for a year. I couldn't bear to meet her +in the village, and kept away from every place where she was likely to +be. Then she came to me, and sat down at my feet penitently, just as she +used to do when she was a child, and asked what she had done to anger +me; and then, Heaven forgive me! I told her all, and asked her if she +could say with her lips the words she had written, and she nestled in my +arms all a-trembling like a bird, and said them over and over again. + +"When Mary's family heard of our engagement, there was trouble. They +looked higher for Mary than a middle-aged schoolmaster. No blame to +them. They forbade me the house, her uncles; but we met in the village +and at the neighbors' houses, and I was happy, knowing she loved me. +Matters were in this state when the war came on. I had a strong call to +look after the old flag, and I hung my head that day when the company +raised in our village marched by the schoolhouse to the railroad +station; but I couldn't tear myself away. About this time the minister's +son, who had been away to college, came to the village. He met Mary here +and there, and they became great friends. He was a likely fellow, near +her own age, and it was natural they should like one another. Sometimes +I winced at seeing him made free of the home from which I was shut out; +then I would open the grammar at the leaf where 'Dear John' was written +up in the corner, and my trouble was gone. Mary was sorrowful and pale +these days, and I think her people were worrying her. + +"It was one evening two or three days before we got the news of Bull +Run. I had gone down to the burying-ground to trim the spruce hedge set +round the old man's lot, and was just stepping into the enclosure, when +I heard voices from the opposite side. One was Mary's, and the other I +knew to be young Marston's, the minister's son. I didn't mean to listen, +but what Mary was saying struck me dumb. _We must never meet again_, she +was saying in a wild way. _We must say good-by here, forever,--good-by, +good-by!_ And I could hear her sobbing. Then, presently, she said, +hurriedly, _No, no; my hand, not my lips_! Then it seemed he kissed her +hands, and the two parted, one going towards the parsonage, and the +other out by the gate near where I stood. + +"I don't know how long I stood there, but the night-dews had wet me to +the bone when I stole out of the graveyard and across the road to the +schoolhouse. I unlocked the door, and took the Latin grammar from the +desk and hid it in my bosom. There was not a sound or a light anywhere +as I walked out of the village. And now," said Bladburn, rising suddenly +from the tree-trunk, "if the little book ever falls in your way, won't +you see that it comes to no harm, for my sake, and for the sake of the +little woman who was true to me and didn't love me? Wherever she is +to-night, God bless her!" + + * * * * * + +As we descended to camp with our arms resting on each other's shoulder, +the watch-fires were burning low in the valleys and along the hillsides, +and as far as the eye could reach, the silent tents lay bleaching in the +moonlight. + + +III + +We imagined that the throwing forward of our brigade was the initial +movement of a general advance of the army: but that, as the reader will +remember, did not take place until the following March. The Confederates +had fallen back to Centreville without firing a shot, and the National +troops were in possession of Lewinsville, Vienna, and Fairfax +Court-House. Our new position was nearly identical with that which we +had occupied on the night previous to the battle of Bull Run,--on the +old turnpike road to Manassas, where the enemy was supposed to be in +great force. With a field-glass we could see the Rebel pickets moving in +a belt of woodland on our right, and morning and evening we heard the +spiteful roll of their snare-drums. + +Those pickets soon became a nuisance to us. Hardly a night passed but +they fired upon our outposts, so far with no harmful result; but after a +while it grew to be a serious matter. The Rebels would crawl out on +all-fours from the wood into a field covered with underbrush, and lie +there in the dark for hours, waiting for a shot. Then our men took to +the rifle-pits,--pits ten or twelve feet long by four or five feet deep, +with the loose earth banked up a few inches high on the exposed sides. +All the pits bore names, more or less felicitous, by which they were +known to their transient tenants. One was called "The Pepper-Box," +another "Uncle Sam's Well," another "The Reb-Trap," and another, I am +constrained to say, was named after a not to be mentioned tropical +locality. Though this rude sort of nomenclature predominated, there was +no lack of softer titles, such as "Fortress Matilda" and "Castle Mary," +and one had, though unintentionally, a literary flavor to it, "Blair's +Grave," which was not popularly considered as reflecting unpleasantly on +Nat Blair, who had assisted in making the excavation. + +Some of the regiment had discovered a field of late corn in the +neighborhood, and used to boil a few ears every day, while it lasted, +for the boys detailed on the night-picket. The corn-cobs were always +scrupulously preserved and mounted on the parapets of the pits. Whenever +a Rebel shot carried away one of these _barbette_ guns, there was +swearing in that particular trench. Strong, who was very sensitive to +this kind of disaster, was complaining bitterly one morning, because he +had lost three "pieces" the night before. + +"There's Quite So, now," said Strong, "when a Minie-ball comes _ping_! +and knocks one of his guns to flinders, he merely smiles, and doesn't at +all see the degradation of the thing." + +Poor Bladburn! As I watched him day by day going about his duties, in +his shy, cheery way, with a smile for every one and not an extra word +for anybody, it was hard to believe he was the same man who, that night +before we broke camp by the Potomac, had poured out to me the story of +his love and sorrow in words that burned in my memory. + +While Strong was speaking, Blakely lifted aside the flap of the tent and +looked in on us. + +"Boys, Quite So was hurt last night," he said, with a white tremor to +his lip. + +"What!" + +"Shot on picket." + +"Why, he was in the pit next to mine," cried Strong. + +"Badly hurt?" + +"Badly hurt." + +I knew he was; I need not have asked the question. He never meant to go +back to New England! + + * * * * * + +Bladburn was lying on the stretcher in the hospital-tent. The surgeon +had knelt down by him, and was carefully cutting away the bosom of his +blouse. The Latin grammar, stained and torn, slipped, and fell to the +floor. Bladburn gave me a quick glance. I picked up the book, and as I +placed it in his hand, the icy fingers closed softly over mine. He was +sinking fast. In a few minutes the surgeon finished his examination. +When he rose to his feet there were tears on the weather-beaten cheeks. +He was a rough outside, but a tender heart. + +"My poor lad," he blurted out, "it's no use. If you've anything to say, +say it now, for you've nearly done with this world." + +Then Bladburn lifted his eyes slowly to the surgeon, and the old smile +flitted over his face as he murmured,-- + +"Quite so." + + +NOTES + +=the first battle of Bull Run=:--Fought July 21, 1861; known in the +South as Manassas. + +=Long Bridge=:--A bridge over which the Union soldiers crossed in +fleeing to Washington after the battle of Bull Run. + +=Shenandoah=:--A river and a valley in Virginia--the scene of many +events in the Civil War. + +=Fairfax Court House=:--Near Manassas Junction. + +=On to Richmond=:--In 1861 the newspapers of the North were violently +demanding an attack on Richmond. + +=Faneuil Hall=:--An historic hall in Boston, in which important meetings +were held before the Revolution. + +=McDowell=:--Irving McDowell, who commanded the Union troops at Bull +Run. + +=McClellan=:--George B. McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac. + +=Wandering Jew=:--A legendary person said to have been condemned to +wander over the earth, undying, till the Day of Judgment. The legend is +probably founded on a passage in the Bible--John 21:20-23. + +=folding its tents=:--A quotation from _The Day is Done_, by Longfellow. +The lines are:-- + + And the night shall be filled with music, + And the cares, that infest the day, + Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, + And as silently steal away. + +=Big Bethel=:--The Union troops were defeated here on June 10, 1861. + +=Ball's Bluff=:--A place on the Potomac where the Union soldiers were +beaten, October 21, 1861. + +=Centreville=:--A small town, the Union base in the first Battle of Bull +Run. + +=Lewinsville=:--A small town, north of Centreville. + +=Vienna=:--A village in the Bull Run district. + +=Blair's Grave=:--Robert Blair, a Scotch writer, published (1743) a poem +in blank verse called "The Grave." + +=barbette guns=:--Guns elevated to fire over the top of a turret or +parapet. + +=minie-ball=:--A conical ball plugged with iron, named after its +inventor, Captain Minié, of France. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the piece through without stopping, so that you can get the story. +Then go back to the beginning and study with the help of the following +questions:-- + +Compare the first sentence with the first sentence of _Tennessee's +Partner_. What do you think of the method? What is the use of the first +paragraph in _Quite So_? Why the long paragraph giving the setting? Is +this a good method in writing a story? What had become of "Little +Billy"? Who was "Johnny Reb"? What do you think of bringing in humorous +touches when one is dealing with things so serious as war and battles? +What does "Drop that!" refer to? Why does Strong change his tone? Note +what details the author has selected in order to give a clear picture of +"Quite So" in a few words. How does the conversation reveal the +stranger's character? What is shown by the fact that "Quite So" does not +write any letters? What is the purpose of the episode of "Muffin Fan"? +What devices does the author use, in order to bring out the mystery and +the loneliness of "Quite So"? Note how the author emphasizes the passage +of time. Why does Bladburn finally tell his story? How does it reveal +his character? Was Mary right in what she did? Why are some sentences in +the text printed in italics? Was Bladburn right in leaving his home +village without explanation? Why did he do so? What do you get from the +sentence, "He never meant to go back to New England"? What is the +impression made by the last sentence? Do you like the story? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Mysterious Person +The New Girl at School +The Schoolmaster's Romance +A Sudden Departure +A Camp Scene +The G.A.R. on Memorial Day +The Militia in our Town +An Old Soldier +A Story of the Civil War +Some Relics of the Civil War +Watching the Cadets Drill +My Uncle's Experiences in the War +A Sham Battle +A Visit to an Old Battlefield +On Picket Duty +A Daughter of the Confederacy +"Stonewall" Jackson +Modern Ways of Preventing War +The Soldiers' Home +An Escape from a Military Prison +The Women's Relief Corps +Women in the Civil War + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=An Old Soldier=:--Tell how you happen to know this old soldier. Where +does he live? Do you see him often? What is he doing when you see him? +Describe him as vividly as you can:--his general appearance; his +clothes; his way of walking. Speak particularly of his face and its +expression. If possible, let us hear him talk. Perhaps you can tell some +of his war stories--in his own words. + +=A Mysterious Person=:--Imagine a mysterious person appearing in a +little town where everybody knows everybody else. Tell how he (or she) +arrives. How does he look? What does he do? Explain clearly why he is +particularly hard to account for. What do people say about him? Try to +make each person's remarks fit his individual character. How do people +try to find out about the stranger? Does he notice their curiosity? Do +they ask him questions? If so, give some bits of their conversations +with him. You might go on and make a story of some length out of this. +Show whether the stranger really has any reason for concealing his +identity. Does he get into any trouble? Does an accident reveal who he +is and why he is in the town? Does some one find out by spying upon him? +Or does he tell all about himself, when the right time comes? + +Perhaps you can put the story into the form of a series of brief +conversations about the stranger or with him. + +=An Incident of the Civil War=:--Select some historical incident, or one +that you have heard from an old soldier, and tell it simply and vividly +in your own words. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Story of a Bad Boy Thomas Bailey Aldrich +Marjorie Daw and Other People " " " +The Stillwater Tragedy " " " +Prudence Palfrey " " " +From Ponkapog to Pesth " " " +The Queen of Sheba " " " +A Sea Turn and Other Matters " " " +For Bravery on the Field of Battle + (in _Two Bites at a Cherry_) " " " +The Return of a Private + (in _Main-Travelled Roads_) Hamlin Garland +On the Eve of the Fourth Harold Frederic +Marse Chan Thomas Nelson Page +Meh Lady " " " +The Burial of the Guns " " " +Red Rock " " " +The Long Roll Mary Johnston +Cease Firing " " +The Crisis Winston Churchill +Where the Battle was Fought Mary N. Murfree +The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come John Fox, Jr. +Hospital Sketches Louisa M. Alcott +A Blockaded Family P.A. Hague +He Knew Lincoln[2] Ida Tarbell +The Perfect Tribute[3] M.R.S. Andrews +The Toy Shop[4] M.S. Gerry +Thomas Bailey Aldrich Ferris Greenslet +Park Street Papers, pp. 143-70 Bliss Perry +American Writers of To-day, pp. 104-23 H.C. Vedder +American Authors and their Homes, + pp. 89-98 F.W. Halsey +American Authors at Home, pp. 3-16 J.L. and J.B. Gilder +Literary Pilgrimages in New England, + pp. 89-97 E.M. Bacon +Thomas Bailey Aldrich (poem) Henry van Dyke + +For biographies and criticisms of Thomas B. Aldrich, see also: Outlook, +86:922, August 24, 1907; 84:735, November 24, 1906; 85:737, March 30, +1907. Bookman, 24:317, December, 1906 (Portrait); also 25:218 +(Portrait). Current Literature, 42:49, January, 1907 (Portrait). +Chautauquan, 65:168, January, 1912. + + + + +PAN IN WALL STREET + +A.D. 1867 + +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN + + + Just where the Treasury's marble front + Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations; + Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont + To throng for trade and last quotations; + Where, hour by hour, the rates of gold + Outrival, in the ears of people, + The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled + From Trinity's undaunted steeple,-- + + Even there I heard a strange, wild strain + Sound high above the modern clamor, + Above the cries of greed and gain, + The curbstone war, the auction's hammer; + And swift, on Music's misty ways, + It led, from all this strife for millions. + To ancient, sweet-do-nothing days + Among the kirtle-robed Sicilians. + + And as it stilled the multitude, + And yet more joyous rose, and shriller, + I saw the minstrel where he stood + At ease against a Doric pillar: + One hand a droning organ played, + The other held a Pan's-pipe (fashioned + Like those of old) to lips that made + The reeds give out that strain impassioned. + + 'Twas Pan himself had wandered here + A-strolling through this sordid city, + And piping to the civic ear + The prelude of some pastoral ditty! + The demigod had crossed the seas,-- + From haunts of shepherd, nymph, and satyr, + And Syracusan times,--to these + Far shores and twenty centuries later. + + A ragged cap was on his head; + But--hidden thus--there was no doubting + That, all with crispy locks o'erspread, + His gnarlèd horns were somewhere sprouting; + His club-feet, cased in rusty shoes, + Were crossed, as on some frieze you see them, + And trousers, patched of divers hues, + Concealed his crooked shanks beneath them. + + He filled the quivering reeds with sound, + And o'er his mouth their changes shifted, + And with his goat's-eyes looked around + Where'er the passing current drifted; + And soon, as on Trinacrian hills + The nymphs and herdsmen ran to hear him, + Even now the tradesmen from their tills, + With clerks and porters, crowded near him. + + The bulls and bears together drew + From Jauncey Court and New Street Alley, + As erst, if pastorals be true, + Came beasts from every wooded valley; + And random passers stayed to list,-- + A boxer Ægon, rough and merry, + A Broadway Daphnis, on his tryst + With Nais at the Brooklyn Ferry. + + A one-eyed Cyclops halted long + In tattered cloak of army pattern, + And Galatea joined the throng,-- + A blowsy apple-vending slattern; + While old Silenus staggered out + From some new-fangled lunch-house handy, + And bade the piper, with a shout, + To strike up Yankee Doodle Dandy! + + A newsboy and a peanut-girl + Like little Fauns began to caper; + His hair was all in tangled curl, + Her tawny legs were bare and taper; + And still the gathering larger grew, + And gave its pence and crowded nigher, + While aye the shepherd-minstrel blew + His pipe, and struck the gamut higher. + + O heart of Nature, beating still + With throbs her vernal passion taught her,-- + Even here, as on the vine-clad hill, + Or by the Arethusan water! + New forms may fold the speech, new lands + Arise within these ocean-portals, + But Music waves eternal wands,-- + Enchantress of the souls of mortals! + + So thought I,--but among us trod + A man in blue, with legal baton, + And scoffed the vagrant demigod, + And pushed him from the step I sat on. + Doubting I mused upon the cry, + "Great Pan is dead!"--and all the people + Went on their ways:--and clear and high + The quarter sounded from the steeple. + + +NOTES + +=Wall Street=:--An old street in New York faced by the Stock Exchange +and the offices of the wealthiest bankers and brokers. + +=the Treasury=:--The Sub-Treasury Building. + +=last quotations=:--The latest information on stock values given out +before the Stock Exchange closes. + +=Trinity=:--The famous old church that stands at the head of Wall +Street. + +=curbstone war=:--The clamorous quoting, auctioning, and bidding of +stock out on the street curb, where the "curb brokers"--brokers who do +not have seats on the Stock Exchange--do business. + +=sweet-do-nothing=:--A translation of an Italian expression, _dolce far +niente_. + +=Sicilians=:--Theocritus (3rd century before Christ), the Greek pastoral +poet, wrote of the happy life of the shepherds and shepherdesses in +Sicily. + +=Doric pillar=:--A heavy marble pillar, such as was used in the +architecture of the Dorians in Greece. + +=Pan's pipe=:--Pan was the Greek god of shepherds, and patron of fishing +and hunting. He is represented as having the head and body of a man, +with the legs, horns, and tail of a goat. It was said that he invented +the shepherd's pipe or flute, which he made from reeds plucked on the +bank of a stream. + +=pastoral ditty=:--A poem about shepherds and the happy outdoor life. +The word pastoral comes from the Latin _pastor_, shepherd. + +=Syracusan times=:--Syracuse was an important city in Sicily. See the +note on Sicilians, above. + +=Trinacrian hills=:--Trinacria is an old name for Sicily. + +=bulls and bears=:--A bull, on the Stock Exchange, is one who operates +in expectation of a rise in stocks; a bear is a person who sells stocks +in expectation of a fall in the market. + +=Jauncey Court=:--The Jauncey family were prominent in the early New +York days. This court was probably named after them. + +=Ægon=:--Usually spelled Ægaeon; another name for Briareus, a monster +with a hundred arms. + +=Daphnis=:--In Greek myth, a shepherd who loved music. + +=Nais=:--In Greek myth, a happy young girl, a nymph. + +=Cyclops=:--One of a race of giants having but one eye--in the middle of +the forehead. These giants helped Vulcan at his forge under Aetna. + +=Galatea=:--A sea-nymph beloved by the Cyclops Polyphemus. + +=Silenus=:--The foster-father and companion of Bacchus, god of wine. In +pictures and sculpture Silenus is usually represented as intoxicated. + +=Fauns=:--Fabled beings, half goat and half man. + +=Arethusan water=:--Arethusa, in Greek myth, was a wood-nymph, who was +pursued by the river Alpheus. She was changed into a fountain, and ran +under the sea to Sicily, where she rose near the city of Syracuse. +Shelley has a poem on Arethusa. + +=baton=:--A rod or wand; here, of course, a policeman's club. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The author sees an organ-grinder playing his gay tunes in Wall Street, +New York, among the buildings where enormous financial transactions are +carried on. He (the author) imagines this wandering minstrel to be Pan +himself, assuming a modern form. Read the notes carefully for what is +said about Pan. Notice, in the poem, how skillfully the author brings +out the contrast between the easy-going days of ancient Greece and the +busy, rushing times of modern America. Of what value is the word +_serenely_ in the first stanza? What is the "curbstone war"? Do you +think the old-fashioned Pan's pipe is common now? Could a man play an +organ and a pipe at the same time? Why is the city spoken of as +"sordid"? What is the "civic ear"? In the description of the player, how +is the idea of his being Pan emphasized? How was it that the bulls and +bears drew together? In plain words who were the people whom the author +describes under Greek names? Show how aptly the mythological characters +are fitted to modern persons. Read carefully what is said about the +power of music, in the stanza beginning "O heart of Nature." Who was the +man in blue? Why did he interfere? Why is the organ-grinder called a +"vagrant demigod"? What was it that the author doubted? What is meant +here by "Great Pan is dead"? Does the author mean more than the mere +words seem to express? Do you think that people are any happier in these +commercial times than they were in ancient Greece? After you have +studied the poem and mastered all the references, read the poem through, +thinking of its meaning and its lively measure. + +Read Mrs. Browning's poem, _A Musical Instrument_, which is about Pan +and his pipe of reeds. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Nooks and Corners of Old New York Charles Hemstreet +In Old New York Thomas A. Janvier +The Greatest Street in the World: + Broadway Stephen Jenkins +The God of Music (poem) Edith M. Thomas +A Musical Instrument Elizabeth Barrett Browning +Classic Myths (See Index) C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable Thomas Bulfinch +A Butterfly in Wall Street + (in _Madrigals and Catches_) Frank D. Sherman +Come Pan, and Pipe + (in _Madrigals and Catches_) " " " +Pan Learns Music (poem) Henry van Dyke +Peeps at Great Cities: New York Hildegarde Hawthorne +Vignettes of Manhattan Brander Matthews +New York Society Ralph Pulitzer +In the Cities (poem) R.W. Gilder +Up at a Villa--Down in the City Robert Browning +The Faun in Wall Street[5] (poem) John Myers O'Hara + + + + +THE HAND OF LINCOLN + +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN + + + Look on this cast, and know the hand + That bore a nation in its hold; + From this mute witness understand + What Lincoln was,--how large of mould + + The man who sped the woodman's team, + And deepest sunk the ploughman's share, + And pushed the laden raft astream, + Of fate before him unaware. + + This was the hand that knew to swing + The axe--since thus would Freedom train + Her son--and made the forest ring, + And drove the wedge, and toiled amain. + + Firm hand, that loftier office took, + A conscious leader's will obeyed, + And, when men sought his word and look, + With steadfast might the gathering swayed. + + No courtier's, toying with a sword, + Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute; + A chief's, uplifted to the Lord + When all the kings of earth were mute! + + The hand of Anak, sinewed strong, + The fingers that on greatness clutch; + Yet, lo! the marks their lines along + Of one who strove and suffered much. + + For here in knotted cord and vein + I trace the varying chart of years; + I know the troubled heart, the strain, + The weight of Atlas--and the tears. + + Again I see the patient brow + That palm erewhile was wont to press; + And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now + Made smooth with hope and tenderness. + + For something of a formless grace + This moulded outline plays about; + A pitying flame, beyond our trace, + Breathes like a spirit, in and out,-- + + The love that cast an aureole + Round one who, longer to endure, + Called mirth to ease his ceaseless dole, + Yet kept his nobler purpose sure. + + Lo, as I gaze, the statured man, + Built up from yon large hand, appears; + A type that Nature wills to plan + But once in all a people's years. + + What better than this voiceless cast + To tell of such a one as he, + Since through its living semblance passed + The thought that bade a race be free! + + +NOTES + +=this cast=:--A cast of Lincoln's hand was made by Leonard W. Volk, in +1860, on the Sunday following the nomination of Lincoln for the +Presidency. The original, in bronze, can be seen at the National Museum +in Washington. Various copies have been made in plaster. An anecdote +concerning one of these is told on page 107 of William Dean Howells's +_Literary Friends and Acquaintances_; facing page 106 of the same book +there is an interesting picture. In the _Critic_, volume 44, page 510, +there is an article by Isabel Moore, entitled _Hands that have Done +Things_; a picture of Lincoln's hand, in plaster, is given in the course +of this article. + +=Anak=:--The sons of Anak are spoken of in the Bible as a race of +giants. See Numbers, 13:33; Deuteronomy, 9:2. + +=Atlas=:--In Greek story, the giant who held the world on his shoulders. + +=the thought=:--The Emancipation Proclamation. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem through from beginning to end. Then go back to the first +and study it more carefully. Notice that there is no pause at the end of +the first stanza. In the ninth line, mentally put in _how_ after _know_. +Explain what is said about Freedom's training her son. _Loftier office_: +Loftier than what? Note that _might_ is a noun. Mentally insert _hand_ +after _courtier's_. Can you tell from the hand of a person whether he +has suffered or not? What does the author mean here by "the weight of +Atlas"? What is a "formless grace"? Is the expression appropriate here? +What characteristic of Lincoln is referred to in the line beginning +"Called mirth"? Are great men so rare as the author seems to think? Why +is the cast a good means of telling of "such a one as he"? Look +carefully at one of Lincoln's portraits, and then read this poem aloud +to yourself. + +Compare this poem with the sonnet _On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln_, +page 210. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Abraham Lincoln: A Short Life John G. Nicolay +The Boys' Life of Lincoln Helen Nicolay +Personal Traits of Abraham Lincoln " " +Lincoln the Lawyer F.T. Hill +Passages from the Speeches and Letters + of Abraham Lincoln R.W. Gilder (Ed.) +Lincoln's Own Stories Anthony Gross +Lincoln Norman Hapgood +Abraham Lincoln, the Boy and the Man James Morgan +Father Abraham Ida Tarbell +He Knew Lincoln[6] " " +Life of Abraham Lincoln " " +Abraham Lincoln Robert G. Ingersoll +Abraham Lincoln Noah Brooks +Abraham Lincoln for Boys and Girls C.W. Moores +The Graysons Edward Eggleston +The Perfect Tribute[6] M.R.S. Andrews +The Toy Shop[6] M.S. Gerry +We Talked of Lincoln (poem)[7] E.W. Thomson +Lincoln and the Sleeping Sentinel L.E. Chittenden +O Captain, my Captain! Walt Whitman +When Lilacs last in the Dooryard Bloomed " " +Poems E.C. Stedman +An American Anthology " " " +American Authors and their Homes, pp. 157-172 F.W. Halsey +American Authors at Home, pp. 273-291 J.L. and J.B. Gilder + +For portraits of E.C. Stedman, see Bookman, 34:592; Current Literature, +42:49. + + + + +JEAN VALJEAN + +AUGUSTA STEVENSON + +(Dramatized from Victor Hugo's _Les Misérables_) + + +SCENE II + +TIME: _Evening._ + +PLACE: _Village of D----; dining room of the Bishop's house._ + + * * * * * + +[_The room is poorly furnished, but orderly. A door at the back opens on +the street. At one side, a window overlooks the garden; at the other, +curtains hang before an alcove._ MADEMOISELLE, _the Bishop's_ SISTER, _a +sweet-faced lady, sits by the fire, knitting._ MADAME, _his_ +HOUSEKEEPER, _is laying the table for supper._] + +MLLE. Has the Bishop returned from the service? + +MADAME. Yes, Mademoiselle. He is in his room, reading. Shall I +call him? + +MLLE. No, do not disturb him--he will come in good time--when +supper is ready. + +MADAME. Dear me--I forgot to get bread when I went out to-day. + +MLLE. Go to the baker's, then; we will wait. + +[_Exit Madame. Pause._] + +[_Enter the_ BISHOP. _He is an old man, gentle and kindly._] + +BISHOP. I hope I have not kept you waiting, sister. + +MLLE. No, brother, Madame has just gone out for bread. She +forgot it this morning. + +BISHOP (_having seated himself by the fire_). The wind blows +cold from the mountains to-night. + +MLLE. (_nodding_). All day it has been growing colder. + +BISHOP. 'Twill bring great suffering to the poor. + +MLLE. Who suffer too much already. + +BISHOP. I would I could help them more than I do! + +MLLE. You give all you have, my brother. You keep nothing for +yourself--you have only bare necessities. + +BISHOP. Well, I have sent in a bill for carriage hire in making +pastoral visits. + +MLLE. Carriage hire! I did not know you ever rode. Now I am +glad to hear that. A bishop should go in state sometimes. I venture to +say your bill is small. + +BISHOP. Three thousand francs. + +MLLE. Three thousand francs! Why, I cannot believe it! + +BISHOP. Here is the bill. + +MLLE. (_reading bill_). What is this! + +EXPENSES OF CARRIAGE + +For furnishing soup to hospital 1500 francs +For charitable society of D---- 500 " +For foundlings 500 " +For orphans 500 " + ---- +Total 3000 francs + +So! that is your carriage hire! Ha, ha! I might have known it! + +[_They laugh together._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME, _excited, with bread._] + +MADAME. Such news as I have heard! The whole town is talking +about it! We should have locks put on our doors at once! + +MLLE. What is it, Madame? What have you heard? + +MADAME. They say there is a suspicious vagabond in the town. +The inn-keeper refused to take him in. They say he is a released convict +who once committed an awful crime. + +[_The Bishop is looking into the fire, paying no attention to Madame._] + +MLLE. Do you hear what Madame is saying, brother? + +BISHOP. Only a little. Are we in danger, Madame? + +MADAME. There is a convict in town, your Reverence! + +BISHOP. Do you fear we shall be robbed? + +MADAME. I do, indeed! + +BISHOP. Of what? + +MADAME. There are the six silver plates and the silver +soup-ladle and the two silver candlesticks. + +BISHOP. All of which we could do without. + +MADAME. Do without! + +MLLE. 'Twould be a great loss, brother. We could not treat a +guest as is our wont. + +BISHOP. Ah, there you have me, sister. I love to see the silver +laid out for every guest who comes here. And I like the candles lighted, +too; it makes a brighter welcome. + +MLLE. A bishop's house should show some state. + +BISHOP. Aye--to every stranger! Henceforth, I should like every +one of our six plates on the table whenever we have a guest here. + +MLLE. All of them? + +MADAME. For one guest? + +BISHOP. Yes--we have no right to hide treasures. Each guest +shall enjoy all that we have. + +MADAME. Then 'tis time we should look to the locks on the +doors, if we would keep our silver. I'll go for the locksmith now-- + +BISHOP. Stay! This house shall not be locked against any man! +Would you have me lock out my brothers? + +[_A loud knock is heard at street door._] + +Come in! + +[_Enter_ JEAN VALJEAN, _with his knapsack and cudgel. The women +are frightened._] + +JEAN (_roughly_). See here! My name is Jean Valjean. I am a +convict from the galleys. I was set free four days ago, and I am looking +for work. I hoped to find a lodging here, but no one will have me. It +was the same way yesterday and the day before. To-night a good woman +told me to knock at your door. I have knocked. Is this an inn? + +BISHOP. Madame, put on another plate. + +JEAN. Stop! You do not understand, I think. Here is my +passport--see what it says: "Jean Valjean, discharged convict, has been +nineteen years in the galleys; five years for theft; fourteen years for +having attempted to escape. He is a very dangerous man." There! you know +it all. I ask only for straw in your stable. + +BISHOP. Madame, you will put white sheets on the bed in the +alcove. + +[_Exit Madame. The Bishop turns to Jean._] + +We shall dine presently. Sit here by the fire, sir. + +JEAN. What! You will keep me? You call me "sir"! Oh! I am going +to dine! I am to have a bed with sheets like the rest of the world--a +bed! It is nineteen years since I have slept in a bed! I will pay +anything you ask. You are a fine man. You are an innkeeper, are you not? + +BISHOP. I am a priest who lives here. + +JEAN. A priest! Ah, yes--I ask your pardon--I didn't notice +your cap and gown. + +BISHOP. Be seated near the fire, sir. + +[_Jean deposits his knapsack, repeating to himself with delight._] + +JEAN. He calls me _sir_--_sir_. (_Aloud._) You will require me +to pay, will you not? + +BISHOP. No, keep your money. How much have you? + +JEAN. One hundred and nine francs. + +BISHOP. How long did it take you to earn it? + +JEAN. Nineteen years. + +BISHOP (_sadly_). Nineteen years--the best part of your life! + +JEAN. Aye, the best part--I am now forty-six. A beast of burden +would have earned more. + +BISHOP. This lamp gives a very bad light, sister. + +[_Mlle. gets the two silver candlesticks from the mantel, lights them, +and places them on the table._] + +JEAN. Ah, but you are good! You don't despise me. You light +your candles for me,--you treat me as a guest,--and I've told you where +I come from, who I am! + +BISHOP. This house does not demand of him who enters whether he +has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer--you are hungry--you +are welcome. + +JEAN. I cannot understand it-- + +BISHOP. This house is home to the man who needs a refuge. So, +sir, this is your house now more than it is mine. Whatever is here is +yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me, +I knew it. + +JEAN. What! You knew my name! + +BISHOP. Yes, your name is--Brother. + +JEAN. Stop! I cannot bear it--you are so good-- + +[_He buries his face in his hands._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME _with dishes for the table; she continues +passing in and out, preparing supper._] + +BISHOP. You have suffered much, sir-- + +JEAN (_nodding_). The red shirt, the ball on the ankle, a plank +to sleep on, heat, cold, toil, the whip, the double chain for nothing, +the cell for one word--even when sick in bed, still the chain! Dogs, +dogs are happier! Nineteen years! and now the yellow passport! + +BISHOP. Yes, you have suffered. + +JEAN (_with violence_). I hate this world of laws and courts! I +hate the men who rule it! For nineteen years my soul has had only +thoughts of hate. For nineteen years I've planned revenge. Do you hear? +Revenge--revenge! + +BISHOP. It is not strange that you should feel so. And if you +continue to harbor those thoughts, you are only deserving of pity. But +listen, my brother; if, in spite of all you have passed through, your +thoughts could be of peace and love, you would be better than any one of +us. + +[_Pause. Jean reflects._] + +JEAN (_speaking violently_). No, no! I do not belong to your +world of men. I am apart--a different creature from you all. The galleys +made me different. I'll have nothing to do with any of you! + +MADAME. The supper, your Reverence. + +[_The Bishop glances at the table_.] + +BISHOP. It strikes me there is something missing from this +table. + +[_Madame hesitates._] + +MLLE. Madame, do you not understand? + +[_Madame steps to a cupboard, gets the remaining silver plates, and +places them on the table._] + +BISHOP (_gayly, turning to Jean_). To table then, my friend! To +table! + +[_Jean remains for a moment, standing doggedly apart; then he steps over +to the chair awaiting him, jerks it back, and sinks into it, without +looking up._] + + +SCENE III + +TIME: _Daybreak the next morning._ + +PLACE: _The Bishop's dining room._ + + * * * * * + +[_The room is dark, except for a faint light that comes in through +window curtains._ JEAN VALJEAN _creeps in from the alcove. He +carries his knapsack and cudgel in one hand; in the other, his shoes. He +opens the window overlooking the garden; the room becomes lighter. Jean +steps to the mantel and lifts a silver candlestick._] + +JEAN (_whispering_). Two hundred francs--double what I have +earned in nineteen years! + +[_He puts it in his knapsack; takes up the other candlestick; shudders, +and sets it down again._] + +No, no, he is good--he called me "sir"-- + +[_He stands still, staring before him, his hand still gripping the +candlestick. Suddenly he straightens up; speaks bitterly._] + +Why not? 'Tis easy to give a bed and food! Why doesn't he keep men from +the galleys? Nineteen years for a loaf of bread! + +[_Pauses a moment, then resolutely puts both candlesticks into his bag; +steps to the cupboard and takes out the silver plates and the ladle, and +slips them into the bag._] + +All solid--I should gain at least one thousand francs. 'Tis due me--due +me for all these years! + +[_Closes the bag. Pause._] + +No, not the candles--I owe him that much-- + +[_He puts the candlesticks on mantel; takes up cudgel, knapsack, and +shoes; jumps out window and disappears. Pause._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME. _She shivers; discovers the open window._] + +MADAME. Why is that window open? I closed it last night myself. +Oh! Could it be possible? + +[_Crosses and looks at open cupboard._] + +It is gone! + +[_Enter the_ BISHOP _from his room._] + +BISHOP. Good morning, Madame! + +MADAME. Your Reverence! The silver is gone! Where is that man? + +BISHOP. In the alcove sleeping, I suppose. + +[_Madame runs to curtains of alcove and looks in. Enter_ +MADEMOISELLE. _Madame turns._] + +He is gone! + +MLLE. Gone? + +MADAME. Aye, gone--gone! He has stolen our silver, the +beautiful plates and the ladle! I'll inform the police at once! + +[_Starts off. The Bishop stops her._] + +BISHOP. Wait!--Let me ask you this--was that silver ours? + +MADAME. Why--why not? + +BISHOP. Because it has always belonged to the poor. I have +withheld it wrongfully. + +MLLE. Its loss makes no difference to Madame or me. + +MADAME. Oh, no! But what is your Reverence to eat from now? + +BISHOP. Are there no pewter plates? + +MADAME. Pewter has an odor. + +BISHOP. Iron ones, then. + +MADAME. Iron has a taste. + +BISHOP. Well, then, wooden plates. + +[_A knock is heard at street door._] + +Come in. + +[_Enter an_ OFFICER _and two_ SOLDIERS, _dragging in_ +JEAN VALJEAN.] + +OFFICER. Your Reverence, we found your silver on this man. + +BISHOP. Why not? I gave it to him. I am glad to see you again, +Jean. Why did you not take the candlesticks, too? + +JEAN (_trembling_). Your Reverence-- + +BISHOP. I told you everything in this house was yours, my +brother. + +OFFICER. Ah, then what he said was true. But, of course, we did +not believe him. We saw him creeping from your garden-- + +BISHOP. It is all right, I assure you. This man is a friend of +mine. + +OFFICER. Then we can let him go? + +BISHOP. Certainly. + +[_Soldiers step back._] + +JEAN (_trembling_). I am free? + +OFFICER. Yes! You can go. Do you not understand? + +[_Steps back._] + +BISHOP (_to Jean_). My friend, before you go away--here are +your candlesticks (_going to the mantel and bringing the candlesticks_); +take them. + +[_Jean takes the candlesticks, seeming not to know what he is doing._] + +By the way, my friend, when you come again you need not come through the +garden. The front door is closed only with a latch, day or night. (_To +the Officer and Soldiers._) Gentlemen, you may withdraw. + +[_Exit Officer and Soldiers._] + +JEAN (_recoiling and holding out the candlesticks_). +No--no--I--I-- + +BISHOP. Say no more; I understand. You felt that they were all +owing to you from a world that had used you ill. Keep them, my friend, +keep them. I would I had more to give you. It is small recompense for +nineteen years. + +[_Jean stands bewildered, looking down at the candlesticks in his +hands._] + +They will add something to your hundred francs. But do not forget, never +forget, that you have promised to use the money in becoming an honest +man. + +JEAN. I--promised--? + +BISHOP (_not heeding_). Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer +belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you: I +withdraw it from thoughts of hatred and revenge--I give it to peace and +hope and God. + +[_Jean stands as if stunned, staring at the Bishop, then turns and walks +unsteadily from the room._] + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Jean Valjean, as a young man, was sent to the galleys for stealing a +loaf of bread to feed his sister's hungry children. From time to time, +when he tried to escape, his sentence was increased, so that he spent +nineteen years as a convict. Scene I of Miss Stevenson's dramatization +shows Jean Valjean being turned away from the inn because he has been in +prison. + +What does the stage setting tell of the Bishop and his sister? Notice, +as you read, why each of the items in the stage setting is mentioned. +Why is Madame made to leave the room--how does her absence help the +action of the play? What is the purpose of the conversation about the +weather? About the carriage hire? Why is the Bishop not more excited at +Madame's news? What is gained by the talk about the silver? Notice the +dramatic value of the Bishop's speech beginning "Stay!" Why does Jean +Valjean speak so roughly when he enters? Why does he not try to conceal +the fact that he is a convict? Why does not the Bishop reply directly to +Jean Valjean's question? What would be the action of Mademoiselle and +Madame while Jean is speaking? What is Madame's action as she goes out? +What is gained by the conversation between Jean and the Bishop? Why does +the Bishop not reproach Jean for saying he will have revenge? Why is the +silver mentioned so many times? + +While you are reading the first part of Scene III, think how it should +be played. Note how much the stage directions add to the clearness of +the scene. How long should the pause be, before Madame enters? What is +gained by the calmness of the Bishop? How can he say that the silver was +not his? What does the Bishop mean when he says, "I gave it to him"? +What are Mademoiselle and Madame doing while the conversation with the +officers and Jean Valjean is going on? Is it a good plan to let them +drop so completely out of the conversation? Why does the Bishop say that +Jean has promised? Why does the scene close without Jean's replying to +the Bishop? How do you think the Bishop's kindness has affected Jean +Valjean's attitude toward life? + +Note how the action and the conversation increase in intensity as the +play proceeds: Is this a good method? Notice the use of contrast in +speech and action. Note how the chief characters are emphasized. Can you +discover the quality called "restraint," in this fragment of a play? How +is it gained, and what is its value? + + +EXERCISES[8] + +Select a short passage from some book that you like, and try to put it +into dramatic form, using this selection as a kind of model. Do not +attempt too much at once, but think out carefully the setting, the stage +directions, and the dialogue for a brief fragment of a play. + +Make a series of dramatic scenes from the same book, so that a connected +story is worked out. + +Read a part of some modern drama, such as _The Piper_, or _The Blue +Bird_, or one of Mr. Howells's little farces, and notice how it makes +use of setting and stage directions; how the conversation is broken up; +how the situation is brought out in the dialogue; how each person is +made to speak in his own character. + +After you have done the reading suggested above, make another attempt at +dramatizing a scene from a book, and see what improvement you can make +upon the sort of thing you did at first. + +It might be interesting for two or three persons to work on a bit of +dramatization together, and then give the fragment of a play in simple +fashion before the class. Or the whole class may work on the play, and +then select some of their number to perform it. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Dramatic Reader: Book Five Augusta Stevenson +Plays for the Home " " +Jean Valjean (translated and abridged from + Victor Hugo's _Les Misérables_) S.E. Wiltse (Ed.) +The Little Men Play (adapted from Louisa + Alcott's _Little Men_) E.L. Gould +The Little Women Play " " " +The St. Nicholas Book of Plays Century Company +The Silver Thread and Other Folk Plays Constance Mackay +Patriotic Plays and Pageants " " +Fairy Tale Plays and How to Act Them Mrs. Hugh Bell +Festival Plays Marguerite Merington +Short Plays from Dickens H.B. Browne +The Piper Josephine Preston Peabody +The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck +Riders to the Sea J.M. Synge +She Stoops to Conquer Oliver Goldsmith +The Rivals Richard Brinsley Sheridan +Prince Otto R.L. Stevenson +The Canterbury Pilgrims Percy Mackaye +The Elevator William Dean Howells +The Mouse Trap " " " +The Sleeping Car William Dean Howells +The Register " " " +The Story of Waterloo Henry Irving +The Children's Theatre A. Minnie Herts +The Art of Play-writing Alfred Hennequin + + + + +A COMBAT ON THE SANDS + +MARY JOHNSTON + +(From _To Have and to Hold_, Chapters XXI and XXII) + + +A few minutes later saw me almost upon the party gathered about the +grave. The grave had received that which it was to hold until the crack +of doom, and was now being rapidly filled with sand. The crew of +deep-dyed villains worked or stood or sat in silence, but all looked at +the grave, and saw me not. As the last handful of sand made it level +with the beach, I walked into their midst, and found myself face to face +with the three candidates for the now vacant captaincy. + +"Give you good-day, gentlemen," I cried. "Is it your captain that you +bury or one of your crew, or is it only pezos and pieces of eight? + +"The sun shining on so much bare steel hurts my eyes," I said. "Put up, +gentlemen, put up! Cannot one rover attend the funeral of another +without all this crowding and display of cutlery? If you will take the +trouble to look around you, you will see that I have brought to the +obsequies only myself." + +One by one cutlass and sword were lowered, and those who had drawn them, +falling somewhat back, spat and swore and laughed. The man in black and +silver only smiled gently and sadly. "Did you drop from the blue?" he +asked. "Or did you come up from the sea?" + +"I came out of it," I said. "My ship went down in the storm yesterday. +Your little cockboat yonder was more fortunate." I waved my hand toward +that ship of three hundred tons, then twirled my mustaches and stood at +gaze. + +"Was your ship so large, then?" demanded Paradise, while a murmur of +admiration, larded with oaths, ran around the circle. + +"She was a very great galleon," I replied, with a sigh for the good ship +that was gone. + +A moment's silence, during which they all looked at me. "A galleon," +then said Paradise softly. + +"They that sailed her yesterday are to-day at the bottom of the sea," I +continued. "Alackaday! so are one hundred thousand pezos of gold, three +thousand bars of silver, ten frails of pearls, jewels uncounted, cloth +of gold and cloth of silver. She was a very rich prize." + +The circle sucked in their breath. "All at the bottom of the sea?" +queried Red Gil, with gloating eyes fixed upon the smiling water. "Not +one pezo left, not one little, little pearl?" + +I shook my head and heaved a prodigious sigh. "The treasure is gone," I +said, "and the men with whom I took it are gone. I am a captain with +neither ship nor crew. I take you, my friends, for a ship and crew +without a captain. The inference is obvious." + +The ring gaped with wonder, then strange oaths arose. Red Gil broke into +a bellow of angry laughter, while the Spaniard glared like a catamount +about to spring. "So you would be our captain?" said Paradise, picking +up another shell, and poising it upon a hand as fine and small as a +woman's. + +"Faith, you might go farther and fare worse," I answered, and began to +hum a tune. When I had finished it, "I am Kirby," I said, and waited to +see if that shot should go wide or through the hull. + +For two minutes the dash of the surf and the cries of the wheeling sea +fowl made the only sound in that part of the world; then from those +half-clad rapscallions arose a shout of "Kirby!"--a shout in which the +three leaders did not join. That one who looked a gentleman rose from +the sand and made me a low bow. "Well met, noble captain," he cried in +those his honey tones. "You will doubtless remember me who was with you +that time at Maracaibo when you sunk the galleasses. Five years have +passed since then, and yet I see you ten years younger and three inches +taller." + +"I touched once at the Lucayas, and found the spring de Leon sought," I +said. "Sure the waters have a marvelous effect, and if they give not +eternal youth at least renew that which we have lost." + +"Truly a potent aqua vitæ," he remarked, still with thoughtful +melancholy. "I see that it hath changed your eyes from black to gray." + +"It hath that peculiar virtue," I said, "that it can make black seem +white." + +The man with the woman's mantle drawn about him now thrust himself from +the rear to the front rank. "That's not Kirby!" he bawled. "He's no more +Kirby than I am Kirby! Didn't I sail with Kirby from the Summer Isles to +Cartagena and back again? He's a cheat, and I am a-going to cut his +heart out!" He was making at me with a long knife, when I whipped out my +rapier. + +"Am I not Kirby, you dog?" I cried, and ran him through the shoulder. + +He dropped, and his fellows surged forward with a yell. "Yet a little +patience, my masters!" said Paradise in a raised voice and with genuine +amusement in his eyes. "It is true that that Kirby with whom I and our +friend there on the ground sailed was somewhat short and as swart as a +raven, besides having a cut across his face that had taken away part of +his lip and the top of his ear, and that this gentleman who announces +himself as Kirby hath none of Kirby's marks. But we are fair and +generous and open to conviction"-- + +"He'll have to convince my cutlass!" roared Red Gil. + +I turned upon him. "If I do convince it, what then?" I demanded. "If I +convince your sword, you of Spain, and yours, Sir Black and Silver?" + +The Spaniard stared. "I was the best sword in Lima," he said stiffly. "I +and my Toledo will not change our minds." + +"Let him try to convince Paradise; he's got no reputation as a +swordsman!" cried out the grave-digger with the broken head. + +A roar of laughter followed this suggestion, and I gathered from it and +from the oaths and allusions to this or that time and place that +Paradise was not without reputation. + +I turned to him. "If I fight you three, one by one, and win, am I +Kirby?" + +He regarded the shell with which he was toying with a thoughtful smile, +held it up that the light might strike through its rose and pearl, then +crushed it to dust between his fingers. + +"Ay," he said with an oath. "If you win against the cutlass of Red Gil, +the best blade of Lima, and the sword of Paradise, you may call yourself +the devil an you please, and we will all subscribe to it." + +I lifted my hand. "I am to have fair play?" + +As one man that crew of desperate villains swore that the odds should be +only three to one. By this the whole matter had presented itself to them +as an entertainment more diverting than bullfight or bear-baiting. They +that follow the sea, whether honest men or black-hearted knaves, have in +their composition a certain childlikeness that makes them easily turned, +easily led, and easily pleased. The wind of their passion shifts quickly +from point to point, one moment blowing a hurricane, the next sinking to +a happy-go-lucky summer breeze. I have seen a little thing convert a +crew on the point of mutiny into a set of rollicking, good-natured souls +who--until the wind veered again--would not hurt a fly. So with these. +They spread themselves into a circle, squatting or kneeling or standing +upon the white sand in the bright sunshine, their sinewy hands that +should have been ingrained red clasped over their knees, or, arms +akimbo, resting upon their hips, on their scoundrel faces a broad smile, +and in their eyes that had looked on nameless horrors a pleasurable +expectation as of spectators in a playhouse awaiting the entrance of the +players. + +"There is really no good reason why we should gratify your whim," said +Paradise, still amused. "But it will serve to pass the time. We will +fight you, one by one." + +"And if I win?" + +He laughed. "Then, on the honor of a gentleman, you are Kirby and our +captain. If you lose, we will leave you where you stand for the gulls to +bury." + +"A bargain," I said, and drew my sword. + +"I first!" roared Red Gil. "God's wounds! there will need no second!" + +As he spoke he swung his cutlass and made an arc of blue flame. The +weapon became in his hands a flail, terrible to look upon, making +lightnings and whistling in the air, but in reality not so deadly as it +seemed. The fury of his onslaught would have beaten down the guard of +any mere swordsman, but that I was not. A man, knowing his weakness and +insufficiency in many and many a thing, may yet know his strength in one +or two and his modesty take no hurt. I was ever master of my sword, and +it did the thing I would have it do. Moreover, as I fought I saw her as +I had last seen her, standing against the bank of sand, her dark hair, +half braided, drawn over her bosom and hanging to her knees. Her eyes +haunted me, and my lips yet felt the touch of her hand. I fought +well,--how well the lapsing of oaths and laughter into breathless +silence bore witness. + +The ruffian against whom I was pitted began to draw his breath in gasps. +He was a scoundrel not fit to die, less fit to live, unworthy of a +gentleman's steel. I presently ran him through with as little +compunction and as great a desire to be quit of a dirty job as if he had +been a mad dog. He fell, and a little later, while I was engaged with +the Spaniard, his soul went to that hell which had long gaped for it. To +those his companions his death was as slight a thing as would theirs +have been to him. In the eyes of the two remaining would-be leaders he +was a stumbling-block removed, and to the squatting, open-mouthed +commonalty his taking off weighed not a feather against the solid +entertainment I was affording them. I was now a better man than Red +Gil,--that was all. + +The Spaniard was a more formidable antagonist. The best blade of Lima +was by no means to be despised: but Lima is a small place, and its +blades can be numbered. The sword that for three years had been counted +the best in all the Low Countries was its better. But I fought fasting +and for the second time that morning, so maybe the odds were not so +great. I wounded him slightly, and presently succeeded in disarming him. +"Am I Kirby?" I demanded, with my point at his breast. + +"Kirby, of course, señor," he answered with a sour smile, his eyes upon +the gleaming blade. + +I lowered my point and we bowed to each other, after which he sat down +upon the sand and applied himself to stanching the bleeding from his +wound. The pirate ring gave him no attention, but stared at me instead. +I was now a better man than the Spaniard. + +The man in black and silver rose and removed his doublet, folding it +very carefully, inside out, that the sand might not injure the velvet, +then drew his rapier, looked at it lovingly, made it bend until point +and hilt well-nigh met, and faced me with a bow. + +"You have fought twice, and must be weary," he said. "Will you not take +breath before we engage, or will your long rest afterward suffice you?" + +"I will rest aboard my ship," I made reply. "And as I am in a hurry to +be gone we won't delay." + +Our blades had no sooner crossed than I knew that in this last encounter +I should need every whit of my skill, all my wit, audacity, and +strength. I had met my equal, and he came to it fresh and I jaded. I +clenched my teeth and prayed with all my heart; I set her face before +me, and thought if I should fail her to what ghastly fate she might +come, and I fought as I had never fought before. The sound of the surf +became a roar in my ears, the sunshine an intolerable blaze of light; +the blue above and around seemed suddenly beneath my feet as well. We +were fighting high in the air, and had fought thus for ages. I knew that +he made no thrust I did not parry, no feint I could not interpret. I +knew that my eye was more quick to see, my brain to conceive, and my +hand to execute than ever before; but it was as though I held that +knowledge of some other, and I myself was far away, at Weyanoke, in the +minister's garden, in the haunted wood, anywhere save on that barren +islet. I heard him swear under his breath, and in the face I had set +before me the eyes brightened. As if she had loved me I fought for her +with all my powers of body and mind. He swore again, and my heart +laughed within me. The sea now roared less loudly, and I felt the good +earth beneath my feet. Slowly but surely I wore him out. His breath came +short, the sweat stood upon his forehead, and still I deferred my +attack. He made the thrust of a boy of fifteen, and I smiled as I put it +by. + +"Why don't you end it?" he breathed. "Finish and be hanged to you!" + +For answer I sent his sword flying over the nearest hillock of sand. "Am +I Kirby?" I said. He fell back against the heaped-up sand and leaned +there, panting, with his hand to his side. "Kirby or devil," he replied. +"Have it your own way." + +I turned to the now highly excited rabble. "Shove the boats off, half a +dozen of you!" I ordered. "Some of you others take up that carrion there +and throw it into the sea. The gold upon it is for your pains. You there +with the wounded shoulder you have no great hurt. I'll salve it with ten +pieces of eight from the captain's own share, the next prize we take." + +A shout of acclamation arose that scared the sea fowl. They who so short +a time before had been ready to tear me limb from limb now with the +greatest apparent delight hailed me as captain. How soon they might +revert to their former mood was a question that I found not worth while +to propound to myself. + +By this the man in black and silver had recovered his breath and his +equanimity. "Have you no commission with which to honor me, noble +captain?" he asked in gently reproachful tones. "Have you forgot how +often you were wont to employ me in those sweet days when your eyes were +black?" + +"By no means, Master Paradise," I said courteously. "I desire your +company and that of the gentleman from Lima. You will go with me to +bring up the rest of my party. The three gentlemen of the broken head, +the bushy ruff, which I protest is vastly becoming, and the wounded +shoulder will escort us." + +"The rest of your party?" said Paradise softly. + +"Ay," I answered nonchalantly. "They are down the beach and around the +point warming themselves by a fire which this piled-up sand hides from +you. Despite the sunshine it is a biting air. Let us be going! This +island wearies me, and I am anxious to be on board ship and away." + +"So small an escort scarce befits so great a captain," he said. "We will +all attend you." One and all started forward. + +I called to mind and gave utterance to all the oaths I had heard in the +wars. "I entertain you for my subordinate whom I command, and not who +commands me!" I cried, when my memory failed me. "As for you, you dogs, +who would question your captain and his doings, stay where you are, if +you would not be lessoned in earnest!" + +Sheer audacity is at times the surest steed a man can bestride. Now at +least it did me good service. With oaths and grunts of admiration the +pirates stayed where they were, and went about their business of +launching the boats and stripping the body of Red Gil, while the man in +black and silver, the Spaniard, the two gravediggers, the knave with the +wounded shoulder, and myself walked briskly up the beach. + +With these five at my heels I strode up to the dying fire and to those +who had sprung to their feet at our approach. "Sparrow," I said easily, +"luck being with us as usual, I have fallen in with a party of rovers. I +have told them who I am,--that Kirby, to wit, whom an injurious world +calls the blackest pirate unhanged,--and I have recounted to them how +the great galleon which I took some months ago went down yesterday with +all on board, you and I with these others being the sole survivors. By +dint of a little persuasion they have elected me their captain, and we +will go on board directly and set sail for the Indies, a hunting ground +which we never should have left. You need not look so blank; you shall +be my mate and right hand still." I turned to the five who formed my +escort. "This, gentlemen, is my mate, Jeremy Sparrow by name, who hath a +taste for divinity that in no wise interferes with his taste for a +galleon or a guarda costa. This man, Diccon Demon by name, was of my +crew. The gentleman without a sword is my prisoner, taken by me from the +last ship I sunk. How he, an Englishman, came to be upon a Spanish bark +I have not found leisure to inquire. The lady is my prisoner, also." + +"Sure by rights she should be gaoler and hold all men's hearts in ward," +said Paradise, with a low bow to my unfortunate captive. + +While he spoke a most remarkable transformation was going on. The +minister's grave, rugged, and deeply lined face smoothed itself and shed +ten years at least; in the eyes that I had seen wet with noble tears a +laughing devil now lurked, while his strong mouth became a loose-lipped, +devil-may-care one. His head with its aureole of bushy, grizzled hair +set itself jauntily upon one side, and from it and from his face and his +whole great frame breathed a wicked jollity quite indescribable. + +"Odsbodikins, captain!" he cried. "Kirby's luck!--'twill pass into a +saw! Adzooks! and so you're captain once more, and I'm mate once more, +and we've a ship once more, and we're off once more + + To sail the Spanish Main, + And give the Spaniard pain, + Heave ho, bully boy, heave ho! + +By 'r lakin! I'm too dry to sing. It will take all the wine of Xeres in +the next galleon to unparch my tongue!" + + +NOTES + +=the grave=:--This refers to the latter part of chapter 21 of _To Have +and to Hold_; the hero, Ralph Percy, who has been shipwrecked with his +companions, discovers a group of pirates burying their dead captain. + +=pezos and pieces of eight=:--_peso_ is the Spanish word for dollar; +_pieces of eight_ are dollars also, each dollar containing eight +_reals_. + +=the man in black and silver=:--Paradise, an Englishman. + +=frails=:--Baskets made of rushes. + +=Kirby=:--A renowned pirate mentioned in chapter 21. + +=Maracaibo=:--The city or the gulf of that name in Venezuela. + +=galleasses=:--Heavy, low-built vessels having sails as well as oars. + +=Lucayas=:--An old name for the Bahama Islands. + +=de Leon=:--Ponce de Leon discovered Florida in 1513; he searched long +for a fountain which would restore youth. + +=aqua vitæ=:--Latin for _water of life_. + +=Summer Isles=:--Another name for the Bermuda Islands. + +=Cartagena=:--A city in Spain. + +=Lima=:--A city in Peru. + +=Toledo=:--A "Toledo blade"--a sword of the very finest temper, made in +Toledo, Spain. + +=the Low Countries=:--Holland and Belgium. + +=señor=:--The Spanish word for _sir_. + +=Weyanoke=:--The home of the hero, near Jamestown, Virginia. + +=Sparrow=:--A minister, one of the hero's companions; see chapter 3 of +_To Have and to Hold_. + +=guarda costa=:--Coast guard. + +=Diccon=:--Ralph Percy's servant. + +=the gentleman without a sword=:--Lord Carnal, an enemy of Percy. + +=the lady=:--She is really Percy's wife. + +=Odsbodikins=; =Adzooks=:--Oaths much used two centuries ago. + +=By 'r lakin=:--By our ladykin (little lady); an oath by the Virgin +Mary. + +=Xeres=:--The Spanish town after which sherry wine is named. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This selection is easily understood. Ralph Percy, his wife, and several +others (see notes) are cast on a desert shore after the sinking of their +boat. Percy leaves his companions for a time and falls among pirates; he +pretends to be a "sea-rover" himself. Why does he allude to the pirate +ship as a "cockboat"? Why are the pirates impressed by his remarks? Why +does Percy emphasize the riches of the sunken ship? Is what he says +true? (See chapter 19 of _To Have and to Hold_.) If not, is he +justified in telling a falsehood? Is he really Kirby? Is he fortunate in +his assertion that he is? How does he explain his lack of resemblance to +Kirby? What kind of person is the hero? Why does he wish to become the +leader of the pirates? Is it possible that the pirate crew should change +their attitude so suddenly? Is it a good plan in a story to make a hero +tell of his own successes? Characterize the man in black and silver. How +does the author make us feel the action and peril of the struggle? How +does she make us feel the long duration of the fight with Paradise? Do +you like the hero's behavior with the defeated pirates? Why is he so +careful to repeat to the minister what he has told the pirates? Why does +the minister appear to change his character? + +Can you make this piece into a little play? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Real Pirates +Spanish Gold +A Fight for Life +A Famous Duel +Buried Treasure +Playing Pirates +Sea Stories that I Like +Captain Kidd +Ponce de Leon +The Search for Gold +Story-book Heroes +Along the Sea Shore +A Barren Island +The Rivals +Land Pirates +The Pirates in _Peter Pan_ +A Struggle for Leadership +Our High School Play + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +Try to make a fragment of a play out of this selection. In this process, +all the class may work together under the direction of the teacher, or +each pupil may make his own attempt to dramatize the piece. + +In writing the drama, tell first what the setting is. In doing so, you +had better look up some modern play and see how the setting is explained +to the reader or the actors. Now show the pirates at work, and give a +few lines of their conversation; then have the hero come upon the scene. +Indicate the speech of each person, and put in all necessary stage +directions. Perhaps you will want to add more dialogue than there is +here. Some of the onlookers may have something to say. Perhaps you will +wish to leave something out. It might be well, while the fighting is +going on, to bring in remarks from the combatants and the other pirates. +You might look up the duel scene in _Hamlet_ for this point. You can end +your play with the departure of the group; or you can write a second +scene, in which the hero's companions appear, including the lady. +Considerable dialogue could be invented here, and a new episode added--a +quarrel, a plan for organization, or a merry-making. + +When your play is finished, you may possibly wish to have it acted +before the class. A few turbans, sashes, and weapons will be sufficient +to give an air of piracy to the group of players. Some grim black +mustaches would complete the effect. + +=A Pirate Story=:--Tell an old-fashioned "yarn" of adventure, in which a +modest hero relates his own experiences. Give your imagination a good +deal of liberty. Do not waste much time in getting started, but plunge +very soon into the actual story. Let your hero tell how he fell among +the pirates. Then go on with the conversation that ensued--the threats, +the boasting, and the bravado. Make the hero report his struggles, or +the tricks that he resorted to in order to outwit the sea-rovers. +Perhaps he failed at first and got into still greater dangers. Follow +out his adventures to the moment of his escape. Make your descriptions +short and vivid; put in as much direct conversation as possible; keep +the action brisk and spirited. Try to write a lively tale that would +interest a group of younger boys. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +To Have and to Hold Mary Johnston +Prisoners of Hope " " +The Long Roll " " +Cease Firing " " +Audrey " " +The Virginians W.M. Thackeray +White Aprons Maude Wilder Goodwin +The Gold Bug Edgar Allan Poe +Treasure Island R.L. Stevenson +Kidnapped " " +Ebb Tide " " +Buccaneers and Pirates of our Coast Frank R. Stockton +Kate Bonnett " " +Drake Julian Corbett +Drake and his Yeomen James Barnes +Drake, the Sea-king of Devon G.M. Towle +Raleigh " " +Red Rover J.F. Cooper +The Pirate Walter Scott +Robinson Crusoe Daniel Defoe +Two Years before the Mast R.H. Dana +Tales of a Traveller (Part IV) Washington Irving +Nonsense Novels (chapter 8) Stephen Leacock +The Duel (in _The Master of Ballantrae_, + chapter 4) R.L. Stevenson +The Lost Galleon (poem) Bret Harte +Stolen Treasure Howard Pyle +Jack Ballister's Fortunes " " +Buried Treasure R.B. Paine +The Last Buccaneer (poem) Charles Kingsley +The Book of the Ocean Ernest Ingersoll +Ocean Life in the Old Sailing-Ship Days J.D. Whidden + +For Portraits of Miss Johnston, see Bookman, 20:402; 28:193. + + + + +THE GRASSHOPPER + +EDITH M. THOMAS + + + Shuttle of the sunburnt grass, + Fifer in the dun cuirass, + Fifing shrilly in the morn, + Shrilly still at eve unworn; + Now to rear, now in the van, + Gayest of the elfin clan: + Though I watch their rustling flight, + I can never guess aright + Where their lodging-places are; + 'Mid some daisy's golden star, + Or beneath a roofing leaf, + Or in fringes of a sheaf, + Tenanted as soon as bound! + Loud thy reveille doth sound, + When the earth is laid asleep, + And her dreams are passing deep, + On mid-August afternoons; + And through all the harvest moons, + Nights brimmed up with honeyed peace, + Thy gainsaying doth not cease. + When the frost comes, thou art dead; + We along the stubble tread, + On blue, frozen morns, and note + No least murmur is afloat: + Wondrous still our fields are then, + Fifer of the elfin men! + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why is the grasshopper called a "shuttle"? What does the word _still_ +mean here? Who are the "elfin clan"? By whom is the sheaf tenanted? What +is a _reveille_? Does the grasshopper chirp at night? Why is its cry +called "gainsaying"? + +See how simple the meter (measure) is in this little poem. Ask your +teacher to explain how it is represented by these characters: + + -u-u-u- + -u-u-u- + +[Transcriber's note: The u's represent breve marks in the text] + + +Note which signs indicate the accented syllables. See whether or not the +accent comes at the end of the line. The rhyme-scheme is called a +_couplet_, because of the way in which two lines are linked together. +This kind of rhyme is represented by _aa_, _bb_, _cc_, etc. + + +EXERCISES + +Find some other poem that has the same meter and rhyme that this one +has. Try to write a short poem of five or six couplets, using this meter +and rhyme. You do not need to choose a highly poetic subject: Try +something very simple. + +Perhaps you can "get a start" from one of the lines given below:-- + +1. Glowing, darting dragon-fly. +2. Voyager on dusty wings (A Moth). +3. Buzzing through the fragrant air (A Bee). +4. Trembling lurker in the gloom (A Mouse). +5. Gay red-throated epicure (A humming-bird). +6. Stealthy vagrant of the night (An Owl). +7. Flashing through your crystal room (A Gold-fish). +8. Fairyland is all awake. +9. Once when all the woods were green. +10. In the forest is a pool. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +On the Grasshopper and Cricket John Keats +To the Grasshopper and the Cricket Leigh Hunt +Little Brother of the Ground Edwin Markham +The Humble Bee R.W. Emerson +The Cricket Percy Mackaye +The Katydid " " +A Glow Worm (in _Little Folk Lyrics_) F.D. Sherman +Bees " " " " " " + + + + +MOLY + +EDITH M. THOMAS + + The root is hard to loose + From hold of earth by mortals, but Gods' power + Can all things do. 'Tis black, but bears a flower + As white as milk. (Chapman's Homer.) + + + Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, + If thou touch at Circe's isle,-- + Hermes' moly, growing solely + To undo enchanter's wile. + When she proffers thee her chalice,-- + Wine and spices mixed with malice,-- + When she smites thee with her staff + To transform thee, do thou laugh! + Safe thou art if thou but bear + The least leaf of moly rare. + Close it grows beside her portal, + Springing from a stock immortal,-- + Yes, and often has the Witch + Sought to tear it from its niche; + But to thwart her cruel will + The wise God renews it still. + Though it grows in soil perverse, + Heaven hath been its jealous nurse, + And a flower of snowy mark + Springs from root and sheathing dark; + Kingly safeguard, only herb + That can brutish passion curb! + Some do think its name should be + Shield-heart, White Integrity. + + Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, + If thou touch at Circe's isle,-- + Hermes' moly, growing solely + To undo enchanter's wile! + + +NOTES + +=Chapman's Homer=:--George Chapman (1559?-1634) was an English poet. He +translated Homer from the Greek into English verse. + +=moly=:--An herb with a black root and a white flower, which Hermes gave +to Odysseus in order to help him withstand the spell of the witch Circe. + +=Circe=:--A witch who charmed her victims with a drink that she prepared +for them, and then changed them into the animals they in character most +resembled. + +=Hermes=:--The messenger of the other Greek gods; he was crafty and +eloquent. + +=The wise God=:--Hermes, or Mercury. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Before you try to study this poem carefully, find out something of the +story of Ulysses and Circe: when you have this information, the poem +will become clear. Notice how the author applies the old Greek tale to +the experiences of everyday life. This would be a good poem to memorize. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +On First Looking into Chapman's Homer John Keats +The Strayed Reveller Matthew Arnold +The Wine of Circe Dante Gabriel Rossetti +Tanglewood Tales (Circe's Palace) Nathaniel Hawthorne +Greek Story and Song, pp. 214-225 A.J. Church +The Odyssey, pp. 151-164 (School Ed.) G.H. Palmer (Trans.) +Classic Myths, chapter 24 C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable, p. 295 Thomas Bulfinch +The Prayer of the Swine to Circe Austin Dobson + + +PICTURES + +The Wine of Circe Sir Edward Burne-Jones +Circe and the Companions of Ulysses Briton Rivière + + + + +THE PROMISED LAND + +MARY ANTIN + +(From Chapter IX of _The Promised Land_) + + +During his three years of probation, my father had made a number of +false starts in business. His history for that period is the history of +thousands who come to America, like him, with pockets empty, hands +untrained to the use of tools, minds cramped by centuries of repression +in their native land. Dozens of these men pass under your eyes every +day, my American friend, too absorbed in their honest affairs to notice +the looks of suspicion which you cast at them, the repugnance with which +you shrink from their touch. You see them shuffle from door to door with +a basket of spools and buttons, or bending over the sizzling irons in a +basement tailor shop, or rummaging in your ash can, or moving a pushcart +from curb to curb, at the command of the burly policeman. "The Jew +peddler!" you say, and dismiss him from your premises and from your +thoughts, never dreaming that the sordid drama of his days may have a +moral that concerns you. What if the creature with the untidy beard +carries in his bosom his citizenship papers? What if the cross-legged +tailor is supporting a boy in college who is one day going to mend your +state constitution for you? What if the ragpicker's daughters are +hastening over the ocean to teach your children in the public schools? +Think, every time you pass the greasy alien on the street, that he was +born thousands of years before the oldest native American; and he may +have something to communicate to you, when you two shall have learned a +common language. Remember that his very physiognomy is a cipher the key +to which it behooves you to search for most diligently. + + * * * * * + +By the time we joined my father, he had surveyed many avenues of +approach toward the coveted citadel of fortune. One of these, heretofore +untried, he now proposed to essay, armed with new courage, and cheered +on by the presence of his family. In partnership with an energetic +little man who had an English chapter in his history, he prepared to set +up a refreshment booth on Crescent Beach. But while he was completing +arrangements at the beach, we remained in town, where we enjoyed the +educational advantages of a thickly populated neighborhood; namely, Wall +Street, in the West End of Boston. + +Anybody who knows Boston knows that the West and North Ends are the +wrong ends of that city. They form the tenement district, or, in the +newer phrase, the slums of Boston. Anybody who is acquainted with the +slums of any American metropolis knows that that is the quarter where +poor immigrants foregather, to live, for the most part, as unkempt, +half-washed, toiling, unaspiring foreigners; pitiful in the eyes of +social missionaries, the despair of boards of health, the hope of ward +politicians, the touchstone of American democracy. The well-versed +metropolitan knows the slums as a sort of house of detention for poor +aliens, where they live on probation till they can show a certificate of +good citizenship. + +He may know all this and yet not guess how Wall Street, in the West End, +appears in the eyes of a little immigrant from Polotzk. What would the +sophisticated sight-seer say about Union Place, off Wall Street, where +my new home waited for me? He would say that it is no place at all, but +a short box of an alley. Two rows of three-story tenements are its +sides, a stingy strip of sky is its lid, a littered pavement is the +floor, and a narrow mouth its exit. + +But I saw a very different picture on my introduction to Union Place. I +saw two imposing rows of brick buildings, loftier than any dwelling I +had ever lived in. Brick was even on the ground for me to tread on, +instead of common earth or boards. Many friendly windows stood open, +filled with uncovered heads of women and children. I thought the people +were interested in us, which was very neighborly. I looked up to the +topmost row of windows, and my eyes were filled with the May blue of an +American sky! + +In our days of affluence in Russia we had been accustomed to upholstered +parlors, embroidered linen, silver spoons and candlesticks, goblets of +gold, kitchen shelves shining with copper and brass. We had feather-beds +heaped halfway to the ceiling; we had clothes presses dusky with velvet +and silk and fine woolen. The three small rooms into which my father now +ushered us, up one flight of stairs, contained only the necessary beds, +with lean mattresses; a few wooden chairs; a table or two; a mysterious +iron structure, which later turned out to be a stove; a couple of +unornamental kerosene lamps; and a scanty array of cooking-utensils and +crockery. And yet we were all impressed with our new home and its +furniture. It was not only because we had just passed through our seven +lean years, cooking in earthern vessels, eating black bread on holidays +and wearing cotton; it was chiefly because these wooden chairs and tin +pans were American chairs and pans that they shone glorious in our +eyes. And if there was anything lacking for comfort or decoration we +expected it to be presently supplied--at least, we children did. Perhaps +my mother alone, of us newcomers, appreciated the shabbiness of the +little apartment, and realized that for her there was as yet no laying +down of the burden of poverty. + +Our initiation into American ways began with the first step on the new +soil. My father found occasion to instruct or correct us even on the way +from the pier to Wall Street, which journey we made crowded together in +a rickety cab. He told us not to lean out of the windows, not to point, +and explained the word "greenhorn." We did not want to be "greenhorns," +and gave the strictest attention to my father's instructions. I do not +know when my parents found opportunity to review together the history of +Polotzk in the three years past, for we children had no patience with +the subject; my mother's narrative was constantly interrupted by +irrelevant questions, interjections, and explanations. + +The first meal was an object lesson of much variety. My father produced +several kinds of food, ready to eat, without any cooking, from little +tin cans that had printing all over them. He attempted to introduce us +to a queer, slippery kind of fruit, which he called "banana," but had to +give it up for the time being. After the meal, he had better luck with a +curious piece of furniture on runners, which he called "rocking-chair." +There were five of us newcomers, and we found five different ways of +getting into the American machine of perpetual motion, and as many ways +of getting out of it. One born and bred to the use of a rocking-chair +cannot imagine how ludicrous people can make themselves when attempting +to use it for the first time. We laughed immoderately over our various +experiments with the novelty, which was a wholesome way of letting off +steam after the unusual excitement of the day. + +In our flat we did not think of such a thing as storing the coal in the +bathtub. There was no bathtub. So in the evening of the first day my +father conducted us to the public baths. As we moved along in a little +procession, I was delighted with the illumination of the streets. So +many lamps, and they burned until morning, my father said, and so people +did not need to carry lanterns. In America, then, everything was free, +as we had heard in Russia. Light was free; the streets were as bright as +a synagogue on a holy day. Music was free; we had been serenaded, to our +gaping delight, by a brass band of many pieces, soon after our +installation on Union Place. + +Education was free. That subject my father had written about repeatedly, +as comprising his chief hope for us children, the essence of American +opportunity, the treasure that no thief could touch, not even misfortune +or poverty. It was the one thing that he was able to promise us when he +sent for us; surer, safer than bread or shelter. On our second day I was +thrilled with the realization of what this freedom of education meant. A +little girl from across the alley came and offered to conduct us to +school. My father was out, but we five between us had a few words of +English by this time. We knew the word school. We understood. This +child, who had never seen us till yesterday, who could not pronounce our +names, who was not much better dressed than we, was able to offer us the +freedom of the schools of Boston! No application made, no questions +asked, no examinations, rulings, exclusions; no machinations, no fees. +The doors stood open for every one of us. The smallest child could show +us the way. + +This incident impressed me more than anything I had heard in advance of +the freedom of education in America. It was a concrete proof--almost the +thing itself. One had to experience it to understand it. + +It was a great disappointment to be told by my father that we were not +to enter upon our school career at once. It was too near the end of the +term, he said, and we were going to move to Crescent Beach in a week or +so. We had to wait until the opening of the schools in September. What a +loss of precious time--from May till September! + +Not that the time was really lost. Even the interval on Union Place was +crowded with lessons and experiences. We had to visit the stores and be +dressed from head to foot in American clothing; we had to learn the +mysteries of the iron stove, the washboard, and the speaking-tube; we +had to learn to trade with the fruit peddler through the window, and not +to be afraid of the policeman; and, above all, we had to learn English. + +The kind people who assisted us in these important matters form a group +by themselves in the gallery of my friends. If I had never seen them +from those early days till now, I should still have remembered them with +gratitude. When I enumerate the long list of American teachers, I must +begin with those who came to us on Wall Street and taught us our first +steps. To my mother, in her perplexity over the cookstove, the woman who +showed her how to make the fire was an angel of deliverance. A fairy +godmother to us children was she who led us to a wonderful country +called "uptown," where in a dazzlingly beautiful palace called a +"department store," we exchanged our hateful homemade European costumes, +which pointed us out as "greenhorns" to the children on the street, for +real American machine-made garments, and issued forth glorified in each +other's eyes. + +With our despised immigrant clothing we shed also our impossible Hebrew +names. A committee of our friends, several years ahead of us in American +experience, put their heads together and concocted American names for us +all. Those of our real names that had no pleasing American equivalents +they ruthlessly discarded, content if they retained the initials. My +mother, possessing a name that was not easily translatable, was punished +with the undignified nickname of Annie. Fetchke, Joseph, and Deborah +issued as Frieda, Joseph, and Dora, respectively. As for poor me, I was +simply cheated. The name they gave me was hardly new. My Hebrew name +being Maryashe in full, Mashke for short, Russianized into Marya +(_Mar-ya_) my friends said that it would hold good in English as _Mary_; +which was very disappointing, as I longed to possess a strange-sounding +American name like the others. + +I am forgetting the consolation I had, in this matter of names, from the +use of my surname, which I have had no occasion to mention until now. I +found on my arrival that my father was "Mr. Antin" on the slightest +provocation, and not, as in Polotzk, on state occasions alone. And so I +was "Mary Antin," and I felt very important to answer to such a +dignified title. It was just like America that even plain people should +wear their surnames on week days. + +As a family we were so diligent under instruction, so adaptable, and so +clever in hiding our deficiencies, that when we made the journey to +Crescent Beach, in the wake of our small wagon-load of household goods, +my father had very little occasion to admonish us on the way, and I am +sure he was not ashamed of us. So much we had achieved toward our +Americanization during the two weeks since our landing. + +Crescent Beach is a name that is printed in very small type on the maps +of the environs of Boston, but a life-size strip of sand curves from +Winthrop to Lynn; and that is historic ground in the annals of my +family. The place is now a popular resort for holiday crowds, and is +famous under the name of Revere Beach. When the reunited Antins made +their stand there, however, there were no boulevards, no stately +bath-houses, no hotels, no gaudy amusement places, no illuminations, no +showmen, no tawdry rabble. There was only the bright clean sweep of +sand, the summer sea, and the summer sky. At high tide the whole +Atlantic rushed in, tossing the seaweeds in his mane; at low tide he +rushed out, growling and gnashing his granite teeth. Between tides a +baby might play on the beach, digging with pebbles and shells, till it +lay asleep on the sand. The whole sun shone by day, troops of stars by +night, and the great moon in its season. + +Into this grand cycle of the seaside day I came to live and learn and +play. A few people came with me, as I have already intimated; but the +main thing was that _I_ came to live on the edge of the sea--I, who had +spent my life inland, believing that the great waters of the world were +spread out before me in the Dvina. My idea of the human world had grown +enormously during the long journey; my idea of the earth had expanded +with every day at sea, my idea of the world outside the earth now budded +and swelled during my prolonged experience of the wide and unobstructed +heavens. + +Not that I got any inkling of the conception of a multiple world. I had +had no lessons in cosmogony, and I had no spontaneous revelation of the +true position of the earth in the universe. For me, as for my fathers, +the sun set and rose, and I did not feel the earth rushing through +space. But I lay stretched out in the sun, my eyes level with the sea, +till I seemed to be absorbed bodily by the very materials of the world +around me; till I could not feel my hand as separate from the warm sand +in which it was buried. Or I crouched on the beach at full moon, +wondering, wondering, between the two splendors of the sky and the sea. +Or I ran out to meet the incoming storm, my face full in the wind, my +being a-tingle with an awesome delight to the tips of my fog-matted +locks flying behind; and stood clinging to some stake or upturned boat, +shaken by the roar and rumble of the waves. So clinging, I pretended +that I was in danger, and was deliciously frightened; I held on with +both hands, and shook my head, exulting in the tumult around me, equally +ready to laugh or sob. Or else I sat, on the stillest days, with my back +to the sea, not looking at all, but just listening to the rustle of the +waves on the sand; not thinking at all, but just breathing with the sea. + +Thus courting the influence of sea and sky and variable weather, I was +bound to have dreams, hints, imaginings. It was no more than this, +perhaps: that the world as I knew it was not large enough to contain +all that I saw and felt; that the thoughts that flashed through my +mind, not half understood, unrelated to my utterable thoughts, concerned +something for which I had as yet no name. Every imaginative growing +child has these flashes of intuition, especially one that becomes +intimate with some one aspect of nature. With me it was the growing +time, that idle summer by the sea, and I grew all the faster because I +had been so cramped before. My mind, too, had so recently been worked +upon by the impressive experience of a change of country that I was more +than commonly alive to impressions, which are the seeds of ideas. + +Let no one suppose that I spent my time entirely, or even chiefly, in +inspired solitude. By far the best part of my day was spent in +play--frank, hearty, boisterous play, such as comes natural to American +children. In Polotzk I had already begun to be considered too old for +play, excepting set games or organized frolics. Here I found myself +included with children who still played, and I willingly returned to +childhood. There were plenty of playfellows. My father's energetic +little partner had a little wife and a large family. He kept them in the +little cottage next to ours; and that the shanty survived the tumultuous +presence of that brood is a wonder to me to-day. The young Wilners +included an assortment of boys, girls, and twins, of every possible +variety of age, size, disposition, and sex. They swarmed in and out of +the cottage all day long, wearing the door-sill hollow, and trampling +the ground to powder. They swung out of windows like monkeys, slid up +the roof like flies, and shot out of trees like fowls. Even a small +person like me couldn't go anywhere without being run over by a Wilner; +and I could never tell which Wilner it was because none of them ever +stood still long enough to be identified; and also because I suspected +that they were in the habit of interchanging conspicuous articles of +clothing, which was very confusing. + +You would suppose that the little mother must have been utterly lost, +bewildered, trodden down in this horde of urchins; but you are mistaken. +Mrs. Wilner was a positively majestic little person. She ruled her brood +with the utmost coolness and strictness. She had even the biggest boy +under her thumb, frequently under her palm. If they enjoyed the wildest +freedom outdoors, indoors the young Wilners lived by the clock. And so +at five o'clock in the evening, on seven days in the week, my father's +partner's children could be seen in two long rows around the supper +table. You could tell them apart on this occasion, because they all had +their faces washed. And this is the time to count them: there are twelve +little Wilners at table. + +I managed to retain my identity in this multitude somehow, and while I +was very much impressed with their numbers, I even dared to pick and +choose my friends among the Wilners. One or two of the smaller boys I +liked best of all, for a game of hide-and-seek or a frolic on the beach. +We played in the water like ducks, never taking the trouble to get dry. +One day I waded out with one of the boys, to see which of us dared go +farthest. The tide was extremely low, and we had not wet our knees when +we began to look back to see if familiar objects were still in sight. I +thought we had been wading for hours, and still the water was so shallow +and quiet. My companion was marching straight ahead, so I did the same. +Suddenly a swell lifted us almost off our feet, and we clutched at each +other simultaneously. There was a lesser swell, and little waves began +to run, and a sigh went up from the sea. The tide was turning--perhaps a +storm was on the way--and we were miles, dreadful miles from dry land. + +Boy and girl turned without a word, four determined bare legs ploughing +through the water, four scared eyes straining toward the land. Through +an eternity of toil and fear they kept dumbly on, death at their heels, +pride still in their hearts. At last they reach high-water mark--six +hours before full tide. + +Each has seen the other afraid, and each rejoices in the knowledge. But +only the boy is sure of his tongue. + +"You was scared, warn't you?" he taunts. + +The girl understands so much, and is able to reply: + +"You can schwimmen, I not." + +"Betcher life I can schwimmen," the other mocks. + +And the girl walks off, angry and hurt. + +"An' I can walk on my hands," the tormentor calls after her. "Say, you +greenhorn, why don'tcher look?" + +The girl keeps straight on, vowing that she would never walk with that +rude boy again, neither by land nor sea, not even though the waters +should part at his bidding. + +I am forgetting the more serious business which had brought us to +Crescent Beach. While we children disported ourselves like mermaids and +mermen in the surf, our respective fathers dispensed cold lemonade, hot +peanuts, and pink popcorn, and piled up our respective fortunes, nickel +by nickel, penny by penny. I was very proud of my connection with the +public life of the beach. I admired greatly our shining soda fountain, +the rows of sparkling glasses, the pyramids of oranges, the sausage +chains, the neat white counter, and the bright array of tin spoons. It +seemed to me that none of the other refreshment stands on the +beach--there were a few--were half so attractive as ours. I thought my +father looked very well in a long white apron and shirt sleeves. He +dished out ice cream with enthusiasm, so I supposed he was getting rich. +It never occurred to me to compare his present occupation with the +position for which he had been originally destined; or if I thought +about it, I was just as well content, for by this time I had by heart my +father's saying, "America is not Polotzk." All occupations were +respectable, all men were equal, in America. + +If I admired the soda fountain and the sausage chains, I almost +worshipped the partner, Mr. Wilner. I was content to stand for an hour +at a time watching him make potato chips. In his cook's cap and apron, +with a ladle in his hand and a smile on his face, he moved about with +the greatest agility, whisking his raw materials out of nowhere, dipping +into his bubbling kettle with a flourish, and bringing forth the +finished product with a caper. Such potato chips were not to be had +anywhere else on Crescent Beach. Thin as tissue paper, crisp as dry +snow, and salt as the sea--such thirst-producing, lemonade-selling, +nickel-bringing potato chips only Mr. Wilner could make. On holidays, +when dozens of family parties came out by every train from town, he +could hardly keep up with the demand for his potato chips. And with a +waiting crowd around him our partner was at his best. He was as voluble +as he was skilful, and as witty as he was voluble; at least so I guessed +from the laughter that frequently drowned his voice. I could not +understand his jokes, but if I could get near enough to watch his lips +and his smile and his merry eyes, I was happy. That any one could talk +so fast, and in English, was marvel enough, but that this prodigy should +belong to _our_ establishment was a fact to thrill me. I had never seen +anything like Mr. Wilner, except a wedding jester; but then he spoke +common Yiddish. So proud was I of the talent and good taste displayed at +our stand that if my father beckoned to me in the crowd and sent me on +an errand, I hoped the people noticed that I, too, was connected with +the establishment. + +And all this splendor and glory and distinction came to a sudden end. +There was some trouble about a license--some fee or fine--there was a +storm in the night that damaged the soda fountain and other +fixtures--there was talk and consultation between the houses of Antin +and Wilner--and the promising partnership was dissolved. No more would +the merry partner gather the crowd on the beach; no more would the +twelve young Wilners gambol like mermen and mermaids in the surf. And +the less numerous tribe of Antin must also say farewell to the jolly +seaside life; for men in such humble business as my father's carry their +families, along with their other earthly goods, wherever they go, after +the manner of the gypsies. We had driven a feeble stake into the sand. +The jealous Atlantic, in conspiracy with the Sunday law, had torn it +out. We must seek our luck elsewhere. + +In Polotzk we had supposed that "America" was practically synonymous +with "Boston." When we landed in Boston, the horizon was pushed back, +and we annexed Crescent Beach. And now, espying other lands of promise, +we took possession of the province of Chelsea, in the name of our +necessity. + +In Chelsea, as in Boston, we made our stand in the wrong end of the +town. Arlington Street was inhabited by poor Jews, poor Negroes, and a +sprinkling of poor Irish. The side streets leading from it were occupied +by more poor Jews and Negroes. It was a proper locality for a man +without capital to do business. My father rented a tenement with a store +in the basement. He put in a few barrels of flour and of sugar, a few +boxes of crackers, a few gallons of kerosene, an assortment of soap of +the "save the coupon" brands; in the cellar a few barrels of potatoes, +and a pyramid of kindling-wood; in the showcase, an alluring display of +penny candy. He put out his sign, with a gilt-lettered warning of +"Strictly Cash," and proceeded to give credit indiscriminately. That was +the regular way to do business on Arlington Street. My father, in his +three years' apprenticeship, had learned the tricks of many trades. He +knew when and how to "bluff." The legend of "Strictly Cash" was a +protection against notoriously irresponsible customers; while none of +the "good" customers, who had a record for paying regularly on Saturday, +hesitated to enter the store with empty purses. + +If my father knew the tricks of the trade, my mother could be counted on +to throw all her talent and tact into the business. Of course she had no +English yet, but as she could perform the acts of weighing, measuring, +and mental computation of fractions mechanically, she was able to give +her whole attention to the dark mysteries of the language, as +intercourse with her customers gave her opportunity. In this she made +such rapid progress that she soon lost all sense of disadvantage, and +conducted herself behind the counter very much as if she were back in +her old store in Polotzk. It was far more cozy than Polotzk--at least, +so it seemed to me; for behind the store was the kitchen, where, in the +intervals of slack trade, she did her cooking and washing. Arlington +Street customers were used to waiting while the storekeeper salted the +soup or rescued a loaf from the oven. + +Once more Fortune favored my family with a thin little smile, and my +father, in reply to a friendly inquiry, would say, "One makes a living," +with a shrug of the shoulders that added "but nothing to boast of." It +was characteristic of my attitude toward bread-and-butter matters that +this contented me, and I felt free to devote myself to the conquest of +my new world. Looking back to those critical first years, I see myself +always behaving like a child let loose in a garden to play and dig and +chase the butterflies. Occasionally, indeed, I was stung by the wasp of +family trouble; but I knew a healing ointment--my faith in America. My +father had come to America to make a living. America, which was free and +fair and kind, must presently yield him what he sought. I had come to +America to see a new world, and I followed my own ends with the utmost +assiduity; only, as I ran out to explore, I would look back to see if my +house were in order behind me--if my family still kept its head above +water. + +In after years, when I passed as an American among Americans, if I was +suddenly made aware of the past that lay forgotten,--if a letter from +Russia, or a paragraph in the newspaper, or a conversation overheard in +the street-car, suddenly reminded me of what I might have been,--I +thought it miracle enough that I, Mashke, the granddaughter of Raphael +the Russian, born to a humble destiny, should be at home in an American +metropolis, be free to fashion my own life, and should dream my dreams +in English phrases. But in the beginning my admiration was spent on more +concrete embodiments of the splendors of America; such as fine houses, +gay shops, electric engines and apparatus, public buildings, +illuminations, and parades. My early letters to my Russian friends were +filled with boastful descriptions of these glories of my new country. No +native citizen of Chelsea took such pride and delight in its +institutions as I did. It required no fife and drum corps, no Fourth of +July procession, to set me tingling with patriotism. Even the common +agents and instruments of municipal life, such as the letter carrier and +the fire engines, I regarded with a measure of respect. I know what I +thought of people who said that Chelsea was a very small, dull, +unaspiring town, with no discernible excuse for a separate name or +existence. + +The apex of my civic pride and personal contentment was reached on the +bright September morning when I entered the public school. That day I +must always remember, even if I live to be so old that I cannot tell my +name. To most people their first day at school is a memorable occasion. +In my case the importance of the day was a hundred times magnified, on +account of the years I had waited, the road I had come, and the +conscious ambitions I entertained. + +I am wearily aware that I am speaking in extreme figures, in +superlatives. I wish I knew some other way to render the mental life of +the immigrant child of reasoning age. I may have been ever so much an +exception in acuteness of observation, powers of comparison, and +abnormal self-consciousness; none the less were my thoughts and conduct +typical of the attitude of the intelligent immigrant child toward +American institutions. And what the child thinks and feels is a +reflection of the hopes, desires, purposes of the parent who brought him +overseas, no matter how precocious and independent the child may be. +Your immigrant inspectors will tell you what poverty the foreigner +brings in his baggage, what want in his pockets. Let the overgrown boy +of twelve, reverently drawing his letters in the baby class, testify to +the noble dreams and high ideals that may be hidden beneath the greasy +caftan of the immigrant. Speaking for the Jews, at least, I know I am +safe in inviting such an investigation. + +Who were my companions on my first day at school? Whose hand was in +mine, as I stood, overcome with awe, by the teacher's desk, and +whispered my name as my father prompted? Was it Frieda's steady, capable +hand? Was it her loyal heart that throbbed, beat for beat with mine, as +it had done through all our childish adventures? Frieda's heart did +throb that day, but not with my emotions. My heart pulsed with joy and +pride and ambition; in her heart longing fought with abnegation. For I +was led to the schoolroom, with its sunshine and its singing and the +teacher's cheery smile; while she was led to the workshop, with its foul +air, care-lined faces, and the foreman's stern command. Our going to +school was the fulfilment of my father's best promises to us, and +Frieda's share in it was to fashion and fit the calico frocks in which +the baby sister and I made our first appearance in a public schoolroom. + +I remember to this day the gray pattern of the calico, so affectionately +did I regard it as it hung upon the wall--my consecration robe awaiting +the beatific day. And Frieda, I am sure, remembers it, too, so +longingly did she regard it as the crisp, starchy breadths of it slid +between her fingers. But whatever were her longings, she said nothing of +them; she bent over the sewing-machine humming an Old-World melody. In +every straight, smooth seam, perhaps, she tucked away some lingering +impulse of childhood; but she matched the scrolls and flowers with the +utmost care. If a sudden shock of rebellion made her straighten up for +an instant, the next instant she was bending to adjust a ruffle to the +best advantage. And when the momentous day arrived, and the little +sister and I stood up to be arrayed, it was Frieda herself who patted +and smoothed my stiff new calico; who made me turn round and round, to +see that I was perfect; who stooped to pull out a disfiguring +basting-thread. If there was anything in her heart besides sisterly love +and pride and good-will, as we parted that morning, it was a sense of +loss and a woman's acquiescence in her fate; for we had been close +friends, and now our ways would lie apart. Longing she felt, but no +envy. She did not grudge me what she was denied. Until that morning we +had been children together, but now, at the fiat of her destiny she +became a woman, with all a woman's cares; whilst I, so little younger +than she, was bidden to dance at the May festival of untroubled +childhood. + +I wish, for my comfort, that I could say that I had some notion of the +difference in our lots, some sense of the injustice to her, of the +indulgence to me. I wish I could even say that I gave serious thought to +the matter. There had always been a distinction between us rather out of +proportion to the difference in our years. Her good health and domestic +instincts had made it natural for her to become my mother's right hand, +in the years preceding the emigration, when there were no more servants +or dependents. Then there was the family tradition that Mary was the +quicker, the brighter of the two, and that hers could be no common lot. +Frieda was relied upon for help, and her sister for glory. And when I +failed as a milliner's apprentice, while Frieda made excellent progress +at the dressmaker's, our fates, indeed, were sealed. It was understood, +even before we reached Boston, that she would go to work and I to +school. In view of the family prejudices, it was the inevitable course. +No injustice was intended. My father sent us hand in hand to school, +before he had ever thought of America. If, in America, he had been able +to support his family unaided, it would have been the culmination of his +best hopes to see all his children at school, with equal advantages at +home. But when he had done his best, and was still unable to provide +even bread and shelter for us all, he was compelled to make us children +self-supporting as fast as it was practicable. There was no choosing +possible; Frieda was the oldest, the strongest, the best prepared, and +the only one who was of legal age to be put to work. + +My father has nothing to answer for. He divided the world between his +children in accordance with the laws of the country and the compulsion +of his circumstances. I have no need of defending him. It is myself that +I would like to defend, and I cannot. I remember that I accepted the +arrangements made for my sister and me without much reflection, and +everything that was planned for my advantage I took as a matter of +course. I was no heartless monster, but a decidedly self-centered child. +If my sister had seemed unhappy it would have troubled me; but I am +ashamed to recall that I did not consider how little it was that +contented her. I was so preoccupied with my own happiness that I did not +half perceive the splendid devotion of her attitude towards me, the +sweetness of her joy in my good luck. She not only stood by approvingly +when I was helped to everything; she cheerfully waited on me herself. +And I took everything from her hand as if it were my due. + +The two of us stood a moment in the doorway of the tenement house on +Arlington Street, that wonderful September morning when I first went to +school. It was I that ran away, on winged feet of joy and expectation; +it was she whose feet were bound in the tread-mill of daily toil. And I +was so blind that I did not see that the glory lay on her, and not on +me. + + * * * * * + +Father himself conducted us to school. He would not have delegated that +mission to the President of the United States. He had awaited the day +with impatience equal to mine, and the visions he saw as he hurried us +over the sun-flecked pavements transcended all my dreams. Almost his +first act on landing on American soil, three years before, had been his +application for naturalization. He had taken the remaining steps in the +process with eager promptness, and at the earliest moment allowed by the +law, he became a citizen of the United States. It is true that he had +left home in search of bread for his hungry family, but he went blessing +the necessity that drove him to America. The boasted freedom of the New +World meant to him far more than the right to reside, travel, and work +wherever he pleased; it meant the freedom to speak his thoughts, to +throw off the shackles of superstition, to test his own fate, unhindered +by political or religious tyranny. He was only a young man when he +landed--thirty-two; and most of his life he had been held in +leading-strings. He was hungry for his untasted manhood. + +Three years passed in sordid struggle and disappointment. He was not +prepared to make a living even in America, where the day laborer eats +wheat instead of rye. Apparently the American flag could not protect him +against the pursuing Nemesis of his limitations; he must expiate the +sins of his fathers who slept across the seas. He had been endowed at +birth with a poor constitution, a nervous, restless temperament, and an +abundance of hindering prejudices. In his boyhood his body was starved, +that his mind might be stuffed with useless learning. In his youth this +dearly gotten learning was sold, and the price was the bread and salt +which he had not been trained to earn for himself. Under the wedding +canopy he was bound for life to a girl whose features were still strange +to him; and he was bidden to multiply himself, that sacred learning +might be perpetuated in his sons, to the glory of the God of his +fathers. All this while he had been led about as a creature without a +will, a chattel, an instrument. In his maturity he awoke, and found +himself poor in health, poor in purse, poor in useful knowledge, and +hampered on all sides. At the first nod of opportunity he broke away +from his prison, and strove to atone for his wasted youth by a life of +useful labor; while at the same time he sought to lighten the gloom of +his narrow scholarship by freely partaking of modern ideas. But his +utmost endeavor still left him far from his goal. In business nothing +prospered with him. Some fault of hand or mind or temperament led him to +failure where other men found success. Wherever the blame for his +disabilities be placed, he reaped their bitter fruit. "Give me bread!" +he cried to America. "What will you do to earn it?" the challenge came +back. And he found that he was master of no art, of no trade; that even +his precious learning was of no avail, because he had only the most +antiquated methods of communicating it. + +So in his primary quest he had failed. There was left him the +compensation of intellectual freedom. That he sought to realize in every +possible way. He had very little opportunity to prosecute his education, +which, in truth, had never been begun. His struggle for a bare living +left him no time to take advantage of the public evening school; but he +lost nothing of what was to be learned through reading, through +attendance at public meetings, through exercising the rights of +citizenship. Even here he was hindered by a natural inability to acquire +the English language. In time, indeed, he learned to read, to follow a +conversation or lecture; but he never learned to write correctly, and +his pronunciation remains extremely foreign to this day. + +If education, culture, the higher life were shining things to be +worshipped from afar, he had still a means left whereby he could draw +one step nearer to them. He could send his children to school, to learn +all those things that he knew by fame to be desirable. The common +school, at least, perhaps high school; for one or two, perhaps even +college! His children should be students, should fill his house with +books and intellectual company; and thus he would walk by proxy in the +Elysian Fields of liberal learning. As for the children themselves, he +knew no surer way to their advancement and happiness. + +So it was with a heart full of longing and hope that my father led us +to school on that first day. He took long strides in his eagerness, the +rest of us running and hopping to keep up. + +At last the four of us stood around the teacher's desk; and my father, +in his impossible English, gave us over in her charge, with some broken +word of his hopes for us that his swelling heart could no longer +contain. I venture to say that Miss Nixon was struck by something +uncommon in the group we made, something outside of Semitic features and +the abashed manner of the alien. My little sister was as pretty as a +doll, with her clear pink-and-white face, short golden curls, and eyes +like blue violets when you caught them looking up. My brother might have +been a girl, too, with his cherubic contours of face, rich red color, +glossy black hair, and fine eyebrows. Whatever secret fears were in his +heart, remembering his former teachers, who had taught with the rod, he +stood up straight and uncringing before the American teacher, his cap +respectfully doffed. Next to him stood a starved-looking girl with eyes +ready to pop out, and short dark curls that would not have made much of +a wig for a Jewish bride. + +All three children carried themselves rather better than the common run +of "green" pupils that were brought to Miss Nixon. But the figure that +challenged attention to the group was the tall, straight father, with +his earnest face and fine forehead, nervous hands eloquent in gesture, +and a voice full of feeling. This foreigner, who brought his children to +school as if it were an act of consecration, who regarded the teacher of +the primer class with reverence, who spoke of visions, like a man +inspired, in a common schoolroom, was not like other aliens, who +brought their children in dull obedience to the law; was not like the +native fathers, who brought their unmanageable boys, glad to be relieved +of their care. I think Miss Nixon guessed what my father's best English +could not convey. I think she divined that by the simple act of +delivering our school certificates to her he took possession of America. + + +NOTES + +=The Promised Land=:--The land of freedom and peace which the Jews have +hoped to attain. See Exodus, 3:8; 6:8; Genesis, 12:5-7; Deuteronomy, +8:7-10; Hebrews, 11:9. + +=his three years of probation=:--Mary Antin's father had spent three +years in America before sending back to Russia for his family. + +=Polotzk=:--Pronounced P[=o]'lotsk; a town in Russia on the Dwina River. + +=seven lean years=:--A reference to the famine in Egypt predicted by +Joseph, Pharaoh's Hebrew favorite. See Genesis, 40. + +=Dvina=:--The Düna or Dwina River, in Russia. + +=originally destined=:--Mr. Antin's parents had intended him to be a +scholar and teacher. + +=Yiddish=:--From the German word _jüdisch_, meaning Jewish; a mixed +language made up of German, Hebrew, and Russian words. It is generally +spoken by Jews. + +=Chelsea=:--A suburb of Boston. + +=Nemesis=:--In Greek mythology, a goddess of vengeance or punishment for +sins and errors. + +=the sins of his fathers=:--See Exodus, 20:5; Numbers, 14:18; +Deuteronomy, 5:9. + +=Elysian fields=:--In Greek thought, the home of the happy dead. + +=Semitic=:--Jewish; from the name of Shem, the son of Noah. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This selection gives the experience of a Jewish girl who came from +Polotzk, Russia, to Boston. Read rather slowly, with the help of these +questions: What is meant by "centuries of repression"? Is there no such +repression in America? How is it true that the Jew peddler "was born +thousands of years before the oldest native American"? What are the +educational advantages of a thickly populated neighborhood? What is your +idea of the slums? Why did the children expect every comfort to be +supplied? How much is really free in America? Is education free? How +does one secure an education in Russia? How are American machine-made +garments superior to those made by hand in Russia? Was it a good thing +to change the children's names? What effect does the sea have upon those +who live near it? What effect has a great change of environment on a +growing young person? What kind of person was Mrs. Wilner? What does Mr. +Antin mean when he says, "America is not Polotzk"? Are all men equal in +America? Read carefully the description of Mr. Wilner: How does the +author make it vivid and lively? Why was Mary Antin's first day in +school so important to her? Was it fair that Frieda should not go to +school? Should an older child be sacrificed for a younger? Should a slow +child always give way to a bright one? What do you think of the way in +which Mary accepted the situation when Frieda had to go to work? Read +carefully what Mary says about it. Is it easy to make a living in +America? Why did Mr. Antin not succeed in business? What is meant by +"the compensation of intellectual freedom"? What did Mr. Antin gain from +his life in America? What sort of man was he? In reading the selection, +what idea do you get of the Russian immigrant? Of what America means to +the poor foreigner? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Foreigners in our Town +The "Greenhorn" +The Immigrant Family +The Peddler +Ellis Island +What America Means to the Foreigner +The Statue of Liberty +A Russian Woman +The New Girl at School +The Basement Store +A Large Family +Learning to Speak a New Language +What the Public School can Do +A Russian Brass Shop +The Factory Girl +My Childish Sports +The Refreshment Stand +On the Sea Shore +The Popcorn Man +A Home in the Tenements +Earning a Living +More about Mary Antin[9] +How Children Amuse Themselves +A Fragment of My Autobiography +An Autobiography that I Have Read + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=The Immigrant Family=:--Have you ever seen a family that have just +arrived in America from a foreign land? Tell where you saw them. How +many persons were there? What were they doing? Describe each person, +noting especially anything odd or picturesque in looks, dress, or +behavior. Were they carrying anything? What expressions did they have on +their faces? Did they seem pleased with their new surroundings? Was +anyone trying to help them? Could they speak English? If possible, +report a few fragments of their conversation. Did you have a chance to +find out what they thought of America? Do you know what has become of +them, and how they are getting along? + +=A Fragment of my Autobiography=:--Did you, as a child, move into a +strange town, or make a visit in a place entirely new to you? Tell +rather briefly why you went and what preparations were made. Then give +an account of your arrival. What was the first thing that impressed you? +What did you do or say? What did the grown people say? Was there +anything unusual about the food, or the furniture, or the dress of the +people? Go on and relate your experiences, telling any incidents that +you remember. Try to make your reader share the bewilderment and +excitement you felt. Did anyone laugh at you, or make fun of you, or +hurt your feelings? Were you glad or sorry that you had come? Finish +your story by telling of your departure from the place, or of your +gradually getting used to your new surroundings. + +Try to recall some other experiences of your childhood. Write them out +quite fully, giving space to your feelings as well as to the events. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Promised Land Mary Antin +They Who Knock at Our Gates " " +The Lie " " + (Atlantic Monthly, August, 1913) +Children of the Tenements Jacob A. Riis +The Making of an American " " " +On the Trail of the Immigrant E.A. Steiner +Against the Current " " " +The Immigrant Tide " " " +The Man Farthest Down Booker T. Washington +Up from Slavery " " " +The Woman who Toils Marie and Mrs. John Van Vorst +The Long Day Anonymous +Old Homes of New Americans F.E. Clark +Autobiography S.S. McClure +Autobiography Theodore Roosevelt +A Buckeye Boyhood W.H. Venable +A Tuscan Childhood Lisa Cipriani +An Indian Boyhood Charles Eastman +When I Was Young Yoshio Markino +When I Was a Boy in Japan Sakae Shioya +The Story of my Childhood Clara Barton +The Story of my Boyhood and Youth John Muir +The Biography of a Prairie Girl Eleanor Gates +Autobiography of a Tomboy Jeanette Gilder +The One I Knew Best of All Frances Hodgson Burnett +The Story of my Life Helen Keller +The Story of a Child Pierre Loti +A New England Girlhood Lucy Larcom +Autobiography Joseph Jefferson +Dream Days Kenneth Grahame +The Golden Age " " +The Would-be-Goods E. Nesbit +In the Morning Glow Roy Rolfe Gilson +Chapters from a Life Elizabeth Stuart Phelps-Ward + +Mary Antin: Outlook, 102:482, November 2, 1912; 104:473, June 28, 1913 +(Portrait). Bookman, 35:419-421, June 1912. + + + + +WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME + +WALT WHITMAN + + + Warble me now for joy of lilac-time (returning in reminiscence), + Sort me, O tongue and lips for Nature's sake, souvenirs of + earliest summer, + Gather the welcome signs (as children with pebbles or + stringing shells), + Put in April and May, the hylas croaking in the ponds, the elastic air, + Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes, + Blue-bird and darting swallow, nor forget the high-hole + flashing his golden wings, + The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor, + Shimmer of waters with fish in them, the cerulean above, + All that is jocund and sparkling, the brooks running, + The maple woods, the crisp February days, and the sugar-making, + The robin where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted, + With musical clear call at sunrise and again at sunset, + Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the + nest of his mate, + The melted snow of March, the willow sending forth its + yellow-green sprouts, + For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in + it and from it? + Thou, soul, unloosen'd--the restlessness after I know not what; + Come, let us lag here no longer, let us be up and away! + + O if one could but fly like a bird! + O to escape, to sail forth as in a ship! + To glide with thee, O soul, o'er all, in all, as a ship o'er + the waters; + Gathering these hints, the preludes, the blue sky, the grass, + the morning drops of dew, + The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark-green heart-shaped leaves, + Wood-violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence, + Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere, + To grace the bush I love--to sing with the birds, + A warble for joy of lilac-time, returning in reminiscence. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is the meaning of "sort me"? Why jumble all these signs of summer +together? Does one naturally think in an orderly way when recalling the +details of spring or summer? Can you think of any important points that +the author has left out? Is _samples_ a poetic word? What is meant by +the line "not for themselves alone," etc.? Note the sound-words in the +poem: What is their value here? Read the lines slowly to yourself, or +have some one read them aloud, and see how many of them suggest little +pictures. Note the punctuation: Do you approve? Is this your idea of +poetry? What is poetry? Would this be better if it were in the full form +of verse? Can you see why the critics have disagreed over Whitman's +poetry? + + + + +WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER + +WALT WHITMAN + + + When I heard the learn'd astronomer, + When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, + When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide + and measure them, + When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much + applause in the lecture-room, + How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, + Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself, + In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, + Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why did the listener become tired of the lecturer who spoke with much +applause? What did he learn from the stars when he was alone out of +doors? Does he not think the study of astronomy worth while? What would +be his feeling toward other scientific studies? What do you get out of +this poem? What do you think of the way in which it is written? + + + + +VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT + +WALT WHITMAN + + + Vigil strange I kept on the field one night; + When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day, + One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look + I shall never forget, + One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reach'd up as you lay + on the ground, + Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle, + Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made + my way, + Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body, + son of responding kisses (never again on earth responding), + Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, + cool blew the moderate night-wind, + Long there and then in vigil I stood, + dimly around me the battle-field spreading, + Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, + But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, + Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side + leaning my chin in my hands, + Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest + comrade--not a tear, not a word, + Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, + As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole, + Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was + your death, + I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, + I think we shall surely meet again,) + Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the + dawn appear'd, + My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form, + Folded the blanket well, tucked it carefully over head and + carefully under feet, + And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, + in his rude-dug grave I deposited, + Ending my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim, + Vigil for boy of responding kisses (never again on earth responding), + Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, + how as day brighten'd, + I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, + And buried him where he fell. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is a vigil? Was Whitman ever in battle? Does he mean himself +speaking? Was the boy really his son? Is the man's calmness a sign that +he does not care? Why does he call the vigil "wondrous" and "sweet"? +What does he think about the next life? Read the poem over slowly and +thoughtfully to yourself, or aloud to some one: How does it make you +feel? + +Can you see any reason for calling Whitman a great poet? Has he +broadened your idea of what poetry may be? Read, if possible, in John +Burroughs's book on Whitman, pages 48-53. + + +EXERCISES + +Re-read the _Warble for Lilac-Time_. Can you write of the signs of fall, +in somewhat the same way? Choose the most beautiful and the most +important characteristics that you can think of. Try to use color-words +and sound-words so that they make your composition vivid and musical. +Compare the _Warble for Lilac-Time_ with the first lines of Chaucer's +_Prologue_ to the _Canterbury Tales_. With Lowell's _How Spring Came in +New England_. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Walk in the Woods +A Spring Day +Sugar-Making +My Flower Garden +The Garden in Lilac Time +The Orchard in Spring +On a Farm in Early Summer +A Walk on a Summer Night +Waiting for Morning +The Stars +Walt Whitman and his Poetry + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Poems by Whitman suitable for class reading:-- + On the Beach at Night + Bivouac on a Mountain Side + To a Locomotive in Winter + A Farm Picture + The Runner + I Hear It was Charged against Me + A Sight in Camp + By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame + Song of the Broad-Axe + A Child said _What is the grass?_ (from _A Song of Myself_) + +The Rolling Earth (Selections from Whitman) W.R. Browne (Ed.) +The Life of Walt Whitman H.B. Binns +Walt Whitman John Burroughs +A Visit to Walt Whitman (Portraits) John Johnston +Walt Whitman the Man (Portraits) Thomas Donaldson +Walt Whitman G.R. Carpenter +Walt Whitman (Portraits) I.H. Platt +Whitman Bliss Perry +Early May in New England (poem) Percy Mackaye +Knee-deep in June J.W. Riley +Spring Henry Timrod +Spring Song Bliss Carman + + + + +ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA + +TRANSLATED BY GEORGE HERBERT PALMER + + +Thus long-tried royal Odysseus slumbered here, heavy with sleep and +toil; but Athene went to the land and town of the Phaeacians. This +people once in ancient times lived in the open highlands, near that rude +folk the Cyclops, who often plundered them, being in strength more +powerful than they. Moving them thence, godlike Nausithoüs, their +leader, established them at Scheria, far from toiling men. He ran a wall +around the town, built houses there, made temples for the gods, and laid +out farms; but Nausithoüs had met his doom and gone to the house of +Hades, and Alcinoüs now was reigning, trained in wisdom by the gods. To +this man's dwelling came the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, planning a safe +return for brave Odysseus. She hastened to a chamber, richly wrought, in +which a maid was sleeping, of form and beauty like the immortals, +Nausicaä, daughter of generous Alcinoüs. Near by two damsels, dowered +with beauty by the Graces, slept by the threshold, one on either hand. +The shining doors were shut; but Athene, like a breath of air, moved to +the maid's couch, stood by her head, and thus addressed her,--taking the +likeness of the daughter of Dymas, the famous seaman, a maiden just +Nausicaä's age, dear to her heart. Taking her guise, thus spoke +clear-eyed Athene:-- + +"Nausicaä, how did your mother bear a child so heedless? Your gay +clothes lie uncared for, though the wedding time is near, when you must +wear fine clothes yourself and furnish them to those that may attend +you. From things like these a good repute arises, and father and honored +mother are made glad. Then let us go a-washing at the dawn of day, and I +will go to help, that you may soon be ready; for really not much longer +will you be a maid. Already you have for suitors the chief ones of the +land throughout Phaeacia, where you too were born. Come, then, beg your +good father early in the morning to harness the mules and cart, so as to +carry the men's clothes, gowns, and bright-hued rugs. Yes, and for you +yourself it is more decent so than setting forth on foot; the pools are +far from the town." + +Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, off to Olympus, where they +say the dwelling of the gods stands fast forever. Never with winds is it +disturbed, nor by the rain made wet, nor does the snow come near; but +everywhere the upper air spreads cloudless, and a bright radiance plays +over all; and there the blessed gods are happy all their days. Thither +now came the clear-eyed one, when she had spoken with the maid. + +Soon bright-throned morning came, and waked fair-robed Nausicaä. She +marveled at the dream, and hastened through the house to tell it to her +parents, her dear father and her mother. She found them still in-doors: +her mother sat by the hearth among the waiting-women, spinning +sea-purple yarn; she met her father at the door, just going forth to +join the famous princes at the council, to which the high Phaeacians +summoned him. So standing close beside him, she said to her dear +father:-- + +"Papa dear, could you not have the wagon harnessed for me,--the high +one, with good wheels,--to take my nice clothes to the river to be +washed, which now are lying dirty? Surely for you yourself it is but +proper, when you are with the first men holding councils, that you +should wear clean clothing. Five good sons too are here at home,--two +married, and three merry young men still,--and they are always wanting +to go to the dance wearing fresh clothes. And this is all a trouble on +my mind." + +Such were her words, for she was shy of naming the glad marriage to her +father; but he understood it all, and answered thus: + +"I do not grudge the mules, my child, nor anything beside. Go! Quickly +shall the servants harness the wagon for you, the high one, with good +wheels, fitted with rack above." + +Saying this, he called to the servants, who gave heed. Out in the court +they made the easy mule-cart ready; they brought the mules and yoked +them to the wagon. The maid took from her room her pretty clothing, and +stowed it in the polished wagon; her mother put in a chest food the maid +liked, of every kind, put dainties in, and poured some wine into a +goat-skin bottle,--the maid, meanwhile, had got into the wagon,--and +gave her in a golden flask some liquid oil, that she might bathe and +anoint herself, she and the waiting-women. Nausicaä took the whip and +the bright reins, and cracked the whip to start. There was a clatter of +the mules, and steadily they pulled, drawing the clothing and the +maid,--yet not alone; beside her went the waiting-women too. + +When now they came to the fair river's current, where the pools were +always full,--for in abundance clear water bubbles from beneath to +cleanse the foulest stains,--they turned the mules loose from the +wagon, and let them stray along the eddying stream, to crop the honeyed +pasturage. Then from the wagon they took the clothing in their arms, +carried it into the dark water, and stamped it in the pits with rivalry +in speed. And after they had washed and cleansed it of all stains, they +spread it carefully along the shore, just where the waves washed up the +pebbles on the beach. Then bathing and anointing with the oil, they +presently took dinner on the river bank and waited for the clothes to +dry in the sunshine. And when they were refreshed with food, the maids +and she, they then began to play at ball, throwing their wimples off. +White-armed Nausicaä led their sport; and as the huntress Artemis goes +down a mountain, down long Taÿgetus or Erymanthus, exulting in the boars +and the swift deer, while round her sport the woodland nymphs, daughters +of ægis-bearing Zeus, and glad is Leto's heart, for all the rest her +child o'ertops by head and brow, and easily marked is she, though all +are fair; so did this virgin pure excel her women. + +But when Nausicaä thought to turn toward home once more, to yoke the +mules and fold up the clean clothes, then a new plan the goddess formed, +clear-eyed Athene; for she would have Odysseus wake and see the +bright-eyed maid, who might to the Phaeacian city show the way. Just +then the princess tossed the ball to one of her women, and missing her +it fell in the deep eddy. Thereat they screamed aloud. Royal Odysseus +woke, and sitting up debated in his mind and heart:-- + +"Alas! To what men's land am I come now? Lawless and savage are they, +with no regard for right, or are they kind to strangers and reverent +toward the gods? It was as if there came to me the delicate voice of +maids--nymphs, it may be, who haunt the craggy peaks of hills, the +springs of streams and grassy marshes; or am I now, perhaps, near men of +human speech? Suppose I make a trial for myself, and see." + +So saying, royal Odysseus crept from the thicket, but with his strong +hand broke a spray of leaves from the close wood, to be a covering round +his body for his nakedness. He set off like a lion that is bred among +the hills and trusts its strength; onward it goes, beaten with rain and +wind; its two eyes glare; and now in search of oxen or of sheep it +moves, or tracking the wild deer; its belly bids it make trial of the +flocks, even by entering the guarded folds; so was Odysseus about to +meet those fair-haired maids, for need constrained him. To them he +seemed a loathsome sight, befouled with brine. They hurried off, one +here, one there, over the stretching sands. Only the daughter of +Alcinoüs stayed, for in her breast Athene had put courage and from her +limbs took fear. Steadfast she stood to meet him. And now Odysseus +doubted whether to make his suit by clasping the knees of the +bright-eyed maid, or where he stood, aloof, in winning words to make +that suit, and try if she would show the town and give him clothing. +Reflecting thus, it seemed the better way to make his suit in winning +words, aloof; for fear if he should clasp her knees, the maid might be +offended. Forthwith he spoke, a winning and shrewd speech:-- + +"I am your suppliant, princess. Are you some god or mortal? If one of +the gods who hold the open sky, to Artemis, daughter of mighty Zeus, in +beauty, height, and bearing I find you likest. But if you are a mortal, +living on the earth, most happy are your father and your honored +mother, most happy your brothers also. Surely their hearts ever grow +warm with pleasure over you, when watching such a blossom moving in the +dance. And then exceeding happy he, beyond all others, who shall with +gifts prevail and lead you home. For I never before saw such a being +with these eyes--no man, no woman. I am amazed to see. At Delos once, by +Apollo's altar, something like you I noticed, a young palm shoot +springing up; for thither too I came, and a great troop was with me, +upon a journey where I was to meet with bitter trials. And just as when +I looked on that I marveled long within, since never before sprang such +a stalk from earth; so, lady, I admire and marvel now at you, and +greatly fear to touch your knees. Yet grievous woe is on me. Yesterday, +after twenty days, I escaped from the wine-dark sea, and all that time +the waves and boisterous winds bore me away from the island of Ogygia. +Now some god cast me here, that probably here also I may meet with +trouble; for I do not think trouble will cease, but much the gods will +first accomplish. Then, princess, have compassion, for it is you to whom +through many grievous toils I first am come; none else I know of all who +own this city and this land. Show me the town, and give me a rag to +throw around me, if you had perhaps on coming here some wrapper for your +linen. And may the gods grant all that in your thoughts you long for: +husband and home and true accord may they bestow; for a better and +higher gift than this there cannot be, when with accordant aims man and +wife have a home. Great grief it is to foes and joy to friends; but they +themselves best know its meaning." + +Then answered him white-armed Nausicaä: "Stranger, because you do not +seem a common, senseless person,--and Olympian Zeus himself distributes +fortune to mankind and gives to high and low even as he wills to each; +and this he gave to you, and you must bear it therefore,--now you have +reached our city and our land, you shall not lack for clothes nor +anything besides which it is fit a hard-pressed suppliant should find. I +will point out the town and tell its people's name. The Phaeacians own +this city and this land, and I am the daughter of generous Alcinoüs, on +whom the might and power of the Phaeacians rests." + +She spoke, and called her fair-haired waiting-women: "My women, stay! +Why do you run because you saw a man? You surely do not think him +evil-minded, The man is not alive, and never will be born, who can come +and offer harm to the Phaeacian land: for we are very dear to the +immortals; and then we live apart, far on the surging sea, no other +tribe of men has dealings with us. But this poor man has come here +having lost his way, and we should give him aid; for in the charge of +Zeus all strangers and beggars stand, and a small gift is welcome. Then +give, my women, to the stranger food and drink, and let him bathe in the +river where there is shelter from the breeze." + +She spoke; the others stopped and called to one another, and down they +brought Odysseus to the place of shelter, even as Nausicaä, daughter of +generous Alcinoüs, had ordered. They placed a robe and tunic there for +clothing, they gave him in the golden flask the liquid oil, and bade him +bathe in the stream's currents. + + * * * * * + +The women went away.... And now, with water from the stream, royal +Odysseus washed his skin clean of the salt which clung about his back +and his broad shoulders, and wiped from his head the foam brought by the +barren sea; and when he had thoroughly bathed and oiled himself and had +put on the clothing which the chaste maiden gave, Athene, the daughter +of Zeus, made him taller than before and stouter to behold, and she made +the curling locks to fall around his head as on the hyacinth flower. As +when a man lays gold on silver,--some skillful man whom Hephaestus and +Pallas Athene have trained in every art, and he fashions graceful work; +so did she cast a grace upon his head and shoulders. He walked apart +along the shore, and there sat down, beaming with grace and beauty. The +maid observed; then to her fair-haired waiting-women said:-- + +"Hearken, my white-armed women, while I speak. Not without purpose on +the part of all the gods that hold Olympus is this man's meeting with +the godlike Phaeacians. A while ago, he really seemed to me ill-looking, +but now he is like the gods who hold the open sky. Ah, might a man like +this be called my husband, having his home here, and content to stay! +But give, my women, to the stranger food and drink." + +She spoke, and very willingly they heeded and obeyed, and set beside +Odysseus food and drink. Then long-tried Odysseus eagerly drank and ate, +for he had long been fasting. + +And now to other matters white-armed Nausicaä turned her thoughts. She +folded the clothes and laid them in the beautiful wagon, she yoked the +stout-hoofed mules, mounted herself, and calling to Odysseus thus she +spoke and said:-- + +"Arise now, stranger, and hasten to the town, that I may set you on the +road to my wise father's house, where you shall see, I promise you, the +best of all Phaeacia. Only do this,--you seem to me not to lack +understanding: while we are passing through the fields and farms, here +with my women, behind the mules and cart, walk rapidly along, and I will +lead the way. But as we near the town,--round which is a lofty rampart, +a beautiful harbor on each side and a narrow road between,--there curved +ships line the way; for every man has his own mooring-place. Beyond is +the assembly near the beautiful grounds of Poseidon, constructed out of +blocks of stone deeply imbedded. Further along, they make the black +ships' tackling, cables and canvas, and shape out the oars; for the +Phaeacians do not care for bow and quiver, only for masts and oars of +ships and the trim ships themselves, with which it is their joy to cross +the foaming sea. Now the rude talk of such as these I would avoid, that +no one afterwards may give me blame. For very forward persons are about +the place, and some coarse man might say, if he should meet us: 'What +tall and handsome stranger is following Nausicaä? Where did she find +him? A husband he will be, her very own. Some castaway, perhaps, she +rescued from his vessel, some foreigner; for we have no neighbors here. +Or at her prayer some long-entreated god has come straight down from +heaven, and he will keep her his forever. So much the better, if she has +gone herself and found a husband elsewhere! The people of our own land +here, Phaeacians, she disdains, though she has many high-born suitors.' +So they will talk, and for me it would prove a scandal. I should myself +censure a girl who acted so, who, heedless of friends, while father and +mother were alive, mingled with men before her public wedding. And, +stranger, listen now to what I say, that you may soon obtain assistance +and safe conduct from my father. Near our road you will see a stately +grove of poplar trees, belonging to Athene; in it a fountain flows, and +round it is a meadow. That is my father's park, his fruitful vineyard, +as far from the town as one can call. There sit and wait a while, until +we come to the town and reach my father's palace. But when you think we +have already reached the palace, enter the city of the Phaeacians, and +ask for the palace of my father, generous Alcinoüs. Easily is it known; +a child, though young, could show the way; for the Phaeacians do not +build their houses like the dwelling of Alcinoüs their prince. But when +his house and court receive you, pass quickly through the hall until you +find my mother. She sits in the firelight by the hearth, spinning +sea-purple yarn, a marvel to behold, and resting against a pillar. Her +handmaids sit behind her. Here too my father's seat rests on the +self-same pillar, and here he sits and sips his wine like an immortal. +Passing him by, stretch out your hands to our mother's knees, if you +would see the day of your return in gladness and with speed, although +you come from far. If she regards you kindly in her heart, then there is +hope that you may see your friends and reach your stately house and +native land." + +Saying this, with her bright whip she struck the mules, and fast they +left the river's streams; and well they trotted, well they plied their +feet, and skillfully she reined them that those on foot might +follow,--the waiting-women and Odysseus,--and moderately she used the +lash. The sun was setting when they reached the famous grove, Athene's +sacred ground where royal Odysseus sat him down. And thereupon he prayed +to the daughter of mighty Zeus:-- + +"Hearken, thou child of ægis-bearing Zeus, unwearied one! O hear me +now, although before thou didst not hear me, when I was wrecked, what +time the great Land-shaker wrecked me. Grant that I come among the +Phaeacians welcomed and pitied by them." + +So spoke he in his prayer, and Pallas Athene heard, but did not yet +appear to him in open presence; for she regarded still her father's +brother, who stoutly strove with godlike Odysseus until he reached his +land. + +Here, then, long-tried royal Odysseus made his prayer; but to the town +the strong mules bore the maid. And when she reached her father's famous +palace, she stopped before the door-way, and round her stood her +brothers, men like immortals, who from the cart unyoked the mules and +carried the clothing in. The maid went to her chamber, where a fire was +kindled for her by an old Apeirean woman, the chamber-servant +Eurymedousa, whom long ago curved ships brought from Apeira; her they +had chosen from the rest to be the gift of honor for Alcinoüs, because +he was the lord of all Phaeacians, and people listened to his voice as +if he were a god. She was the nurse of white-armed Nausicaä at the +palace, and she it was who kindled her the fire and in her room prepared +her supper. + +And now Odysseus rose to go to the city; but Athene kindly drew thick +clouds around Odysseus, for fear some bold Phaeacian meeting him might +trouble him with talk and ask him who he was. And just as he was +entering the pleasant town, the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, came to meet +him, disguised as a young girl who bore a water-jar. She paused as she +drew near, and royal Odysseus asked:-- + +"My child, could you not guide me to the house of one Alcinoüs, who is +ruler of this people? For I am a toil-worn stranger come from far, out +of a distant land. Therefore I know not one among the men who own this +city and this land." + +Then said to him the goddess, clear-eyed Athene: "Yes, good old +stranger, I will show the house for which you ask, for it stands near my +gentle father's. But follow in silence: I will lead the way. Cast not a +glance at any man and ask no questions, for our people do not well +endure a stranger, nor courteously receive a man who comes from +elsewhere. Yet they themselves trust in swift ships and traverse the +great deep, for the Earth-shaker permits them. Swift are their ships as +wing or thought." + +Saying this, Pallas Athene led the way in haste, and he walked after in +the footsteps of the goddess. So the Phaeacians, famed for shipping, did +not observe him walking through the town among them, because Athene, the +fair-haired powerful goddess, did not allow it, but in the kindness of +her heart drew a marvelous mist around him. And now Odysseus admired the +harbors, the trim ships, the meeting-places of the lords themselves, and +the long walls that were so high, fitted with palisades, a marvel to +behold. Then as they neared the famous palace of the king, the goddess, +clear-eyed Athene, thus began:-- + +"Here, good old stranger, is the house you bade me show. You will see +heaven-descended kings sitting at table here. But enter, and have no +misgivings in your heart; for the courageous man in all affairs better +attains his end, come he from where he may. First you shall find the +Queen within the hall. Arete is her name.... Alcinoüs took Arete for his +wife, and he has honored her as no one else on earth is honored among +the women who to-day keep houses for their husbands. Thus has she had a +heartfelt honor, and she has it still, from her own children, from +Alcinoüs himself, and from the people also, who gaze on her as on a god +and greet her with welcomes when she walks about the town. For of sound +judgment, woman as she is, she has no lack; and those whom she regards, +though men, find troubles clear away. If she regards you kindly in her +heart, then there is hope that you may see your friends and reach your +high-roofed house and native land." + +Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, over the barren sea. She +turned from pleasant Scheria, and came to Marathon and wide-wayed Athens +and entered there the strong house of Erechtheus. Meanwhile Odysseus +neared the lordly palace of Alcinoüs, and his heart was deeply stirred +so that he paused before he crossed the brazen threshold; for a sheen as +of the sun or moon played through the high-roofed house of generous +Alcinoüs. On either hand ran walls of bronze from threshold to recess, +and round about the ceiling was a cornice of dark metal. Doors made of +gold closed in the solid building. The door-posts were of silver and +stood on a bronze threshold, silver the lintel overhead, and gold the +handle. On the two sides were gold and silver dogs; these had Hephaestus +wrought with subtle craft to guard the house of generous Alcinoüs, +creatures immortal, young forever. Within were seats planted against the +wall on this side and on that, from threshold to recess, in long array; +and over these were strewn light fine-spun robes, the work of women. +Here the Phaeacian leaders used to sit, drinking and eating, holding +constant cheer. And golden youths on massive pedestals stood and held +flaming torches in their hands to light by night the palace for the +feasters. + +In the King's house are fifty serving maids, some grinding at the mill +the yellow corn, some plying looms or twisting yarn, who as they sit are +like the leaves of a tall poplar; and from the close-spun linen drops +the liquid oil. And as Phaeacian men are skilled beyond all others in +speeding a swift ship along the sea, so are their women practiced at the +loom; for Athene has given them in large measure skill in fair works and +noble minds. + +Without the court and close beside its gate is a large garden, covering +four acres; around it runs a hedge on either side. Here grow tall +thrifty trees--pears, pomegranates, apples with shining fruit, sweet +figs and thrifty olives. On them fruit never fails; it is not gone in +winter or in summer, but lasts throughout the year; for constantly the +west wind's breath brings some to bud and mellows others. Pear ripens +upon pear, apple on apple, cluster on cluster, fig on fig. Here too the +teeming vineyard has been planted, one part of which, the drying place, +lying on level ground, is heating in the sun; elsewhere men gather +grapes; and elsewhere still they tread them. In front, the grapes are +green and shed their flower, but a second row are now just turning dark. +And here trim garden-beds, along the outer line, spring up in every kind +and all the year are gay. Near by, two fountains rise, one scattering +its streams throughout the garden, one bounding by another course +beneath the courtyard gate toward the high house; from this the +towns-folk draw their water. Such at the palace of Alcinoüs were the +gods' splendid gifts. + +Here long-tried royal Odysseus stood and gazed. Then after he had gazed +his heart's fill on all, he quickly crossed the threshold and came +within the house. + + +NOTES + +=Phaeacia=:--The land of the Phaeacians, on the Island of Scheria, or +Corcyra, the modern Corfu. + +=Athene=:--Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, skill, and science. She was +interested in war, and protected warlike heroes. + +=Cyclops=:--One of a race of uncouth giants, each of whom had but a +single eye, which was in the middle of the forehead. + +=Nausithoüs=:--The king of the Phaeacians at the time they entered +Scheria. + +=Hades=:--The realm of souls; not necessarily a place of punishment. + +=Artemis=:--Another name for Diana, goddess of the moon. + +=Taÿgetus and Erymanthus=:--Mountains in Greece. + +=Leto=:--The mother of Artemis. + +=Delos=:--An island in the Aegean Sea. + +=Ogygia=:--The island of the goddess Calypso, who held Odysseus captive +for seven years. + +=Hephaestus=:--Another name for Vulcan, the god of the under-world. He +was a skilled worker in metal. + +=Poseidon=:--Neptune, god of the ocean. + +=Land-shaker=:--Neptune. + +=Marathon=:--A plain eighteen miles from Athens. It was here that the +Greeks defeated the Persians in 490 B.C. + +=Erectheus=:--The mythical founder of Attica; he was half man and half +serpent. + + +=THE PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES IN THIS SELECTION= + +Al cin' o us ([)a]l sïn' [+o] _[)u]_ s) +Ap ei' ra ([.a]p [=i]' r_a_) +Ap ei re' an ([)a]p [=i] r[=e]' _[)a]_n) +A re' te ([.a] r[=e]' t[=e]) +Ar' te mis (är' t[+e] m[)i]s) +A the' ne ([.a] th[=e]' n[=e]) +Ca lyp' so (k_a_ l[)i]p' s[=o]) +Cir' ce (sûr' s[=e]) +Cy' clops (s[=i]' cl[)o]ps) +De' los (d[=e]' l[)o]s) +Dy' mas (d[=i]' m_[.a]_s) +E rech' theus ([+e] r[)e]k' th[=u]s) +E ry man' thus ([)e]r [)i] m[)a]n' th_[=u]_s) +Eu rym e dou' sa ([=u] r[)i]m [+e] d[=oo]' s_[.a]_) +He phaes' tus (h[+e] f[)e]s' t_[)u]_s) +Le' to (l[=e]' t[=o]) +Mar' a thon (m[)a]r' [.a] th[)o]n) +Nau sic' a ä (nô s[)i]k' [+a] _[.a]_) +Nau sith' o us (nô s[)i]th' [+o] _[)u]_s) +O dys' seus ([+o] d[)i]s' [=u]s) +O gyg' i a ([+o] j[)i]j' _[.a]_) +Phae a' cia (f[+e] [=a]' sh_[.a]_) +Po sei' don (p[+o] s[=i]' d_[)o]_n) +Scher' i a (sk[=e]' r[)i] _[.a]_) +Ta ÿg' e tus (t[=a] [)i]j' [+e] t_[)u]_s) + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Odysseus (Ulysses) has been cast ashore after a long battle with the +sea, following his attempt to escape on a raft from Calypso's island. He +has been saved by the intervention of the goddess Athene, who often +protects distressed heroes. When Book VI opens, he is sleeping in a +secluded nook under an olive tree. (For Odysseus's adventures on the +sea, consult Book V of the _Odyssey_.) Is Athene's visit to Nausicaä an +unusual sort of thing in Greek story? Does it appear that it was +customary for princesses to do their own washing? Note here that _I_ +refers to the daughter of Dymas, since Athene is not speaking in her own +character. From Nausicaä's conversation with her father and her +preparations for departure, what can you judge of Greek family life? How +does the author make us see vividly the activities of Nausicaä and her +maids? Does the out-door scene appear true to life? _This virgin pure_ +refers to Nausicaä, who is being compared to Artemis (Diana), the +goddess of the hunt. What plan has Athene for assisting Odysseus? From +the hero's speech, what can you tell of his character? Can you find out +what adjectives are usually applied to Odysseus in the _Iliad_ and the +_Odyssey_? Why does he here call Nausicaä "Princess"? What effect is his +speech likely to have? What can you tell of Nausicaä from her reply? +Give her reasons for not taking Odysseus with her to the town. Does she +fail in hospitality? What do her reasons show of the life of Greek +women? What do you judge of the prosperity of the Phaeacians? Why does +Nausicaä tell Odysseus to seek the favor of her mother? _Her father's +brother_ means Neptune (the Sea)--brother of Zeus, Athene's father; +Neptune is enraged at Odysseus and wishes to destroy him. _Here then_: +At this point Book VII begins. From what is said of Arete, what can you +tell of the influence of the Greek women? How does the author make you +feel the richness of Alcinoüs's palace? How does it differ from modern +houses? _Corn_ means grain, not Indian corn, which, of course, had not +yet been brought from the New World. Note the vivid description of the +garden. How do you think Odysseus is received at the house of Alcinoüs? +You can find out by reading the rest of Book VII of the _Odyssey_. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +One of Ulysses's Adventures +An Escape from the Sea +A Picnic on the Shore +The Character of Nausicaä +My Idea of a Princess +The Life of a Greek Woman +A Group of Girls +The Character of Odysseus +Shipwrecked +A Beautiful Building +Along the Shore +Among Strangers +A Garden +A Story from the Odyssey +Odysseus at the House of Alcinoüs +The Lady of the House +The Greek Warrior +The Stranger +Why I Wish to Study Greek + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Story from the Odyssey=:--Read, in a translation of the _Odyssey_, a +story of Odysseus, and tell it in your own words. The following stories +are appropriate: The Departure from Calypso's Island, Book V; The +Cyclops Polyphemus, Book IX; The Palace of Circe, Book X; The Land of +the Dead, Book XI; Scylla and Charybdis, Book XII; The Swineherd, Book +XIV; The Trial of the Bow, Book XXI; The Slaughter of the Suitors, Book +XXII. + +After you have chosen a story, read it through several times, to fix the +details in your mind. Lay the book aside, and write the story simply, +but as vividly as possible. + +=The Stranger=:--Explain the circumstances under which the stranger +appears. Are people startled at seeing him (or her)? Describe him. Is he +bewildered? Does he ask directions? Does he ask help? Quote his words +directly. How are his remarks received? Are people afraid of him? or do +they make sport of him? or do they receive him kindly? Who aids him? +Tell what he does and what becomes of him. Quote what is said of him +after he is gone. + +Perhaps you will like to tell the story of Ulysses's arrival among the +Phaeacians, giving it a modern setting, and using modern names. + +=Odysseus at the House of Alcinoüs=:--Without reading Book VII of the +_Odyssey_, write what you imagine to be the conversation between +Alcinoüs (or Arete) and Odysseus, when the shipwrecked hero enters the +palace. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Odyssey George Herbert Palmer (Trans.) +The Odyssey of Homer (prose translation) Butcher and Lang +The Iliad of Homer Lang, Leaf, and Myers +The Odyssey (translation in verse) William Cullen Bryant +The Odyssey for Boys and Girls A.J. Church +The Story of the Odyssey " " " +Greek Song and Story " " " +The Adventures of Odysseus Marvin, Mayor, and Stawell +Tanglewood Tales Nathaniel Hawthorne +Home Life of the Ancient Greeks H. Blümner (trans, by A. + Zimmerman +Classic Myths (chapter 27) C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable (chapters 22 and 23) Thomas Bulfinch +The Story of the Greek People Eva March Tappan +Greece and the Aegean Isles Philip S. Marden +Greek Lands and Letters F.G. and A.C.E. Allinson +Old Greek Folk Stories J.P. Peabody +Men of Old Greece Jennie Hall +The Lotos-eaters Alfred Tennyson +Ulysses " " +The Strayed Reveller Matthew Arnold +A Song of Phaeacia Andrew Lang +The Voyagers (in _The Fields of Dawn_) Lloyd Mifflin +Alice Freeman Palmer George Herbert Palmer + +See the references for _Moly_ on p. 84, and for Odysseus on p. 140. + + + + +ODYSSEUS + +GEORGE CABOT LODGE + + + He strove with Gods and men in equal mood + Of great endurance: Not alone his hands + Wrought in wild seas and labored in strange lands, + And not alone his patient strength withstood + The clashing cliffs and Circe's perilous sands: + Eager of some imperishable good + He drave new pathways thro' the trackless flood + Foreguarded, fearless, free from Fate's commands. + How shall our faith discern the truth he sought? + We too must watch and wander till our eyes, + Turned skyward from the topmost tower of thought, + Haply shall find the star that marked his goal, + The watch-fire of transcendent liberties + Lighting the endless spaces of the soul. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem through. How did Ulysses strive with gods and men? Why can +it be said that he did not labor alone? Look up the story of Circe and +her palace.[10] What was the imperishable good that Ulysses sought? What +does his experience have to do with our lives? What sort of freedom does +the author speak of in the last few lines? + +This verse-form is called the sonnet. How many lines has it? Make out a +scheme of the rhymes: _a b b a_, etc. Notice the change of thought at +the ninth line. Do all sonnets show this change? + + +EXERCISES + +Read several other sonnets; for instance, the poem _On the Life-Mask of +Abraham Lincoln_, on page 210, or _On First Looking into Chapman's +Homer_, by John Keats, or _The Grasshopper and the Cricket_, by Leigh +Hunt. + +Notice how these other sonnets are constructed. Why are they considered +good? + +If possible, read part of what is said about the sonnet in _English +Verse_, by R.M. Alden or in _Forms of English Poetry_, by C.F. Johnson, +or in _Melodies of English Verse_, by Lewis Kennedy Morse; notice some +of the examples given. + +Look in the good magazines for examples of the sonnet. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +To the Grasshopper and the Cricket Leigh Hunt +The Fish Answers (or, The Fish to the Man)[11] Leigh Hunt +On the Grasshopper and Cricket John Keats +On First Looking into Chapman's Homer John Keats +Ozymandias P.B. Shelley +The Sonnet R.W. Gilder +The Odyssey (sonnet) Andrew Lang +The Wine of Circe (sonnet) Dante Gabriel Rossetti +The Automobile (sonnet)[12] Percy Mackaye +The Sonnet William Wordsworth + +See also references for the _Odyssey_, p. 137, and for _Moly_, p. 84. + + + + +A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + +(In _Suburban Sketches_) + + +It was long past the twilight hour, which has been already mentioned as +so oppressive in suburban places, and it was even too late for visitors, +when a resident, whom I shall briefly describe as a contributor to the +magazines, was startled by a ring at his door. As any thoughtful person +would have done upon the like occasion, he ran over his acquaintance in +his mind, speculating whether it were such or such a one, and dismissing +the whole list of improbabilities, before he laid down the book he was +reading and answered the bell. When at last he did this, he was rewarded +by the apparition of an utter stranger on his threshold,--a gaunt figure +of forlorn and curious smartness towering far above him, that jerked him +a nod of the head, and asked if Mr. Hapford lived there. The face which +the lamplight revealed was remarkable for a harsh two days' growth of +beard, and a single bloodshot eye; yet it was not otherwise a sinister +countenance, and there was something in the strange presence that +appealed and touched. The contributor, revolving the facts vaguely in +his mind, was not sure, after all, that it was not the man's clothes +rather than his expression that softened him toward the rugged visage: +they were so tragically cheap; and the misery of helpless needle-women, +and the poverty and ignorance of the purchaser, were so apparent in +their shabby newness, of which they appeared still conscious enough to +have led the way to the very window, in the Semitic quarter of the +city, where they had lain ticketed, "This nobby suit for $15." + +But the stranger's manner put both his face and his clothes out of mind, +and claimed a deeper interest when, being answered that the person for +whom he asked did not live there, he set his bristling lips hard +together, and sighed heavily. + +"They told me," he said, in a hopeless way, "that he lived on this +street, and I've been to every other house. I'm very anxious to find +him, Cap'n,"--the contributor, of course, had no claim to the title with +which he was thus decorated,--"for I've a daughter living with him, and +I want to see her; I've just got home from a two years' voyage, +and"--there was a struggle of the Adam's-apple in the man's gaunt +throat--"I find she's about all there is left of my family." + +How complex is every human motive! This contributor had been lately +thinking, whenever he turned the pages of some foolish traveller,--some +empty prattler of Southern or Eastern lands, where all sensation was +long ago exhausted, and the oxygen has perished from every sentiment, so +has it been breathed and breathed again,--that nowadays the wise +adventurer sat down beside his own register and waited for incidents to +seek him out. It seemed to him that the cultivation of a patient and +receptive spirit was the sole condition needed to insure the occurrence +of all manner of surprising facts within the range of one's own personal +knowledge; that not only the Greeks were at our doors, but the fairies +and the genii, and all the people of romance, who had but to be +hospitably treated in order to develop the deepest interest of fiction, +and to become the characters of plots so ingenious that the most cunning +invention were poor beside them. I myself am not so confident of this, +and would rather trust Mr. Charles Reade, say, for my amusement than any +chance combination of events. But I should be afraid to say how much his +pride in the character of the stranger's sorrows, as proof of the +correctness of his theory, prevailed with the contributor to ask him to +come in and sit down; though I hope that some abstract impulse of +humanity, some compassionate and unselfish care for the man's +misfortunes as misfortunes, was not wholly wanting. Indeed, the helpless +simplicity with which he had confided his case might have touched a +harder heart. "Thank you," said the poor fellow, after a moment's +hesitation. "I believe I will come in. I've been on foot all day, and +after such a long voyage it makes a man dreadfully sore to walk about so +much. Perhaps you can think of a Mr. Hapford living somewhere in the +neighborhood." + +He sat down, and, after a pondering silence, in which he had remained +with his head fallen upon his breast, "My name is Jonathan Tinker," he +said, with the unaffected air which had already impressed the +contributor, and as if he felt that some form of introduction was +necessary, "and the girl that I want to find is Julia Tinker." Then he +added, resuming the eventful personal history which the listener +exulted, while he regretted, to hear: "You see, I shipped first to +Liverpool, and there I heard from my family; and then I shipped again +for Hong-Kong, and after that I never heard a word: I seemed to miss the +letters everywhere. This morning, at four o'clock, I left my ship as +soon as she had hauled into the dock, and hurried up home. The house +was shut, and not a soul in it; and I didn't know what to do, and I sat +down on the doorstep to wait till the neighbors woke up, to ask them +what had become of my family. And the first one come out he told me my +wife had been dead a year and a half, and the baby I'd never seen, with +her; and one of my boys was dead; and he didn't know where the rest of +the children was, but he'd heard two of the little ones was with a +family in the city." + +The man mentioned these things with the half-apologetical air observable +in a certain kind of Americans when some accident obliges them to +confess the infirmity of the natural feelings. They do not ask your +sympathy, and you offer it quite at your own risk, with a chance of +having it thrown back upon your hands. The contributor assumed the risk +so far as to say, "Pretty rough!" when the stranger paused; and perhaps +these homely words were best suited to reach the homely heart. The man's +quivering lips closed hard again, a kind of spasm passed over his dark +face, and then two very small drops of brine shone upon his weather-worn +cheeks. This demonstration, into which he had been surprised, seemed to +stand for the passion of tears into which the emotional races fall at +such times. He opened his lips with a kind of dry click, and went on:-- + +"I hunted about the whole forenoon in the city, and at last I found the +children. I'd been gone so long they didn't know me, and somehow I +thought the people they were with weren't over-glad I'd turned up. +Finally the oldest child told me that Julia was living with a Mr. +Hapford on this street, and I started out here to-night to look her up. +If I can find her, I'm all right. I can get the family together, then, +and start new." + +"It seems rather odd," mused the listener aloud, "that the neighbors let +them break up so, and that they should all scatter as they did." + +"Well, it ain't so curious as it seems, Cap'n. There was money for them +at the owners', all the time; I'd left part of my wages when I sailed; +but they didn't know how to get at it, and what could a parcel of +children do? Julia's a good girl, and when I find her I'm all right." + +The writer could only repeat that there was no Mr. Hapford living on +that street, and never had been, so far as he knew. Yet there might be +such a person in the neighborhood: and they would go out together and +ask at some of the houses about. But the stranger must first take a +glass of wine; for he looked used up. + +The sailor awkwardly but civilly enough protested that he did not want +to give so much trouble, but took the glass, and, as he put it to his +lips, said formally, as if it were a toast or a kind of grace, "I hope I +may have the opportunity of returning the compliment." The contributor +thanked him; though, as he thought of all the circumstances of the case, +and considered the cost at which the stranger had come to enjoy his +politeness, he felt little eagerness to secure the return of the +compliment at the same price, and added, with the consequence of another +set phrase, "Not at all." But the thought had made him the more anxious +to befriend the luckless soul fortune had cast in his way; and so the +two sallied out together, and rang doorbells wherever lights were still +seen burning in the windows, and asked the astonished people who +answered their summons whether any Mr. Hapford were known to live in the +neighborhood. + +And although the search for this gentleman proved vain, the contributor +could not feel that an expedition which set familiar objects in such +novel lights was altogether a failure. He entered so intimately into the +cares and anxieties of his protégé that at times he felt himself in some +inexplicable sort a shipmate of Jonathan Tinker, and almost personally a +partner of his calamities. The estrangement of all things which takes +place, within doors and without, about midnight may have helped to cast +this doubt upon his identity;--he seemed to be visiting now for the +first time the streets and neighborhoods nearest his own, and his feet +stumbled over the accustomed walks. In his quality of houseless +wanderer, and--so far as appeared to others--possibly worthless +vagabond, he also got a new and instructive effect upon the faces which, +in his real character, he knew so well by their looks of neighborly +greeting; and it is his belief that the first hospitable prompting of +the human heart is to shut the door in the eyes of homeless strangers +who present themselves after eleven o'clock. By that time the servants +are all abed, and the gentleman of the house answers the bell, and looks +out with a loath and bewildered face, which gradually changes to one of +suspicion, and of wonder as to what those fellows can possibly want of +_him_, till at last the prevailing expression is one of contrite desire +to atone for the first reluctance by any sort of service. The +contributor professes to have observed these changing phases in the +visages of those whom he that night called from their dreams, or +arrested in the act of going to bed; and he drew the conclusion--very +proper for his imaginable connection with the garroting and other +adventurous brotherhoods--that the most flattering moment for knocking +on the head people who answer a late ring at night is either in their +first selfish bewilderment, or their final self-abandonment to their +better impulses. It does not seem to have occurred to him that he would +himself have been a much more favorable subject for the predatory arts +than any of his neighbors, if his shipmate, the unknown companion of his +researches for Mr. Hapford, had been at all so minded. But the faith of +the gaunt giant upon which he reposed was good, and the contributor +continued to wander about with him in perfect safety. Not a soul among +those they asked had ever heard of a Mr. Hapford,--far less of a Julia +Tinker living with him. But they all listened to the contributor's +explanation with interest and eventual sympathy; and in truth,--briefly +told, with a word now and then thrown in by Jonathan Tinker, who kept at +the bottom of the steps, showing like a gloomy spectre in the night, or, +in his grotesque length and gauntness, like the other's shadow cast +there by the lamplight,--it was a story which could hardly fail to +awaken pity. + +At last, after ringing several bells where there were no lights, in the +mere wantonness of good-will, and going away before they could be +answered (it would be entertaining to know what dreams they caused the +sleepers within), there seemed to be nothing for it but to give up the +search till morning, and go to the main street and wait for the last +horse-car to the city. + +There, seated upon the curbstone, Jonathan Tinker, being plied with a +few leading questions, told in hints and scraps the story of his hard +life, which was at present that of a second mate, and had been that of +a cabin-boy and of a seaman before the mast. The second mate's place he +held to be the hardest aboard ship. You got only a few dollars more than +the men, and you did not rank with the officers; you took your meals +alone, and in everything you belonged by yourself. The men did not +respect you, and sometimes the captain abused you awfully before the +passengers. The hardest captain that Jonathan Tinker ever sailed with +was Captain Gooding of the Cape. It had got to be so that no man could +ship second mate under Captain Gooding; and Jonathan Tinker was with him +only one voyage. When he had been home awhile, he saw an advertisement +for a second mate, and he went round to the owners'. They had kept it +secret who the captain was; but there was Captain Gooding in the owners' +office. "Why, here's the man, now, that I want for a second mate," said +he, when Jonathan Tinker entered; "he knows me."--"Captain Gooding, I +know you 'most too well to want to sail under you," answered Jonathan. +"I might go if I hadn't been with you one voyage too many already." + +"And then the men!" said Jonathan, "the men coming aboard drunk, and +having to be pounded sober! And the hardest of the fight falls on the +second mate! Why, there isn't an inch of me that hasn't been cut over or +smashed into a jell. I've had three ribs broken; I've got a scar from a +knife on my cheek; and I've been stabbed bad enough, half a dozen times, +to lay me up." + +Here he gave a sort of desperate laugh, as if the notion of so much +misery and such various mutilation were too grotesque not to be amusing. +"Well, what can you do?" he went on. "If you don't strike, the men think +you're afraid of them; and so you have to begin hard and go on hard. I +always tell a man, 'Now, my man, I always begin with a man the way I +mean to keep on. You do your duty and you're all right. But if you +don't'--Well, the men ain't Americans any more,--Dutch, Spaniards, +Chinese, Portuguee, and it ain't like abusing a white man." + +Jonathan Tinker was plainly part of the horrible tyranny which we all +know exists on shipboard; and his listener respected him the more that, +though he had heart enough to be ashamed of it, he was too honest not to +own it. + +Why did he still follow the sea? Because he did not know what else to +do. When he was younger, he used to love it, but now he hated it. Yet +there was not a prettier life in the world if you got to be captain. He +used to hope for that once, but not now; though he _thought_ he could +navigate a ship. Only let him get his family together again, and he +would--yes, he would--try to do something ashore. + +No car had yet come in sight, and so the contributor suggested that they +should walk to the car-office, and look in the "Directory," which is +kept there, for the name of Hapford, in search of whom it had already +been arranged that they should renew their acquaintance on the morrow. +Jonathan Tinker, when they had reached the office, heard with +constitutional phlegm that the name of the Hapford for whom he inquired +was not in the "Directory." "Never mind," said the other; "come round to +my house in the morning. We'll find him yet." So they parted with a +shake of the hand, the second mate saying that he believed he should go +down to the vessel and sleep aboard,--if he could sleep,--and murmuring +at the last moment the hope of returning the compliment, while the +other walked homeward, weary as to the flesh, but, in spite of his +sympathy for Jonathan Tinker, very elate in spirit. The truth is,--and +however disgraceful to human nature, let the truth still be told,--he +had recurred to his primal satisfaction in the man as calamity capable +of being used for such and such literary ends, and, while he pitied him, +rejoiced in him as an episode of real life quite as striking and +complete as anything in fiction. It was literature made to his hand. +Nothing could be better, he mused; and once more he passed the details +of the story in review, and beheld all those pictures which the poor +fellow's artless words had so vividly conjured up: he saw him leaping +ashore in the gray summer dawn as soon as the ship hauled into the dock, +and making his way, with his vague sea-legs unaccustomed to the +pavements, up through the silent and empty city streets; he imagined the +tumult of fear and hope which the sight of the man's home must have +caused in him, and the benumbing shock of finding it blind and deaf to +all his appeals; he saw him sitting down upon what had been his own +threshold, and waiting in a sort of bewildered patience till the +neighbors should be awake, while the noises of the streets gradually +arose, and the wheels began to rattle over the stones, and the milk-man +and the ice-man came and went, and the waiting figure began to be stared +at, and to challenge the curiosity of the passing policeman; he fancied +the opening of the neighbor's door, and the slow, cold understanding of +the case; the manner, whatever it was, in which the sailor was told that +one year before his wife had died, with her babe, and that his children +were scattered, none knew where. As the contributor dwelt pityingly upon +these things, but at the same time estimated their aesthetic value one +by one, he drew near the head of his street, and found himself a few +paces behind a boy slouching onward through the night, to whom he called +out, adventurously, and with no real hope of information,-- + +"Do you happen to know anybody on this street by the name of Hapford?" + +"Why, no, not in this town," said the boy; but he added that there was a +street of the same name in a neighboring suburb, and that there was a +Hapford living on it. + +"By Jove!" thought the contributor, "this is more like literature than +ever"; and he hardly knew whether to be more provoked at his own +stupidity in not thinking of a street of the same name in the next +village, or delighted at the element of fatality which the fact +introduced into the story; for Tinker, according to his own account, +must have landed from the cars a few rods from the very door he was +seeking, and so walked farther and farther from it every moment. He +thought the case so curious, that he laid it briefly before the boy, +who, however he might have been inwardly affected, was sufficiently true +to the national traditions not to make the smallest conceivable outward +sign of concern in it. + +At home, however, the contributor related his adventures and the story +of Tinker's life, adding the fact that he had just found out where Mr. +Hapford lived. "It was the only touch wanting," said he; "the whole +thing is now perfect." + +"It's _too_ perfect," was answered from a sad enthusiasm. "Don't speak +of it! I can't take it in." + +"But the question is," said the contributor, penitently taking himself +to task for forgetting the hero of these excellent misfortunes in his +delight at their perfection, "how am I to sleep to-night, thinking of +that poor soul's suspense and uncertainty? Never mind,--I'll be up +early, and run over and make sure that it is Tinker's Hapford, before he +gets out here, and have a pleasant surprise for him. Would it not be a +justifiable _coup de théâtre_ to fetch his daughter here, and let her +answer his ring at the door when he comes in the morning?" + +This plan was discouraged. "No, no; let them meet in their own way. Just +take him to Hapford's house and leave him." + +"Very well. But he's too good a character to lose sight of. He's got to +come back here and tell us what he intends to do." + +The birds, next morning, not having had the second mate on their minds +either as an unhappy man or a most fortunate episode, but having slept +long and soundly, were singing in a very sprightly way in the wayside +trees; and the sweetness of their notes made the contributor's heart +light as he climbed the hill and rang at Mr. Hapford's door. + +The door was opened by a young girl of fifteen or sixteen, whom he knew +at a glance for the second mate's daughter, but of whom, for form's +sake, he asked if there were a girl named Julia Tinker living there. + +"My name's Julia Tinker," answered the maid, who had rather a +disappointing face. + +"Well," said the contributor, "your father's got back from his Hong-Kong +voyage." + +"Hong-Kong voyage?" echoed the girl, with a stare of helpless inquiry, +but no other visible emotion. + +"Yes. He had never heard of your mother's death. He came home yesterday +morning, and was looking for you all day." + +Julia Tinker remained open-mouthed but mute; and the other was puzzled +at the want of feeling shown, which he could not account for even as a +national trait. "Perhaps there's some mistake," he said. + +"There must be," answered Julia: "my father hasn't been to sea for a +good many years. _My_ father," she added, with a diffidence +indescribably mingled with a sense of distinction,--"_my_ father 's in +State's Prison. What kind of looking man was this?" + +The contributor mechanically described him. + +Julia Tinker broke into a loud, hoarse laugh. "Yes, it's him, sure +enough." And then, as if the joke were too good to keep: "Mis' Hapford, +Mis' Hapford, father's got out. Do come here!" she called into a back +room. + +When Mrs. Hapford appeared, Julia fell back, and, having deftly caught a +fly on the doorpost, occupied herself in plucking it to pieces, while +she listened to the conversation of the others. + +"It's all true enough," said Mrs. Hapford, when the writer had recounted +the moving story of Jonathan Tinker, "so far as the death of his wife +and baby goes. But he hasn't been to sea for a good many years, and he +must have just come out of State's Prison, where he was put for bigamy. +There's always two sides to a story, you know; but they say it broke his +first wife's heart, and she died. His friends don't want him to find his +children, and this girl especially." + +"He's found his children in the city," said the contributor gloomily, +being at a loss what to do or say, in view of the wreck of his romance. + +"Oh, he's found 'em, has he?" cried Julia, with heightened amusement. +"Then he'll have me next, if I don't pack and go." + +"I'm very, very sorry," said the contributor, secretly resolved never to +do another good deed, no matter how temptingly the opportunity presented +itself. "But you may depend he won't find out from _me_ where you are. +Of course I had no earthly reason for supposing his story was not true." + +"Of course," said kind-hearted Mrs. Hapford, mingling a drop of honey +with the gall in the contributor's soul, "you only did your duty." + +And indeed, as he turned away, he did not feel altogether without +compensation. However Jonathan Tinker had fallen in his esteem as a man, +he had even risen as literature. The episode which had appeared so +perfect in its pathetic phases did not seem less finished as a farce; +and this person, to whom all things of every-day life presented +themselves in periods more or less rounded, and capable of use as facts +or illustrations, could not but rejoice in these new incidents, as +dramatically fashioned as the rest. It occurred to him that, wrought +into a story, even better use might be made of the facts now than +before, for they had developed questions of character and of human +nature which could not fail to interest. The more he pondered upon his +acquaintance with Jonathan Tinker, the more fascinating the erring +mariner became, in his complex truth and falsehood, his delicately +blended shades of artifice and naïveté. He must, it was felt, have +believed to a certain point in his own inventions: nay, starting with +that groundwork of truth,--the fact that his wife was really dead, and +that he had not seen his family for two years,--why should he not place +implicit faith in all the fictions reared upon it? It was probable that +he felt a real sorrow for her loss, and that he found a fantastic +consolation in depicting the circumstances of her death so that they +should look like his inevitable misfortunes rather than his faults. He +might well have repented his offence during those two years of prison; +and why should he not now cast their dreariness and shame out of his +memory, and replace them with the freedom and adventure of a two years' +voyage to China,--so probable, in all respects, that the fact should +appear an impossible nightmare? In the experiences of his life he had +abundant material to furnish forth the facts of such a voyage, and in +the weariness and lassitude that should follow a day's walking equally +after a two years' voyage and two years' imprisonment, he had as much +physical proof in favor of one hypothesis as the other. It was doubtless +true, also, as he said, that he had gone to his house at dawn, and sat +down on the threshold of his ruined home; and perhaps he felt the desire +he had expressed to see his daughter, with a purpose of beginning life +anew; and it may have cost him a veritable pang when he found that his +little ones did not know him. All the sentiments of the situation were +such as might persuade a lively fancy of the truth of its own +inventions; and as he heard these continually repeated by the +contributor in their search for Mr. Hapford, they must have acquired an +objective force and repute scarcely to be resisted. At the same time, +there were touches of nature throughout Jonathan Tinker's narrative +which could not fail to take the faith of another. The contributor, in +reviewing it, thought it particularly charming that his mariner had not +overdrawn himself, or attempted to paint his character otherwise than as +it probably was; that he had shown his ideas and practices of life to be +those of a second mate, nor more nor less, without the gloss of regret +or the pretences to refinement that might be pleasing to the supposed +philanthropist with whom he had fallen in. Captain Gooding was of course +a true portrait; and there was nothing in Jonathan Tinker's statement of +the relations of a second mate to his superiors and his inferiors which +did not agree perfectly with what the contributor had just read in "Two +Years before the Mast,"--a book which had possibly cast its glamour upon +the adventure. He admired also the just and perfectly characteristic air +of grief in the bereaved husband and father,--those occasional escapes +from the sense of loss into a brief hilarity and forgetfulness, and +those relapses into the hovering gloom, which every one has observed in +this poor, crazy human nature when oppressed by sorrow, and which it +would have been hard to simulate. But, above all, he exulted in that +supreme stroke of the imagination given by the second mate when, at +parting, he said he believed he would go down and sleep on board the +vessel. In view of this, the State's Prison theory almost appeared a +malign and foolish scandal. + +Yet even if this theory were correct, was the second mate wholly +answerable for beginning his life again with the imposture he had +practised? The contributor had either so fallen in love with the +literary advantages of his forlorn deceiver that he would see no moral +obliquity in him, or he had touched a subtler verity at last in +pondering the affair. It seemed now no longer a farce, but had a pathos +which, though very different from that of its first aspect, was hardly +less tragical. Knowing with what coldness, or at the best, uncandor, he +(representing Society in its attitude toward convicted Error) would have +met the fact had it been owned to him at first, he had not virtue enough +to condemn the illusory stranger, who must have been helpless to make at +once evident any repentance he felt or good purpose he cherished. Was it +not one of the saddest consequences of the man's past,--a dark necessity +of misdoing,--that, even with the best will in the world to retrieve +himself, his first endeavor must involve a wrong? Might he not, indeed, +be considered a martyr, in some sort, to his own admirable impulses? I +can see clearly enough where the contributor was astray in this +reasoning, but I can also understand how one accustomed to value +realities only as they resembled fables should be won with such pensive +sophistry; and I can certainly sympathize with his feeling that the +mariner's failure to reappear according to appointment added its final +and most agreeable charm to the whole affair, and completed the mystery +from which the man emerged and which swallowed him up again. + + +NOTES + +=Mr. Charles Reade=:--An English novelist (1814-1884). + +=protégé= (French):--A person under the care of another. The form given +here is masculine; the feminine is _protégée_. + +=coup de théâtre=:--(French) A very striking scene, such as might appear +on the stage. + +=Two Years before the Mast=:--A sea story written by R.H. Dana, about +1840. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is a romance? The phrase _already mentioned_ refers to earlier +parts of the book _Suburban Sketches_, from which this story is taken. +What effect does the author gain by the ring at the door-bell? How does +he give you a quick and vivid idea of the visitor? What significance do +the man's clothes have in the story? By means of what devices does the +author interest you in the stranger? Do adventures really happen in +everyday life? Why does the author speak of one's own "register"? Mr. +Howells has written a number of novels in which he pictures ordinary +people, and shows the romance of commonplace events. Why does the +listener "exult"? How does the man's story affect you? What is gained by +having it told in his own words? Is Jonathan Tinker's toast a happy one? +What does the contributor mean by saying that he would have been a good +subject for "the predatory arts"? _The last horse-car_: To Boston; the +scene is probably laid in Cambridge where Mr. Howells lived for some +years. In what way does the sailor's language emphasize the pathetic +quality of his story? How was the man "literature made to the author's +hand"? What are the "national traditions" mentioned in connection with +the boy? Why was the story regarded as "too perfect" when it was related +at home? In what way was Julia Tinker's face "disappointing"? How does +the author feel when he hears the facts in the case? Why does he resolve +never to do a good deed again? The author gives two reasons why Jonathan +Tinker did not tell the truth: what seems to you the real reason? +Characterize Tinker in your own words. Is the ending of the selection +satisfactory? Did you think that Tinker would come back? Can you make a +little drama of this story? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +An Old Sailor +People who do not Tell the Truth +The Forsaken House +Asking Directions +A Tramp +The Lost Address +An Evening at Home +A Sketch of Julia Tinker +The Surprise +A Long-lost Relative +What Becomes of the Ex-Convicts? +The Jail +A Stranger in Town +A Late Visitor +What I Think of Jonathan Tinker +The Disadvantages of a Lively Imagination +Unwelcome +If Jonathan Tinker had Told the Truth +The Lie +A Call at a Stranger's House +An Unfortunate Man +A Walk in Dark Streets +The Sea Captain +Watching the Sailors + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Late Visitor=:--Try to write this in the form of a dialogue or little +play. The host is reading or conversing in the family sitting-room, when +the doorbell rings. There is a conversation at the door, and then the +caller is brought in. Perhaps the stranger has some evil design. Perhaps +he (or she) is lost, or in great need. Perhaps he turns out to be in +some way connected with the family. Think out the plan of the dialogue +pretty thoroughly before you begin to write. It is possible that you +will want to add a second act in which the results of the first are +shown. Plan your stage directions with the help of some other drama, as, +for instance, that given on page 52. + +=The Lie=:[13]--This also may be written in the form of a slight +dramatic composition. There might be a few brief scenes, according to +the following plan:-- + +Scene 1: The lie is told. +Scene 2: It makes trouble. +Scene 3: It is found out. +Scene 4: Complications are untangled, and the lie is atoned for. + (Perhaps this scene can be combined with the preceding.) + +=A Long-lost Relative=:--This may be taken from a real or an imaginary +circumstance. Tell of the first news that the relative is coming. Where +has he (or she) been during the past years? Speak of the period before +the relative arrives: the conjectures as to his appearance; the +preparations made; the conversation regarding him. Tell of his arrival. +Is his appearance such as has been expected? Describe him rather fully. +What does he say and do? Does he make himself agreeable? Are his ideas +in any way peculiar? Do the neighbors like him? Give some of the +incidents of his visit. Tell about his departure. Are the family glad or +sorry to have him go? What is said about him after he has gone? What has +been heard of him since? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Suburban Sketches William Dean Howells +A Boy's Town " " " +The Rise of Silas Lapham " " " +The Minister's Charge " " " +Their Wedding Journey " " " +The Lady of the Aroostook " " " +Venetian Life " " " +Italian Journeys " " " +The Mouse Trap (a play) " " " +Evening Dress (a play) " " " +The Register (a play) " " " +The Elevator (a play) " " " +Unexpected Guests (a play) " " " +The Albany Depot (a play) " " " +Literary Friends and Acquaintances " " " +Their California Uncle Bret Harte +A Lodging for the Night R.L. Stevenson +Kidnapped " " +Ebb Tide " " +Enoch Arden Alfred Tennyson +Rip Van Winkle Washington Irving +Wakefield Nathaniel Hawthorne +Two Years before the Mast R.H. Dana +Out of Gloucester J.B. Connolly +Jean Valjean (from _Les Misérables_) Victor Hugo (Ed. S.E. Wiltse) +Historic Towns of New England + (Cambridge) L.P. Powell (Ed.) +Old Cambridge T.W. Higginson +American Authors at Home, pp. 193-211 J.L. and J.B. Gilder +American Authors and their Homes, + pp. 99-110 F.W. Halsey +American Writers of To-day, pp. 43-68 H.C. Vedder + +Bookman, 17:342 (Portrait); 35:114, April, 1912; Current Literature, +42:49, January, 1907 (Portrait). + + + + +THE WILD RIDE + +LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY + + _I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses + All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, + All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing_. + + Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle, + Weather-worn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion, + With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him. + + The trail is through dolour and dread, over crags and morasses; + There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us: + What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding. + + Thought's self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb, + And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sun-beam: + Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing. + + A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle, + A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty: + We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers. + + (_I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses + All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, + All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing._) + + We spur to a land of no name, out-racing the storm-wind; + We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil. + Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This poem is somewhat like the _Road-Hymn for the Start_, on page 184. +It is about those people who go forward eagerly into the work of the +world, without fearing, and without shrinking from difficulties. Read it +through completely, trying to get its meaning. Regard the lines in +italic as a kind of chorus, and study the meaning of the other stanzas +first. Who are the galloping legions? A _stirrup-cup_ was a draught of +wine, taken just before a rider began his journey; it was usually drunk +to some one's health. Is _dolour_ a common word? Is it good here? Try to +put into your own words the ideas in the "land of no name," and "the +infinite dark," remembering what is said above about the general meaning +of the poem. What picture and what idea do you get from "like sparks +from the anvil"? Now go back to the lines in italic, and look for their +meaning. + +What do you notice about the length of the words in this poem? Why has +the author used this kind of words? Notice carefully how the sound and +the sense are made harmonious. Look for the rhyme. How does the poem +differ from most short poems? + +Bead the verses aloud, trying to make your reading suggest "the hoofs of +invisible horses." + + +OTHER POEMS TO READ + +A Troop of the Guard Hermann Hagedorn +How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix Robert Browning +Through the Metidja to Abd-el-Kadr " " +Reveille Bret Harte +A Song of the Road Richard Watson Gilder +The House and the Road J.P. Peabody +The Mystic Cale Young Rice + (In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, Ed. by J.B. Rittenhouse.) +A Winter Ride Amy Lowell + (In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_.) +The Ride Clinton Scollard + (In _Songs of Sunrise Lands_.) + + + + +CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS + +DALLAS LORE SHARP + +(In _The Lay of the Land_) + + +On the night before this particular Christmas every creature of the +woods that could stir was up and stirring; for over the old snow was +falling swiftly, silently, a soft, fresh covering that might mean a +hungry Christmas unless the dinner were had before morning. + +But when the morning dawned, a cheery Christmas sun broke across the +great gum swamp, lighting the snowy boles and soft-piled limbs of the +giant trees with indescribable glory, and pouring, a golden flood, into +the deep spongy bottoms below. It would be a perfect Christmas in the +woods, clear, mild, stirless, with silent footing for me, and everywhere +the telltale snow. + +And everywhere the Christmas spirit, too. As I paused among the pointed +cedars of the pasture, looking down into the cripple at the head of the +swamp, a clear wild whistle rang in the thicket, followed by a flash +through the alders like a tongue of fire, as a cardinal grosbeak shot +down to the tangle of greenbrier and magnolia under the slope. It was a +fleck of flaming summer. As warm as summer, too, the staghorn sumac +burned on the crest of the ridge against the group of holly +trees,--trees as fresh as April, and all aglow with berries. The woods +were decorated for the holy day. The gentleness of the soft new snow +touched everything; cheer and good-will lighted the unclouded sky and +warmed the thick depths of the evergreens, and blazed in the +crimson-berried bushes of the ilex and alder. The Christmas woods were +glad. + +Nor was the gladness all show, mere decoration. There was real cheer in +abundance; for I was back in the old home woods, back along the +Cohansey, back where you can pick persimmons off the trees at Christmas. +There are persons who say the Lord might have made a better berry than +the strawberry, but He didn't. Perhaps He didn't make the strawberry at +all. But He did make the Cohansey Creek persimmon, and He made it as +good as He could. Nowhere else under the sun can you find such +persimmons as these along the creek, such richness of flavor, such +gummy, candied quality, woodsy, wild, crude,--especially the fruit of +two particular trees on the west bank, near Lupton's Pond. But they +never come to this perfection, never quite lose their pucker, until +midwinter,--as if they had been intended for the Christmas table of the +woods. + +It had been nearly twenty years since I crossed this pasture of the +cedars on my way to the persimmon trees. The cows had been crossing +every year, yet not a single new crook had they worn in the old paths. +But I was half afraid as I came to the fence where I could look down +upon the pond and over to the persimmon trees. Not one of the Luptons, +who owned pasture and pond and trees, had ever been a boy, so far as I +could remember, or had ever eaten of those persimmons. Would they have +left the trees through all these years? + +I pushed through the hedge of cedars and stopped for an instant, +confused. The very pond was gone! and the trees! No, there was the +pond,--but how small the patch of water! and the two persimmon trees? +The bush and undergrowth had grown these twenty years. Which way--Ah, +there they stand, only their leafless tops showing; but see the hard +angular limbs, how closely globed with fruit! how softly etched upon the +sky! + +I hurried around to the trees and climbed the one with the two broken +branches, up, clear up to the top, into the thick of the persimmons. + +Did I say it had been twenty years? That could not be. Twenty years +would have made me a man, and this sweet, real taste in my mouth only a +_boy_ could know. But there was college, and marriage, a Massachusetts +farm, four boys of my own, and--no matter! it could not have been +_years_--twenty years--since. It was only yesterday that I last climbed +this tree and ate the rich rimy fruit frosted with a Christmas snow. + +And yet, could it have been yesterday? It was storming, and I clung here +in the swirling snow and heard the wild ducks go over in their hurry +toward the bay. Yesterday, and all this change in the vast treetop +world, this huddled pond, those narrowed meadows, that shrunken creek! I +should have eaten the persimmons and climbed straight down, not stopped +to gaze out upon the pond, and away over the dark ditches to the creek. +But reaching out quickly I gathered another handful,--and all was +yesterday again. + +I filled both pockets of my coat and climbed down. I kept those +persimmons and am tasting them to-night. Lupton's Pond may fill to a +puddle, the meadows may shrivel, the creek dry up and disappear, and old +Time may even try his wiles on me. But I shall foil him to the +end; for I am carrying still in my pocket some of yesterday's +persimmons,--persimmons that ripened in the rime of a winter when I was +a boy. + +High and alone in a bare persimmon tree for one's dinner hardly sounds +like a merry Christmas. But I was not alone. I had noted the fresh +tracks beneath the tree before I climbed up, and now I saw that the snow +had been partly brushed from several of the large limbs as the 'possum +had moved about in the tree for his Christmas dinner. We were guests at +the same festive board, and both of us at Nature's invitation. It +mattered not that the 'possum had eaten and gone this hour or more. Such +is good form in the woods. He was expecting me, so he came early, out of +modesty; and, that I too might be entirely at my ease, he departed +early, leaving his greetings for me in the snow. + +Thus I was not alone; here was good company and plenty of it. I never +lack a companion in the woods when I can pick up a trail. The 'possum +and I ate together. And this was just the fellowship I needed, this +sharing the persimmons with the 'possum. I had broken bread, not with +the 'possum only, but with all the out-of-doors. I was now fit to enter +the woods, for I was filled with good-will and persimmons, as full as +the 'possum; and putting myself under his gentle guidance, I got down +upon the ground, took up his clumsy trail, and descended toward the +swamp. Such an entry is one of the particular joys of the winter. To go +in with a fox, a mink, or a 'possum through the door of the woods is to +find yourself at home. Any one can get inside the out-of-doors, as the +grocery boy or the census man gets inside our houses. You can bolt in at +any time on business. A trail, however, is Nature's invitation. There +may be other, better beaten paths for mere feet. But go softly with the +'possum, and at the threshold you are met by the spirit of the wood, you +are made the guest of the open, silent, secret out-of-doors. + +I went down with the 'possum. He had traveled home in leisurely fashion +and without fear, as his tracks plainly showed. He was full of +persimmons. A good happy world this, where such fare could be had for +the picking! What need to hurry home, except one were in danger of +falling asleep by the way? So I thought, too, as I followed his winding +path; and if I was tracking him to his den, it was only to wake him for +a moment with the compliments of the season. But it was not even a +momentary disturbance; for when I finally found him in his hollow gum, +he was sound asleep, and only half realized that some one was poking him +gently in the ribs and wishing him a merry Christmas. + +The 'possum had led me to the center of the empty, hollow swamp, where +the great-boled gums lifted their branches like a timbered, unshingled +roof between me and the wide sky. Far away through the spaces of the +rafters I saw a pair of wheeling buzzards and, under them, in lesser +circles, a broad-winged hawk. Here, at the feet of the tall, clean +trees, looking up through the leafless limbs, I had something of a +measure for the flight of the birds. The majesty and the mystery of the +distant buoyant wings were singularly impressive. + +I have seen the turkey-buzzard sailing the skies on the bitterest winter +days. To-day, however, could hardly be called winter. Indeed, nothing +yet had felt the pinch of the cold. There was no hunger yet in the +swamp, though this new snow had scared the raccoons out, and their +half-human tracks along the margin of the swamp stream showed that, if +not hungry, they at least feared that they might be. + +For a coon hates snow. He will invariably sleep off the first light +snowfalls, and even in the late winter he will not venture forth in +fresh snow unless driven by hunger or some other dire need. Perhaps, +like a cat or a hen, he dislikes the wetting of his feet. Or it may be +that the soft snow makes bad hunting--for him. The truth is, T believe, +that such a snow makes too good hunting for the dogs and the gunner. The +new snow tells too clear a story. His home is no inaccessible den among +the ledges; only a hollow in some ancient oak or tupelo. Once within, he +is safe from the dogs; but the long fierce fight for life taught him +generations ago that the nest-tree is a fatal trap when behind the dogs +come the axe and the gun. So he has grown wary and enduring. He waits +until the snow grows crusty, when, without sign, and almost without +scent, he can slip forth among the long shadows and prowl to the edge of +dawn. + +Skirting the stream out toward the higher back woods, I chanced to spy a +bunch of snow in one of the great sour gums, that I thought was an old +nest. A second look showed me tiny green leaves, then white berries, +then mistletoe. + +It was not a surprise, for I had found it here before,--a long, long +time before. It was back in my school-boy days, back beyond those twenty +years, that I first stood here under the mistletoe and had my first +romance. There was no chandelier, no pretty girl, in that romance,--only +a boy, the mistletoe, the giant trees, and the somber, silent swamp. +Then there was his discovery, the thrill of deep delight, and the wonder +of his knowledge of the strange unnatural plant! All plants had been +plants to him until, one day, he read the life of the mistletoe. But +that was English mistletoe; so the boy's wonder world of plant life was +still as far away as Mars, when, rambling alone through the swamp along +the creek, he stopped under a big curious bunch of green, high up in one +of the gums, and--made his first discovery. + +So the boy climbed up again this Christmas Day at the peril of his +precious neck, and brought down a bit of that old romance. + +I followed the stream along through the swamp to the open meadows, and +then on under the steep wooded hillside that ran up to the higher land +of corn and melon fields. Here at the foot of the slope the winter sun +lay warm, and here in the sheltered briery border I came upon the +Christmas birds. + +There was a great variety of them, feeding and preening and chirping in +the vines. The tangle was a-twitter with their quiet, cheery talk. Such +a medley of notes you could not hear at any other season outside a city +bird store. How far the different species understood one another I +should like to know, and whether the hum of voices meant sociability to +them, as it certainly meant to me. Doubtless the first cause of their +flocking here was the sheltered warmth and the great numbers of +berry-laden bushes, for there was no lack either of abundance or variety +on the Christmas table. + +In sight from where I stood hung bunches of withering chicken or frost +grapes, plump clusters of blue-black berries of the greenbrier, and +limbs of the smooth winterberry bending with their flaming fruit. There +were bushes of crimson ilex, too, trees of fruiting dogwood and holly, +cedars in berry, dwarf sumac and seedy sedges, while patches on the +wood slopes uncovered by the sun were spread with trailing partridge +berry and the coral-fruited wintergreen. I had eaten part of my dinner +with the 'possum; I picked a quantity of these wintergreen berries, and +continued my meal with the birds. And they also had enough and to spare. + +Among the birds in the tangle was a large flock of northern fox +sparrows, whose vigorous and continuous scratching in the bared spots +made a most lively and cheery commotion. Many of them were splashing +about in tiny pools of snow-water, melted partly by the sun and partly +by the warmth of their bodies as they bathed. One would hop to a +softening bit of snow at the base of a tussock keel over and begin to +flop, soon sending up a shower of sparkling drops from his rather chilly +tub. A winter snow-water bath seemed a necessity, a luxury indeed; for +they all indulged, splashing with the same purpose and zest that they +put into their scratching among the leaves. + +A much bigger splashing drew me quietly through the bushes to find a +marsh hawk giving himself a Christmas souse. The scratching, washing, +and talking of the birds; the masses of green in the cedars, holly, and +laurels; the glowing colors of the berries against the snow; the blue of +the sky, and the golden warmth of the light made Christmas in the heart +of the noon that the very swamp seemed to feel. + +Three months later there was to be scant picking here, for this was the +beginning of the severest winter I ever knew. From this very ridge, in +February, I had reports of berries gone, of birds starving, of whole +coveys of quail frozen dead in the snow; but neither the birds nor I +dreamed to-day of any such hunger and death. A flock of robins whirled +into the cedars above me; a pair of cardinals whistled back and forth; +tree sparrows, juncos, nuthatches, chickadees, and cedar-birds cheeped +among the trees and bushes; and from the farm lands at the top of the +slope rang the calls of meadowlarks. + +Halfway up the hill I stopped under a blackjack oak where, in the thin +snow, there were signs of something like a Christmas revel. The ground +was sprinkled with acorn shells and trampled over with feet of several +kinds and sizes,--quail, jay, and partridge feet; rabbit, squirrel, and +mice feet, all over the snow as the feast of acorns had gone on. +Hundreds of the acorns were lying about, gnawed away at the cup end, +where the shell was thinnest, many of them further broken and cleaned +out by the birds. + +As I sat studying the signs in the snow, my eye caught a tiny trail +leading out from the others straight away toward a broken pile of cord +wood. The tracks were planted one after the other, so directly in line +as to seem like the prints of a single foot. "That's a weasel's trail," +I said, "the death's-head at this feast," and followed it slowly to the +wood. A shiver crept over me as I felt, even sooner than I saw, a pair +of small sinister eyes fixed upon mine. The evil pointed head, heavy but +alert, and with a suggestion of fierce strength out of all relation to +the slender body, was watching me from between the sticks of cordwood. +And so he had been watching the mice and birds and rabbits feasting +under the tree! + +I packed a ball of snow round and hard, slipped forward upon my knees, +and hurled it. "Spat!" it struck the end of a stick within an inch of +the ugly head, filling the crevice with snow. Instantly the head +appeared at another crack, and another ball struck viciously beside it. +Now it was back where it first appeared, and did not flinch for the +next, or the next ball. The third went true, striking with a "chug" and +packing the crack. But the black, hating eyes were still watching me a +foot lower down. + +It is not all peace and good-will in the Christmas woods. But there is +more of peace and good-will than of any other spirit. The weasels are +few. More friendly and timid eyes were watching me than bold and +murderous. It was foolish to want to kill--even the weasel. For one's +woods are what one makes them; and so I let the man with the gun, who +chanced along, think that I had turned boy again, and was snowballing +the woodpile, just for the fun of trying to hit the end of the biggest +stick. + +I was glad he had come. As he strode off with his stained bag, I felt +kindlier toward the weasel. There were worse in the woods than +he,--worse, because all of their killing was pastime. The weasel must +kill to live, and if he gloated over the kill, why, what fault of his? +But the other weasel, the one with the blood-stained bag, he killed for +the love of killing. I was glad he was gone. + +The crows were winging over toward their great roost in the pines when I +turned toward the town. They, too, had had good picking along the creek +flats and ditches of the meadows. Their powerful wing-beats and constant +play told of full crops and no fear for the night, already softly gray +across the white silent fields. The air was crisper; the snow began to +crackle under foot; the twigs creaked and rattled as I brushed along; a +brown beech leaf wavered down and skated with a thin scratch over the +crust; and pure as the snow-wrapped crystal world, and sweet as the +soft gray twilight, came the call of a quail. + +The voices, colors, odors, and forms of summer were gone. The very face +of things had changed; all had been reduced, made plain, simple, single, +pure! There was less for the senses, but how much keener now their joy! +The wide landscape, the frosty air, the tinkle of tiny icicles, and, out +of the quiet of the falling twilight, the voice of the quail! + +There is no day but is beautiful in the woods; and none more beautiful +than one like this Christmas Day,--warm and still and wrapped, to the +round red berries of the holly, in the magic of the snow. + + +NOTES + +=cripple=:--A dense thicket in swampy land. + +=good-will=:--See the Bible, Luke 2:13, 14. + +=Cohansey=:--A creek in southern New Jersey. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the selection through once without stopping. Afterward, go through +it with these questions:-- + +Why might the snow mean a "hungry Christmas"? Note the color words in +paragraph three: Of what value are they? Why does the pond seem small to +the visitor? Does the author mean anything more than persimmons in the +last part of the paragraph beginning "I filled both pockets"? What sort +of man do you think he is? What is the meaning of "broken bread"? What +is meant by entering the woods "at Nature's invitation"? What do you +understand by "the long fierce fight for life"? What was it that the +coon learned "generations ago"? What does the author mean here? Do you +know anything of the Darwinian theory of life? What has it to do with +what is said here about the coon? How does the author make you feel the +variety and liveliness of the bird life which he observes? What shows +his keenness of sight? What do you know about weasels? Is it, true that +"one's woods are what one makes them"? Do you think the author judges +the hunter too harshly? How does the author make you feel the charm of +the late afternoon? Go through the selection and see how many different +subjects are discussed! How is the unity of the piece preserved? Notice +the pictures in the piece. What feeling prevails in the selection? How +can you tell whether the author really loves nature? Could you write a +sketch somewhat like this, telling what you saw during a walk in the +woods? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Walk in the Winter Woods +An Outdoor Christmas Tree +A Lumber Camp at Christmas +The Winter Birds +Tracking a Rabbit +Hunting Deer in Winter +A Winter Landscape +Home Decorations from the Winter Fields +Wild Apples +Fishing through the Ice +A Winter Camp +A Strange Christmas +Playing Santa Claus +A Snow Picnic +Making Christmas Gifts +Feeding the Birds +The Christmas Guest +Turkey and Plum Pudding +The Children's Christmas Party +Christmas on the Farm +The Christmas Tree at the Schoolhouse +What he Found in his Stocking +Bringing Home the Christmas Tree +Christmas in the South +Christmas away from Home +A "Sensible" Christmas +Christmas at our House + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Walk in the Winter Woods=:--Tell of a real or imaginary stroll in the +woods when the snow is on the ground. If possible, plan the theme some +time before you write, and obtain your material through actual and +recent observation. In everything you say, be careful and accurate. You +might speak first of the time of day at which your walk was taken; the +weather; the condition of the snow. Speak of the trees: the kinds; how +they looked. Were any of the trees weighted with snow? Describe the +bushes, and the berries and grasses; use color words, if possible, as +Mr. Sharp does. What sounds did you hear in the woods? Did you see any +tracks of animals? If so, tell about these tracks, and show what they +indicated. Describe the animals that you saw, and tell what they were +doing. What did you gather regarding the way in which the animals live +in winter? Speak in the same way of the birds. Re-read what Mr. Sharp +says about the birds he saw, and try to make your own account clear and +full of action. Did you see any signs of human inhabitants or visitors? +If so, tell about them. Did you find anything to eat in the woods? Speak +briefly of your return home. Had the weather changed since your entering +the woods? Was there any alteration in the landscape? How did you feel +after your walk? + +=The Winter Birds=:--For several days before writing this theme, prepare +material for it by observation and reading. Watch the birds, and see +what they are doing and how they live. Use a field glass if you can get +one, and take careful notes on what you see. Make especial use of any +interesting incidents that come under your observation. + +When you write, take up each kind of bird separately, and tell what you +have found out about its winter life: how it looks; where you have seen +it; what it was doing. Speak also of its food and shelter; the perils it +endures; its intelligence; anecdotes about it. Make your theme simple +and lively, as if you were talking to some one about the birds. Try to +use good color words and sound words, and expressions that give a vivid +idea of the activities and behavior of the birds. + +When you have finished, lay the theme aside for a time; then read it +again and see how you can touch it up to make it clearer and more +straightforward. + +=Christmas at our House=:--Write as if you were telling of some +particular occasion, although you may perhaps be combining the events of +several Christmas days. Tell of the preparations for Christmas: the +planning; the cooking; the whispering of secrets. Make as much use of +conversation as possible, and do not hesitate to use even very small +details and little anecdotes. Perhaps you will wish to tell of the +hanging of the stockings on Christmas Eve; if there are children in the +family, tell what they did and said. Write as vividly as possible of +Christmas morning, and the finding of the gifts; try to bring out the +confusion and the happiness of opening the parcels and displaying the +presents. Quote some of the remarks directly, and speak of particularly +pleasing or absurd gifts. Go on and tell of the sports and pleasures of +the day. Speak of the guests, describing some of them, and telling what +they said and did. Try to bring out contrasts here. Put as much emphasis +as you wish upon the dinner, and the quantities of good things consumed. +Try to quote the remarks of some of the people at the table. If your +theme has become rather long, you might close it by a brief account of +the dispersing of the family after dinner. You might, however, complete +your account of the day by telling of the evening, with its enjoyments +and its weariness. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Wild Life Near Home D.L. Sharp +A Watcher in the Woods " " +The Lay of the Land " " +Winter " " +The Face of the Fields " " +The Fall of the Year " " +Roof and Meadow " " +Wild Life in the Rockies Enos A. Mills +Kindred of the Wild C.G.D. Roberts +Watchers of the Trail " " " +Haunters of the Silences " " " +The Ways of Wood Folk W.J. Long +Eye Spy W.H. Gibson +Sharp Eyes " " +Birds in the Bush Bradford Torrey +Everyday Birds " " +Nature's Invitation " " +Bird Stories from Burroughs (selections) John Burroughs +Winter Sunshine " " +Pepacton " " +Riverby " " +Wake-Robin " " +Signs and Seasons " " +How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar Bret Harte +Santa Claus's Partner T.N. Page +The First Christmas Tree Henry Van Dyke +The Other Wise Man " " +The Old Peabody Pew K.D. Wiggin +Miss Santa Claus of the Pullman Annie F. Johnson +Christmas Zona Gale +A Christmas Mystery W.J. Locke +Christmas Eve on Lonesome John Fox, Jr. +By the Christmas Fire S.M. Crothers +Colonel Carter's Christmas F.H. Smith +Christmas Jenny (in _A New England Nun_) Mary E. Wilkins +A Christmas Sermon R.L. Stevenson +The Boy who Brought Christmas Alice Morgan +Christmas Stories Charles Dickens +The Christmas Guest Selma Lagerlöf +The Legend of the Christmas Rose " " + + + + +GLOUCESTER MOORS + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + A mile behind is Gloucester town + Where the fishing fleets put in, + A mile ahead the land dips down + And the woods and farms begin. + Here, where the moors stretch free + In the high blue afternoon, + Are the marching sun and talking sea, + And the racing winds that wheel and flee + On the flying heels of June. + + Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue, + Blue is the quaker-maid, + The wild geranium holds its dew + Long in the boulder's shade. + Wax-red hangs the cup + From the huckleberry boughs, + In barberry bells the grey moths sup, + Or where the choke-cherry lifts high up + Sweet bowls for their carouse. + + Over the shelf of the sandy cove + Beach-peas blossom late. + By copse and cliff the swallows rove + Each calling to his mate. + Seaward the sea-gulls go, + And the land birds all are here; + That green-gold flash was a vireo, + And yonder flame where the marsh-flags grow + Was a scarlet tanager. + + This earth is not the steadfast place + We landsmen build upon; + From deep to deep she varies pace, + And while she comes is gone. + Beneath my feet I feel + Her smooth bulk heave and dip; + With velvet plunge and soft upreel + She swings and steadies to her keel + Like a gallant, gallant ship. + + These summer clouds she sets for sail, + The sun is her masthead light, + She tows the moon like a pinnace frail + Where her phospher wake churns bright, + Now hid, now looming clear, + On the face of the dangerous blue + The star fleets tack and wheel and veer, + But on, but on does the old earth steer + As if her port she knew. + + God, dear God! Does she know her port, + Though she goes so far about? + Or blind astray, does she make her sport + To brazen and chance it out? + I watched where her captains passed: + She were better captainless. + Men in the cabin, before the mast, + But some were reckless and some aghast, + And some sat gorged at mess. + + By her battered hatch I leaned and caught + Sounds from the noisome hold,-- + Cursing and sighing of souls distraught + And cries too sad to be told. + Then I strove to go down and see; + But they said, "Thou art not of us!" + I turned to those on the deck with me + And cried, "Give help!" But they said, "Let be: + Our ship sails faster thus." + + Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue, + Blue is the quaker-maid, + The alder clump where the brook comes through + Breeds cresses in its shade. + To be out of the moiling street + With its swelter and its sin! + Who has given to me this sweet, + And given my brother dust to eat? + And when will his wage come in? + + Scattering wide or blown in ranks, + Yellow and white and brown, + Boats and boats from the fishing banks + Come home to Gloucester town. + There is cash to purse and spend, + There are wives to be embraced, + Hearts to borrow and hearts to lend, + And hearts to take and keep to the end,-- + O little sails, make haste! + + But thou, vast outbound ship of souls, + What harbor town for thee? + What shapes, when thy arriving tolls, + Shall crowd the banks to see? + Shall all the happy shipmates then + Stand singing brotherly? + Or shall a haggard ruthless few + Warp her over and bring her to, + While the many broken souls of men + Fester down in the slaver's pen, + And nothing to say or do? + + +NOTES + +=Gloucester town=: Gloucester is a seaport town in Massachusetts, the +chief seat of the cod and mackerel fisheries of the coast. + +=Jill-o'er-the-ground=: Ground ivy; usually written +_Gill-over-the-ground_. + +=Quaker-maid=: Quaker ladies; small blue flowers growing low on the +ground. + +=wax-red=: The huckleberry blossom is red and waxy. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem slowly through to yourself, getting what you can out of +it, without trying too hard. Note that after the third stanza the earth +is compared to a ship. After you have read the poem through, go back and +study it with the help of the following questions and suggestions:-- + +The author is out on the moors not far from the sea: What details does +he select to make you feel the beauty of the afternoon? What words in +the first stanza suggest movement and freedom? Why does the author stop +to tell about the flowers, when he has so many important things to say? +Note a change of tone at the beginning of the fourth stanza. What +suggests to the author that the earth is like a ship? Why does he say +that it is not a steadfast place? How does the fifth stanza remind you +of _The Ancient Mariner_? Why does the author speak so passionately at +the beginning of the sixth stanza? Here he wonders whether there is +really any plan in the universe, or whether things all go by chance. Who +are the captains of whom he speaks? What different types of people are +represented in the last two lines of stanza six? What is the "noisome +hold" of the Earth ship? Who are those cursing and sighing? Who are +_they_ in the line, "But they said, 'Thou art not of us!'"? Who are +_they_ in the next line but one? Why does the author turn back to the +flowers in the next few lines? What is omitted from the line beginning +"To be out"? Explain the last three lines of stanza eight. How do the +ships of Gloucester differ from the ship _Earth_? What is the "arriving" +spoken of in the last stanza? What two possibilities does the author +suggest as to the fate of the ship? Why does he end his poem with a +question? What is the purpose of the poem? Why is it considered good? +What do you think was the author's feeling about the way the poor and +helpless are treated? Read the poem through aloud, thinking what each +line means. + + + + +ROAD-HYMN FOR THE START + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + Leave the early bells at chime, + Leave the kindled hearth to blaze, + Leave the trellised panes where children linger out the waking-time, + Leave the forms of sons and fathers trudging through the misty ways, + Leave the sounds of mothers taking up their sweet laborious days. + + Pass them by! even while our soul + Yearns to them with keen distress. + Unto them a part is given; we will strive to see the whole. + Dear shall be the banquet table where their singing spirits press; + Dearer be our sacred hunger, and our pilgrim loneliness. + + We have felt the ancient swaying + Of the earth before the sun, + On the darkened marge of midnight heard sidereal rivers playing; + Rash it was to bathe our souls there, but we plunged and all was done. + That is lives and lives behind us--lo, our journey is begun! + + Careless where our face is set, + Let us take the open way. + What we are no tongue has told us: Errand-goers who forget? + Soldiers heedless of their harry? Pilgrim people gone astray? + We have heard a voice cry "Wander!" That was all we heard it say. + + Ask no more: 'tis much, 'tis much! + Down the road the day-star calls; + Touched with change in the wide heavens, like a leaf the + frost winds touch, + Flames the failing moon a moment, ere it shrivels white and falls; + Hid aloft, a wild throat holdeth sweet and sweeter intervals. + + Leave him still to ease in song + Half his little heart's unrest: + Speech is his, but we may journey toward the life for which we long. + God, who gives the bird its anguish, maketh nothing manifest, + But upon our lifted foreheads pours the boon of endless quest. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Do not be alarmed if you find this a little hard to understand. It is +expressed in rather figurative language, and one has to study it to get +its meaning. The poem is about those people who look forward constantly +to something better, and feel that they must always be pressing forward +at any cost. Who is represented as speaking? What sort of life are the +travelers leaving behind them? Why do they feel a keen distress? What is +the "whole" that they are striving to see? What is their "sacred +hunger"? Why is it "dearer" than the feasting of those who stay at home? +Notice how the third stanza reminds one of _Gloucester Moors_. Look up +the word _sidereal_: Can you tell what it means here? "Lives and lives +behind us" means _a long time ago_; you will perhaps have to ask your +teacher for its deeper meaning. Do the travelers know where they are +going? Why do they set forth? Note the description of the dawn in the +fifth stanza. What is the boon of "endless quest"? Why is it spoken of +as a gift (boon)? Compare the last line of this poem with the last line +of _The Wild Ride_, on page 161. Perhaps you will be interested to +compare the _Road-Hymn_ with Whitman's _The Song of the Open Road_. + +Do the meter and verse-form seem appropriate here? Is anything gained by +the difference in the length of the lines? + + + + +ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILIPPINES + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + Streets of the roaring town, + Hush for him, hush, be still! + He comes, who was stricken down + Doing the word of our will. + Hush! Let him have his state, + Give him his soldier's crown. + The grists of trade can wait + Their grinding at the mill, + But he cannot wait for his honor, now the trumpet has been blown; + Wreathe pride now for his granite brow, lay love on his breast + of stone. + + Toll! Let the great bells toll + Till the clashing air is dim. + Did we wrong this parted soul? + We will make it up to him. + Toll! Let him never guess + What work we set him to. + Laurel, laurel, yes; + He did what we bade him do. + Praise, and never a whispered hint but the fight he fought was good; + Never a word that the blood on his sword was his country's + own heart's-blood. + + A flag for the soldier's bier + Who dies that his land may live; + O, banners, banners here, + That he doubt not nor misgive! + That he heed not from the tomb + The evil days draw near + When the nation, robed in gloom, + With its faithless past shall strive. + Let him never dream that his bullet's scream went wide of its + island mark, + Home to the heart of his darling land where she stumbled + and sinned in the dark. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is "his state," in line five? How has the soldier been "wronged"? +Does the author think that the fight in the Philippines has not been +"good"? Why? What does he mean by the last line of stanza two? What +"evil days" are those mentioned in stanza three? Have they come yet? +What "faithless past" is meant? Do you think that the United States has +treated the Philippines unfairly?[14] + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Gloucester Moors and Other Poems William Vaughn Mood +Poems and Plays of William Vaughn + Moody (2 vols. Biographical introduction) John M. Manley (Ed.) +Letters of William Vaughn Moody Daniel Mason (Ed.) +Out of Gloucester J.B. Connolly + +For biography, criticism, and portraits of William Vaughn Moody, +consult: Atlantic Monthly, 98:326, September, 1906; World's Work, 13: +8258, December, 1906 (Portrait); Century, 73:431 (Portrait); Reader, +10:173; Bookman, 32:253 (Portrait.) + + + + +THE COON DOG + +SARAH ORNE JEWETT + +(In _The Queen's Twin and Other Stories_) + + +I + +In the early dusk of a warm September evening the bats were flitting to +and fro, as if it were still summer, under the great elm that +overshadowed Isaac Brown's house, on the Dipford road. Isaac Brown +himself, and his old friend and neighbor John York, were leaning against +the fence. + +"Frost keeps off late, don't it?" said John York. "I laughed when I +first heard about the circus comin'; I thought 'twas so unusual late in +the season. Turned out well, however. Everybody I noticed was returnin' +with a palm-leaf fan. Guess they found 'em useful under the tent; 'twas +a master hot day. I saw old lady Price with her hands full o' those free +advertising fans, as if she was layin' in a stock against next summer. +Well, I expect she'll live to enjoy 'em." + +"I was right here where I'm standin' now, and I see her as she was goin' +by this mornin'," said Isaac Brown, laughing, and settling himself +comfortably against the fence as if they had chanced upon a welcome +subject of conversation. "I hailed her, same's I gener'lly do. 'Where +are you bound to-day, ma'am?' says I. + +"'I'm goin' over as fur as Dipford Centre,' says she. 'I'm goin' to see +my poor dear 'Liza Jane. I want to 'suage her grief; her husband, Mr. +'Bijah Topliff, has passed away.' + +"'So much the better,' says I. + +"'No; I never l'arnt about it till yisterday,' says she;' an' she looked +up at me real kind of pleasant, and begun to laugh. + +"'I hear he's left property,' says she, tryin' to pull her face down +solemn. I give her the fifty cents she wanted to borrow to make up her +car-fare and other expenses, an' she stepped off like a girl down tow'ds +the depot. + +"This afternoon, as you know, I'd promised the boys that I'd take 'em +over to see the menagerie, and nothin' wouldn't do none of us any good +but we must see the circus too; an' when we'd just got posted on one o' +the best high seats, mother she nudged me, and I looked right down front +two, three rows, an' if there wa'n't Mis' Price, spectacles an' all, +with her head right up in the air, havin' the best time you ever see. I +laughed right out. She hadn't taken no time to see 'Liza Jane; she +wa'n't 'suagin' no grief for nobody till she'd seen the circus. 'There,' +says I, 'I do like to have anybody keep their young feelin's!'" + +"Mis' Price come over to see our folks before breakfast," said John +York. "Wife said she was inquirin' about the circus, but she wanted to +know first if they couldn't oblige her with a few trinkets o' mournin', +seein' as how she'd got to pay a mournin' visit. Wife thought't was a +bosom-pin, or somethin' like that, but turned out she wanted the skirt +of a dress; 'most anything would do, she said." + +"I thought she looked extra well startin' off," said Isaac, with an +indulgent smile. "The Lord provides very handsome for such, I do +declare! She ain't had no visible means o' support these ten or fifteen +years back, but she don't freeze up in winter no more than we do." + +"Nor dry up in summer," interrupted his friend; "I never did see such an +able hand to talk." + +"She's good company, and she's obliging an' useful when the women folks +have their extra work progressin'," continued Isaac Brown kindly. +"'Tain't much for a well-off neighborhood like this to support that old +chirpin' cricket. My mother used to say she kind of helped the work +along by 'livenin' of it. Here she comes now; must have taken the last +train, after she had supper with 'Lizy Jane. You stay still; we're goin' +to hear all about it." + +The small, thin figure of Mrs. Price had to be hailed twice before she +could be stopped. + +"I wish you a good evenin', neighbors," she said. "I have been to the +house of mournin'." + +"Find 'Liza Jane in, after the circus?" asked Isaac Brown, with equal +seriousness. "Excellent show, wasn't it, for so late in the season?" + +"Oh, beautiful; it was beautiful, I declare," answered the pleased +spectator readily. "Why, I didn't see you, nor Mis' Brown. Yes; I felt +it best to refresh my mind an' wear a cheerful countenance. When I see +'Liza Jane I was able to divert her mind consid'able. She was glad I +went. I told her I'd made an effort, knowin' 'twas so she had to lose +the a'ternoon. 'Bijah left property, if he did die away from home on a +foreign shore." + +"You don't mean that 'Bijah Topliff's left anything!" exclaimed John +York with interest, while Isaac Brown put both hands deep into his +pockets, and leaned back in a still more satisfactory position against +the gatepost. + +"He enjoyed poor health," answered Mrs. Price, after a moment of +deliberation, as if she must take time to think. "'Bijah never was one +that scattereth, nor yet increaseth. 'Liza Jane's got some memories o' +the past that's a good deal better than others; but he died somewheres +out in Connecticut, or so she heard, and he's left a very val'able coon +dog,--one he set a great deal by. 'Liza Jane said, last time he was to +home, he priced that dog at fifty dollars. 'There, now, 'Liza Jane,' +says I, right to her, when she told me, 'if I could git fifty dollars +for that dog, I certain' would. Perhaps some o' the circus folks would +like to buy him; they've taken in a stream o' money this day.' But 'Liza +Jane ain't never inclined to listen to advice. 'Tis a dreadful +poor-spirited-lookin' creatur'. I don't want no right o' dower in him, +myself." + +"A good coon dog's worth somethin', certain," said John York handsomely. + +"If he _is_ a good coon dog," added Isaac Brown. "I wouldn't have parted +with old Rover, here, for a good deal of money when he was right in his +best days; but a dog like him's like one of the family. Stop an' have +some supper, won't ye, Mis' Price?"--as the thin old creature was +flitting off again. At that same moment this kind invitation was +repeated from the door of the house; and Mrs. Price turned in, +unprotesting and always sociably inclined, at the open gate. + + +II + +It was a month later, and a whole autumn's length colder, when the two +men were coming home from a long tramp through the woods. They had been +making a solemn inspection of a wood-lot that they owned together, and +had now visited their landmarks and outer boundaries, and settled the +great question of cutting or not cutting some large pines. When it was +well decided that a few years' growth would be no disadvantage to the +timber, they had eaten an excellent cold luncheon and rested from their +labors. + +"I don't feel a day older'n ever I did when I get out in the woods this +way," announced John York, who was a prim, dusty-looking little man, a +prudent person, who had been selectman of the town at least a dozen +times. + +"No more do I," agreed his companion, who was large and jovial and +open-handed, more like a lucky sea-captain than a farmer. After pounding +a slender walnut-tree with a heavy stone, he had succeeded in getting +down a pocketful of late-hanging nuts which had escaped the squirrels, +and was now snapping them back, one by one, to a venturesome chipmunk +among some little frost-bitten beeches. Isaac Brown had a wonderfully +pleasant way of getting on with all sorts of animals, even men. After a +while they rose and went their way, these two companions, stopping here +and there to look at a possible woodchuck's hole, or to strike a few +hopeful blows at a hollow tree with the light axe which Isaac had +carried to blaze new marks on some of the line-trees on the farther edge +of their possessions. Sometimes they stopped to admire the size of an +old hemlock, or to talk about thinning out the young pines. At last they +were not very far from the entrance to the great tract of woodland. The +yellow sunshine came slanting in much brighter against the tall trunks, +spotting them with golden light high among the still branches. + +Presently they came to a great ledge, frost-split and cracked into +mysterious crevices. + +"Here's where we used to get all the coons," said John York. "I haven't +seen a coon this great while, spite o' your courage knocking on the +trees up back here. You know that night we got the four fat ones? We +started 'em somewheres near here, so the dog could get after 'em when +they come out at night to go foragin'." + +"Hold on, John;" and Mr. Isaac Brown got up from the log where he had +just sat down to rest, and went to the ledge, and looked carefully all +about. When he came back he was much excited, and beckoned his friend +away, speaking in a stage whisper. + +"I guess you'll see a coon before you're much older," he proclaimed. +"I've thought it looked lately as if there'd been one about my place, +and there's plenty o' signs here, right in their old haunts. Couple o' +hens' heads an' a lot o' feathers"-- + +"Might be a fox," interrupted John York. + +"Might be a coon," answered Mr. Isaac Brown. "I'm goin' to have him, +too. I've been lookin' at every old hollow tree I passed, but I never +thought o' this place. We'll come right off to-morrow night, I guess, +John, an' see if we can't get him. 'Tis an extra handy place for 'em to +den; in old times the folks always called it a good place; they've been +so sca'ce o' these late years that I've thought little about 'em. +Nothin' I ever liked so well as a coon-hunt. Gorry! he must be a big old +fellow, by his tracks! See here, in this smooth dirt; just like a baby's +footmark." + +"Trouble is, we lack a good dog," said John York anxiously, after he had +made an eager inspection. "I don't know where in the world to get one, +either. There ain't no such a dog about as your Rover, but you've let +him get spoilt; these days I don't see him leave the yard. You ought to +keep the women folks from overfeedin' of him so. He ought to've lasted a +good spell longer. He's no use for huntin' now, that's certain." + +Isaac accepted the rebuke meekly. John York was a calm man, but he now +grew very fierce under such a provocation. Nobody likes to be hindered +in a coon-hunt. + +"Oh, Rover's too old, anyway," explained the affectionate master +regretfully. "I've been wishing all this afternoon I'd brought him; but +I didn't think anything about him as we came away, I've got so used to +seeing him layin' about the yard. 'Twould have been a real treat for old +Rover, if he could have kept up. Used to be at my heels the whole time. +He couldn't follow us, anyway, up here." + +"I shouldn't wonder if he could," insisted John, with a humorous glance +at his old friend, who was much too heavy and huge of girth for quick +transit over rough ground. John York himself had grown lighter as he had +grown older. + +"I'll tell you one thing we could do," he hastened to suggest. "There's +that dog of 'Bijah Topliff's. Don't you know the old lady told us, that +day she went over to Dipford, how high he was valued? Most o' 'Bijah's +important business was done in the fall, goin' out by night, gunning +with fellows from the mills. He was just the kind of a worthless +do-nothing that's sure to have an extra knowin' smart dog. I expect +'Liza Jane's got him now. Perhaps we could get him by to-morrow night. +Let one o' my boys go over!" + +"Why, 'Liza Jane's come, bag an' baggage, to spend the winter with her +mother," exclaimed Isaac Brown, springing to his feet like a boy. "I've +had it in mind to tell you two or three times this afternoon, and then +something else has flown it out of my head. I let my John Henry take the +long-tailed wagon an' go down to the depot this mornin' to fetch her an' +her goods up. The old lady come in early, while we were to breakfast, +and to hear her lofty talk you'd thought 't would taken a couple o' +four-horse teams to move her. I told John Henry he might take that wagon +and fetch up what light stuff he could, and see how much else there was, +an' then I'd make further arrangements. She said 'Liza Jane'd see me +well satisfied, an' rode off, pleased to death. I see 'em returnin' +about eight, after the train was in. They'd got 'Liza Jane with 'em, +smaller'n ever; and there was a trunk tied up with a rope, and a small +roll o' beddin' and braided mats, and a quilted rockin'-chair. The old +lady was holdin' on tight to a bird-cage with nothin' in it. Yes; an' I +see the dog, too, in behind. He appeared kind of timid. He's a yaller +dog, but he ain't stump-tailed. They hauled up out front o' the house, +and mother an' I went right out; Mis' Price always expects to have +notice taken. She was in great sperits. Said 'Liza Jane concluded to +sell off most of her stuff rather 'n have the care of it. She'd told the +folks that Mis' Topliff had a beautiful sofa and a lot o' nice chairs, +and two framed pictures that would fix up the house complete, and +invited us all to come over and see 'em. There, she seemed just as +pleased returnin' with the bird-cage. Disappointments don't appear to +trouble her no more than a butterfly. I kind of like the old creator'; I +don't mean to see her want." + +"They'll let us have the dog," said John York. "I don't know but I'll +give a quarter for him, and we'll let 'em have a good piece o' the +coon." + +"You really comin' 'way up here by night, coon-huntin'?" asked Isaac +Brown, looking reproachfully at his more agile comrade. + +"I be," answered John York. + +"I was dre'tful afraid you was only talking, and might back out," +returned the cheerful heavy-weight, with a chuckle. "Now we've got +things all fixed, I feel more like it than ever. I tell you there's just +boy enough left inside of me. I'll clean up my old gun to-morrow +mornin', and you look right after your'n. I dare say the boys have took +good care of 'em for us, but they don't know what we do about huntin', +and we'll bring 'em all along and show 'em a little fun." + +"All right," said John York, as soberly as if they were going to look +after a piece of business for the town; and they gathered up the axe and +other light possessions, and started toward home. + + +III + +The two friends, whether by accident or design, came out of the woods +some distance from their own houses, but very near to the low-storied +little gray dwelling of Mrs. Price. They crossed the pasture, and +climbed over the toppling fence at the foot of her small sandy piece of +land, and knocked at the door. There was a light already in the kitchen. +Mrs. Price and Eliza Jane Topliff appeared at once, eagerly hospitable. + +"Anybody sick?" asked Mrs. Price, with instant sympathy. "Nothin' +happened, I hope?" + +"Oh, no," said both the men. + +"We came to talk about hiring your dog to-morrow night," explained +Isaac Brown, feeling for the moment amused at his eager errand. "We got +on track of a coon just now, up in the woods, and we thought we'd give +our boys a little treat. You shall have fifty cents, an' welcome, and a +good piece o' the coon." + +"Yes, Square Brown; we can let you have the dog as well as not," +interrupted Mrs. Price, delighted to grant a favor. "Poor departed +'Bijah, he set everything by him as a coon dog. He always said a dog's +capital was all in his reputation." + +"You'll have to be dreadful careful an' not lose him," urged Mrs. +Topliff "Yes, sir; he's a proper coon dog as ever walked the earth, but +he's terrible weak-minded about followin' 'most anybody. 'Bijah used to +travel off twelve or fourteen miles after him to git him back, when he +wa'n't able. Somebody'd speak to him decent, or fling a whip-lash as +they drove by, an' off he'd canter on three legs right after the wagon. +But 'Bijah said he wouldn't trade him for no coon dog he ever was +acquainted with. Trouble is, coons is awful sca'ce." + +"I guess he ain't out o' practice," said John York amiably; "I guess +he'll know when he strikes the coon. Come, Isaac, we must be gittin' +along tow'ds home. I feel like eatin' a good supper. You tie him up +to-morrow afternoon, so we shall be sure to have him," he turned to say +to Mrs. Price, who stood smiling at the door. + +"Land sakes, dear, he won't git away; you'll find him right there +betwixt the wood-box and the stove, where he is now. Hold the light, +'Liza Jane; they can't see their way out to the road. I'll fetch him +over to ye in good season," she called out, by way of farewell; "'twill +save ye third of a mile extra walk. No, 'Liza Jane; you'll let me do it, +if you please. I've got a mother's heart. The gentlemen will excuse us +for showin' feelin'. You're all the child I've got, an' your prosperity +is the same as mine." + + +IV + +The great night of the coon-hunt was frosty and still, with only a dim +light from the new moon. John York and his boys, and Isaac Brown, whose +excitement was very great, set forth across the fields toward the dark +woods. The men seemed younger and gayer than the boys. There was a burst +of laughter when John Henry Brown and his little brother appeared with +the coon dog of the late Mr. Abijah Topliff, which had promptly run away +home again after Mrs. Price had coaxed him over in the afternoon. The +captors had tied a string round his neck, at which they pulled +vigorously from time to time to urge him forward. Perhaps he found the +night too cold; at any rate, he stopped short in the frozen furrows +every few minutes, lifting one foot and whining a little. Half a dozen +times he came near to tripping up Mr. Isaac Brown and making him fall at +full length. + +"Poor Tiger! poor Tiger!" said the good-natured sportsman, when somebody +said that the dog didn't act as if he were much used to being out by +night. "He'll be all right when he once gets track of the coon." But +when they were fairly in the woods, Tiger's distress was perfectly +genuine. The long rays of light from the old-fashioned lanterns of +pierced tin went wheeling round and round, making a tall ghost of every +tree, and strange shadows went darting in and out behind the pines. The +woods were like an interminable pillared room where the darkness made a +high ceiling. The clean frosty smell of the open fields was changed for +a warmer air, damp with the heavy odor of moss and fallen leaves. There +was something wild and delicious in the forest in that hour of night. +The men and boys tramped on silently in single file, as if they followed +the flickering light instead of carrying it. The dog fell back by +instinct, as did his companions, into the easy familiarity of forest +life. He ran beside them, and watched eagerly as they chose a safe place +to leave a coat or two and a basket. He seemed to be an affectionate +dog, now that he had made acquaintance with his masters. + +"Seems to me he don't exactly know what he's about," said one of the +York boys scornfully; "we must have struck that coon's track somewhere, +comin' in." + +"We'll get through talkin' an' heap up a little somethin' for a fire, if +you'll turn to and help," said his father. "I've always noticed that +nobody can give so much good advice about a piece o' work as a new hand. +When you've treed as many coons as your Uncle Brown an' me, you won't +feel so certain. Isaac, you be the one to take the dog up round the +ledge, there. He'll scent the coon quick enough then. We'll tend to this +part o' the business." + +"You may come too, John Henry," said the indulgent father, and they set +off together silently with the coon dog. He followed well enough now; +his tail and ears were drooping even more than usual, but he whimpered +along as bravely as he could, much excited, at John Henry's heels, like +one of those great soldiers who are all unnerved until the battle is +well begun. + +A minute later the father and son came hurrying back, breathless, and +stumbling over roots and bushes. The fire was already lighted, and +sending a great glow higher and higher among the trees. + +"He's off! He's struck a track! He was off like a major!" wheezed Mr. +Isaac Brown. + +"Which way'd he go?" asked everybody. + +"Right out toward the fields. Like's not the old fellow was just +starting after more of our fowls. I'm glad we come early,--he can't have +got far yet. We can't do nothin' but wait now, boys. I'll set right down +here." + +"Soon as the coon trees, you'll hear the dog sing, now I tell you!" said +John York, with great enthusiasm. "That night your father an' me got +those four busters we've told you about, they come right back here to +the ledge. I don't know but they will now. 'Twas a dreadful cold night, +I know. We didn't get home till past three o'clock in the mornin', +either. You remember, don't you, Isaac?" + +"I do," said Isaac. "How old Rover worked that night! Couldn't see out +of his eyes, nor hardly wag his clever old tail, for two days; thorns in +both his fore paws, and the last coon took a piece right out of his off +shoulder." + +"Why didn't you let Rover come to-night, father?" asked the younger boy. +"I think he knew somethin' was up. He was jumpin' round at a great rate +when I come out of the yard." + +"I didn't know but he might make trouble for the other dog," answered +Isaac, after a moment's silence. He felt almost disloyal to the faithful +creature, and had been missing him all the way. "Sh! there's a bark!" +And they all stopped to listen. + +The fire was leaping higher; they all sat near it, listening and +talking by turns. There is apt to be a good deal of waiting in a +coon-hunt. + +"If Rover was young as he used to be, I'd resk him to tree any coon that +ever run," said the regretful master. "This smart creature o' Topliff's +can't beat him, I know. The poor old fellow's eyesight seems to be +going. Two--three times he's run out at me right in broad day, an' +barked when I come up the yard toward the house, and I did pity him +dreadfully; he was so 'shamed when he found out what he'd done. Rover's +a dog that's got an awful lot o' pride. He went right off out behind the +long barn the last time, and wouldn't come in for nobody when they +called him to supper till I went out myself and made it up with him. No; +he can't see very well now, Rover can't." + +"He's heavy, too; he's got too unwieldy to tackle a smart coon, I +expect, even if he could do the tall runnin'" said John York, with +sympathy. "They have to get a master grip with their teeth through a +coon's thick pelt this time o' year. No; the young folks get all the +good chances after a while;" and he looked round indulgently at the +chubby faces of his boys, who fed the fire, and rejoiced in being +promoted to the society of their elders on equal terms. "Ain't it time +we heard from the dog?" And they all listened, while the fire snapped +and the sap whistled in some green sticks. + +"I hear him," said John Henry suddenly; and faint and far away there +came the sound of a desperate bark. There is a bark that means attack, +and there is a bark that means only foolish excitement. + +"They ain't far off!" said Isaac. "My gracious, he's right after him! I +don't know's I expected that poor-looking dog to be so smart. You can't +tell by their looks. Quick as he scented the game up here in the rocks, +off he put. Perhaps it ain't any matter if they ain't stump-tailed, +long's they're yaller dogs. He didn't look heavy enough to me. I tell +you, he means business. Hear that bark!" + +"They all bark alike after a coon." John York was as excited as anybody. +"Git the guns laid out to hand, boys; I told you we'd ought to follow!" +he commanded. "If it's the old fellow that belongs here, he may put in +any minute." But there was again a long silence and state of suspense; +the chase had turned another way. There were faint distant yaps. The +fire burned low and fell together with a shower of sparks. The smaller +boys began to grow chilly and sleepy, when there was a thud and rustle +and snapping of twigs close at hand, then the gasp of a breathless dog. +Two dim shapes rushed by; a shower of bark fell, and a dog began to sing +at the foot of the great twisted pine not fifty feet away. + +"Hooray for Tiger!" yelled the boys; but the dog's voice filled all the +woods. It might have echoed to the mountain-tops. There was the old +coon; they could all see him half-way up the tree, flat to the great +limb. They heaped the fire with dry branches till it flared high. Now +they lost him in a shadow as he twisted about the tree. John York fired, +and Isaac Brown fired, and the boys took a turn at the guns, while John +Henry started to climb a neighboring oak; but at last it was Isaac who +brought the coon to ground with a lucky shot, and the dog stopped his +deafening bark and frantic leaping in the underbrush, and after an +astonishing moment of silence crept out, a proud victor, to his prouder +master's feet. + +"Goodness alive, who's this? Good for you, old handsome! Why, I'll be +hanged if it ain't old Rover, boys; _it's old Rover_!" But Isaac could +not speak another word. They all crowded round the wistful, clumsy old +dog, whose eyes shone bright, though his breath was all gone. Each man +patted him, and praised him and said they ought to have mistrusted all +the time that it could be nobody but he. It was some minutes before +Isaac Brown could trust himself to do anything but pat the sleek old +head that was always ready to his hand. + +"He must have overheard us talkin'; I guess he'd have come if he'd +dropped dead half-way," proclaimed John Henry, like a prince of the +reigning house; and Rover wagged his tail as if in honest assent, as he +lay at his master's side. They sat together, while the fire was +brightened again to make a good light for the coon-hunt supper; and +Rover had a good half of everything that found its way into his master's +hand. It was toward midnight when the triumphal procession set forth +toward home, with the two lanterns, across the fields. + + +V + +The next morning was bright and warm after the hard frost of the night +before. Old Rover was asleep on the doorstep in the sun, and his master +stood in the yard, and saw neighbor Price come along the road in her +best array, with a gay holiday air. + +"Well, now," she said eagerly, "you wa'n't out very late last night, was +you? I got up myself to let Tiger in. He come home, all beat out, about +a quarter past nine. I expect you hadn't no kind o' trouble gittin' the +coon. The boys was tellin' me he weighed 'most thirty pounds." + +"Oh, no kind o' trouble," said Isaac, keeping the great secret +gallantly. "You got the things I sent over this mornin'?" + +"Bless your heart, yes! I'd a sight rather have all that good pork an' +potatoes than any o' your wild meat," said Mrs. Price, smiling with +prosperity. "You see, now, 'Liza Jane she's given in. She didn't re'lly +know but 'twas all talk of 'Bijah 'bout that dog's bein' wuth fifty +dollars. She says she can't cope with a huntin' dog same's he could, an' +she's given me the money you an' John York sent over this mornin'; an' I +didn't know but what you'd lend me another half a dollar, so I could +both go to Dipford Centre an' return, an' see if I couldn't make a sale +o' Tiger right over there where they all know about him. It's right in +the coon season; now's my time, ain't it?" + +"Well, gettin' a little late," said Isaac, shaking with laughter as he +took the desired sum of money out of his pocket. "He seems to be a +clever dog round the house." + +"I don't know's I want to harbor him all winter," answered the +excursionist frankly, striking into a good traveling gait as she started +off toward the railroad station. + + +NOTES + +=Dipford=:--The New England town in which the scenes of some of Miss +Jewett's stories are laid. + +=master hot=:--In the New England dialect, _master_ is used in the sense +of _very_ or _extremely_. + +=bosom-pin=:--Mourning pins of jet or black enamel were much worn in +times past. + +='suage=:--Assuage, meaning to soften or decrease. + +=selectman=:--One of a board chosen in New England towns to transact +the business of the community. + +=scattereth nor yet increaseth=:--See Proverbs, 11:24. + +=right o' dower=:--The right to claim a part of a deceased husband's +property. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The action takes place in a country district in New England. Judging by +the remarks about the fans, what kind of person do you suppose Old Lady +Price to be? Is there any particular meaning in the word _to-day_? How +is 'Liza Jane related to Mrs. Price? What was the character of Mr. +'Bijah Topliff? Does the old lady feel grieved at his death? What does +Isaac mean by _such_, in the last line, page 190? How does the old lady +live? What is shown of her character when she is called "a chirpin' old +cricket"? Does she feel ashamed of having gone to the circus? How does +she explain her going? What can you tell of 'Bijah from what is said of +'Liza's "memories"? Would the circus people have cared to buy the dog? +Notice how the author makes you feel the pleasantness of the walk in the +woods. Do you know where coons have their dens? How does Isaac show his +affection for old Rover? Is it true that "worthless do-nothings" usually +have "smart" dogs? Why does the author stop to tell all about 'Liza +Jane's arrival? What light is thrown on the old lady's character by +Isaac's words beginning, "Disappointments don't appear to trouble her"? +Are the men very anxious to "give the boys a treat"? Why does the old +lady call Mr. York "dear"? What is meant by the last five lines of Part +III? What sort of dog is Tiger? What is meant by "soon as the coon +trees"? How does the author tell you of old Rover's defects? What person +would you like to have shoot the coon at last? Why could Isaac Brown not +"trust himself to speak"? Do you think old Rover "overheard them +talking," as John Henry suggests? How does the author let you into the +secret of Tiger's behavior? Why does Isaac not tell the old lady which +dog treed the coon? What does he mean by saying that Tiger is "a clever +dog round the house"? Do you think that Mrs. Price succeeded in getting +fifty dollars for the dog? Why does the author not tell whether she does +or not? Try to put into your own words a summing up of the old lady's +character. Tell what you think of the two old men. Do you like the use +of dialect in this story? Would it have been better if the people had +all spoken good English? Why, or why not? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Hunting for Squirrels +An Intelligent Dog +A Night in the Woods +An Old Man +Tracking Rabbits +Borrowers +The Circus +Old Lady Price +A Group of Odd Characters +Raccoons +Opossums +The Tree-dwellers +Around the Fire +How to Make a Camp Fire +The Picnic Lunch +An Interesting Old Lady + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +Try to write a theme in which uneducated people talk as they do in real +life; as far as possible, fit every person's speech to his character. +Below are given some suggestions for this work: + +Mrs. Wicks borrows Mrs. Hall's flat-irons. +Two or three country children quarrel over a hen's nest. +The family get ready to go to the Sunday School picnic. +Sammie tells his parents that he has been whipped at school. +Two old men talk about the crops. +One of the pigs gets out of the pen. +Two boys go hunting. +The farmer has just come back from town. +Mrs. Robbins describes the moving-picture show. + +=An Intelligent Dog=:--Tell who owns the dog, and how much you have had +opportunity to observe him. Describe him as vividly as possible. Give +some incidents that show his intelligence. + +Perhaps you can make a story out of this, giving the largest amount of +space to an event in which the dog accomplished some notable thing, as +protecting property, bringing help in time of danger, or saving his +master's life. In this case, try to tell some of the story by means of +conversation, as Miss Jewett does. + +=An Interesting Old Lady=:--Tell where you saw the old lady; or, if you +know her well, explain the nature of your acquaintance with her. +Describe her rather fully, telling how she looks and what she wears. How +does she walk and talk? What is her chief occupation? If possible, quote +some of her remarks in her own words. Tell some incidents in which she +figures. Try to bring out her most interesting qualities, so that the +reader can see them for himself. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Dogs and Men H.C. Merwin +Stickeen: The Story of John Muir +Another Dog (in _A Gentleman Vagabond_) F.H. Smith +The Sporting Dog Joseph A. Graham +Dogtown Mabel Osgood Wright +Bob, Son of Battle Alfred Ollivant +A Boy I Knew and Four Dogs Laurence Hutton +A Boy I Knew and Some More Dogs " " +A Dog of Flanders Louise de la Ramée +The Call of the Wild Jack London +White Fang " " +My Dogs in the Northland E.R. Young +Dogs of all Nations C.J. Miller +Leo (poem) R.W. Gilder +Greyfriar's Bobby Eleanor Atkinson +The Biography of a Silver Fox E.S. Thompson +Our Friend the Dog (trans.) Maurice Maeterlinck +Following the Deer W.J. Long +The Trail of the Sand-hill Stag Ernest Thompson Seton +Lives of the Hunted " " " +The Wilderness Hunter Theodore Roosevelt +A Watcher in the Woods Dallas Lore Sharp +Wild Life near Home " " " +The Watchers of the Trails C.G.D. Roberts +Kindred of the Wild " " +Little People of the Sycamore " " +The Haunters of the Silences " " +Squirrels and other Fur-bearers John Burroughs +My Woodland Intimates E. Bignell + + +Stories of old people:-- + +Aged Folk (in _Letters from my Mill_) Alphonse Daudet +Green Island (chapter 8 of + _The Country of the Pointed Firs_) Sarah Orne Jewett +Aunt Cynthy Dallett " " " +The Failure of David Berry " " " +A Church Mouse Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman +A White Heron and Other Stories Sarah Orne Jewett +Tales of New England " " " +The Country of the Pointed Firs " " " +A Country Doctor " " " +Deephaven " " " +The Queen's Twin and Other Stories " " " +The King of Folly Island and Other People " " " +A Marsh Island " " " +The Tory Lover " " " +A Native of Winby and Other Tales " " " +Betty Leicester's Christmas " " " +Betty Leicester " " " +Country By-ways " " " +Letters of Sarah Orne Jewett Mrs. James T. Fields (Ed.) + +For Biographies and criticisms of Miss Jewett, see: Atlantic Monthly, +94:485; Critic, 39:292, October, 1901 (Portrait); New England Magazine, +22:737, August, 1900; Outlook, 69:423; Bookman, 34:221 (Portrait). + + + + +ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN + +RICHARD WATSON GILDER + + + This bronze doth keep the very form and mold + Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he: + That brow all wisdom, all benignity; + That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold + Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold; + That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea + For storms to beat on; the lone agony + Those silent, patient lips too well foretold. + Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men + As might some prophet of the elder day-- + Brooding above the tempest and the fray + With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken. + A power was his beyond the touch of art + Or armèd strength--his pure and mighty heart. + + +NOTES + +=the life-mask=:--The life-mask of Abraham Lincoln was made by Leonard +W. Volk, in Chicago, in April, 1860. A good picture of it is given as +the frontispiece to Volume 4 of Nicolay and Hay's _Abraham Lincoln, A +History_. + +=this bronze=:--A life-mask is made of plaster first; then usually it is +cast in bronze. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This is not difficult to understand. Read it over slowly, trying first +to get the meaning of each sentence as if it were prose. You may have +to read it several times before you see the exact meaning of each part. +When you have mastered it, read it through consecutively, thinking of +what it tells about Lincoln. + +This poem is, as you may know, a sonnet. Notice the number of lines, the +meter, and the rhyme-scheme, referring to page 139 for a review of the +sonnet form. Notice how the thought changes at the ninth line. Find a +sonnet in one of the good current magazines. How can you recognize it? +Read it carefully. If it is appropriate, bring it to class, and read and +explain it to your classmates. Why has the sonnet form been used so much +by poets? + +If you can find it, read the sonnet on _The Sonnet_, by Richard Watson +Gilder. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +For references on Lincoln, see pages 50 and 51. + +For portraits of Richard Watson Gilder, and biographical material, +consult: Current Literature, 41:319 (Portrait); Review of Reviews, 34: +491 (Portrait); Nation, 89:519; Dial, 47:441; Harper's Weekly, 53:6; +World's Work, 17:11293 (Portrait); Craftsman, 16:130, May, 1909 +(Portrait); Outlook, 93:689 (Portrait). + +For references to material on the sonnet, see page 140. + + + + +A FIRE AMONG THE GIANTS + +JOHN MUIR + +(From _Our National Parks_) + + +In the forest between the Middle and East forks of the Kaweah, I met a +great fire, and as fire is the master scourge and controller of the +distribution of trees, I stopped to watch it and learn what I could of +its works and ways with the giants. It came racing up the steep +chaparral-covered slopes of the East Fork cañon with passionate +enthusiasm in a broad cataract of flames, now bending down low to feed +on the green bushes, devouring acres of them at a breath, now towering +high in the air as if looking abroad to choose a way, then stooping to +feed again,--the lurid flapping surges and the smoke and terrible +rushing and roaring hiding all that is gentle and orderly in the work. +But as soon as the deep forest was reached, the ungovernable flood +became calm like a torrent entering a lake, creeping and spreading +beneath the trees where the ground was level or sloped gently, slowly +nibbling the cake of compressed needles and scales with flames an inch +high, rising here and there to a foot or two on dry twigs and clumps of +small bushes and brome grass. Only at considerable intervals were fierce +bonfires lighted, where heavy branches broken off by snow had +accumulated, or around some venerable giant whose head had been stricken +off by lightning. + +I tethered Brownie on the edge of a little meadow beside a stream a good +safe way off, and then cautiously chose a camp for myself in a big +stout hollow trunk not likely to be crushed by the fall of burning +trees, and made a bed of ferns and boughs in it. The night, however, and +the strange wild fireworks were too beautiful and exciting to allow much +sleep. There was no danger of being chased and hemmed in; for in the +main forest belt of the Sierra, even when swift winds are blowing, fires +seldom or never sweep over the trees in broad all-embracing sheets as +they do in the dense Rocky Mountain woods and in those of the Cascade +Mountains of Oregon and Washington. Here they creep from tree to tree +with tranquil deliberation, allowing close observation, though caution +is required in venturing around the burning giants to avoid falling +limbs and knots and fragments from dead shattered tops. Though the day +was best for study, I sauntered about night after night, learning what I +could, and admiring the wonderful show vividly displayed in the lonely +darkness, the ground-fire advancing in long crooked lines gently grazing +and smoking on the close-pressed leaves, springing up in thousands of +little jets of pure flame on dry tassels and twigs, and tall spires and +flat sheets with jagged flapping edges dancing here and there on grass +tufts and bushes, big bonfires blazing in perfect storms of energy where +heavy branches mixed with small ones lay smashed together in hundred +cord piles, big red arches between spreading root-swells and trees +growing close together, huge fire-mantled trunks on the hill slopes +glowing like bars of hot iron, violet-colored fire running up the tall +trees, tracing the furrows of the bark in quick quivering rills, and +lighting magnificent torches on dry shattered tops, and ever and anon, +with a tremendous roar and burst of light, young trees clad in +low-descending feathery branches vanishing in one flame two or three +hundred feet high. + +One of the most impressive and beautiful sights was made by the great +fallen trunks lying on the hillsides all red and glowing like colossal +iron bars fresh from a furnace, two hundred feet long some of them, and +ten to twenty feet thick. After repeated burnings have consumed the bark +and sapwood, the sound charred surface, being full of cracks and +sprinkled with leaves, is quickly overspread with a pure, rich, furred, +ruby glow almost flameless and smokeless, producing a marvelous effect +in the night. Another grand and interesting sight are the fires on the +tops of the largest living trees flaming above the green branches at a +height of perhaps two hundred feet, entirely cut off from the +ground-fires, and looking like signal beacons on watch towers. From one +standpoint I sometimes saw a dozen or more, those in the distance +looking like great stars above the forest roof. At first I could not +imagine how these Sequoia lamps were lighted, but the very first night, +strolling about waiting and watching, I saw the thing done again and +again. The thick fibrous bark of old trees is divided by deep, nearly +continuous furrows, the sides of which are bearded with the bristling +ends of fibres broken by the growth swelling of the trunk, and when the +fire comes creeping around the feet of the trees, it runs up these +bristly furrows in lovely pale blue quivering, bickering rills of flame +with a low, earnest whispering sound to the lightning-shattered top of +the trunk, which, in the dry Indian summer, with perhaps leaves and +twigs and squirrel-gnawed cone-scales and seed-wings lodged in it, is +readily ignited. These lamp-lighting rills, the most beautiful +fire-streams I ever saw, last only a minute or two, but the big lamps +burn with varying brightness for days and weeks, throwing off sparks +like the spray of a fountain, while ever and anon a shower of red coals +comes sifting down through the branches, followed at times with +startling effect by a big burned-off chunk weighing perhaps half a ton. + +The immense bonfires where fifty or a hundred cords of peeled, split, +smashed wood has been piled around some old giant by a single stroke of +lightning is another grand sight in the night. The light is so great I +found I could read common print three hundred yards from them, and the +illumination of the circle of onlooking trees is indescribably +impressive. Other big fires, roaring and booming like waterfalls, were +blazing on the upper sides of trees on hillslopes, against which limbs +broken off by heavy snow had rolled, while branches high overhead, +tossed and shaken by the ascending air current, seemed to be writhing in +pain. Perhaps the most startling phenomenon of all was the quick death +of childlike Sequoias only a century or two of age. In the midst of the +other comparatively slow and steady fire work one of these tall, +beautiful saplings, leafy and branchy, would be seen blazing up +suddenly, all in one heaving, booming, passionate flame reaching from +the ground to the top of the tree, and fifty to a hundred feet or more +above it, with a smoke column bending forward and streaming away on the +upper, free-flowing wind. To burn these green trees a strong fire of dry +wood beneath them is required, to send up a current of air hot enough to +distill inflammable gases from the leaves and sprays; then instead of +the lower limbs gradually catching fire and igniting the next and the +next in succession, the whole tree seems to explode almost +simultaneously, and with awful roaring and throbbing a round, tapering +flame shoots up two or three hundred feet, and in a second or two is +quenched, leaving the green spire a black, dead mast, bristled and +roughened with down-curling boughs. Nearly all the trees that have been +burned down are lying with their heads up hill, because they are burned +far more deeply on the upper side, on account of broken limbs rolling +down against them to make hot fires, while only leaves and twigs +accumulate on the lower side and are quickly consumed without injury to +the tree. But green, resinless Sequoia wood burns very slowly, and many +successive fires are required to burn down a large tree. Fires can run +only at intervals of several years, and when the ordinary amount of +fire-wood that has rolled against the gigantic trunk is consumed, only a +shallow scar is made, which is slowly deepened by recurring fires until +far beyond the centre of gravity, and when at last the tree falls, it of +course falls up hill. The healing folds of wood layers on some of the +deeply burned trees show that centuries have elapsed since the last +wounds were made. + +When a great Sequoia falls, its head is smashed into fragments about as +small as those made by lightning, which are mostly devoured by the first +running, hunting fire that finds them, while the trunk is slowly wasted +away by centuries of fire and weather. One of the most interesting +fire-actions on the trunk is the boring of those great tunnel-like +hollows through which horsemen may gallop. All of these famous hollows +are burned out of the solid wood, for no Sequoia is ever hollowed by +decay. When the tree falls, the brash trunk is often broken straight +across into sections as if sawed; into these joints the fire creeps, +and, on account of the great size of the broken ends, burns for weeks or +even months without being much influenced by the weather. After the +great glowing ends fronting each other have burned so far apart that +their rims cease to burn, the fire continues to work on in the centres, +and the ends become deeply concave. Then heat being radiated from side +to side, the burning goes on in each section of the trunk independent of +the other, until the diameter of the bore is so great that the heat +radiated across from side to side is not sufficient to keep them +burning. It appears, therefore, that only very large trees can receive +the fire-auger and have any shell-rim left. + +Fire attacks the large trees only at the ground, consuming the fallen +leaves and humus at their feet, doing them but little harm unless +considerable quantities of fallen limbs happen to be piled about them, +their thick mail of spongy, unpitchy, almost unburnable bark affording +strong protection. Therefore the oldest and most perfect unscarred trees +are found on ground that is nearly level, while those growing on +hillsides, against which fallen branches roll, are always deeply scarred +on the upper side, and as we have seen are sometimes burned down. The +saddest thing of all was to see the hopeful seedlings, many of them +crinkled and bent with the pressure of winter snow, yet bravely aspiring +at the top, helplessly perishing, and young trees, perfect spires of +verdure and naturally immortal, suddenly changed to dead masts. Yet the +sun looked cheerily down the openings in the forest roof, turning the +black smoke to a beautiful brown as if all was for the best. + + +NOTES + +=Kaweah=:--A river in California, which runs through the Sequoia +National Park. + +=Brownie=:--A small donkey which Mr. Muir had brought along to carry his +pack of blankets and provisions. (See pp. 285, 286 of _Our National +Parks_.) + +=humus=:--Vegetable mold. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +In 1875, Mr. Muir spent some weeks in the Sequoia forests, learning what +he could of the life and death of the giant trees. This selection is +from his account of his experiences. How does the author make you feel +the fierceness of the fire? Why does it become calmer when it enters the +forest? Would most people care to linger in a burning forest? What is +shown by Mr. Muir's willingness to stay? Note the vividness of the +passage beginning "Though the day was best": How does the author manage +to make it so clear? Might this passage be differently punctuated, with +advantage? What is the value of the figure "like colossal iron bars"? +Note the vivid words in the passage beginning "The thick" and ending +with "half a ton." What do you think of the expressions _onlooking +trees_, and _childlike Sequoias_? Explain why the burned trees fall up +hill. Go through the selection and pick out the words that show action; +color; sound. Try to state clearly the reasons why this selection is +clear and picturesque. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Forest Fire +A Group of Large Trees +Felling a Tree +A Fire in the Country +A Fire in the City +Alone in the Woods +The Woodsman +In the Woods +Camping Out for the Night +By-products of the Forest +A Tree Struck by Lightning +A Famous Student of Nature +Planting Trees +The Duties of a Forest Ranger +The Lumber Camp +A Fire at Night +Learning to Observe +The Conservation of the Forests +The Pine +Ravages of the Paper Mill + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Fire at Night=:--If possible, found this theme on actual observation +and experience. Tell of your first knowledge of the fire--the smoke and +the flame, or the ringing of bells and the shouting. From what point of +view did you see the fire? Tell how it looked when you first saw it. Use +words of color and action, as Mr. Muir does. Perhaps you can make your +description vivid by means of sound-words. Tell what people did and what +they said. Did you hear anything said by the owners of the property that +was burning? Go on and trace the progress of the fire, describing its +change in volume and color. Try at all times to make your reader see the +beauty and fierceness and destructiveness of the fire. You might close +your theme with the putting out of the fire, or perhaps you will prefer +to speak of the appearance of the ruins by daylight. When you have +finished your theme, read it over, and see where you can touch it up to +make it clearer and more impressive. Read again some of the most +brilliant passages in Mr. Muir's description, and see how you can profit +by the devices he uses. + +=In the Woods=:--Give an account of a long or a short trip in the woods, +and tell what you observed. It might be well to plan this theme a number +of days before writing it, and in the interim to take a walk in the +woods to get mental notes. In writing the theme, give your chief +attention to the trees--their situation, appearance, height, manner of +growth from the seedling up, peculiarities. Make clear the differences +between the kinds of trees, especially between varieties of the same +species. You can make good use of color-words in your descriptions of +leaves, flowers, seed-receptacles (cones, keys, wings, etc.), and +berries. Keep your work simple, almost as if you were talking to some +one who wishes information about the forest trees. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Our National Parks John Muir +My First Summer in the Sierra " " +The Mountains of California " " +The Story of my Boyhood and Youth " " +Stickeen: The Story of a Dog " " +The Yosemite John Muir +The Giant Forest (chapter 18 of _The Mountains_) Stewart Edward White +The Pines (chapter 8 of _The Mountains_) " " " +The Blazed Trail " " " +The Forest " " " +The Heart of the Ancient Wood C.G.D. Roberts +The Story of a Thousand-year Pine + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) Enos A. Mills +The Lodge-pole Pine + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) " " +Rocky Mountain Forests + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) " " +The Spell of the Rockies " " +Under the Sky in California C.F. Saunders +Field Days in California Bradford Torrey +The Snowing of the Pines (poem) T.W. Higginson +A Young Fir Wood (poem) D.G. Rossetti +The Spirit of the Pine (poem) Bayard Taylor +To a Pine Tree J.R. Lowell +Silverado Squatters Robert Louis Stevenson +Travels with a Donkey " " " +A Forest Fire (in _The Old Pacific Capital_) " " " +The Two Matches (in _Fables_) " " " +In the Maine Woods Henry D. Thoreau +Yosemite Trails J.S. Chase +The Conservation of Natural Resources Charles R. Van Hise +Getting Acquainted with the Trees J.H. McFarland +The Trees (poem) Josephine Preston Peabody + +For biographical material relating to John Muir, consult: With John o' +Birds and John o' Mountains, Century, 80:521 (Portraits); At Home with +Muir, Overland Monthly (New Series), 52:125, August, 1908; Craftsman, +7:665 (page 637 for portrait), March, 1905; Craftsman, 23:324 +(Portrait); Outlook, 80:303, January 3, 1905; Bookman, 26:593, +February, 1908; World's Work, 17:11355, March, 1909; 19:12529, +February, 1910. + + + + +WAITING + +JOHN BURROUGHS + + + Serene, I fold my hands and wait, + Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; + I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, + For lo! my own shall come to me. + + I stay my haste, I make delays, + For what avails this eager pace? + I stand amid the eternal ways, + And what is mine shall know my face. + + Asleep, awake, by night or day, + The friends I seek are seeking me; + No wind can drive my bark astray + Nor change the tide of destiny. + + What matter if I stand alone? + I wait with joy the coming years; + My heart shall reap where it has sown, + And garner up its fruit of tears. + + The law of love binds every heart + And knits it to its utmost kin, + Nor can our lives flow long apart + From souls our secret souls would win. + + The stars come nightly to the sky, + The tidal wave comes to the sea; + Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high + Can keep my own away from me. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This poem is so easy that it needs little explanation. It shows the +calmness and confidence of one who feels that the universe is right, and +that everything comes out well sooner or later. Read the poem through +slowly. _Its utmost kin_ means its most distant relations or +connections. _The tidal wave_ means the regular and usual flow of the +tide. _Nor time nor space_:--Perhaps Mr. Burroughs was thinking of the +Bible, Romans 8:38, 39. + +Does the poem mean to encourage mere waiting, without action? Does it +discourage effort? Just how much is it intended to convey? Is the theory +expressed here a good one? Do you believe it to be true? Read the verses +again, slowly and carefully, thinking what they mean. If you like them, +take time to learn them. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +For a list of Mr. Burrough's books, see page 177. + +Song: The year's at the spring Robert Browning +The Building of the Chimney Richard Watson Gilder + +With John o'Birds and John o'Mountains (Century Magazine, 80:521) + +A Day at Slabsides (Outlook, 66:351) Washington Gladden + +Century, 86:884, October, 1915 (Portrait); Outlook, 78:878, December 3, +1904. + + +EXERCISES + +Try writing a stanza or two in the meter and with the rhyme that Mr. +Burroughs uses. Below are given lines that may prove suggestive:-- + +1. One night when all the sky was clear +2. The plum tree near the garden wall +3. I watched the children at their play +4. The wind swept down across the plain +5. The yellow leaves are drifting down +6. Along the dusty way we sped (In an Automobile) +7. I looked about my garden plot (In my Garden) +8. The sky was red with sudden flame +9. I walked among the forest trees +10. He runs to meet me every day (My Dog) + + + + +THE PONT DU GARD + +HENRY JAMES + +(Chapter XXVI of _A Little Tour in France_) + + +It was a pleasure to feel one's self in Provence again,--the land where +the silver-gray earth is impregnated with the light of the sky. To +celebrate the event, as soon as I arrived at Nîmes I engaged a calèche +to convey me to the Pont du Gard. The day was yet young, and it was +perfectly fair; it appeared well, for a longish drive, to take +advantage, without delay, of such security. After I had left the town I +became more intimate with that Provençal charm which I had already +enjoyed from the window of the train, and which glowed in the sweet +sunshine and the white rocks, and lurked in the smoke-puffs of the +little olives. The olive-trees in Provence are half the landscape. They +are neither so tall, so stout, nor so richly contorted as I have seen +them beyond the Alps; but this mild colorless bloom seems the very +texture of the country. The road from Nîmes, for a distance of fifteen +miles, is superb; broad enough for an army, and as white and firm as a +dinner-table. It stretches away over undulations which suggest a kind of +harmony; and in the curves it makes through the wide, free country, +where there is never a hedge or a wall, and the detail is always +exquisite, there is something majestic, almost processional. Some twenty +minutes before I reached the little inn that marks the termination of +the drive, my vehicle met with an accident which just missed being +serious, and which engaged the attention of a gentleman, who, followed +by his groom and mounted on a strikingly handsome horse, happened to +ride up at the moment. This young man, who, with his good looks and +charming manner, might have stepped out of a novel of Octave Feuillet, +gave me some very intelligent advice in reference to one of my horses +that had been injured, and was so good as to accompany me to the inn, +with the resources of which he was acquainted, to see that his +recommendations were carried out. The result of our interview was that +he invited me to come and look at a small but ancient château in the +neighborhood, which he had the happiness--not the greatest in the world, +he intimated--to inhabit, and at which I engaged to present myself after +I should have spent an hour at the Pont du Gard. For the moment, when we +separated, I gave all my attention to that great structure. You are very +near it before you see it; the ravine it spans suddenly opens and +exhibits the picture. The scene at this point grows extremely beautiful. +The ravine is the valley of the Gardon, which the road from Nîmes has +followed some time without taking account of it, but which, exactly at +the right distance from the aqueduct, deepens and expands, and puts on +those characteristics which are best suited to give it effect. The gorge +becomes romantic, still, and solitary, and, with its white rocks and +wild shrubbery, hangs over the clear, colored river, in whose slow +course there is here and there a deeper pool. Over the valley, from side +to side, and ever so high in the air, stretch the three tiers of the +tremendous bridge. They are unspeakably imposing, and nothing could well +be more Roman. The hugeness, the solidity, the unexpectedness, the +monumental rectitude of the whole thing leave you nothing to say--at the +time--and make you stand gazing. You simply feel that it is noble and +perfect, that it has the quality of greatness. A road, branching from +the highway, descends to the level of the river and passes under one of +the arches. This road has a wide margin of grass and loose stones, which +slopes upward into the bank of the ravine. You may sit here as long as +you please, staring up at the light, strong piers; the spot is extremely +natural, though two or three stone benches have been erected on it. I +remained there an hour and got a complete impression; the place was +perfectly soundless, and for the time, at least, lonely; the splendid +afternoon had begun to fade, and there was a fascination in the object I +had come to see. It came to pass that at the same time I discovered in +it a certain stupidity, a vague brutality. That element is rarely absent +from great Roman work, which is wanting in the nice adaptation of the +means to the end. The means are always exaggerated; the end is so much +more than attained. The Roman rigidity was apt to overshoot the mark, +and I suppose a race which could do nothing small is as defective as a +race that can do nothing great. Of this Roman rigidity the Pont du Gard +is an admirable example. It would be a great injustice, however, not to +insist upon its beauty,--a kind of manly beauty, that of an object +constructed not to please but to serve, and impressive simply from the +scale on which it carries out this intention. The number of arches in +each tier is different; they are smaller and more numerous as they +ascend. The preservation of the thing is extraordinary; nothing has +crumbled or collapsed; every feature remains; and the huge blocks of +stone, of a brownish-yellow (as if they had been baked by the Provençal +sun for eighteen centuries), pile themselves, without mortar or cement, +as evenly as the day they were laid together. All this to carry the +water of a couple of springs to a little provincial city! The conduit on +the top has retained its shape and traces of the cement with which it +was lined. When the vague twilight began to gather, the lonely valley +seemed to fill itself with the shadow of the Roman name, as if the +mighty empire were still as erect as the supports of the aqueduct; and +it was open to a solitary tourist, sitting there sentimental, to believe +that no people has ever been, or will ever be, as great as that, +measured, as we measure the greatness of an individual, by the push they +gave to what they undertook. The Pont du Gard is one of the three or +four deepest impressions they have left; it speaks of them in a manner +with which they might have been satisfied. + +I feel as if it were scarcely discreet to indicate the whereabouts of +the château of the obliging young man I had met on the way from Nîmes; I +must content myself with saying that it nestled in an enchanting +valley,--_dans le fond_, as they say in France,--and that I took my +course thither on foot, after leaving the Pont du Gard. I find it noted +in my journal as "an adorable little corner." The principal feature of +the place is a couple of very ancient towers, brownish-yellow in hue, +and mantled in scarlet Virginia-creeper. One of these towers, reputed to +be of Saracenic origin, is isolated, and is only the more effective; the +other is incorporated in the house, which is delightfully fragmentary +and irregular. It had got to be late by this time, and the lonely +_castel_ looked crepuscular and mysterious. An old housekeeper was sent +for, who showed me the rambling interior; and then the young man took me +into a dim old drawing-room, which had no less than four +chimney-pieces, all unlighted, and gave me a refection of fruit and +sweet wine. When I praised the wine and asked him what it was, he said +simply, "C'est du vin de ma mère!" Throughout my little journey I had +never yet felt myself so far from Paris; and this was a sensation I +enjoyed more than my host, who was an involuntary exile, consoling +himself with laying out a _manège_, which he showed me as I walked away. +His civility was great, and I was greatly touched by it. On my way back +to the little inn where I had left my vehicle, I passed the Pont du +Gard, and took another look at it. Its great arches made windows for the +evening sky, and the rocky ravine, with its dusky cedars and shining +river, was lonelier than before. At the inn I swallowed, or tried to +swallow, a glass of horrible wine with my coachman; after which, with my +reconstructed team, I drove back to Nîmes in the moonlight. It only +added a more solitary whiteness to the constant sheen of the Provençal +landscape. + + +NOTES + +=The Pont du Gard=:--A famous aqueduct built by the Romans many years +ago. + +=Provence=:--One of the old provinces in southeast France. + +=Nîmes=:--(N[=e][=e]m) A town in southeast France, noted for its Roman +ruins. + +=calèche=:--(ka l[=a]sh') The French term for a light covered carriage +with seats for four besides the driver. + +=Octave Feuillet=:--A French writer, the author of _The Romance of a +Poor Young Man_; Feuillet's heroes are young, dark, good-looking, and +poetic. + +=château=:--The country residence of a wealthy or titled person. + +=Gardon=:--A river in France flowing into the Rhone. + +=nice=:--Look up the meaning of this word. + +=dans le fond=:--In the bottom. + +=Saracenic=:--The Saracen invaders of France were vanquished at Tours in +732 A.D. + +=castel=:--A castle. + +=C'est=, etc.:--It is some of my mother's wine. + +=manège=:--A place where horses are kept and trained. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Can you find out anything about Provence and its history? By means of +what details does Mr. James give you an idea of the country? What is +meant by _processional_? Why is the episode of the young man +particularly pleasing at the point at which it is related? How does the +author show the character of the aqueduct? What does _monumental +rectitude_ mean? Why is it a good term? What is meant here by "a certain +stupidity, a vague brutality"? Can you think of any great Roman works of +which Mr. James's statement is true? What did the Romans most commonly +build? Can you find out something of their style of building? Are there +any reasons why the arches at the top should be smaller and lighter than +those below? What does this great aqueduct show of the Roman people and +the Roman government? Notice what Mr. James says of the way in which we +measure greatness: Is this a good way? Why would the Romans like the way +in which the Pont du Gard speaks of them? Why is it not "discreet" to +tell where the young man's château is? Why does the traveler feel so far +from Paris? Why does the young man treat the traveler with such +unnecessary friendliness? See how the author closes his chapter by +bringing the description round to the Pont du Gard again and ending with +the note struck in the first lines. Is this a good method? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Bridge +Country Roads +An Accident on the Road +A Remote Dwelling +The Stranger +At a Country Hotel +Roman Roads +A Moonlight Scene +A Picturesque Ravine +What I should Like to See in Europe +Traveling in Europe +Reading a Guide Book +The Baedeker +A Ruin +The Character of the Romans +The Romans in France +Level Country +A Sunny Day +The Parlor + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=At a Country Hotel=:--Tell how you happened to go to the hotel (this +part may be true or merely imagined). Describe your approach, on foot or +in some conveyance. Give your first general impression of the building +and its surroundings. What persons were visible when you reached the +entrance? What did they say and do? How did you feel? Describe the room +that you entered, noting any striking or amusing things. Tell of any +particularly interesting person, and what he (or she) said. Did you have +something to eat? If so, describe the dining-room, and tell about the +food. Perhaps you will have something to say about the waiter. How long +did you stay at the hotel? What incident was connected with your +departure? Were you glad or sorry to leave? + +=The Bridge=:--Choose a large bridge that you have seen. Where is it, +and what stream or ravine does it span? When was it built? Clearly +indicate the point of view of your description. If you change the point +of view, let the reader know of your doing so. Give a general idea of +the size of the bridge: You need not give measurements; try rather to +make the reader feel the size from the comparisons that you use. +Describe the banks at each end of the bridge, and the effect of the +water or the abyss between. How is the bridge supported? Try to make the +reader feel its solidity and safety. Is it clumsy or graceful? Why? Give +any interesting details in its appearance. What conveyances or persons +are passing over it? How does the bridge make you feel? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Little Tour in France Henry James +A Small Boy and Others " " +Portraits of Places " " +Travels with a Donkey R.L. Stevenson +An Inland Voyage " " +Along French Byways Clifton Johnson +Seeing France with Uncle John Anne Warner +The Story of France Mary Macgregor +The Reds of the Midi Felix Gras +A Wanderer in Paris E.V. Lucas +An American in Europe (poem) Henry Van Dyke +Home Thoughts from Abroad Robert Browning +In and Out of Three Normandy Inns Anna Bowman Dodd +Cathedral Days " " " +From Ponkapog to Pesth T.B. Aldrich +Our Hundred Days in Europe O.W. Holmes +One Year Abroad Blanche Willis Howard +Well-worn Roads F.H. Smith +Gondola Days " " +Saunterings C.D. Warner +By Oak and Thorn Alice Brown +Fresh Fields John Burroughs +Our Old Home Nathaniel Hawthorne +Penelope's Progress Kate Douglas Wiggin +Penelope's Experiences " " " +A Cathedral Courtship " " " +Ten Days in Spain Kate Fields +Russian Rambles Isabel F. Hapgood + +For biography and criticism of Mr. James, see: American Writers of +To-day, pp. 68-86, H.C. Vedder; American Prose Masters, pp. 337-400, +W.C. Brownell; and (for the teacher), Century, 84:108 (Portrait) and +87:150 (Portrait); Scribners, 48:670 (Portrait); Chautauquan, 64:146 +(Portrait). + + + + +THE YOUNGEST SON OF HIS FATHER'S HOUSE + +ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH + + + The eldest son of his father's house, + His was the right to have and hold; + He took the chair before the hearth, + And he was master of all the gold. + + The second son of his father's house, + He took the wheatfields broad and fair, + He took the meadows beside the brook, + And the white flocks that pastured there. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Along the way + From dawn till eve I needs must sing! + Who has a song throughout the day, + He has no need of anything!_" + + The youngest son of his father's house + Had neither gold nor flocks for meed. + He went to the brook at break of day, + And made a pipe out of a reed. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Each wind that blows + Is comrade to my wandering. + Who has a song wherever he goes, + He has no need of anything!_" + + His brother's wife threw open the door. + "Piper, come in for a while," she said. + "Thou shalt sit at my hearth since thou art so poor + And thou shalt give me a song instead!" + + Pipe high--pipe low--all over the wold! + "Lad, wilt thou not come in?" asked she. + "Who has a song, he feels no cold! + My brother's hearth is mine own," quoth he. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! For what care I + Though there be no hearth on the wide gray plain? + I have set my face to the open sky, + And have cloaked myself in the thick gray rain._" + + Over the hills where the white clouds are, + He piped to the sheep till they needs must come. + They fed in pastures strange and far, + But at fall of night he brought them home. + + They followed him, bleating, wherever he led: + He called his brother out to see. + "I have brought thee my flocks for a gift," he said, + "For thou seest that they are mine," quoth he. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! wherever I go + The wide grain presses to hear me sing. + Who has a song, though his state be low, + He has no need of anything._" + + "Ye have taken my house," he said, "and my sheep, + But ye had no heart to take me in. + I will give ye my right for your own to keep, + But ye be not my kin. + + "To the kind fields my steps are led. + My people rush across the plain. + My bare feet shall not fear to tread + With the cold white feet of the rain. + + "My father's house is wherever I pass; + My brothers are each stock and stone; + My mother's bosom in the grass + Yields a sweet slumber to her son. + + "Ye are rich in house and flocks," said he, + "Though ye have no heart to take me in. + There was only a reed that was left for me, + And ye be not my kin." + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Though skies be gray, + Who has a song, he needs must roam! + Even though ye call all day, all day, + 'Brother, wilt thou come home?_'" + + Over the meadows and over the wold, + Up to the hills where the skies begin, + The youngest son of his father's house + Went forth to find his kin. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The stanzas in italic are a kind of refrain; they represent the music of +the youngest son. + +Why does the piper not go into the house when his brother's wife invites +him? What does he mean when he says, "My brother's hearth is mine own"? +Why does he say that the sheep are his? What does he mean when he says, +"I will give ye my right," etc.? Why are his brothers not his kin? Who +are the people that "rush across the plain"? Explain the fourteenth +stanza. Why did the piper go forth to find his kin? Whom would he claim +as his kindred? Why? Does the poem have a deeper meaning than that which +first appears? What kind of person is represented by the youngest son? +What are meant by his pipe and the music? Who are those who cast him +out? Re-read the whole poem with the deeper meaning in mind. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Prophet Josephine Preston Peabody +The Piper: Act I " " " +The Shepherd of King Admetus James Russell Lowell +The Shoes that Danced Anna Hempstead Branch +The Heart of the Road and Other Poems " " " +Rose of the Wind and Other Poems " " " + + + + +TENNESSEE'S PARTNER + +BRET HARTE + + +I do not think that we ever knew his real name. Our ignorance of it +certainly never gave us any social inconvenience, for at Sandy Bar in +1854 most men were christened anew. Sometimes these appellatives were +derived from some distinctiveness of dress, as in the case of "Dungaree +Jack"; or from some peculiarity of habit, as shown in "Saleratus Bill," +so called from an undue proportion of that chemical in his daily bread; +or from some unlucky slip, as exhibited in "The Iron Pirate," a mild, +inoffensive man, who earned that baleful title by his unfortunate +mispronunciation of the term "iron pyrites." Perhaps this may have been +the beginning of a rude heraldry; but I am constrained to think that it +was because a man's real name in that day rested solely upon his own +unsupported statement. "Call yourself Clifford, do you?" said Boston, +addressing a timid newcomer with infinite scorn; "hell is full of such +Cliffords!" He then introduced the unfortunate man, whose name happened +to be really Clifford, as "Jaybird Charley,"--an unhallowed inspiration +of the moment that clung to him ever after. + +But to return to Tennessee's Partner, whom we never knew by any other +than this relative title. That he had ever existed as a separate and +distinct individuality we only learned later. It seems that in 1853 he +left Poker Flat to go to San Francisco, ostensibly to procure a wife. He +never got any farther than Stockton. At that place he was attracted by a +young person who waited upon the table at the hotel where he took his +meals. One morning he said something to her which caused her to smile +not unkindly, to somewhat coquettishly break a plate of toast over his +upturned, serious, simple face, and to retreat to the kitchen. He +followed her, and emerged a few moments later, covered with more toast +and victory. That day week they were married by a justice of the peace, +and returned to Poker Flat. I am aware that something more might be made +of this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at Sandy +Bar,--in the gulches and bar-rooms,--where all sentiment was modified by +a strong sense of humor. + +Of their married felicity but little is known, perhaps for the reason +that Tennessee, then living with his partner, one day took occasion to +say something to the bride on his own account, at which, it is said, she +smiled not unkindly and chastely retreated,--this time as far as +Marysville, where Tennessee followed her, and where they went to +housekeeping without the aid of a justice of the peace. Tennessee's +Partner took the loss of his wife simply and seriously, as was his +fashion. But to everybody's surprise, when Tennessee one day returned +from Marysville, without his partner's wife,--she having smiled and +retreated with somebody else,--Tennessee's Partner was the first man to +shake his hand and greet him with affection. The boys who had gathered +in the cañon to see the shooting were naturally indignant. Their +indignation might have found vent in sarcasm but for a certain look in +Tennessee's Partner's eye that indicated a lack of humorous +appreciation. In fact, he was a grave man, with a steady application to +practical detail which was unpleasant in a difficulty. + +Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had grown up on the Bar. +He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief. In these +suspicions Tennessee's Partner was equally compromised; his continued +intimacy with Tennessee after the affair above quoted could only be +accounted for on the hypothesis of a copartnership of crime. At last +Tennessee's guilt became flagrant. One day he overtook a stranger on his +way to Red Dog. The stranger afterward related that Tennessee beguiled +the time with interesting anecdote and reminiscence, but illogically +concluded the interview in the following words: "And now, young man, +I'll trouble you for your knife, your pistols, and your money. You see +your weppings might get you into trouble at Red Dog, and your money's a +temptation to the evilly disposed. I think you said your address was San +Francisco. I shall endeavor to call." It may be stated here that +Tennessee had a fine flow of humor, which no business preoccupation +could wholly subdue. + +This exploit was his last. Red Dog and Sandy Bar made common cause +against the highwayman. Tennessee was hunted in very much the same +fashion as his prototype, the grizzly. As the toils closed around him, +he made a desperate dash through the Bar, emptying his revolver at the +crowd before the Arcade Saloon, and so on up Grizzly Cañon; but at its +farther extremity he was stopped by a small man on a gray horse. The men +looked at each other a moment in silence. Both were fearless, both +self-possessed and independent, and both types of a civilization that in +the seventeenth century would have been called heroic, but in the +nineteenth simply "reckless." + +"What have you got there?--I call," said Tennessee quietly. + +"Two bowers and an ace," said the stranger as quietly, showing two +revolvers and a bowie-knife. + +"That takes me," returned Tennessee; and, with this gambler's epigram, +he threw away his useless pistol and rode back with his captor. + +It was a warm night. The cool breeze which usually sprang up with the +going down of the sun behind the chaparral-crested mountain was that +evening withheld from Sandy Bar. The little cañon was stifling with +heated resinous odors, and the decaying driftwood on the Bar sent forth +faint sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day and its fierce +passions still filled the camp. Lights moved restlessly along the bank +of the river, striking no answering reflection from its tawny current. +Against the blackness of the pines the windows of the old loft above the +express-office stood out staringly bright; and through their curtainless +panes the loungers below could see the forms of those who were even then +deciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on the dark +firmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned with remoter +passionless stars. + +The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was consistent with a +judge and jury who felt themselves to some extent obliged to justify, in +their verdict, the previous irregularities of arrest and indictment. The +law of Sandy Bar was implacable, but not vengeful. The excitement and +personal feeling of the chase were over; with Tennessee safe in their +hands, they were ready to listen patiently to any defense, which they +were already satisfied was insufficient. There being no doubt in their +own minds, they were willing to give the prisoner the benefit of any +that might exist. Secure in the hypothesis that he ought to be hanged +on general principles, they indulged him with more latitude of defense +than his reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The Judge appeared to be more +anxious than the prisoner, who, otherwise unconcerned, evidently took a +grim pleasure in the responsibility he had created. "I don't take any +hand in this yer game," had been his invariable but good-humored reply +to all questions. The Judge--who was also his captor--for a moment +vaguely regretted that he had not shot him "on sight" that morning, but +presently dismissed this human weakness as unworthy of the judicial +mind. Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was said +that Tennessee's Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he was +admitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger members of the +jury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailed +him as a relief. For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. Short +and stout, with a square face, sunburned into a preternatural redness, +clad in a loose duck "jumper" and trousers streaked and splashed with +red soil, his aspect under any circumstances would have been quaint, and +was now even ridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy +carpetbag he was carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed +legends and inscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had +been patched had been originally intended for a less ambitious covering. +Yet he advanced with great gravity, and after shaking the hand of each +person in the room with labored cordiality, he wiped his serious +perplexed face on a red bandana handkerchief, a shade lighter than his +complexion, laid his powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, and +thus addressed the Judge:-- + +"I was passin' by," he began, by way of apology, "and I thought I'd just +step in and see how things was gittin' on with Tennessee thar,--my +pardner. It's a hot night. I disremember any sich weather before on the +Bar." + +He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorological +recollection, he again had recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and for +some moments mopped his face diligently. + +"Have you anything to say on behalf of the prisoner?" said the Judge +finally. + +"Thet's it," said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief. "I come yar +as Tennessee's pardner,--knowing him nigh on four year, off and on, wet +and dry, in luck and, out o' luck. His ways ain't aller my ways, but +thar ain't any p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness as +he's been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sez +you,--confidential-like, and between man and man,--sez you, 'Do you know +anything in his behalf?' and I sez to you, sez I,--confidential-like, as +between man and man,--'What should a man know of his pardner?'" + +"Is this all you have to say?" asked the Judge impatiently, feeling, +perhaps, that a dangerous sympathy of humor was beginning to humanize +the court. + +"Thet's so," continued Tennessee's Partner. "It ain't for me to say +anything agin' him. And now, what's the case? Here's Tennessee wants +money, wants it bad, and doesn't like to ask it of his old pardner. +Well, what does Tennessee do? He lays for a stranger, and he fetches +that stranger; and you lays for _him_, and you fetches _him_; and the +honors is easy. And I put it to you, bein' a fa'r-minded man, and to +you, gentlemen all, as fa'r-minded men, ef this isn't so." + +"Prisoner," said the Judge, interrupting, "have you any questions to ask +this man?" + +"No! no!" continued Tennessee's Partner hastily. "I play this yer hand +alone. To come down to the bed-rock, it's just this: Tennessee, thar, +has played it pretty rough and expensive-like on a stranger, and on this +yer camp. And now, what's the fair thing? Some would say more, some +would say less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars in coarse gold and a +watch,--it's about all my pile,--and call it square!" And before a hand +could be raised to prevent him, he had emptied the contents of the +carpetbag upon the table. + +For a moment his life was in jeopardy. One or two men sprang to their +feet, several hands groped for hidden weapons, and a suggestion to +"throw him from the window" was only overridden by a gesture from the +Judge. Tennessee laughed. And apparently oblivious of the excitement, +Tennessee's Partner improved the opportunity to mop his face again with +his handkerchief. + +When order was restored, and the man was made to understand, by the use +of forcible figures and rhetoric, that Tennessee's offense could not be +condoned by money, his face took a more serious and sanguinary hue, and +those who were nearest to him noticed that his rough hand trembled +slightly on the table. He hesitated a moment as he slowly returned the +gold to the carpetbag, as if he had not yet entirely caught the elevated +sense of justice which swayed the tribunal, and was perplexed with the +belief that he had not offered enough. Then he turned to the Judge, and +saying, "This yer is a lone hand, played alone, and without my pardner," +he bowed to the jury and was about to withdraw, when the Judge called +him back:-- + +"If you have anything to say to Tennessee, you had better say it now." + +For the first time that evening the eyes of the prisoner and his strange +advocate met. Tennessee smiled, showed his white teeth, and saying, +"Euchred, old man!" held out his hand. Tennessee's Partner took it in +his own, and saying, "I just dropped in as I was passin' to see how +things was gettin' on," let the hand passively fall, and adding that "it +was a warm night," again mopped his face with his handkerchief, and +without another word withdrew. + +The two men never again met each other alive. For the unparalleled +insult of a bribe offered to Judge Lynch--who, whether bigoted, weak, or +narrow, was at least incorruptible--firmly fixed in the mind of that +mythical personage any wavering determination of Tennessee's fate; and +at the break of day he was marched, closely guarded, to meet it at the +top of Marley's Hill. + +How he met it, how cool he was, how he refused to say anything, how +perfect were the arrangements of the committee, were all duly reported, +with the addition of a warning moral and example to all future +evil-doers, in the "Red Dog Clarion," by its editor, who was present, +and to whose vigorous English I cheerfully refer the reader. But the +beauty of that midsummer morning, the blessed amity of earth and air and +sky, the awakened life of the free woods and hills, the joyous renewal +and promise of Nature, and above all, the infinite serenity that +thrilled through each, was not reported, as not being a part of the +social lesson. And yet, when the weak and foolish deed was done, and a +life, with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed out of the +misshapen thing that dangled between earth and sky, the birds sang, the +flowers bloomed, the sun shone, as cheerily as before; and possibly the +"Red Dog Clarion" was right. + +Tennessee's Partner was not in the group that surrounded the ominous +tree. But as they turned to disperse, attention was drawn to the +singular appearance of a motionless donkey-cart halted at the side of +the road. As they approached, they at once recognized the venerable +"Jenny" and the two-wheeled cart as the property of Tennessee's Partner, +used by him in carrying dirt from his claim; and a few paces distant the +owner of the equipage himself, sitting under a buckeye-tree, wiping the +perspiration from his glowing face. In answer to an inquiry, he said he +had come for the body of the "diseased," "if it was all the same to the +committee." He didn't wish to "hurry anything"; he could "wait." He was +not working that day; and when the gentlemen were done with the +"diseased," he would take him. "Ef thar is any present," he added, in +his simple, serious way, "as would care to jine in the fun'l, they kin +come." Perhaps it was from a sense of humor, which I have already +intimated was a feature of Sandy Bar,--perhaps it was from something +even better than that, but two thirds of the loungers accepted the +invitation at once. + +It was noon when the body of Tennessee was delivered into the hands of +his partner. As the cart drew up to the fatal tree, we noticed that it +contained a rough oblong box,--apparently made from a section of +sluicing,--and half filled with bark and the tassels of pine. The cart +was further decorated with slips of willow and made fragrant with +buckeye-blossoms. When the body was deposited in the box, Tennessee's +Partner's drew over it a piece of tarred canvas, and gravely mounting +the narrow seat in front, with his feet upon the shafts, urged the +little donkey forward. The equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous +pace which was habitual with Jenny even under less solemn +circumstances. The men--half curiously, half jestingly, but all +good-humoredly--strolled along beside the cart, some in advance, some a +little in the rear of the homely catafalque. But whether from the +narrowing of the road or some present sense of decorum, as the cart +passed on, the company fell to the rear in couples, keeping step, and +otherwise assuming the external show of a formal procession. Jack +Folinsbee, who had at the outset played a funeral march in dumb show +upon an imaginary trombone, desisted from a lack of sympathy and +appreciation,--not having, perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be +content with the enjoyment of his own fun. + +The way led through Grizzly Cañon, by this time clothed in funereal +drapery and shadows. The redwoods, burying their moccasined feet in the +red soil, stood in Indian file along the track, trailing an uncouth +benediction from their bending boughs upon the passing bier. A hare, +surprised into helpless inactivity, sat upright and pulsating in the +ferns by the roadside as the cortège went by. Squirrels hastened to gain +a secure outlook from higher boughs; and the blue-jays, spreading their +wings, fluttered before them like outriders, until the outskirts of +Sandy Bar were reached, and the solitary cabin of Tennessee's Partner. + +Viewed under more favorable circumstances, it would not have been a +cheerful place. The unpicturesque site, the rude and unlovely outlines, +the unsavory details, which distinguish the nest-building of the +California miner, were all here with the dreariness of decay superadded. +A few paces from the cabin there was a rough inclosure, which, in the +brief days of Tennessee's Partner's matrimonial felicity, had been used +as a garden, but was now overgrown with fern. As we approached it, we +were surprised to find that what we had taken for a recent attempt at +cultivation was the broken soil about an open grave. + +The cart was halted before the inclosure, and rejecting the offers of +assistance with the same air of simple self-reliance he had displayed +throughout, Tennessee's Partner lifted the rough coffin on his back, and +deposited it unaided within the shallow grave. He then nailed down the +board which served as a lid, and mounting the little mound of earth +beside it, took off his hat and slowly mopped his face with his +handkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary to speech, and they +disposed themselves variously on stumps and boulders, and sat expectant. + +"When a man," began Tennessee's Partner slowly, "has been running free +all day, what's the natural thing for him to do? Why, to come home. And +if he ain't in a condition to go home, what can his best friend do? Why, +bring him home. And here's Tennessee has been running free, and we +brings him home from his wandering." He paused and picked up a fragment +of quartz, rubbed it thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on: "It ain't +the first time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd me now. It +ain't the first time that I brought him to this yer cabin when he +couldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and Jinny have +waited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so fetched him home, +when he couldn't speak and didn't know me. And now that it's the last +time, why"--he paused and rubbed the quartz gently on his sleeve--"you +see it's sort of rough on his pardner. And now, gentlemen," he added +abruptly, picking up his long-handled shovel, "the fun'l's over; and my +thanks, and Tennessee's thanks, to you for your trouble." + +Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the grave, +turning his back upon the crowd, that after a few moments' hesitation +gradually withdrew. As they crossed the little ridge that hid Sandy Bar +from view, some, looking back, thought they could see Tennessee's +Partner, his work done, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between his +knees, and his face buried in his red bandana handkerchief. But it was +argued by others that you couldn't tell his face from his handkerchief +at that distance, and this point remained undecided. + +In the reaction that followed the feverish excitement of that day, +Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret investigation had +cleared him of any complicity in Tennessee's guilt, and left only a +suspicion of his general sanity. Sandy Bar made a point of calling on +him, and proffering various uncouth but well-meant kindnesses. But from +that day his rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline; +and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-blades were +beginning to peep from the rocky mound above Tennessee's grave, he took +to his bed. + +One night, when the pines beside the cabin were swaying in the storm and +trailing their slender fingers over the roof, and the roar and rush of +the swollen river were heard below, Tennessee's Partner lifted his head +from the pillow, saying, "It is time to go for Tennessee; I must put +Jinny in the cart"; and would have risen from his bed but for the +restraint of his attendant. Struggling, he still pursued his singular +fancy: "There, now, steady, Jinny,--steady, old girl. How dark it is! +Look out for the ruts,--and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes, +you know, when he's blind drunk, he drops down right in the trail. Keep +on straight up to the pine on the top of the hill. Thar! I told you +so!--thar he is,--coming this way, too,--all by himself, sober, and his +face a-shining. Tennessee! Pardner!" + +And so they met. + + +NOTES + +=Sandy Bar=:--The imaginary mining-camp in which Bret Harte laid the +scenes of many of his stories. + +=dungaree=:--A coarse kind of unbleached cotton cloth. + +=I call=:--An expression used in the game of euchre. + +=bowers=:--_Bower_ is from the German word _bauer_, meaning a +peasant,--so called from the jack or knave; the right bower, in the game +of euchre, is the jack of trumps, and the left bower is the other jack +of the same color. + +=chaparral=:--A thicket of scrub-oaks or thorny shrubs. + +=euchred=:--Defeated, as in the game of euchre. + +=Judge Lynch=:--A name used for the hurried judging and executing of a +suspected person, by private citizens, without due process of law. A +Virginian named Lynch is said to have been connected with the origin of +the expression. + +"=diseased=":--Tennessee's Partner means _deceased_. + +=sluicing=:--A trough for water, fitted with gates and valves; it is +used in washing out gold from the soil. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why is the first sentence a good introduction? Compare it with the first +sentence of _Quite So_, page 21. In this selection, why does the author +say so much about names? Of what value is the first paragraph? Why is it +necessary to tell about Tennessee's Partner's earlier experiences? Who +were "the boys" who gathered to see the shooting? Why did they think +there would be shooting? Why was there not? Why does the author not give +us a fuller picture of Tennessee? What is the proof that he had "a fine +flow of humor"? Try in a few words to sum up his character. Read +carefully the paragraph beginning "It was a warm night": How does the +author give us a good picture of Sandy Bar? Tell in your own words the +feelings of the judge, the prisoner, and the jury, as explained in the +paragraph beginning "The trial of Tennessee." What does the author gain +by such expressions as "a less ambitious covering," "meteorological +recollection"? What does Tennessee's Partner mean when he says "What +should a man know of his pardner"? Why did the judge think that humor +would be dangerous? Why are the people angry when Tennessee's Partner +offers his seventeen hundred dollars for Tennessee's release? Why does +Tennessee's Partner take its rejection so calmly? What effect does his +offer have on the jury? What does the author mean by "the weak and +foolish deed"? Does he approve the hanging? Why does Tennessee's Partner +not show any grief? What do you think of Jack Folinsbee? What is gained +by the long passage of description? What does Tennessee's Partner's +speech show about the friendship of the two men? About friendship in +general? Do men often care so much for each other? Is it possible that +Tennessee's Partner died of grief? Is the conclusion good? Comment on +the kind of men who figure in the story. Are there any such men now? Why +is this called a very good story? + +Some time after you have read the story, run through it and see how many +different sections or scenes there are in it. How are these sections +linked together? Look carefully at the beginning of each paragraph and +see how the connection is made with the paragraph before. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Two Friends +A Miner's Cabin +The Thief +The Road through the Woods +The Trial +A Scene in the Court Room +Early Days in our County +Bret Harte's Best Stories +The Escaped Convict +The Highwayman +A Lumber Camp +Roughing It +The Judge +The Robbers' Rendezvous +An Odd Character +Early Days in the West +A Mining Town +Underground with the Miners +Capturing the Thieves +The Sheriff + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=Two Friends=:--Tell where these two friends lived and how long they had +known each other. Describe each one, explaining his peculiarities; +perhaps you can make his character clear by telling some incident +concerning him. What seemed to be the attraction between the two +friends? Were they much together? What did people say of them? What did +they do for each other? Did they talk to others about their friendship? +Did either make a sacrifice for the other? If so, tell about it rather +fully. Was there any talk about it? What was the result of the +sacrifice? Was the friendship ever broken? + +=Early Days in our County=:--Perhaps you can get material for this from +some old settlers, or from a county history. Tell of the first +settlement: Who was first on the ground, and why did he choose this +particular region? What kind of shelter was erected? How fast did the +settlement grow? Tell some incidents of the early days. You might speak +also of the processes of clearing the land and of building; of primitive +methods of living, and the difficulty of getting supplies. Were there +any dangers? Speak of several prominent persons, and tell what they did. +Go on and tell of development of the settlements and the surrounding +country. Were there any strikingly good methods of making money? Was +there any excitement over land, or gold, or high prices of products? +Were there any misfortunes, such as floods, or droughts, or fires, or +cyclones? When did the railroad reach the region? What differences did +it make? What particular influences have brought about recent +conditions? + +=The Sheriff=:--Describe the sheriff--his physique, his features, his +clothes, his manner. Does he look the part? Do you know, or can you +imagine, one of his adventures? Perhaps you will wish to tell his story +in his own words. Think carefully whether it would be better to do this, +or to tell the story in the third person. Make the tale as lively and +stirring as possible. Remember that when you are reporting the talk of +the persons involved, it is better to quote their words directly. See +that everything you say helps in making the situation clear or in +actually telling the story. Close the story rather quickly after its +outcome has been made quite clear. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar Bret Harte +The Outcasts of Poker Flat " " +The Luck of Roaring Camp " " +Baby Sylvester " " +A Waif of the Plains " " +How I Went to the Mines " " +M'liss " " +Frontier Stories " " +Tales of the Argonauts " " +A Sappho of Green Springs and Other Stories " " +Pony Tracks Frederic Remington +Crooked Trails " " +Coeur d'Alène Mary Hallock Foote +The Led-Horse Claim " " " +Wolfville Days Alfred Henry Lewis +Wolfville Nights " " " +The Sunset Trail " " " +Pathfinders of the West Agnes C. Laut +The Old Santa Fé Trail H. Inman +Stories of the Great West Theodore Roosevelt +California and the Californians D.S. Jordan +Our Italy C.D. Warner +California Josiah Royce +The West from a Car Window R.H. Davis +The Story of the Railroad Cy Warman +Roughing It S.L. Clemens +Poems Joaquin Miller + + +Appropriate poems by Bret Harte:-- + +John Burns of Gettysburg +In the Tunnel +The Lost Galleon +Grizzly +Battle Bunny +The Wind in the Chimney +Reveille +Plain Language from Truthful James (The Heathen Chinee) + +Highways and Byways in the Rocky Mountains Clifton Johnson +Trails of the Pathfinders G.B. Grinnell +Stories of California E.M. Sexton +Glimpses of California Helen Hunt Jackson +California: Its History and Romance J.S. McGroarty +Heroes of California G.W. James +Recollections of an Old Pioneer P.H. Bennett +The Mountains of California John Muir +Romantic California E.C. Peixotto +Silverado Squatters R.L. Stevenson +Jimville: A Bret Harte Town + (in _Atlantic Monthly_, November, 1902) Mary Austin +The Prospector (poem) Robert W. Service +The Rover " " " +The Life of Bret Harte H.C. Merwin +Bret Harte Henry W. Boynton +Bret Harte T.E. Pemberton +American Writers of To-day, pp. 212-229 H.C. Vedder +Bookman, 15:312 (see also map on page 313). + +For stories of famous friendships, look up:-- + +Damon and Pythias (any good encyclopedia). +Patroclus and Achilles (the Iliad). +David and Jonathan (the Bible: 1st Samuel 18:1-4; 19:1-7; chapter 20, + entire; 23:16-18; chapter 31, entire; 2d Samuel, chapter 1, entire). +The Substitute (Le Remplaçant) François Coppée + (In _Modern Short-stories_ edited by M. Ashmun.) + + + + +THE COURSE OF AMERICAN HISTORY + +WOODROW WILSON + +(In _Mere Literature_) + + +Our national history has been written for the most part by New England +men. All honor to them! Their scholarship and their characters alike +have given them an honorable enrollment amongst the great names of our +literary history; and no just man would say aught to detract, were it +never so little, from their well-earned fame. They have written our +history, nevertheless, from but a single point of view. From where they +sit, the whole of the great development looks like an Expansion of New +England. Other elements but play along the sides of the great process by +which the Puritan has worked out the development of nation and polity. +It is he who has gone out and possessed the land: the man of destiny, +the type and impersonation of a chosen people. To the Southern writer, +too, the story looks much the same, if it be but followed to its +culmination,--to its final storm and stress and tragedy in the great +war. It is the history of the Suppression of the South. Spite of all her +splendid contributions to the steadfast accomplishment of the great task +of building the nation; spite of the long leadership of her statesmen in +the national counsels; spite of her joint achievements in the conquest +and occupation of the West, the South was at last turned upon on every +hand, rebuked, proscribed, defeated. The history of the United States, +we have learned, was, from the settlement at Jamestown to the surrender +at Appomattox, a long-drawn contest for mastery between New England and +the South,--and the end of the contest we know. All along the parallels +of latitude ran the rivalry, in those heroical days of toil and +adventure during which population crossed the continent, like an army +advancing its encampments, Up and down the great river of the continent, +too, and beyond, up the slow incline of the vast steppes that lift +themselves toward the crowning towers of the Rockies,--beyond that, +again, in the gold-fields and upon the green plains of California, the +race for ascendency struggled on,--till at length there was a final +coming face to face, and the masterful folk who had come from the loins +of New England won their consummate victory. + +It is a very dramatic form for the story. One almost wishes it were +true. How fine a unity it would give our epic! But perhaps, after all, +the real truth is more interesting. The life of the nation cannot be +reduced to these so simple terms. These two great forces, of the North +and of the South, unquestionably existed,--were unquestionably projected +in their operation out upon the great plane of the continent, there to +combine or repel, as circumstances might determine. But the people that +went out from the North were not an unmixed people; they came from the +great Middle States as well as from New England. Their transplantation +into the West was no more a reproduction of New England or New York or +Pennsylvania or New Jersey than Massachusetts was a reproduction of old +England, or New Netherland a reproduction of Holland. The Southern +people, too, whom they met by the western rivers and upon the open +prairies, were transformed, as they themselves were, by the rough +fortunes of the frontier. A mixture of peoples, a modification of mind +and habit, a new round of experiment and adjustment amidst the novel +life of the baked and untilled plain, and the far valleys with the +virgin forests still thick upon them: a new temper, a new spirit of +adventure, a new impatience of restraint, a new license of life,--these +are the characteristic notes and measures of the time when the nation +spread itself at large upon the continent, and was transformed from a +group of colonies into a family of States. + +The passes of these eastern mountains were the arteries of the nation's +life. The real breath of our growth and manhood came into our nostrils +when first, like Governor Spotswood and that gallant company of +Virginian gentlemen that rode with him in the far year 1716, the Knights +of the Order of the Golden Horseshoe, our pioneers stood upon the ridges +of the eastern hills and looked down upon those reaches of the continent +where lay the untrodden paths of the westward migration. There, upon the +courses of the distant rivers that gleamed before them in the sun, down +the farther slopes of the hills beyond, out upon the broad fields that +lay upon the fertile banks of the "Father of Waters," up the long tilt +of the continent to the vast hills that looked out upon the +Pacific--there were the regions in which, joining with people from every +race and clime under the sun, they were to make the great compounded +nation whose liberty and mighty works of peace were to cause all the +world to stand at gaze. Thither were to come Frenchmen, Scandinavians, +Celts, Dutch, Slavs,--men of the Latin races and of the races of the +Orient, as well as men, a great host, of the first stock of the +settlements: English, Scots, Scots-Irish,--like New England men, but +touched with the salt of humor, hard, and yet neighborly too. For this +great process of growth by grafting, of modification no less than of +expansion, the colonies,--the original thirteen States,--were only +preliminary studies and first experiments. But the experiments that most +resembled the great methods by which we peopled the continent from side +to side and knit a single polity across all its length and breadth, were +surely the experiments made from the very first in the Middle States of +our Atlantic seaboard. + +Here from the first were mixture of population, variety of element, +combination of type, as if of the nation itself in small. Here was never +a simple body, a people of but a single blood and extraction, a polity +and a practice brought straight from one motherland. The life of these +States was from the beginning like the life of the country: they have +always shown the national pattern. In New England and the South it was +very different. There some of the great elements of the national life +were long in preparation: but separately and with an individual +distinction; without mixture,--for long almost without movement. That +the elements thus separately prepared were of the greatest importance, +and run everywhere like chief threads of the pattern through all our +subsequent life, who can doubt? They give color and tone to every part +of the figure. The very fact that they are so distinct and separately +evident throughout, the very emphasis of individuality they carry with +them, but proves their distinct origin. The other elements of our life, +various though they be, and of the very fibre, giving toughness and +consistency to the fabric, are merged in its texture, united, confused, +almost indistinguishable, so thoroughly are they mixed, intertwined, +interwoven, like the essential strands of the stuff itself: but these +of the Puritan and the Southerner, though they run everywhere with the +rest and seem upon a superficial view themselves the body of the cloth, +in fact modify rather than make it. + +What in fact has been the course of American history? How is it to be +distinguished from European history? What features has it of its own, +which give it its distinctive plan and movement? We have suffered, it is +to be feared, a very serious limitation of view until recent years by +having all our history written in the East. It has smacked strongly of a +local flavor. It has concerned itself too exclusively with the origins +and Old-World derivations of our story. Our historians have made their +march from the sea with their heads over shoulder, their gaze always +backward upon the landing-places and homes of the first settlers. In +spite of the steady immigration, with its persistent tide of foreign +blood, they have chosen to speak often and to think always of our people +as sprung after all from a common stock, bearing a family likeness in +every branch, and following all the while old, familiar, family ways. +The view is the more misleading because it is so large a part of the +truth without being all of it. The common British stock did first make +the country, and has always set the pace. There were common institutions +up and down the coast; and these had formed and hardened for a +persistent growth before the great westward migration began which was to +re-shape and modify every element of our life. The national government +itself was set up and made strong by success while yet we lingered for +the most part upon the eastern coast and feared a too distant frontier. + +But, the beginnings once safely made, change set in apace. Not only so: +there had been slow change from the first. We have no frontier now, we +are told,--except a broken fragment, it may be, here and there in some +barren corner of the western lands, where some inhospitable mountain +still shoulders us out, or where men are still lacking to break the +baked surface of the plains and occupy them in the very teeth of hostile +nature. But at first it was all frontier,--a mere strip of settlements +stretched precariously upon the sea-edge of the wilds: an untouched +continent in front of them, and behind them an unfrequented sea that +almost never showed so much as the momentary gleam of a sail. Every step +in the slow process of settlement was but a step of the same kind as the +first, an advance to a new frontier like the old. For long we lacked, it +is true, that new breed of frontiersmen born in after years beyond the +mountains. Those first frontiersmen had still a touch of the timidity of +the Old World in their blood: they lacked the frontier heart. They were +"Pilgrims" in very fact,--exiled, not at home. Fine courage they had: +and a steadfastness in their bold design which it does a faint-hearted +age good to look back upon. There was no thought of drawing back. +Steadily, almost calmly, they extended their seats. They built homes, +and deemed it certain their children would live there after them. But +they did not love the rough, uneasy life for its own sake. How long did +they keep, if they could, within sight of the sea! The wilderness was +their refuge; but how long before it became their joy and hope! Here was +their destiny cast; but their hearts lingered and held back. It was only +as generations passed and the work widened about them that their thought +also changed, and a new thrill sped along their blood. Their life had +been new and strange from their first landing in the wilderness. Their +houses, their food, their clothing, their neighborhood dealings were all +such as only the frontier brings. Insensibly they were themselves +changed. The strange life became familiar; their adjustment to it was at +length unconscious and without effort; they had no plans which were not +inseparably a part and a product of it. But, until they had turned their +backs once for all upon the sea; until they saw their western borders +cleared of the French; until the mountain passes had grown familiar, and +the lands beyond the central and constant theme of their hope, the goal +and dream of their young men, they did not become an American people. + +When they did, the great determining movement of our history began. The +very visages of the people changed. That alert movement of the eye, that +openness to every thought of enterprise or adventure, that nomadic habit +which knows no fixed home and has plans ready to be carried any +whither,--all the marks of the authentic type of the "American" as we +know him came into our life. The crack of the whip and the song of the +teamster, the heaving chorus of boatmen poling their heavy rafts upon +the rivers, the laughter of the camp, the sound of bodies of men in the +still forests, became the characteristic notes in our air. A roughened +race, embrowned in the sun, hardened in manner by a coarse life of +change and danger, loving the rude woods and the crack of the rifle, +living to begin something new every day, striking with the broad and +open hand, delicate in nothing but the touch of the trigger, leaving +cities in its track as if by accident rather than design, settling again +to the steady ways of a fixed life only when it must: such was the +American people whose achievement it was to be to take possession of +their continent from end to end ere their national government was a +single century old. The picture is a very singular one! Settled life and +wild side by side: civilization frayed at the edges,--taken forward in +rough and ready fashion, with a song and a swagger,--not by statesmen, +but by woodsmen and drovers, with axes and whips and rifles in their +hands, clad in buckskin, like huntsmen. + +It has been said that we have here repeated some of the first processes +of history; that the life and methods of our frontiersmen take us back +to the fortunes and hopes of the men who crossed Europe when her +forests, too, were still thick upon her. But the difference is really +very fundamental, and much more worthy of remark than the likeness. +Those shadowy masses of men whom we see moving upon the face of the +earth in the far-away, questionable days when states were forming: even +those stalwart figures we see so well as they emerge from the deep +forests of Germany, to displace the Roman in all his western provinces +and set up the states we know and marvel upon at this day, show us men +working their new work at their own level. They do not turn back a long +cycle of years from the old and settled states, the ordered cities, the +tilled fields, and the elaborated governments of an ancient +civilization, to begin as it were once more at the beginning. They carry +alike their homes and their states with them in the camp and upon the +ordered march of the host. They are men of the forest, or else men +hardened always to take the sea in open boats. They live no more roughly +in the new lands than in the old. The world has been frontier for them +from the first. They may go forward with their life in these new seats +from where they left off in the old. How different the circumstances of +our first settlement and the building of new states on this side the +sea! Englishmen, bred in law and ordered government ever since the +Norman lawyers were followed a long five hundred years ago across the +narrow seas by those masterful administrators of the strong Plantagenet +race, leave an ancient realm and come into a wilderness where states +have never been; leave a land of art and letters, which saw but +yesterday "the spacious times of great Elizabeth," where Shakespeare +still lives in the gracious leisure of his closing days at Stratford, +where cities teem with trade and men go bravely dight in cloth of gold, +and turn back six centuries,--nay, a thousand years and more,--to the +first work of building states in a wilderness! They bring the steadied +habits and sobered thoughts of an ancient realm into the wild air of an +untouched continent. The weary stretches of a vast sea lie, like a full +thousand years of time, between them and the life in which till now all +their thought was bred. Here they stand, as it were, with all their +tools left behind, centuries struck out of their reckoning, driven back +upon the long dormant instincts and forgotten craft of their race, not +used this long age. Look how singular a thing: the work of a primitive +race, the thought of a civilized! Hence the strange, almost grotesque +groupings of thought and affairs in that first day of our history. +Subtle politicians speak the phrases and practice the arts of intricate +diplomacy from council chambers placed within log huts within a +clearing. Men in ruffs and lace and polished shoe-buckles thread the +lonely glades of primeval forests. The microscopical distinctions of the +schools, the thin notes of a metaphysical theology are woven in and out +through the labyrinths of grave sermons that run hours long upon the +still air of the wilderness. Belief in dim refinements of dogma is made +the test for man or woman who seeks admission to a company of pioneers. +When went there by an age since the great flood when so singular a thing +was seen as this: thousands of civilized men suddenly rusticated and +bade do the work of primitive peoples,--Europe _frontiered_! + +Of course there was a deep change wrought, if not in these men, at any +rate in their children; and every generation saw the change deepen. It +must seem to every thoughtful man a notable thing how, while the change +was wrought, the simples of things complex were revealed in the clear +air of the New World: how all accidentals seemed to fall away from the +structure of government, and the simple first principles were laid bare +that abide always; how social distinctions were stripped off, shown to +be the mere cloaks and masks they were, and every man brought once again +to a clear realization of his actual relations to his fellows! It was as +if trained and sophisticated men had been rid of a sudden of their +sophistication and of all the theory of their life, and left with +nothing but their discipline of faculty, a schooled and sobered +instinct. And the fact that we kept always, for close upon three hundred +years, a like element in our life, a frontier people always in our van, +is, so far, the central and determining fact of our national history. +"East" and "West," an ever-changing line, but an unvarying experience +and a constant leaven of change working always within the body of our +folk. Our political, our economic, our social life has felt this potent +influence from the wild border all our history through. The "West" is +the great word of our history. The "Westerner" has been the type and +master of our American life. Now at length, as I have said, we have lost +our frontier; our front lies almost unbroken along all the great coast +line of the western sea. The Westerner, in some day soon to come, will +pass out of our life, as he so long ago passed out of the life of the +Old World. Then a new epoch will open for us. Perhaps it has opened +already. Slowly we shall grow old, compact our people, study the +delicate adjustments of an intricate society, and ponder the niceties, +as we have hitherto pondered the bulks and structural framework, of +government. Have we not, indeed, already come to these things? But the +past we know. We can "see it steady and see it whole"; and its central +movement and motive are gross and obvious to the eye. + +Till the first century of the Constitution is rounded out we stand all +the while in the presence of that stupendous westward movement which has +filled the continent: so vast, so various, at times so tragical, so +swept by passion. Through all the long time there has been a line of +rude settlements along our front wherein the same tests of power and of +institutions were still being made that were made first upon the sloping +banks of the rivers of old Virginia and within the long sweep of the Bay +of Massachusetts. The new life of the West has reacted all the +while--who shall say how powerfully?--upon the older life of the East; +and yet the East has moulded the West as if she sent forward to it +through every decade of the long process the chosen impulses and +suggestions of history. The West has taken strength, thought, training, +selected aptitudes out of the old treasures of the East,--as if out of +a new Orient; while the East has itself been kept fresh, vital, alert, +originative by the West, her blood quickened all the while, her youth +through every age renewed. Who can say in a word, in a sentence, in a +volume, what destinies have been variously wrought, with what new +examples of growth and energy, while, upon this unexampled scale, +community has passed beyond community across the vast reaches of this +great continent! + + +NOTES + +=Jamestown=:--A town in Virginia, the site of the first English +settlement in America (1607). + +=Appomattox=:--In 1865 Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox, Virginia. + +=epic=:--A long narrative poem recounting in a stirring way some great +series of events. + +=Governor Spotswood=:--Governor of Virginia in the early part of the +eighteenth century. + +=Knights of the Golden Horseshoe=:--In 1716 an exploring expedition +under Governor Spotswood made a journey across the Blue Ridge. The +Governor gave each member of the party a gold horseshoe, as a souvenir. + +=Celts=:--One of the early Aryan races of southwestern Europe; the Welsh +and the Highland Scotch are descended from the Celts. + +=Slavs=:--The race of people inhabiting Russia, Poland, Bohemia, and +Servia. + +=Latin races=:--The French, Spanish, and Italian people, whose languages +are derived chiefly from the Latin. + +=Orient=:--The far East--India, China, Japan, etc. + +=Norman=:--The Norman-French from northern France had been in possession +of England for the greater part of a century (1066-1154) when Henry, son +of a Saxon princess and a French duke (Geoffrey of Anjou) came to +England as Henry II, the first of the Plantagenet line of English kings. + +=Stratford=:--A small town on the Avon River in England; the birthplace +of Shakespeare. + +=dight=:--Clothed. (What does an unabridged dictionary say about this +word? Is it commonly used nowadays? Was it used in Shakespeare's time? +Why does the author use it here?) + +=see it steady and see it whole=:--A quotation from the works of Matthew +Arnold, an English poet and critic. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What has been the disadvantage of having our history written by New +England men? Do you know what particular New England men have written of +American history? What state is President Wilson from? What is meant by +the "Suppression of the South"? Why does the author put in the phrase +"we have learned"? Does he believe what he is saying? Show where he +makes his own view clear. What "story" is it that one "almost wishes" +were true? _Went out from the North_: Where? How are the Northerners and +the Southerners changed after they have gone West? What "new temper" do +they have? How do they show their "impatience of restraint"? What +eastern mountains are meant here? How did our nation gain new life when +the pioneers looked westward from the eastern ridges? Why are we spoken +of as a "great compounded nation"? What are our "mighty works of peace"? +The author now shows how the Middle Seaboard States were a type of the +later form of the nation, because they had a mixed population. What does +he think about the influence of the Puritan and the Southerner? Note the +questions that he asks regarding the course of American history. See how +he answers them in the pages that follow. Why does he say that the first +frontiersmen were "timid"? When, according to the author, did the "great +determining movement" of our history begin? Why does he call the picture +that he draws a "singular" one? What is meant by "civilization frayed at +the edges"? How do the primitive conditions of our nation differ from +the earliest beginnings of the European nations? (See the long passage +beginning "How different.") What is meant by "Europe frontiered"? Look +carefully on page 261, to see what the author says is "the central and +determining fact of our national history." What is the "great word" of +our history? Has the author answered the questions he set for himself on +page 256? What is happening to us as a nation now that we have lost our +frontier? What is the relation between the East and the West? Perhaps +you will like to go on and read some more of this essay, from which we +have here only a selection. Do you like what the author has said? What +do you think of the way in which he has said it? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Life in the Wilderness +The Log Cabin +La Salle +My Friend from the West +My Friend from the East +Crossing the Mountains +Early Days in our State +An Encounter with the Indians +The Coming of the Railroad +Daniel Boone +A Home on the Prairies +Cutting down the Forest +The Homesteader +A Frontier Town +Life on a Western Ranch +The Old Settler +Some Stories of the Early Days +Moving West +Lewis and Clark +The Pioneer +The Old Settlers' Picnic +"Home-coming Day" in our Town +An Explorer +My Trip through the West (or the East) +The President + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=La Salle=:--Look up, in Parkman's _La Salle_ or elsewhere, the facts of +La Salle's life. Make very brief mention of his life in France. Contrast +it with his experiences in America. What were his reasons for becoming +an explorer? Give an account of one of his expeditions: his plans; his +preparations; his companions; his hardships; his struggles to establish +a fort; his return to Canada for help; his failure or success. Perhaps +you will want to write of his last expedition, and its unfortunate +ending. Speak of his character as a man and an explorer. Show briefly +the results of his endeavors. + +=Daniel Boone=:--Look up the adventures of Daniel Boone, and tell some +of them in a lively way. Perhaps you can imagine his telling them in his +own words to a settler or a companion. In that case, try to put in the +questions and the comments of the other person. This will make a kind of +dramatic conversation. + +=Early Days in our State=:--With a few changes, you can use the outline +given on page 249 for "Early Days in our County." + +=An Encounter with the Indians=:--Tell a story that you have heard or +imagined, about some one's escape from the Indians. How did the hero +happen to get into such a perilous situation? Briefly describe his +surroundings. Tell of his first knowledge that the Indians were about to +attack him. What did he do? How did he feel? Describe the Indians. Tell +what efforts the hero made to get away or to protect himself. Make the +account of his action brief and lively. Try to keep him before the +reader all the time. Now and then explain what was going on in his mind. +This is often a good way to secure suspense. Tell very clearly how the +hero succeeded in escaping, and what his difficulties were in getting +away from the spot. Condense the account of what took place after his +actual escape. Where did he take refuge? Was he much the worse for his +adventure? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Course of American History + (in _Mere Literature_) Woodrow Wilson +The Life of George Washington " " +The Winning of the West Theodore Roosevelt +Stories of the Great West " " +Hero Tales from American History Roosevelt and Lodge +The Great Salt Lake Trail Inman and Cody +The Old Santa Fé Trail H. Inman +Rocky Mountain Exploration Reuben G. Thwaites +Daniel Boone " " " +How George Rogers Clark Won the Northwest " " " +Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road H.A. Bruce +The Crossing Winston Churchill +The Conquest of Arid America W.E. Smythe +The Last American Frontier F.L. Paxon +Northwestern Fights and Fighters Cyrus Townsend Brady +Western Frontier Stories The Century Company +The Story of Tonty Mary Hartwell Catherwood +Heroes of the Middle West " " " +Pony Tracks Frederic Remington +The Different West A.E. Bostwick +The Expedition of Lewis and Clark J.K. Hosmer +The Trail of Lewis and Clark O.D. Wheeler +The Discovery of the Old Northwest James Baldwin +Boots and Saddles Elizabeth Custer +La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West Francis Parkman +The Oregon Trail " " +Samuel Houston Henry Bruce +The Story of the Railroad Cy Warman +The Pioneers Walt Whitman +The Story of the Cowboy Emerson Hough +Woodrow Wilson W.B. Hale +Recollections of Thirteen Presidents John S. Wise +Presidential Problems Grover Cleveland +The Story of the White House Esther Singleton + + + + +WHAT I KNOW ABOUT GARDENING + +CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER + +(From _My Summer in a Garden_) + + +NINTH WEEK + +I am more and more impressed with the moral qualities of vegetables, and +contemplate forming a science which shall rank with comparative anatomy +and comparative philology,--the science of comparative vegetable +morality. We live in an age of protoplasm. And, if life-matter is +essentially the same in all forms of life, I purpose to begin early, and +ascertain the nature of the plants for which I am responsible. I will +not associate with any vegetable which is disreputable, or has not some +quality that can contribute to my moral growth. I do not care to be seen +much with the squashes or the dead-beets.... + +This matter of vegetable rank has not been at all studied as it should +be. Why do we respect some vegetables, and despise others, when all of +them come to an equal honor or ignominy on the table? The bean is a +graceful, confiding, engaging vine; but you never can put beans into +poetry, nor into the highest sort of prose. There is no dignity in the +bean. Corn, which in my garden grows alongside the bean, and, so far as +I can see, with no affectation of superiority, is, however, the child of +song. It waves in all literature. But mix it with beans, and its high +tone is gone. Succotash is vulgar. It is the bean in it. The bean is a +vulgar vegetable, without culture, or any flavor of high society among +vegetables. Then there is the cool cucumber, like so many people,--good +for nothing when it is ripe and the wildness has gone out of it. How +inferior in quality it is to the melon, which grows upon a similar vine, +is of a like watery consistency, but is not half so valuable! The +cucumber is a sort of low comedian in a company where the melon is a +minor gentleman. I might also contrast the celery with the potato. The +associations are as opposite as the dining-room of the duchess and the +cabin of the peasant. I admire the potato, both in vine and blossom; but +it is not aristocratic. I began digging my potatoes, by the way, about +the 4th of July; and I fancy I have discovered the right way to do it. I +treat the potato just as I would a cow. I do not pull them up, and shake +them out, and destroy them; but I dig carefully at the side of the hill, +remove the fruit which is grown, leaving the vine undisturbed: and my +theory is that it will go on bearing, and submitting to my exactions, +until the frost cuts it down. It is a game that one would not undertake +with a vegetable of tone. + +The lettuce is to me a most interesting study. Lettuce is like +conversation: it must be fresh and crisp, so sparkling that you scarcely +notice the bitter in it. Lettuce, like most talkers, is, however, apt to +run rapidly to seed. Blessed is that sort which comes to a head, and so +remains, like a few people I know; growing more solid and satisfactory +and tender at the same time, and whiter at the centre, and crisp in +their maturity. Lettuce, like conversation, requires a good deal of oil, +to avoid friction, and keep the company smooth; a pinch of attic salt; a +dash of pepper; a quantity of mustard and vinegar, by all means, but so +mixed that you will notice no sharp contrasts; and a trifle of sugar. +You can put anything, and the more things the better, into salad, as +into a conversation; but everything depends upon the skill of mixing. I +feel that I am in the best society when I am with lettuce. It is in the +select circle of vegetables. The tomato appears well on the table; but +you do not want to ask its origin. It is a most agreeable _parvenu_. Of +course, I have said nothing about the berries. They live in another and +more ideal region: except, perhaps, the currant. Here we see that, even +among berries, there are degrees of breeding. The currant is well +enough, clear as truth, and exquisite in color; but I ask you to notice +how far it is from the exclusive _hauteur_ of the aristocratic +strawberry, and the native refinement of the quietly elegant raspberry. + +I do not know that chemistry, searching for protoplasm, is able to +discover the tendency of vegetables. It can only be found out by outward +observation. I confess that I am suspicious of the bean, for instance. +There are signs in it of an unregulated life. I put up the most +attractive sort of poles for my Limas. They stand high and straight, +like church-spires, in my theological garden,--lifted up; and some of +them have even budded, like Aaron's rod. No church-steeple in a New +England village was ever better fitted to draw to it the rising +generation on Sunday than those poles to lift up my beans towards +heaven. Some of them did run up the sticks seven feet, and then +straggled off into the air in a wanton manner; but more than half of +them went galivanting off to the neighboring grape-trellis, and wound +their tendrils with the tendrils of the grape, with a disregard of the +proprieties of life which is a satire upon human nature. And the grape +is morally no better. I think the ancients, who were not troubled with +the recondite mystery of protoplasm, were right in the mythic union of +Bacchus and Venus. + +Talk about the Darwinian theory of development and the principle of +natural selection! I should like to see a garden let to run in +accordance with it. If I had left my vegetables and weeds to a free +fight, in which the strongest specimens only should come to maturity, +and the weaker go to the wall, I can clearly see that I should have had +a pretty mess of it. It would have been a scene of passion and license +and brutality. The "pusley" would have strangled the strawberry; the +upright corn, which has now ears to hear the guilty beating of the +hearts of the children who steal the raspberries, would have been +dragged to the earth by the wandering bean; the snake-grass would have +left the place for the potatoes under ground; and the tomatoes would +have been swamped by the lusty weeds. With a firm hand, I have had to +make my own "natural selection." Nothing will so well bear watching as a +garden except a family of children next door. Their power of selection +beats mine. If they could read half as well as they can steal a while +away, I should put up a notice, "_Children, beware! There is Protoplasm +here._" But I suppose it would have no effect. I believe they would eat +protoplasm as quick as anything else, ripe or green. I wonder if this is +going to be a cholera-year. Considerable cholera is the only thing that +would let my apples and pears ripen. Of course I do not care for the +fruit; but I do not want to take the responsibility of letting so much +"life-matter," full of crude and even wicked vegetable-human tendencies, +pass into the composition of the neighbors' children, some of whom may +be as immortal as snake-grass. + +There ought to be a public meeting about this, and resolutions, and +perhaps a clambake. At least, it ought to be put into the catechism, and +put in strong. + + +TENTH WEEK + +I THINK I have discovered the way to keep peas from the birds. +I tried the scarecrow plan, in a way which I thought would outwit the +shrewdest bird. The brain of the bird is not large; but it is all +concentrated on one object, and that is the attempt to elude the devices +of modern civilization which injure his chances of food. I knew that, if +I put up a complete stuffed man, the bird would detect the imitation at +once; the perfection of the thing would show him that it was a trick. +People always overdo the matter when they attempt deception. I therefore +hung some loose garments, of a bright color, upon a rake-head, and set +them up among the vines. The supposition was, that the bird would think +there was an effort to trap him, that there was a man behind, holding up +these garments, and would sing, as he kept at a distance, "You can't +catch me with any such double device." The bird would know, or think he +knew, that I would not hang up such a scare, in the expectation that it +would pass for a man, and deceive a bird; and he would therefore look +for a deeper plot. I expected to outwit the bird by a duplicity that was +simplicity itself. I may have over-calculated the sagacity and reasoning +power of the bird. At any rate, I did over-calculate the amount of peas +I should gather. + +But my game was only half played. In another part of the garden were +other peas, growing and blowing. To these I took good care not to +attract the attention of the bird by any scarecrow whatever! I left the +old scarecrow conspicuously flaunting above the old vines; and by this +means I hope to keep the attention of the birds confined to that side of +the garden. I am convinced that this is the true use of a scarecrow: it +is a lure, and not a warning. If you wish to save men from any +particular vice, set up a tremendous cry of warning about some other, +and they will all give their special efforts to the one to which +attention is called. This profound truth is about the only thing I have +yet realized out of my pea-vines. + +However, the garden does begin to yield. I know of nothing that makes +one feel more complacent, in these July days, than to have his +vegetables from his own garden. What an effect it has on the market-man +and the butcher! It is a kind of declaration of independence. The +market-man shows me his peas and beets and tomatoes, and supposes he +shall send me out some with the meat. "No, I thank you," I say +carelessly: "I am raising my own this year." Whereas I have been wont to +remark, "Your vegetables look a little wilted this weather," I now say, +"What a fine lot of vegetables you've got!" When a man is not going to +buy, he can afford to be generous. To raise his own vegetables makes a +person feel, somehow, more liberal. I think the butcher is touched by +the influence, and cuts off a better roast for me. The butcher is my +friend when he sees that I am not wholly dependent on him. + +It is at home, however, that the effect is most marked, though sometimes +in a way that I had not expected. I have never read of any Roman supper +that seemed to me equal to a dinner of my own vegetables, when +everything on the table is the product of my own labor, except the +clams, which I have not been able to raise yet, and the chickens, which +have withdrawn from the garden just when they were most attractive. It +is strange what a taste you suddenly have for things you never liked +before. The squash has always been to me a dish of contempt; but I eat +it now as if it were my best friend. I never cared for the beet or the +bean; but I fancy now that I could eat them all, tops and all, so +completely have they been transformed by the soil in which they grew. I +think the squash is less squashy, and the beet has a deeper hue of rose, +for my care of them. + +I had begun to nurse a good deal of pride in presiding over a table +whereon was the fruit of my honest industry. But woman!--John Stuart +Mill is right when he says that we do not know anything about women. Six +thousand years is as one day with them. I thought I had something to do +with those vegetables. + +But when I saw Polly seated at her side of the table, presiding over the +new and susceptible vegetables, flanked by the squash and the beans, and +smiling upon the green corn and the new potatoes, as cool as the +cucumbers which lay sliced in ice before her, and when she began to +dispense the fresh dishes, I saw at once that the day of my destiny was +over. You would have thought that she owned all the vegetables, and had +raised them all from their earliest years. Such quiet, vegetable airs! +Such gracious appropriation! + +At length I said,-- + +"Polly, do you know who planted that squash, or those squashes?" + +"James, I suppose." + +"Well, yes, perhaps James did plant them to a certain extent. But who +hoed them?" + +"We did." + +"_We_ did!" I said in the most sarcastic manner. "And I suppose _we_ put +on the sackcloth and ashes, when the striped bug came at four o'clock, +A.M., and we watched the tender leaves, and watered night and +morning the feeble plants. I tell you, Polly," said I, uncorking the +Bordeaux raspberry vinegar, "there is not a pea here that does not +represent a drop of moisture wrung from my brow, not a beet that does +not stand for a backache, not a squash that has not caused me untold +anxiety, and I did hope--but I will say no more." + +_Observation._--In this sort of family discussion, "I will say no more" +is the most effective thing you can close up with. + +I am not an alarmist. I hope I am as cool as anybody this hot summer. +But I am quite ready to say to Polly or any other woman, "You can have +the ballot; only leave me the vegetables, or, what is more important, +the consciousness of power in vegetables." I see how it is. Woman is now +supreme in the house. She already stretches out her hand to grasp the +garden. She will gradually control everything. Woman is one of the +ablest and most cunning creatures who have ever mingled in human +affairs. I understand those women who say they don't want the ballot. +They purpose to hold the real power while we go through the mockery of +making laws. They want the power without the responsibility. (Suppose my +squash had not come up, or my beans--as they threatened at one time--had +gone the wrong way: where would I have been?) We are to be held to all +the responsibilities. Woman takes the lead in all the departments, +leaving us politics only. And what is politics? Let me raise the +vegetables of a nation, says Polly, and I care not who makes its +politics. Here I sat at the table, armed with the ballot, but really +powerless among my own vegetables. While we are being amused by the +ballot, woman is quietly taking things into her own hands. + + +NOTES + +=comparative philology=:--The comparison of words from different +languages, for the purpose of seeing what relationships can be found. + +=protoplasm=:--"The physical basis of life"; the substance which passes +life on from one vegetable or animal to another. + +=attic salt=:--The delicate wit of the Athenians, who lived in the state +of Attica, in Greece. + +=parvenu=:--A French word meaning an upstart who tries to force himself +into good society. + +=Aaron's rod=:--See Numbers, 17:1-10. + +=Bacchus and Venus=:--Bacchus was the Greek god of wine; Venus was the +Greek goddess of love. + +=Darwinian theory=:--Charles R. Darwin (1809-1882) was a great English +scientist who proved that the higher forms of life have developed from +the lower. + +=natural selection=:--One of Darwin's theories, to the effect that +nature weeds out the weak and unfit, leaving the others to continue the +species; the result is called "the survival of the fittest." + +=steal a while away=:--A quotation from a well known hymn beginning,-- + + I love to steal a while away + From every cumbering care. + +It was written in 1829, by Deodatus Dutton. + +=Roman supper=:--The Romans were noted for the extravagance of their +evening meals, at which all sorts of delicacies were served. + +=John Stuart Mill=:--An English philosopher (1806-1873). He wrote about +theories of government. + +=Polly=:--The author's wife. + +=the day of my destiny=:--A quotation from Lord Byron's poem, _Stanzas +to Augusta_ [his sister]. The lines run:-- + + Though the day of my destiny's over, + And the star of my fate hath declined, + Thy soft heart refused to discover + The faults that so many could find. + +=sack-cloth and ashes=:--In old Jewish times, a sign of grief or +mourning. See Esther, 4:1; Isaiah, 58:5. + +=Bordeaux=:--A province in France noted for its wine. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The author is writing of the ninth and tenth weeks of his work; he now +has time to stop and moralize about his garden. Do not take what he says +too seriously; look for the fun in it. Is he in earnest about the moral +qualities of vegetables? Why cannot the bean figure in poetry and +romance? Can you name any prose or verse in which corn does? Explain +what is said about the resemblance of some people to cucumbers. Why is +celery more aristocratic than potato? Is "them" the right word in the +sentence: "I do not pull them up"? Explain what is meant by the +paragraph on salads. Why is the tomato a "_parvenu_"? Does the author +wish to cast a slur on the Darwinian theory? Is it true that moral +character is influenced by what one eats? What is the catechism? What do +you think of the author's theories about scarecrows? About "saving men +from any particular vice"? Why does raising one's own vegetables make +one feel generous? How does the author pass from vegetables to woman +suffrage? Is he in earnest in what he says? What does one get out of a +selection like this? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +My Summer on a Farm +A Garden on the Roof +The Truck Garden +My First Attempt at Gardening +Raspberrying +Planting Time +The Watermelon Patch +Weeding the Garden +Visiting in the Country +Getting Rid of the Insects +School Gardens +A Window-box Garden +Some Weeds of our Vicinity +The Scarecrow +Going to Market +"Votes for Women" +How Women Rule +A Suffrage Meeting +Why I Believe [or do not Believe] in Woman's Suffrage +The "Militants" + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=My First Attempt at Gardening=:--Tell how you came to make the garden. +Was there any talk about it before it was begun? What were your plans +concerning it? Did you spend any time in consulting seed catalogues? +Tell about buying (or otherwise securing) the seeds. If you got them +from some more experienced gardener than yourself, report the talk about +them. Tell how you made the ground ready; how you planted the seeds. +Take the reader into your confidence as to your hopes and uncertainties +when the sprouts began to appear. Did the garden suffer any misfortunes +from the frost, or the drought, or the depredations of the hens? Can you +remember any conversation about it? Tell about the weeding, and what was +said when it became necessary. Trace the progress of the garden; tell of +its success or failure as time went on. What did you do with the +products? Did any one praise or make fun of you? How did you feel? Did +you want to have another garden? + +=The Scarecrow=:--You might speak first about the garden--its prosperity +and beauty, and the fruit or vegetables that it was producing. Then +speak about the birds, and tell how they acted and what they did. Did +you try driving them away? What was said about them? Now tell about the +plans for the scarecrow. Give an account of how it was set up, and what +clothes were put on it. How did it look? What was said about it? Give +one or two incidents (real or imaginary) in which it was concerned. Was +it of any use? How long did it remain in its place? + +=Votes for Women=:--There are several ways in which you could deal with +this subject:-- + +(_a_) If you have seen a suffrage parade, you might describe it and tell +how it impressed you. (_b_) Perhaps you could write of some particular +person who was interested in votes for women: How did she [or he] look, +and what did she say? (_c_) Report a lecture on suffrage. (_d_) Give two +or three arguments for or against woman's suffrage; do not try to take +up too many, but deal with each rather completely. (_e_) Imagine two +people talking together about suffrage--for instance, two old men; a man +and a woman; a young woman and an old one; a child and a grown person; +two children. (_f_) Imagine the author of the selection and his wife +Polly talking about suffrage at the dinner table. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +My Summer in a Garden Charles Dudley Warner +Being a Boy " " " +In the Wilderness " " " +My Winter on the Nile " " " +On Horseback " " " +Back-log Studies " " " +A Journey to Nature A.C. Wheeler +The Making of a Country Home " " +A Self-supporting Home Kate V. St. Maur +Folks back Home Eugene Wood +Adventures in Contentment David Grayson +Adventures in Friendship " " +The Friendly Road " " +New Lives for Old William Carleton +A Living without a Boss Anonymous +The Fat of the Land J.W. Streeter +The Jonathan Papers Elizabeth Woodbridge +Adopting an Abandoned Farm Kate Sanborn +Out-door Studies T.W. Higginson +The Women of America Elizabeth McCracken +The Country Home E.P. Powell +Blessing the Cornfields (in _Hiawatha_) H.W. Longfellow +The Corn Song (in _The Huskers_) J.G. Whittier +Charles Dudley Warner + (in _American Writers of To-day_, pp. 89-103) H.C. Vedder + + + + +THE SINGING MAN + +JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + + +I + + He sang above the vineyards of the world. + And after him the vines with woven hands + Clambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled + Triumphing green above the barren lands; + Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood, + Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil, + And looked upon his work; and it was good: + The corn, the wine, the oil. + + He sang above the noon. The topmost cleft + That grudged him footing on the mountain scars + He planted and despaired not; till he left + His vines soft breathing to the host of stars. + He wrought, he tilled; and even as he sang, + The creatures of his planting laughed to scorn + The ancient threat of deserts where there sprang + The wine, the oil, the corn! + + He sang not for abundance.--Over-lords + Took of his tilth. Yet was there still to reap, + The portion of his labor; dear rewards + Of sunlit day, and bread, and human sleep. + He sang for strength; for glory of the light. + He dreamed above the furrows, 'They are mine!' + When all he wrought stood fair before his sight + With corn, and oil, and wine. + + _Truly, the light is sweet_ + _Yea, and a pleasant thing_ + _It is to see the Sun._ + _And that a man should eat_ + _His bread that he hath won_;-- + (_So is it sung and said_), + _That he should take and keep_, + _After his laboring_, + _The portion of his labor in his bread_, + _His bread that he hath won_; + _Yea, and in quiet sleep_, + _When all is done._ + + He sang; above the burden and the heat, + Above all seasons with their fitful grace; + Above the chance and change that led his feet + To this last ambush of the Market-place. + 'Enough for him,' they said--and still they say-- + 'A crust, with air to breathe, and sun to shine; + He asks no more!'--Before they took away + The corn, the oil, the wine. + + He sang. No more he sings now, anywhere. + Light was enough, before he was undone. + They knew it well, who took away the air, + --Who took away the sun; + Who took, to serve their soul-devouring greed, + Himself, his breath, his bread--the goad of toil;-- + Who have and hold, before the eyes of Need, + The corn, the wine,--the oil! + + + _Truly, one thing is sweet_ + _Of things beneath the Sun_; + _This, that a man should earn his bread and eat_, + _Rejoicing in his work which he hath done._ + _What shall be sung or said_ + _Of desolate deceit_, + _When others take his bread_; + _His and his children's bread?_-- + _And the laborer hath none._ + _This, for his portion now, of all that he hath done._ + _He earns; and others eat._ + _He starves;--they sit at meat_ + _Who have taken away the Sun._ + + +II + + Seek him now, that singing Man. + Look for him, + Look for him + In the mills, + In the mines; + Where the very daylight pines,-- + He, who once did walk the hills! + You shall find him, if you scan + Shapes all unbefitting Man, + Bodies warped, and faces dim. + In the mines; in the mills + Where the ceaseless thunder fills + Spaces of the human brain + Till all thought is turned to pain. + Where the skirl of wheel on wheel, + Grinding him who is their tool, + Makes the shattered senses reel + To the numbness of the fool. + Perisht thought, and halting tongue-- + (Once it spoke;--once it sung!) + Live to hunger, dead to song. + Only heart-beats loud with wrong + Hammer on,--_How long?_ + ... _How long?_--_How long?_ + + Search for him; + Search for him; + Where the crazy atoms swim + Up the fiery furnace-blast. + You shall find him, at the last,-- + He whose forehead braved the sun,-- + Wreckt and tortured and undone. + Where no breath across the heat + Whispers him that life was sweet; + But the sparkles mock and flare, + Scattering up the crooked air. + (Blackened with that bitter mirk,-- + Would God know His handiwork?) + + Thought is not for such as he; + Naught but strength, and misery; + Since, for just the bite and sup, + Life must needs be swallowed up. + Only, reeling up the sky, + Hurtling flames that hurry by, + Gasp and flare, with _Why_--_Why_, + ... _Why?_... + + Why the human mind of him + Shrinks, and falters and is dim + When he tries to make it out: + What the torture is about.-- + Why he breathes, a fugitive + Whom the World forbids to live. + Why he earned for his abode, + Habitation of the toad! + Why his fevered day by day + Will not serve to drive away + Horror that must always haunt:-- + ... _Want_ ... _Want!_ + Nightmare shot with waking pangs;-- + Tightening coil, and certain fangs, + Close and closer, always nigh ... + ... _Why?_... _Why?_ + + Why he labors under ban + That denies him for a man. + Why his utmost drop of blood + Buys for him no human good; + Why his utmost urge of strength + Only lets Them starve at length;-- + Will not let him starve alone; + He must watch, and see his own + Fade and fail, and starve, and die. + . . . . . . . + ... _Why?_... _Why?_ + . . . . . . . + Heart-beats, in a hammering song, + Heavy as an ox may plod, + Goaded--goaded--faint with wrong, + Cry unto some ghost of God + ... _How long_?... _How long?_ + ... _How long?_ + + +III + + Seek him yet. Search for him! + You shall find him, spent and grim; + In the prisons, where we pen + These unsightly shards of men. + Sheltered fast; + Housed at length; + Clothed and fed, no matter how!-- + Where the householders, aghast, + Measure in his broken strength + Nought but power for evil, now. + Beast-of-burden drudgeries + Could not earn him what was his: + He who heard the world applaud + Glories seized by force and fraud, + He must break,--he must take!-- + Both for hate and hunger's sake. + He must seize by fraud and force; + He must strike, without remorse! + Seize he might; but never keep. + Strike, his once!--Behold him here. + (Human life we buy so cheap, + Who should know we held it dear?) + + No denial,--no defence + From a brain bereft of sense, + Any more than penitence. + But the heart-beats now, that plod + Goaded--goaded--dumb with wrong, + Ask not even a ghost of God + ... _How long_? + + _When the Sea gives up its dead,_ + _Prison caverns, yield instead_ + _This, rejected and despised;_ + _This, the Soiled and Sacrificed!_ + _Without form or comeliness;_ + _Shamed for us that did transgress_ + _Bruised, for our iniquities,_ + _With the stripes that are all his!_ + _Face that wreckage, you who can._ + _It was once the Singing Man._ + + +IV + + Must it be?--Must we then + Render back to God again + This His broken work, this thing, + For His man that once did sing? + Will not all our wonders do? + Gifts we stored the ages through, + (Trusting that He had forgot)-- + Gifts the Lord requirèd not? + + Would the all-but-human serve! + Monsters made of stone and nerve; + Towers to threaten and defy + Curse or blessing of the sky; + Shafts that blot the stars with smoke; + Lightnings harnessed under yoke; + Sea-things, air-things, wrought with steel, + That may smite, and fly, and feel! + Oceans calling each to each; + Hostile hearts, with kindred speech. + Every work that Titans can; + Every marvel: save a man, + Who might rule without a sword.-- + Is a man more precious, Lord? + + Can it be?--Must we then + Render back to Thee again + Million, million wasted men? + Men, of flickering human breath, + Only made for life and death? + + Ah, but see the sovereign Few, + Highly favored, that remain! + These, the glorious residue, + Of the cherished race of Cain. + These, the magnates of the age, + High above the human wage, + Who have numbered and possesst + All the portion of the rest! + + What are all despairs and shames, + What the mean, forgotten names + Of the thousand more or less, + For one surfeit of success? + + For those dullest lives we spent, + Take these Few magnificent! + For that host of blotted ones, + Take these glittering central suns. + Few;--but how their lustre thrives + On the million broken lives! + Splendid, over dark and doubt, + For a million souls gone out! + These, the holders of our hoard,-- + Wilt thou not accept them, Lord? + + +V + + Oh in the wakening thunders of the heart, + --The small lost Eden, troubled through the night, + Sounds there not now,--forboded and apart, + Some voice and sword of light? + Some voice and portent of a dawn to break?-- + Searching like God, the ruinous human shard + Of that lost Brother-man Himself did make, + And Man himself hath marred? + + It sounds!--And may the anguish of that birth + Seize on the world; and may all shelters fail, + Till we behold new Heaven and new Earth + Through the rent Temple-vail! + When the high-tides that threaten near and far + To sweep away our guilt before the sky,-- + Flooding the waste of this dishonored Star, + Cleanse, and o'ewhelm, and cry! + + Cry, from the deep of world-accusing waves, + With longing more than all since Light began, + Above the nations,--underneath the graves,-- + 'Give back the Singing Man!' + + +NOTES + +=and it was good=:--Genesis, 1:31: "And God saw all that he had made, +and, behold, it was very good." + +=the ancient threat of deserts=:--Isaiah, 35:1-2: "The desert shall +rejoice and blossom as the rose." + +=after his laboring=:--Luke, 10:7, and 1st Timothy, 5:18: "The laborer +is worthy of his hire." + +=portion of his labor=:--Ecclesiastes, 2:10: "For my heart rejoiced in +my labor; and this was my portion of all my labor." + +=the light is sweet=:--Ecclesiastes, 11:7: "Truly the light is sweet, +and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun." + +=How long=:--Revelation, 6:10: "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost +thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" + +=when the sea=:--Revelation, 20:13: "And the sea gave up the dead which +were in it." + +=rejected and despised=:--For this and the remainder of the stanza, see +Isaiah, 53. + +=Titans=:--In Greek mythology, powerful and troublesome giants. + +=Cain=:--See the story of Cain, Genesis, 4:2-16. + +=searching like God=:--Genesis, 4:9: "And the Lord said unto Cain, Where +is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not! Am I my brother's keeper?" + +=Temple-vail=:--At the death of Christ, the vail of the temple was rent; +see Matthew, 27:51. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY[15] + +Read the poem slowly and thoughtfully. The "singing man" is the laborer +who, in days gone by, was happy in his work. People were not crowded +into great cities, and there was more simple out-door labor than there +is now, and less strife for wealth. + +_Above the vineyards_: In Europe, vineyards are often planted on the +slopes of hills and mountains. What ancient country do you think of in +connection with "the corn [grain], the oil, the wine"? Were the laborers +happy in that country? What were the "creatures" of man's planting +(second stanza)? What was the "ancient threat" of deserts? Of what kind +of deserts, as described here? Of what deserts would this be true after +the rainy season? _Laughed to scorn_: Does this mean "outdid"? Mentally +insert the word _something_ after _still_ in the second line of the +third stanza. If the laborer in times gone by did not sing for +abundance, what did he sing for (stanza three)? The verses in italics +are a kind of refrain, as if the laborer were singing to himself. _So is +it said and sung_ refers to the fact that these lines are adapted from +passages in the Bible. _This last ambush_: What does the author mean +here by suggesting that the laborer has been entrapped? Who are "they" +in the line "'Enough for him,' they said"? How did they take away "the +corn, the oil, the wine"? How did they take away "the air and the sun"? +Who now has the product of the workman's toil? What are "the eyes of +Need"? Is it true that one may work hard and still be in need? If it is +true, who is to blame? What are "dim" faces? Why does the author begin +the word _Man_ with a capital? What effect does too much hard work have +upon the laborer? What is "the crooked air"? Who is represented as +saying _Why_? How does the world forbid the laborer to live? Why are +there dotted lines before and after _Why_ and _What_ and _How long_? Who +are meant by _Them_ in the line beginning "Only lets"? Why does the +author say that the prisons are filled with ill-used laborers? What does +she mean by saying that the prisoners are "bruised for our iniquities"? +What is gained here by using the language of the Bible? _The +all-but-human_ means "almost intelligent"--referring to machinery. Does +the author mean to praise the "sovereign Few"? Who are these "Few +magnificent"? Are they really to blame for the sufferings of the poor? +_Himself_ in the line beginning "Of that lost," refers to God. What is +meant here by "a new Heaven and a new Earth"? What is "this dishonored +Star"? What conditions does the author think will bring back the singing +man? Are they possible conditions? + +Re-read the poem, thinking of the author's protest against the +sufferings of the poor and the selfishness of the rich. What do you +think of the poem? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Singing Man and Other Poems Josephine Preston Peabody +The Piper " " " +The Singing Leaves " " " +Fortune and Men's Eyes " " " +The Wolf of Gubbio " " " +The Man with the Hoe Edwin Markham + + + + +THE DANCE OF THE BON-ODORI + +LAFCADIO HEARN + +(From _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_, Volume I, Chapter VI) + + +I + +At last, from the verge of an enormous ridge, the roadway suddenly +slopes down into a vista of high peaked roofs of thatch and green-mossed +eaves--into a village like a colored print out of old Hiroshige's +picture-books, a village with all its tints and colors precisely like +the tints and colors of the landscape in which it lies. This is +Kami-Ichi, in the land of Hoki. + +We halt before a quiet, dingy little inn, whose host, a very aged man, +comes forth to salute me; while a silent, gentle crowd of villagers, +mostly children and women, gather about the kuruma to see the stranger, +to wonder at him, even to touch his clothes with timid smiling +curiosity. One glance at the face of the old inn-keeper decides me to +accept his invitation. I must remain here until to-morrow: my runners +are too wearied to go farther to-night. + +Weather-worn as the little inn seemed without, it is delightful within. +Its polished stairway and balconies are speckless, reflecting like +mirror-surfaces the bare feet of the maid-servants; its luminous rooms +are fresh and sweet-smelling as when their soft mattings were first laid +down. The carven pillars of the alcove (toko) in my chamber, leaves and +flowers chiseled in some black rich wood, are wonders; and the kakemono +or scroll-picture hanging there is an idyl, Hotei, God of Happiness, +drifting in a bark down some shadowy stream into evening mysteries of +vapory purple. Far as this hamlet is from all art-centres, there is no +object visible in the house which does not reveal the Japanese sense of +beauty in form. The old gold-flowered lacquer-ware, the astonishing box +in which sweetmeats (kwashi) are kept, the diaphanous porcelain +wine-cups dashed with a single tiny gold figure of a leaping shrimp, the +tea-cup holders which are curled lotus-leaves of bronze, even the iron +kettle with its figurings of dragons and clouds, and the brazen hibachi +whose handles are heads of Buddhist lions, delight the eye and surprise +the fancy. Indeed, wherever to-day in Japan one sees something totally +uninteresting in porcelain or metal, something commonplace and ugly, one +may be almost sure that detestable something has been shaped under +foreign influence. But here I am in ancient Japan; probably no European +eyes ever looked upon these things before. + +A window shaped like a heart peeps out upon the garden, a wonderful +little garden with a tiny pond and miniature bridges and dwarf trees, +like the landscape of a tea-cup; also some shapely stones of course, and +some graceful stone lanterns, or t[=o]r[=o], such as are placed in the +courts of temples. And beyond these, through the warm dusk, I see +lights, colored lights, the lanterns of the Bonku, suspended before each +home to welcome the coming of beloved ghosts; for by the antique +calendar, according to which in this antique place the reckoning of time +is still made, this is the first night of the Festival of the Dead. + +As in all other little country villages where I have been stopping, I +find the people here kind to me with a kindness and a courtesy +unimaginable, indescribable, unknown in any other country, and even in +Japan itself only in the interior. Their simple politeness is not an +art; their goodness is absolutely unconscious goodness; both come +straight from the heart. And before I have been two hours among these +people, their treatment of me, coupled with the sense of my utter +inability to repay such kindness, causes a wicked wish to come into my +mind. I wish these charming folk would do me some unexpected wrong, +something surprisingly evil, something atrociously unkind, so that I +should not be obliged to regret them, which I feel sure I must begin to +do as soon as I go away. + +While the aged landlord conducts me to the bath, the wife prepares for +us a charming little repast of rice, eggs, vegetables, and sweetmeats. +She is painfully in doubt about her ability to please me, even after I +have eaten enough for two men, and apologizes too much for not being +able to offer me more. + +"There is no fish," she says, "for to-day is the first day of the Bonku, +the Festival of the Dead; being the thirteenth day of the month. On the +thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth of the month nobody may eat fish. +But on the morning of the sixteenth day, the fishermen go out to catch +fish; and everybody who has both parents living may eat of it. But if +one has lost one's father or mother then one must not eat fish, even +upon the sixteenth day." + +While the good soul is thus explaining I become aware of a strange +remote sound from without, a sound I recognize through memory of +tropical dances, a measured clapping of hands. But this clapping is very +soft and at long intervals. And at still longer intervals there comes to +us a heavy muffled booming, the tap of a great drum, a temple drum. + +"Oh! we must go to see it," cries Akira; "it is the Bon-odori, the +Dance of the Festival of the Dead. And you will see the Bon-odori danced +here as it is never danced in cities--the Bon-odori of ancient days. For +customs have not changed here; but in the cities all is changed." + +So I hasten out, wearing only, like the people about me, one of those +light wide-sleeved summer robes--yukata--which are furnished to male +guests at all Japanese hotels; but the air is so warm that even thus +lightly clad, I find myself slightly perspiring. And the night is +divine,--still, clear, vaster than the nights of Europe, with a big +white moon flinging down queer shadows of tilted eaves and horned +gables, and delightful silhouettes of robed Japanese. A little boy, the +grandson of our host, leads the way with a crimson paper lantern; and +the sonorous echoing of geta, the _koro-koro_ of wooden sandals, fills +all the street, for many are going whither we are going, to see the +dance. + +A little while we proceed along the main street; then, traversing a +narrow passage between two houses, we find ourselves in a great open +space flooded by moonlight. This is the dancing-place; but the dance has +ceased for a time. Looking about me, I perceive that we are in the court +of an ancient Buddhist temple. The temple building itself remains +intact, a low, long peaked silhouette against the starlight; but it is +void and dark and unhallowed now; it has been turned, they tell me, into +a schoolhouse. The priests are gone; the great bell is gone; the Buddhas +and the Bodhisattvas have vanished, all save one,--a broken-handed Jizo +of stone, smiling with eyelids closed, under the moon. + +In the centre of the court is a framework of bamboo supporting a great +drum; and about it benches have been arranged, benches from the +schoolhouse, on which the villagers are resting. There is a hum of +voices, voices of people speaking very low, as if expecting something +solemn; and cries of children betimes, and soft laughter of girls. And +far behind the court, beyond a low hedge of sombre evergreen shrubs, I +see soft white lights and a host of tall gray shapes throwing long +shadows; and I know that the lights are the _white_ lanterns of the dead +(those hung in cemeteries only), and that the gray shapes are the shapes +of tombs. + +Suddenly a girl rises from her seat, and taps the huge drum once. It is +the signal for the Dance of Souls. + + +II + +Out of the shadow of the temple a professional line of dancers files +into the moonlight and as suddenly halts,--all young women or girls, +clad in their choicest attire; the tallest leads; her comrades follow in +order of stature. Little maids of ten or twelve years compose the end of +the procession. Figures lightly poised as birds,--figures that somehow +recall the dreams of shapes circling about certain antique vases; those +charming Japanese robes, close-clinging about the knees, might seem, but +for the great fantastic drooping sleeves, and the curious broad girdles +confining them, designed after the drawing of some Greek or Etruscan +artist. And, at another tap of the drum, there begins a performance +impossible to picture in words, something unimaginable, phantasmal,--a +dance, an astonishment. + +All together glide the right foot forward one pace, without lifting the +sandal from the ground, and extend both hands to the right, with a +strange floating motion and a smiling, mysterious obeisance. Then the +right foot is drawn back, with a repetition of the waving of hands and +the mysterious bow. Then all advance the left foot and repeat the +previous movements, half-turning to the left. Then all take two gliding +paces forward, with a single simultaneous soft clap of the hands, and +the first performance is reiterated, alternately to the right and left; +all the sandaled feet gliding together, all the supple hands waving +together, all the pliant bodies bowing and swaying together. And so +slowly, weirdly, the processional movement changes into a great round, +circling about the moon-lit court and around the voiceless crowd of +spectators. + +And always the white hands sinuously wave together, as if weaving +spells, alternately without and within the round, now with palms upward, +now with palms downward; and all the elfish sleeves hover duskily +together, with a shadowing as of wings; and all the feet poise together +with such a rhythm of complex motion, that, in watching it, one feels a +sensation of hypnotism--as while striving to watch a flowing and +shimmering of water. + +And this soporous allurement is intensified by a dead hush. No one +speaks, not even a spectator. And, in the long intervals between the +soft clapping of hands, one hears only the shrilling of the crickets in +the trees, and the _shu-shu_ of sandals, lightly stirring the dust. Unto +what, I ask myself, may this be likened? Unto nothing; yet it suggests +some fancy of somnambulism,--dreamers, who dream themselves flying, +dreaming upon their feet. + +And there comes to me the thought that I am looking at something +immemorially old, something belonging to the unrecorded beginning of +this Oriental life, perhaps to the crepuscular Kamiyo itself, to the +magical Age of the Gods; a symbolism of motion whereof the meaning has +been forgotten for innumerable years. Yet more and more unreal the +spectacle appears, with silent smilings, with its silent bowings, as if +obeisance to watchers invisible; and I find myself wondering whether, +were I to utter but a whisper, all would not vanish forever, save the +gray mouldering court and the desolate temple, and the broken statue of +Jizo, smiling always the same mysterious smile I see upon the faces of +the dancers. + +Under the wheeling moon, in the midst of the round, I feel as one within +the circle of a charm. And verily, this is enchantment; I am bewitched, +by the ghostly weaving of hands, by the rhythmic gliding of feet, above +all by the flittering of the marvellous sleeves--apparitional, +soundless, velvety as a flitting of great tropical bats. No; nothing I +ever dreamed of could be likened to this. And with the consciousness of +the ancient hakaba behind me, and the weird invitation of its lanterns, +and the ghostly beliefs of the hour and the place, there creeps upon me +a nameless, tingling sense of being haunted. But no! these gracious, +silent, waving, weaving shapes are not of the Shadowy Folk, for whose +coming the white fires were kindled: a strain of song, full of sweet, +clear quavering, like the call of a bird, gushes from some girlish +mouth, and fifty soft voices join the chant:-- + + _Sorota soroimashita odorikoga sorota, + Soroikita, kita hare yukata._ + +"Uniform to view [as ears of young rice ripening in the field] all clad +alike in summer festal robes, the company of dancers have assembled." + +Again only the shrilling of the crickets, the _shu-shu_ of feet, the +gentle clapping; and the wavering hovering measure proceeds in silence, +with mesmeric lentor,--with a strange grace, which by its very naïveté, +seems as old as the encircling hills. + +Those who sleep the sleep of centuries out there, under the gray stones +where the white lanterns are, and their fathers, and the fathers of +their fathers' fathers, and the unknown generations behind them, buried +in cemeteries of which the place has been forgotten for a thousand +years, doubtless looked upon a scene like this. Nay! the dust stirred by +those young feet was human life, and so smiled and so sang under this +self-same moon, "with woven paces and with waving hands." + +Suddenly a deep male chant breaks the hush. Two giants have joined the +round, and now lead it, two superb young mountain peasants nearly nude, +towering head and shoulders above the whole of the assembly. Their +kimono are rolled about their waists like girdles, leaving their bronzed +limbs and torsos naked to the warm air; they wear nothing else save +their immense straw hats, and white tabi, donned expressly for the +festival. Never before among these people saw I such men, such thews; +but their smiling beardless faces are comely and kindly as those of +Japanese boys. They seem brothers, so like in frame, in movement, in the +timbre of their voices, as they intone the same song:-- + + _No demo yama demo ko wa umiokeyo, + Sen ryo kura yori ko ga takara._ + +"Whether brought forth upon the mountain or in the field, it matters +nothing: more than a treasure of one thousand ryo, a baby precious is." + +And Jizo, the lover of children's ghosts, smiles across the silence. + +Souls close to nature's Soul are these; artless and touching their +thought, like the worship of that Kishibojin to whom wives pray. And +after the silence, the sweet thin voices of the women answer:-- + + _Oomu otoko ni sowa sanu oya wa, + Oyade gozaranu ko no kataki._ + +"The parents who will not allow their girl to be united with her lover; +they are not the parents, but the enemies of their child." + +And song follows song; and the round ever becomes larger; and the hours +pass unfelt, unheard, while the moon wheels slowly down the blue steeps +of the night. + +A deep low boom rolls suddenly across the court, the rich tone of some +temple bell telling the twelfth hour. Instantly the witchcraft ends, +like the wonder of some dream broken by a sound; the chanting ceases; +the round dissolves in an outburst of happy laughter, and chatting, and +softly-voweled callings of flower-names which are names of girls, and +farewell cries of "Sayonara!" as dancers and spectators alike betake +themselves homeward, with a great _koro-koro_ of getas. + +And I, moving with the throng, in the bewildered manner of one suddenly +roused from sleep, know myself ungrateful. These silvery-laughing folk +who now toddle along beside me upon their noisy little clogs, stepping +very fast to get a peep at my foreign face, these but a moment ago were +visions of archaic grace, illusions of necromancy, delightful phantoms; +and I feel a vague resentment against them for thus materializing into +simple country-girls. + + +NOTES + +Lafcadio Hearn, the author of this selection, took a four days' journey +in a jinrikisha to the remote country district which he describes. He is +almost the only foreigner who has ever entered the village. + +=Bon-odori=:--The dance in honor of the dead. + +=Hiroshige=:--A Japanese landscape painter of an early date. + +=kuruma=:--A jinrikisha; a two-wheeled cart drawn by a man. + +=hibachi=:--(hi bä' chi) A brazier. + +=Bonku=:--The Festival of the Dead. + +=The memory of tropical dances=:--Lafcadio Hearn had previously spent +some years in the West Indies. + +=Akira=:--The name of the guide who has drawn the kuruma in which the +foreigner has come to the village. (See page 18 of _Glimpses of +Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=yukata=:--Pronounced _yu kä' ta._ + +=geta=:--Pronounced _g[=e][=e]' ta_, not _j[=e][=e]' ta;_ high noisy +wooden clogs. (See page 10 of _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=Buddhist=:--One who believes in the doctrines of Gautama Siddartha, a +religious teacher of the sixth century before Christ. + +=Buddha=:--A statue representing the Buddha Siddartha in a very calm +position, usually sitting cross-legged. + +=Bodhisattvas=:--Pronounced _b[=o] di säht' vas;_ gods who have almost +attained the perfection of Buddha (Gautama Siddartha). + +=Jizo=:--A Japanese God. See page 297. + +=Etruscan=:--Relating to Etruria, a division of ancient Italy. Etruscan +vases have graceful figures upon them. + +=soporous=:--Drowsy; sleep-producing. + +=crepuscular=:--Relating to twilight. + +=Kamiyo=:--The Age of the Gods in Japan. + +=hakaba=:--Cemetery. + +=lentor=:--Slowness. + +="with woven paces,"= etc. See Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_: "With +woven paces and with waving arms." + +=tabi=:--White stockings with a division for the great toe. + +=ryo=:--About fifty cents. + +=Kishibojin=:--Pronounced _ki shi b[=o]' jin._ (See page 96 of _Glimpses +of Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=Sayonara=:--Good-bye. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the selection through rather slowly. Do not be alarmed at the +Japanese names: they are usually pronounced as they are spelled. Perhaps +your teacher will be able to show you a Japanese print; at least you can +see on a Japanese fan quaint villages such as are here described. What +sort of face has the host? How does this Japanese inn differ from the +American hotel? Does there seem to be much furniture? If the Americans +had the same sense of beauty that the Japanese have, what changes would +be made in most houses? Why does the foreign influence make the Japanese +manufactures "uninteresting" and "detestable"? If you have been in a +shop where Japanese wares are sold, tell what seemed most striking about +the objects and their decoration. What is meant by "the landscape of a +tea-cup"? Why does the author say so much about the remoteness of the +village? See how the author uses picture-words and sound-words to make +his description vivid. Note his use of contrasts. Why does he preface +his account of the dance by the remark that it cannot be described in +words? Is this a good method? How does the author make you feel the +swing and rhythm of the dance? Do not try to pronounce the Japanese +verses: Notice that they are translated. Why are the Japanese lines put +in at all? Why does the author say that he is ungrateful at the last? +Try to tell in a few sentences what are the good qualities of this +selection. Make a little list of the devices that the author has used in +order to make his descriptions vivid and his narration lively. Can you +apply some of his methods to a short description of your own? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Flower Festival +A Pageant +The May Fête +Dancing out of Doors +A Lawn Social +The Old Settlers' Picnic +The Russian Dancers +A Moonlight Picnic +Children's Games in the Yard +Some Japanese People that I have Seen +Japanese Students in our Schools +Japanese Furniture +An Oriental Store in our Town +My Idea of Japan +Japanese Pictures +A Street Carnival +An Old-fashioned Square Dance +The Revival of Folk-Dancing +The Girls' Drill +A Walk in the Village at Night +Why We have Ugly Things in our Houses +Do we have too much Furniture in our Houses? +What we can Learn from the Japanese + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=An Evening Walk in the Village=:--Imagine yourself taking a walk +through the village at nightfall. Tell of the time of day, the season, +and the weather. Make your reader feel the approach of darkness, and the +heat, or the coolness, or the chill of the air. What signs do you see +about you, of the close of day? Can you make the reader feel the +contrast of the lights and the surrounding darkness? As you walk along, +what sounds do you hear? What activities are going on? Can you catch any +glimpses, through the windows, of the family life inside the houses? Do +you see people eating or drinking? Do you see any children? Are the +scenes about you quiet and restful, or are they confused and irritating? +Make use of any incidents that you can to complete your description of +the village as you see it in your walk. Perhaps you will wish to close +your theme with your entering a house, or your advance into the dark +open country beyond the village. + +=My Idea of Japan=:--Suppose that you were suddenly transported to a +small town in Japan: What would be your first impression? Tell what you +would expect to see. Speak of the houses, the gardens, and the temples. +Tell about the shops, and booths, and the wares that are for sale. +Describe the dress and appearance of the Japanese men; of the women; the +children. Speak of the coolies, or working-people; the foreigners. +Perhaps you can imagine yourself taking a ride in a _jinrikisha_. Tell +of the amusing or extraordinary things that you see, and make use of +incidents and conversation. Bring out the contrasts between Japan and +your own country. + +=A Dance or Drill=:--Think of some drill or dance or complicated game +that you have seen, which lends itself to the kind of description in the +selection. In your work, try to emphasize the contrast between the +background and the moving figures; the effects of light and darkness; +the sound of music and voices; the sway and rhythm of the action. +Re-read parts of _The Dance of the Bon-odori_, to see what devices the +author has used in order to bring out effects of sound and rhythm. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan Lafcadio Hearn +Out of the East " " +Kokoro " " +Kwaidan " " +A Japanese Miscellany " " +Two Years in the French West Indies " " +Japanese Life in Town and Country G.W. Knox +Our Neighbors the Japanese J.K. Goodrich +When I Was Young Yoshio Markino +Miss John Bull " " +When I Was a Boy in Japan Sakae Shioya +Japanese Girls and Women Alice M. Bacon +A Japanese Interior " " +Japonica Sir Edwin Arnold +Japan W.E. Griffis +Human Bullets Tadayoshy Sukurai +The Story of Japan R. Van Bergen +A Boy in Old Japan " " +Letters from Japan Mrs. Hugh Frazer +Unbeaten Tracks in Japan Isabella Bird (Bishop) +The Lady of the Decoration Frances Little +Little Sister Snow " " +Japan in Pictures Douglas Sladen +Old and New Japan (good illustrations in color) Clive Holland +Nogi Stanley Washburn +Japan, the Eastern Wonderland D.C. Angus +Peeps at Many Lands: Japan John Finnemore +Japan Described by Great Writers Esther Singleton +The Flower of Old Japan [verse] Alfred Noyes +Dancing and Dancers of To-day Caroline and Chas. H. +Coffin +The Healthful Art of Dancing L.H. Gulick +The Festival Book J.E.C. Lincoln +Folk Dances Caroline Crawford +Lafcadio Hearn Nina H. Kennard +Lafcadio Hearn (Portrait) Edward Thomas +The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Elizabeth Bisland +The Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn " " +Lafcadio Hearn in Japan Yone Noguchi +Lafcadio Hearn (Portraits) Current Literature 42:50 + + + + +LETTERS + + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + + PONKAPOG, MASS., Dec. 13, 1875. + +DEAR HOWELLS,--We had so charming a visit at your house that I +have about made up my mind to reside with you permanently. I am tired of +writing. I would like to settle down in just such a comfortable home as +yours, with a man who can work regularly four or five hours a day, +thereby relieving one of all painful apprehensions in respect to clothes +and pocket-money. I am easy to get along with. I have few unreasonable +wants and never complain when they are constantly supplied. I think I +could depend on you. + + Ever yours, + T.B.A. + +P.S.--I should want to bring my two mothers, my two boys (I seem to have +everything in twos), my wife, and her sister. + + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO E.S. MORSE + + + DEAR MR. MORSE: + +It was very pleasant to me to get a letter from you the other day. +Perhaps I should have found it pleasanter if I had been able to decipher +it. I don't think that I mastered anything beyond the date (which I +knew) and the signature (at which I guessed). + +There's a singular and perpetual charm in a letter of yours--it never +grows old; it never loses its novelty. One can say to one's self every +morning: "There's that letter of Morse's. I haven't read it yet. I think +I'll take another shy at it to-day, and maybe I shall be able in the +course of a few days to make out what he means by those _t_'s that look +like _w_'s, and those _i_'s that haven't any eyebrows." + +Other letters are read, and thrown away, and forgotten; but yours are +kept forever--unread. One of them will last a reasonable man a lifetime. + + Admiringly yours, + T.B. ALDRICH. + + + + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TO JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + + + THE QUADRANGLE CLUB, + CHICAGO, September 30, '99. + +Your generous praise makes me rather shamefaced: you ought to keep it +for something that counts. At least other people ought: you would find a +bright ringing word, and the proportion of things would be kept. As for +me, I am doing my best to keep the proportion of things, in the midst of +no-standards and a dreary dingy fog-expanse of darkened counsel. Bah! +here I am whining in my third sentence, and the purpose of this note was +not to whine, but to thank you for heart new-taken. I take the friendly +words (for I need them cruelly) and forget the inadequate occasion of +them. I am looking forward with almost feverish pleasure to the new +year, when I shall be among friendships which time and absence and +half-estrangements have only made to shine with a more inward light; and +when, so accompanied, I can make shift to think and live a little. Do +not wait till then to say Welcome. + + W.V.M. + + + + +BRET HARTE TO HIS WIFE + + + LAWRENCE, KANSAS, + October 24, 1873. + + MY DEAR ANNA,-- + +I left Topeka--which sounds like a name Franky might have +invented--early yesterday morning, but did not reach Atchison, only +sixty miles distant, until seven o'clock at night--an hour before the +lecture. The engine as usual had broken down, and left me at four +o'clock fifteen miles from Atchison, on the edge of a bleak prairie with +only one house in sight. But I got a saddle-horse--there was no vehicle +to be had--and strapping my lecture and blanket to my back I gave my +valise to a little yellow boy--who looked like a dirty terra-cotta +figure--with orders to follow me on another horse, and so tore off +towards Atchison. I got there in time; the boy reached there two hours +after. + +I make no comment; you can imagine the half-sick, utterly disgusted man +who glared at that audience over his desk that night.... And yet it was +a good audience, thoroughly refined and appreciative, and very glad to +see me. I was very anxious about this lecture, for it was a venture of +my own, and I had been told that Atchison was a rough place--energetic +but coarse. I think I wrote you from St. Louis that I had found there +were only three actual engagements in Kansas, and that my list which +gave Kansas City twice was a mistake. So I decided to take Atchison. I +made a hundred dollars by the lecture, and it is yours, for yourself, +Nan, to buy "Minxes" with, if you want, for it is over and above the +amount Eliza and I footed up on my lecture list. I shall send it to you +as soon as the bulk of the pressing claims are settled. + +Everything thus far has gone well; besides my lecture of to-night I have +one more to close Kansas, and then I go on to St. Joseph. I've been +greatly touched with the very honest and sincere liking which these +Western people seem to have for me. They seem to have read everything I +have written--and appear to appreciate the best. Think of a rough fellow +in a bearskin coat and blue shirt repeating to me _Concepcion de +Arguello_! Their strange good taste and refinement under that rough +exterior--even their tact--are wonderful to me. They are "Kentucks" and +"Dick Bullens" with twice the refinement and tenderness of their +California brethren.... + +I've seen but one [woman] that interested me--an old negro wench. She +was talking and laughing outside my door the other evening, but her +laugh was so sweet and unctuous and musical--so full of breadth and +goodness that I went outside and talked to her while she was scrubbing +the stones. She laughed as a canary bird sings--because she couldn't +help it. It did me a world of good, for it was before the lecture, at +twilight, when I am very blue and low-toned. She had been a slave. + +I expected to have heard from you here. I've nothing from you or Eliza +since last Friday, when I got yours of the 12th. I shall direct this to +Eliza's care, as I do not even know where you are. + + Your affectionate + FRANK. + + + + +LAFCADIO HEARN TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN + + + [KUMAMOTO, JAPAN] + January 17, 1893. + + DEAR CHAMBERLAIN,-- + +I'm writing just because I feel lonesome; isn't that selfish? However, +if I can amuse you at all, you will forgive me. You have been away a +whole year,--so perhaps you would like to hear some impressions of mine +during that time. Here goes. + +The illusions are forever over; but the memory of many pleasant things +remains. I know much more about the Japanese than I did a year ago; and +still I am far from understanding them well. Even my own little wife is +somewhat mysterious still to me, though always in a lovable way. Of +course a man and woman know each other's hearts; but outside of personal +knowledge, there are race tendencies difficult to understand. Let me +tell one. In Oki we fell in love with a little Samurai boy, who was +having a hard time of it, and we took him with us. He is now like an +adopted son,--goes to school and all that. Well, I wished at first to +pet him a little, but I found that was not in accordance with custom, +and that even the boy did not understand it. At home, I therefore +scarcely spoke to him at all; he remained under the control of the women +of the house. They treated him kindly,--though I thought coldly. The +relationship I could not quite understand. He was never praised and +rarely scolded. A perfect code of etiquette was established between him +and all the other persons in the house, according to degree and rank. He +seemed extremely cold-mannered, and perhaps not even grateful, that was, +so far as I could see. Nothing seemed to move his young +placidity,--whether happy or unhappy his mien was exactly that of a +stone Jizo. One day he let fall a little cup and broke it. According to +custom, no one noticed the mistake, for fear of giving him pain. +Suddenly I saw tears streaming down his face. The muscles of the face +remained quite smilingly placid as usual, but even the will could not +control tears. They came freely. Then everybody laughed, and said kind +things to him, till he began to laugh too. Yet that delicate +sensitiveness no one like me could have guessed the existence of. + +But what followed surprised me more. As I said, he had been (in my idea) +distantly treated. One day he did not return from school for three hours +after the usual time. Then to my great surprise, the women began to +cry,--to cry passionately. I had never been able to imagine alarm for +the boy could have affected them so. And the servants ran over town in +real, not pretended, anxiety to find him. He had been taken to a +teacher's house for something relating to school matters. As soon as his +voice was heard at the door, everything was quiet, cold, and amiably +polite again. And I marvelled exceedingly. + +Sensitiveness exists in the Japanese to an extent never supposed by the +foreigners who treat them harshly at the open ports.... The Japanese +master is never brutal or cruel. How Japanese can serve a certain class +of foreigners at all, I can't understand.... + +This Orient knows not our deeper pains, nor can it even rise to our +larger joys; but it has its pains. Its life is not so sunny as might be +fancied from its happy aspect. Under the smile of its toiling millions +there is suffering bravely hidden and unselfishly borne; and a lower +intellectual range is counterbalanced by a childish sensitiveness to +make the suffering balance evenly in the eternal order of things. + +Therefore I love the people very much, more and more, the more I know +them.... + +And with this, I say good-night. + + Ever most truly, + LAFCADIO HEARN. + + + + +CHARLES ELIOT NORTON TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + + SHADY HILL, 2 May, 1902. + +"The Kentons" have been a great comfort to me. I have been in my +chamber, with a slight attack of illness, for two or three weeks, and I +received them one morning. I could not have had kinder or more +entertaining visitors, and I was sorry when, after two or three days, I +had to say Good-bye to them. They are very "natural" people, "just +Western." I am grateful to you for making me acquainted with them. + +"Just Western" is the acme of praise. I think I once told you what +pleasure it gave me as a compliment. Several years ago at the end of one +of our Christmas Eve receptions, a young fellow from the West, taking my +hand and bidding me Good-night, said with great cordiality, "Mr. Norton, +I've had a delightful time; it's been _just Western_"! + +"The Kentons" is really, my dear Howells, an admirable study of life, +and as it was read to me my chief pleasure in listening was in your +sympathetic, creative imagination, your insight, your humour, and all +your other gifts, which make your stories, I believe, the most faithful +representations of actual life that were ever written. Other stories +seem unreal after them, and so when we had finished "The Kentons," +nothing would do for entertainment but another of your books: so now we +are almost at the end of "Silas Lapham," which I find as good as I found +it fifteen or sixteen years ago. As Gray's idea of pleasure was to lie +on a sofa and have an endless succession of stories by Crébillon,--mine +is to have no end of Howells!... + + +NOTES + +Letter from William Vaughn Moody:-- + +=darkened counsel=:--See Job, 38:2. Moody seems to be referring here to +the uncertainty of his plans for the future. + + +Letter from Bret Harte:-- + +=Franky=:--Francis King Harte, Bret Harte's second son, who was eight +years old at this time. + +=Concepcion de Arguello=:--One of Bret Harte's longer poems. + +=Kentuck=:--A rough but kindly character in Harte's _The Luck of Roaring +Camp_. + +=Dick Bullen=:--The chief character in _How Santa Claus Came to +Simpson's Bar_. + +=Frank=:--Bret Harte's name was Francis Brett Hart(e), and his family +usually called him Frank. + + +Letter from Lafcadio Hearn:·-- + +=Chamberlain=:--Professor Chamberlain had lived for some years in Japan, +when Hearn, in 1890, wrote to him, asking assistance in securing a +position as teacher in the Japanese Government Schools. The friendship +between the two men continued until Hearn's death. + +=Samurai=:--Pronounced _sä' m[)oo] r[=i]_; a member of the lesser +nobility of Japan. + +=Jizo=:--A Japanese god, said to be the playmate of the ghosts of +children. Stone images of Jizo are common in Japan. (See page 19 of _The +Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn_.) + + +EXERCISES IN LETTER WRITING + +You are planning a camping trip with several of your friends; write to a +friend who lives in another town, asking him or her to join the camping +party. + +Write to a friend asking him, or her, to come to your house for dinner +and to go with you afterward to see the moving pictures. + +Write a letter to accompany a borrowed book, which you are returning. +Speak of the contents of the book, and the parts that you have +particularly enjoyed. Express your thanks for the use of the volume. + +Write a letter to an intimate friend, telling of the occurrences of the +last week. Do not hesitate to recount trifling events; but make your +letter as varied and lively and interesting as possible. + +Write to a friend about the new house or apartment that your family has +lately moved into. + +Write to a friend or a relative who is visiting in a large city, asking +him or her to purchase some especial article that you cannot get in your +home town. Explain exactly what you want and tell how much you are +willing to pay. Speak of enclosing the money, and do not fail to express +the gratitude that you will feel if your friend will make the purchase +for you. + +You have been invited to spend the week-end in a town not far from your +home. Write explaining why you cannot accept the invitation. Make your +letter personal and pleasant. + +Write to some member of your family explaining how you have altered your +room to make it more to your taste than it has been. If you have not +really changed the room, imagine that you have done so, and that it is +now exactly as you want it to be. + +You have heard of a family that is in great need. Write to one of your +friends, telling the circumstances and asking her to help you in +providing food and clothing for the children in the family. + +You have just heard some startling news about an old friend whom you +have not seen for some time. Write to another friend who you know will +be interested, and relate the news that you have heard. + +Write to one of your teachers explaining why you are late in handing in +a piece of work. + +Your uncle has made you a present of a sum of money. Thank him for the +money and tell him what you think you will do with it. + +A schoolmate is kept at home by illness. Write, offering your sympathy +and services, and telling the school news. + +You have had an argument with a friend on a subject of interest to you +both. Since seeing this friend, you have run across an article in a +magazine, which supports your view of the question. Write to your friend +and tell him about the substance of the article. + +Your mother has hurt her hand and cannot write; she has asked you to +write to a friend of hers about some business connected with the Woman's +Club. + +You have arrived at home after a week's visit with a friend. Write your +friend's mother, expressing the pleasure that the visit has given you. +Speak particularly of the incidents of the visit, and show a lively +appreciation of the kindness of your friends. + +A friend whom you have invited to visit you has written saying that she +(or he) is unable to accept your invitation. Write expressing your +regret. You might speak of the plans you had made in anticipation of the +visit; you might also make a more or less definite suggestion regarding +a later date for the arrival of your friend. + +You are trying to secure a position. Write to some one for whom you have +worked, or some one who knows you well, asking for a recommendation that +you can use in applying for a position. + +Write to your brother (or some other near relative), telling about a +trip that you have recently taken. + +Write to one of your friends who is away at school, telling of the +athletic situation in the high school you are attending. Assume that +your friend is acquainted with many of the students in the high school. + +You are sending some kodak films to be developed by a professional +photographer. Explain to him what you are sending and what you want +done. Speak of the price that he asks for his work, and the money that +you are enclosing. + +Write a letter applying for a position. If possible, tell how you have +heard of the vacancy. State your qualifications, especially the +education and training that you have had; if you have had any +experience, tell definitely what it has been. Mention the +recommendations that you are enclosing, or give references to several +persons who will write concerning your character and ability. Do not +urge your qualifications, or make any promises, but tell about yourself +as simply and impersonally as possible. Close your letter without any +elaborate expressions of "hoping" or "trusting" or "thanking." "Very +truly yours," or "Very respectfully yours," will be sufficient. + +You have secured the position for which you applied. Write expressing +your pleasure in obtaining the situation. Ask for information as to the +date on which you are to begin work. + +Write to a friend or a relative, telling about your new position: how +you secured it; what your work will be; what you hope will come of it. + +Write a brief respectful letter asking for money that is owed you. + +Write to a friend considerably older than yourself, asking for advice as +to the appropriate college or training school for you to enter when you +have finished the high school course. + + +BOOKS FOR READING AND STUDY + +Letters and Letter-writing Charity Dye +Success in Letter-writing Sherwin Cody +How to do Business by Letter " " +Charm and Courtesy in Letter-writing Frances B. Callaway +Studies for Letters " " " +The Gentlest Art E.V. Lucas +The Second Post " " " +The Friendly Craft F.D. Hanscom +Life and Letters of Miss Alcott E.D. Cheney (Ed.) +Vailima Letters R.L. Stevenson +Letters of William Vaughn Moody Daniel Mason (Ed.) +Letters from Colonial Children Eva March Tappan +Woman as Letter-writers A.M. Ingpen. +The Etiquette of Correspondence Helen E. Gavit + + +EXERCISES IN DRAMATIC COMPOSITION + +I. Write a conversation suggested by one of the following situations. +Wherever it seems desirable to do so, give, in parentheses, directions +for the action, and indicate the gestures and the facial expressions of +the speakers. + + 1. Tom has had trouble at school; he is questioned at home + about the matter. + + 2. Two girls discuss a party that has taken place the night + before. + + 3. A child and his mother are talking about Christmas. + + 4. Clayton Wells is running for the presidency of the Senior + class in the high school; he talks with some of his + schoolmates, and is talked about. + + 5. There has been a fire at the factory; some of the men talk + about its origin. + + 6. A girl borrows her sister's pearl pin and loses it. + + 7. Unexpected guests have arrived; while they are removing + their wraps in the hall, a conversation takes place in the + kitchen. + + 8. Anna wishes to go on a boating expedition, but her father + and mother object. + + 9. The crops in a certain district have failed; two young + farmers talk over the situation. + + 10. Two girls are getting dinner; their mother is away, and + they are obliged to plan and do everything themselves. + + 11. A boy has won a prize, and two or three other boys are + talking with him. + + 12. The prize-winning student has gone, and the other boys are + talking about him. + + 13. The furnace fire has gone out; various members of the + family express their annoyance, and the person who is to blame + defends himself. + + 14. Grandfather has lost his spectacles. + + 15. Laura has seen a beautiful hat in a shop window, and talks + with her mother about it. + + 16. Two men talk of the coming election of city officers. + + 17. A boy has been removed from the football team on account of + his low standings; members of the team discuss the situation. + + 18. Sylvia asks her younger brother to go on an errand for her; + he does not wish to go; the conversation becomes spirited. + + 19. Grandmother entertains another old lady at afternoon tea. + + 20. A working man is accused of stealing a dollar bill from the + cook in the house where he is temporarily employed. + + 21. Mary Sturgis talks with her mother about going away to + college. + + 22. A young man talks with his sister about woman's suffrage; + they become somewhat excited. + + 23. A middle-aged couple talk about adopting a child. + + 24. There is a strike at the mills; some of the employees + discuss it; the employers discuss it among themselves. + + 25. An aunt in the city has written asking Louise to visit her; + Louise talks with several members of her family about going. + + 26. Two boys talk about the ways in which they earn money, and + what they do with it. + + 27. Albert Gleason has had a run-away; his neighbors talk about + it. + + 28. Two brothers quarrel over a horse. + + 29. Ruth's new dress does not satisfy her. + + 30. The storekeeper discusses neighborhood news with some of + his customers. + + 31. Will has had a present of a five-dollar gold-piece; his + sisters tell him what he ought to do with it; his ideas on the + subject are not the same as theirs. + + 32. An old house, in which a well-to-do family have lived for + many years, is to be torn down; a group of neighbors talk about + the house and the family. + + 33. A young man talks with a business man about a position. + + 34. Harold buys a canoe; he converses with the boy who sells it + to him, and also with some of the members of his own family. + + 35. Two old men talk about the pranks they played when they + were boys. + + 36. Several young men talk about a recent baseball game. + + 37. Several young men talk about a coming League game. + + 38. Breakfast is late. + + 39. A mysterious stranger has appeared in the village; a group + of people talk about him. + + 40. Herbert Elliott takes out his father's automobile without + permission, and damages it seriously; he tries to explain. + + 41. Jerome Connor has just "made" the high school football + team. + + 42. Two boys plan a camping trip. + + 43. Several boys are camping, and one of the number does not + seem willing to do his share of the work. + + 44. Several young people consider what they are going to do + when they have finished school. + + 45. Two women talk about the spring fashions. + + +II. Choose some familiar fairy-tale or well known children's story, and +put it into the form of a little play for children. Find a story that is +rather short, and that has a good deal of dialogue in it. In writing the +play, try to make the conversation simple and lively. + + +III. In a story book for children, find a short story and put it into +dialogue form. It will be wise to select a story that already contains a +large proportion of conversation. + + +IV. From a magazine or a book of short stories (not for children), +select a very brief piece of narration, and put it into dramatic form. +After you have finished, write out directions for the setting of the +stage, if you have not already done so, and give your idea of what the +costuming ought to be. + + + + +MODERN BOOKS FOR HOME READING + +Not included in the lists of Collateral Readings + + +BOOKS OF FICTION + +Two Gentlemen of Kentucky James Lane Allen +Standish of Standish Jane G. Austin +D'ri and I Irving Bacheller +Eben Holden " " +The Halfback R.H. Barbour +For King or Country James Barnes +A Loyal Traitor " " +A Bow of Orange Ribbon Amelia E. Barr +Jan Vedder's Wife " " " +Remember the Alamo " " " +The Little Minister J.M. Barrie +The Little White Bird " " " +Sentimental Tommy " " " +Wee MacGregor J.J. Bell. +Looking Backward Edward Bellamy +Master Skylark John Bennett +A Princess of Thule William Black +Lorne Doone R.D. Blackmore +Mary Cary K.L. Bosher +Miss Gibbie Gault " " " +Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë +Villette " " +Meadow Grass Alice Brown +Tiverton Tales " " +The Story of a Ploughboy James Bryce +My Robin F.H. Burnett +The Secret Garden " " " +T. Tembarom " " " +The Jackknife Man Ellis Parker Butler +The Begum's Daughter E.L. Bynner +Bonaventure G.W. Cable +Dr. Sevier " " " +The Golden Rule Dollivers Margaret Cameron +The Lady of Fort St. John Mary Hartwell Catherwood +Lazarre " " " +Old Kaskaskia " " " +The Romance of Dollard " " " +The Story of Tonty " " " +The White Islander " " " +Richard Carvel Winston Churchill +A Connecticut Yankee in King + Arthur's Court Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) +Pudd'nhead Wilson " " " +The Prince and the Pauper " " " +Tom Sawyer " " " +John Halifax, Gentleman D.M. Craik (Miss Mulock) +The Red Badge of Courage Stephen Crane +Whilomville Stories " " +A Roman Singer F.M. Crawford +Saracinesca " " " +Zoroaster " " " +The Lilac Sunbonnet S.R. Crockett +The Stickit Minister " " " +Smith College Stories J.D. Daskam [Bacon] +Gallegher R.H. Davis +The Princess Aline " " " +Soldiers of Fortune " " " +Old Chester Tales Margaret Deland +The Story of a Child " " +Hugh Gwyeth B.M. Dix +Soldier Rigdale " " " +Rebecca Mary Annie Hamilton Donnell +The Very Small Person " " " +The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes A. Conan Doyle +Micah Clarke " " " +The Refugees " " " +Uncle Bernac " " " +The Black Tulip Alexander Dumas +The Three Musketeers " " +Doctor Luke of the Labrador Norman Duncan +The Story of Sonny Sahib Sara J. Duncan +The Hoosier Schoolboy Edward Eggleston +The Hoosier Schoolmaster " " +The Honorable Peter Stirling P.L. Ford +Janice Meredith " " +In the Valley Harold Frederic +A New England Nun M.E. Wilkins Freeman +The Portion of Labor " " " +Six Trees " " " +Friendship Village Zona Gale +Boy Life on the Prairie Hamlin Garland +Prairie Folks " " +Toby: The Story of a Dog Elizabeth Goldsmith +College Girls Abby Carter Goodloe +Glengarry School Days Charles W. Gordon (Ralph Connor) +The Man from Glengarry " " " +The Prospector " " " +The Sky Pilot " " " +The Man Without a Country E.E. Hale +Nights with Uncle Remus J.C. Harris +The Log of a Sea Angler C.F. Holder +Phroso Anthony Hope [Hawkins] +The Prisoner of Zenda " " " +Rupert of Hentzau " " " +One Summer B.W. Howard +The Flight of Pony Baker W.D. Howells +Tom Brown at Oxford Thomas Hughes +Tom Brown's School Days " " +The Lady of the Barge W.W. Jacobs +Odd Craft " " +Ramona H.H. Jackson +Little Citizens Myra Kelly +Wards of Liberty " " +Horseshoe Robinson J.P. Kennedy +The Brushwood Boy Rudyard Kipling +Captains Courageous " " +The Jungle Book " " +Kim " " +Puck of Pook's Hill " " +Tales of the Fish Patrol Jack London +The Slowcoach E.V. Lucas +Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush Ian Maclaren (John Watson) +A Doctor of the Old School " " " " +Peg o' my Heart J.H. Manners +Emmy Lou G.M. Martin +Tilly: A Mennonite Maid H.R. Martin +Jim Davis John Masefield +Four Feathers A.E.W. Mason +The Adventures of François S.W. Mitchell +Hugh Wynne " " +Anne of Avonlea L.M. Montgomery +Anne of Green Gables " " +The Chronicles of Avonlea " " +Down the Ravine Mary N. Murfree + (Charles Egbert Craddock) +In the Tennessee Mountains Mary N. Murfree +The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain " " " +The Prophet of the Great Smoky + Mountains " " " +The House of a Thousand Candles Meredith Nicholson +Mother Kathleen Norris +Peanut A.B. Paine +Judgments of the Sea Ralph D. Paine +The Man with the Iron Hand John C. Parish +Pierre and his People Gilbert Parker +Seats of the Mighty " " +When Valmond Came to Pontiac " " +A Madonna of the Tubs E.S. Phelps [Ward] +A Singular Life E.S. Phelps [Ward] +Freckles G.S. Porter +Ezekiel Lucy Pratt +Ezekiel Expands " " +November Joe Hesketh Prichard +Men of Iron Howard Pyle +The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood " " +The Splendid Spur A.T. Quiller-Couch +Lovey Mary Alice Hegan Rice +Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch " " " +Sandy " " " +The Feet of the Furtive C.G.D. Roberts +The Heart of an Ancient Wood C.G.D. Roberts +The Wreck of the Grosvenor W.C. Russell +Two Girls of Old New Jersey Agnes C. Sage +Little Jarvis Molly Elliot Seawell +A Virginia Cavalier " " " +The Quest of the Fish-Dog Skin J.W. Schultz +The Black Arrow Robert Louis Stevenson +David Balfour " " " +The Master of Ballantrae " " " +St. Ives " " " +The Fugitive Blacksmith C.D. Stewart +The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks + and Mrs. Aleshine Frank R. Stockton +The Dusantes " " " +The Lady or the Tiger " " " +The Merry Chanter " " " +Rudder Grange " " " +Napoleon Jackson Ruth McE. Stuart +Sonny " " " +Monsieur Beaucaire Booth Tarkington +Expiation Octave Thanet (Alice French) +Stories of a Western Town " " " " +The Golden Book of Venice F.L. Turnbull +W.A.G.'s Tale Margaret Turnbull +Ben Hur Lew Wallace +A Fair God " " +My Rag Picker Mary E. Waller +The Wood Carver of 'Lympus " " " +The Story of Ab Stanley Waterloo +Daddy Long-Legs Jean Webster +A Gentleman of France Stanley J. Weyman +Under the Red Robe " " " +The Blazed Trail Stewart Edward White +The Conjuror's House " " " +The Silent Places " " " +The Westerners " " " +A Certain Rich Man William Allen White +The Court of Boyville " " " +Stratagems and Spoils " " " +The Gayworthys A.D.T. Whitney +Mother Carey's Chickens K.D. Wiggin [Riggs] +Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm " " +The Chronicles of Rebecca " " +The Story of Waitstill Baxter " " +Princeton Stories J.L. Williams +Philosophy Four Owen Wister +The Virginian " " +Bootles' Baby John Strange Winter (H.E. Stannard) +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys Gulielma Zollinger (W.Z. Gladwin) + + +NON-FICTION BOOKS + +The Klondike Stampede E.T. Adney +The Land of Little Rain Mary Austin +Camps in the Rockies W.A. Baillie-Grohman +The Boys' Book of Inventions R.S. Baker +A Second Book of Inventions " " +My Book of Little Dogs F.T. Barton +The Lighter Side of Irish Life G.A. Birmingham (J.O. Hannay) +Wonderful Escapes by Americans W.S. Booth +The Training of Wild Animals Frank Bostock +Confederate Portraits Gamaliel Bradford +American Fights and Fighters Cyrus T. Brady +Commodore Paul Jones " " +The Conquest of the Southwest " " +The Every-Day Life of Abraham Lincoln F.F. Browne +The Boyhood and Youth of Napoleon Oscar Browning +The New North Agnes Cameron +The Boys' Book of Modern Marvels C.L.J. Clarke +The Boys' Book of Airships " " +Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc Samuel L. Clemens +The Wireless Man F.A. Collins +Old Boston Days and Ways M.C. Crawford +Romantic Days in Old Boston " " +Harriet Beecher Stowe M.F. Crowe +Wild Animals and the Camera W.P. Dando +Football P.H. Davis +Stories of Inventors Russell Doubleday +Navigating the Air Doubleday Page and Co. +Mr. Dooley's Opinions F.P. Dunne +Mr. Dooley's Philosophy " " +Edison: His Life and Inventions Dyer and Martin +Child Life in Colonial Days Alice Morse Earle +Colonial Days in Old New York " " " +Stage Coach and Tavern Days " " " +Two Centuries of Costume in America " " " +Old Indian Days Charles Eastman +The Life of the Fly J.H. Fabre +The Life of the Spider " " +The Wonders of the Heavens Camille Flammarion +Boys and Girls: A Book of Verse J.W. Foley +Following the Sun Flag John Fox, Jr. +Four Months Afoot in Spain Harry A. Franck +A Vagabond Journey around the World " " " +Zone Policeman 88 " " " +The Trail of the Gold Seeker Hamlin Garland +In Eastern Wonder Lands C.E. Gibson +The Hearth of Youth: Poems for Young People Jeannette Gilder (Ed.) +Heroes of the Elizabethan Ago Edward Gilliat +Camping on Western Trails E.R. Gregor +Camping in the Winter Woods " " +American Big Game G.B. Grinnell (Ed.) +Trail and Camp Fire Grinnell and Roosevelt (Ed.) +Life at West Point H.I. Hancock +Camp Kits and Camp Life C.S. Hanks +The Boys' Parkman L.S. Hasbrouck (Ed.) +Historic Adventures R.S. Holland +Camp Fires in the Canadian Rockies W.T. Hornaday +Our Vanishing Wild Life " " +Taxidermy and Zoölogical Collecting " " +Two Years in the Jungle " " +My Mark Twain W.D. Howells +A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador Mrs. Leonidas Hubbard +Animal Competitors Ernest Ingersoll +My Lady of the Chimney Corner Alexander Irvine +The Indians of the Painted Desert Region G.W. James +The Boys' Book of Explorations Tudor Jenks +Through the South Sea with Jack London Martin Johnson +A Wayfarer in China Elizabeth Kendall +The Tragedy of Pelee George Kennan +Recollections of a Drummer Boy H.M. Kieffer +The Story of the Trapper A.C. Laut +Animals of the Past F.A. Lucas +Marjorie Fleming L. Macbean (Ed.) +From Sail to Steam A.T. Mahan +Æegean Days and Other Sojourns J. Irving Manatt +The Story of a Piece of Coal E.A. Martin +The Friendly Stars Martha E. Martin +The Boys' Life of Edison W.H. Meadowcroft +Serving the Republic Nelson A. Miles +In Beaver World Enos A. Mills +Mosquito Life E.G. Mitchell +The Childhood of Animals P.C. Mitchell +The Youth of Washington S.W. Mitchell +Lewis Carroll Belle Moses +Charles Dickens " " +Louisa M. Alcott " " +The Country of Sir Walter Scott C.S. Olcott +Storytelling Poems F.J. Olcott (Ed.) +Mark Twain: A Biography A.B. Paine +The Man with the Iron Hand John C. Parish +Nearest the Pole Robert E. Peary +A Book of Famous Verse Agnes Repplier (Ed.) +Florence Nightingale Laura E. Richards +Children of the Tenements Jacob A. Riis +The Wilderness Hunter Theodore Roosevelt +American Big Game Hunting Roosevelt and Grinnell (Ed.) +Hunting in Many Lands " " " " +My Air Ships Alberto Santos-Dumont +Paul Jones Molly Elliott Seawell +With the Indians in the Rockies J.W. Schultz +Curiosities of the Sky Garrett P. Serviss +Where Rolls the Oregon Dallas Lore Sharp +Nature in a City Yard C.M. Skinner +The Wild White Woods Russell D. Smith +The Story of the New England Whalers J.R. Spears +Camping on the Great Lakes R.S. Spears +My Life with the Eskimos Vilhjalmar Stefansson +With Kitchener to Khartum G.W. Stevens +Across the Plains R.L. Stevenson +Letters of a Woman Homesteader Elinore P. Stewart +Hunting the Elephant in Africa C.H. Stigand +The Black Bear W.H. Wright +The Grizzly Bear " " +George Washington Woodrow Wilson +The Workers: The East W.A. Wyckoff +The Workers: The West " " + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] See Bleyer, W.G.: Introduction to _Prose Literature for Secondary +Schools._ + +[2] See also _American Magazine_, 63:339. + +[3] See _Scribner's Magazine_, 40:17. + +[4] See _Harper's Monthly Magazine_, 116:3. + +[5] In: _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, edited by J.B. Rittenhouse. + +[6] See page 41 for magazine reference. + +[7] See _Collier's Magazine_, 42:11. + +[8] Additional suggestions for dramatic work are given on page 316. + +[9] If a copy of _The Promised Land_ is available, some of the students +might look up material on this subject. + +[10] See references for _Moly_, on p. 84. + +[11] In Alden's _English Verse_. + +[12] In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, edited by J.B. Rittenhouse. + +[13] If this is thought too difficult, some of the exercises on pages +316-318 may be used. + +[14] Note: The teacher might read aloud a part of the _Ode in Time of +Hesitation_, by Moody. In its entirety it is almost too difficult for +the pupils to get much out of; but it has some vigorous things to say +about the war in the Philippines. + +[15] TO THE TEACHER: It will probably be better for the pupils to study +this poem in class than to begin it by themselves. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary +Schools, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PROSE AND POETRY *** + +***** This file should be named 17160-0.txt or 17160-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/6/17160/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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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: Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary Schools + Edited With Notes, Study Helps, And Reading Lists + +Author: Various + +Editor: Margaret Ashmun + +Release Date: November 26, 2005 [EBook #17160] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PROSE AND POETRY *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +MODERN PROSE AND POETRY FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS + +EDITED + +WITH NOTES, STUDY HELPS, AND READING LISTS + +BY + +MARGARET ASHMUN, M.A. + +_Formerly Instructor in English in the University of Wisconsin_ +_Editor of Prose Literature for Secondary Schools_ + + +BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +The Riverside Press Cambridge + + +COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + +_All selections in this book are used by special permission of, and +arrangement with, the owners of the copyrights._ + +The Riverside Press +CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS +U.S.A + + * * * * * + +Transcribers Note: There are several areas where a pronunciation guide +is given with diacritical marks that cannot be reproduced in a text +file. The following symbols are used: + +Symbols for Diacritical Marks: + +DIACRITICAL MARK SAMPLE ABOVE BELOW +macron (straight line) ¯ [=x] [x=] +2 dots (diaresis, umlaut) ¨ [:x] [x:] +1 dot {~BULLET~} [.x] [x.] +grave accent ` [`x] or [\x] [x`] or [x\] +acute accent (aigu) ´ ['x] or [/x] [x'] or [x/] +circumflex ^ [^x] [x^] +caron (v-shaped symbol) [vx] [xv] +breve (u-shaped symbol) [)x] [x)] +tilde ~ [~x] [x~] +cedilla ¸ [,x] [x,] + +Also words italicized will have undescores _ before and after them and +bold words will have = before and after them. + +Footnotes have been moved to the end of the text. Minor typos have +been corrected. + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +It is pleasant to note, among teachers of literature in the high school, +a growing (or perhaps one should say an established) conviction that the +pupil's enjoyment of what he reads ought to be the chief consideration +in the work. From such enjoyment, it is conceded, come the knowledge and +the power that are the end of study. All profitable literature work in +the secondary grades must be based upon the unforced attention and +activity of the student. + +An inevitable phase of this liberal attitude is a readiness to promote +the study of modern authors. It is now the generally accepted view that +many pieces of recent literature are more suitable for young people's +reading than the old and conventionally approved classics. This is not +to say that the really readable classics should be discarded, since they +have their own place and their own value. Yet it is everywhere admitted +that modern literature should be given its opportunity to appeal to high +school students, and that at some stage in their course it should +receive its due share of recognition. The mere fact that modern writers +are, in point of material and style, less remote than the classic +authors from the immediate interests of the students is sufficient to +recommend them. Then, too, since young people are, in the nature of +things, constantly brought into contact with some form of modern +literature, they need to be provided with a standard of criticism and +choice. + +The present volume is an attempt to assemble, in a convenient manner, a +number of selections from recent literature, such as high school +students of average taste and ability may understand and enjoy. These +selections are not all equally difficult. Some need to be read rapidly +for their intrinsic interest; others deserve more analysis of form and +content; still others demand careful intensive study. This diversity of +method is almost a necessity in a full year's course in reading, in +which rigidity and monotony ought above all things to be avoided. + +Although convinced that the larger part of the reading work in the high +school years should be devoted to the study of prose, the editor has +here included what she believes to be a just proportion of poetry. The +poems have been chosen with a view to the fact that they are varied in +form and sentiment; and that they exhibit in no small degree the +tendencies of modern poetic thought, with its love of nature and its +humanitarian impulses. + +An attempt has been made to present examples of the most usual and +readable forms of prose composition--narration, the account of travel, +the personal essay, and serious exposition. The authors of these +selections possess without exception that distinction of style which +entitles them to a high rank in literature and makes them inspiring +models for the unskilled writer. + +A word may be said as to the intention of the study helps and lists of +readings. The object of this equipment is to conserve the energies of +the teacher and direct the activities of the student. It is by no means +expected that any one class will be able to make use of all the material +provided; yet it is hoped that a considerable amount may prove +available to every group that has access to the text. + +The study questions serve to concentrate the reading of the students, in +order to prevent that aimless wandering of eye and mind, which with many +pupils passes for study. Doubtless something would in most instances be +gained if these questions were supplemented by specific directions from +the teacher. + +Lists of theme subjects accompany the selections, so that the work in +composition may be to a large extent correlated with that in +literature.[1] The plan of utilizing the newly stimulated interests of +the pupils for training in composition is not a new one; its value has +been proved. _Modern Prose and Poetry_ aims to make the most of such +correlation, at the same time drawing upon the personal experience of +the students, to the elimination of all that is perfunctory and formal. +Typical outlines (suggestions for theme writing) are provided; these, +however, cannot serve in all cases, and the teacher must help the pupils +in planning their themes, or give them such training as will enable them +to make outlines for themselves. + +It will be noted that some suggestions are presented for the +dramatization of simple passages of narration, and for original +composition of dramatic fragments. In an age when the trend of popular +interest is unquestionably toward the drama, such suggestions need no +defense. The study of dramatic composition may be granted as much or as +little attention as the teacher thinks wise. In any event, it will +afford an opportunity for a discussion of the drama and will serve, in +an elementary way, to train the pupil's judgment as to the difference +between good and bad plays. Especially can this end be accomplished if +some of the plays mentioned in the lists be read by the class or by +individual students. + +A few simple exercises in the writing of poetry have been inserted, in +order to give the pupils encouragement and assistance in trying their +skill in verse. It is not intended that this work shall be done for the +excellence of its results, but rather for the development of the pupil's +ingenuity and the increasing of his respect for the poet and the poetic +art. + +The collateral readings are appended for the use of those teachers who +wish to carry on a course of outside reading in connection with the +regular work of the class. These lists have been made somewhat extensive +and varied, in order that they may fit the tastes and opportunities of +many teachers and pupils. In some cases, the collateral work may be +presented by the teacher, to elaborate a subject in which the class has +become interested; or individual pupils may prepare themselves and speak +to the class about what they have read; or all the pupils may read for +pleasure alone, merely reporting the extent of their reading, for the +teacher's approval. The outside reading should, it is needless to say, +be treated as a privilege and not as a mechanical task. The +possibilities of this work will be increased if the teacher familiarizes +herself with the material in the collateral lists, so that she can adapt +the home readings to the tastes of the class and of specific pupils. The +miscellaneous lists given at the close of the book are intended to +supplement the lists accompanying the selections, and to offer some +assistance in the choice of books for a high school library. + +M.A. + +NEW YORK, February, 1914. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +A DAY AT LAGUERRE'S _F. Hopkinson Smith_ + +QUITE SO _Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ + (In _Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories_) + +PAN IN WALL STREET _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ + +THE HAND OF LINCOLN _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ + +JEAN VALJEAN _Augusta Stevenson_ + (In _A Dramatic Reader_, Book Five) + +A COMBAT ON THE SANDS _Mary Johnston_ + (From _To Have and to Hold_, Chapters XXI and XXII) + +THE GRASSHOPPER _Edith M. Thomas_ + +MOLY _Edith M. Thomas_ + +THE PROMISED LAND _Mary Antin_ + (From Chapter IX of _The Promised Land_) + +WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME _Walt Whitman_ + +WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER _Walt Whitman_ + +VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT _Walt Whitman_ + +ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA _Translated by George Herbert Palmer_ + +ODYSSEUS _George Cabot Lodge_ + +A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE _William Dean Howells_ + (In _Suburban Sketches_) + +THE WILD RIDE _Louise Imogen Guiney_ + +CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS _Dallas Lore Sharp_ + (In _The Lay of the Land_) + +GLOUCESTER MOORS _William Vaughn Moody_ + +ROAD-HYMN FOR THE START _William Vaughn Moody_ + +ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILLIPINES _William Vaughn Moody_ + +THE COON DOG _Sarah Orne Jewett_ + (In _The Queen's Twin, and Other Stories_) + +ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN _Richard Watson Gilder_ + +A FIRE AMONG THE GIANTS _John Muir_ + (From _Our National Parks_) + +WAITING _John Burroughs_ + +THE PONT DU GARD _Henry James_ + (Chapter XXVI of _A Little Tour in France_) + +THE YOUNGEST SON OF HIS FATHER'S HOUSE _Anna Hempstead Branch_ + +TENNESSEE'S PARTNER _Bret Harte_ + +THE COURSE OF AMERICAN HISTORY _Woodrow Wilson_ + (In _Mere Literature_) + +WHAT I KNOW ABOUT GARDENING _Charles Dudley Warner_ + (From _My Summer in a Garden_) + +THE SINGING MAN _Josephine Preston Peabody_ + +THE DANCE OF THE BON-ODORI _Lafcadio Hearn_ + (From _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_, Volume I, Chapter VI) + + +LETTERS: + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + (From _The Life of Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ by Ferris Greenslet) + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO E.S. MORSE + (By permission of Professor Morse) + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TO JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + (From _Some Letters of William Vaughn Moody_) + +BRET HARTE TO HIS WIFE + (From _The Life of Bret Harte_ by Henry C. Merwin) + +LAFCADIO HEARN TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN + (From _Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn_) + +CHARLES ELIOT NORTON TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + (From _Letters of Charles Eliot Norton_) + +EXERCISES IN DRAMATIC COMPOSITION + +MODERN BOOKS FOR HOME READING + + + + +MODERN PROSE AND POETRY FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS + + + + +A DAY AT LAGUERRE'S + +F. HOPKINSON SMITH + + +It is the most delightful of French inns, in the quaintest of French +settlements. As you rush by in one of the innumerable trains that pass +it daily, you may catch glimpses of tall trees trailing their branches +in the still stream,--hardly a dozen yards wide,--of flocks of white +ducks paddling together, and of queer punts drawn up on the shelving +shore or tied to soggy, patched-up landing-stairs. + +If the sun shines, you can see, now and then, between the trees, a +figure kneeling at the water's edge, bending over a pile of clothes, +washing,--her head bound with a red handkerchief. + +If you are quick, the miniature river will open just before you round +the curve, disclosing in the distance groups of willows, and a rickety +foot-bridge perched up on poles to keep it dry. All this you see in a +flash. + +But you must stop at the old-fashioned station, within ten minutes of +the Harlem River, cross the road, skirt an old garden bound with a fence +and bursting with flowers, and so pass on through a bare field to the +water's edge, before you catch sight of the cosy little houses lining +the banks, with garden fences cutting into the water, the arbors +covered with tangled vines, and the boats crossing back and forth. + +I have a love for the out-of-the-way places of the earth when they +bristle all over with the quaint and the old and the odd, and are mouldy +with the picturesque. But here is an in-the-way place, all sunshine and +shimmer, with never a fringe of mould upon it, and yet you lose your +heart at a glance. It is as charming in its boat life as an old Holland +canal; it is as delightful in its shore life as the Seine; and it is as +picturesque and entrancing in its sylvan beauty as the most exquisite of +English streams. + +The thousands of workaday souls who pass this spot daily in their whirl +out and in the great city may catch all these glimpses of shade and +sunlight over the edges of their journals, and any one of them living +near the city's centre, with a stout pair of legs in his knickerbockers +and the breath of the morning in his heart, can reach it afoot any day +before breakfast; and yet not one in a hundred knows that this ideal +nook exists. + +Even this small percentage would be apt to tell of the delights of +Devonshire and of the charm of the upper Thames, with its tall rushes +and low-thatched houses and quaint bridges, as if the picturesque ended +there; forgetting that right here at home there wanders many a stream +with its breast all silver that the trees courtesy to as it sings +through meadows waist-high in lush grass,--as exquisite a picture as can +be found this beautiful land over. + +So, this being an old tramping-ground of mine, I have left the station +with its noise and dust behind me this lovely morning in June, have +stopped long enough to twist a bunch of sweet peas through the garden +fence, and am standing on the bank waiting for some sign of life at +Madame Laguerre's. I discover that there is no boat on my side of the +stream. But that is of no moment. On the other side, within a biscuit's +toss, so narrow is it, there are two boats; and on the landing-wharf, +which is only a few planks wide, supporting a tumble-down flight of +steps leading to a vine-covered terrace above, rest the oars. + +I lay my traps down on the bank and begin at the top of my voice:-- + +"Madame Laguerre! Madame Laguerre! Send Lucette with the boat." + +For a long time there is no response. A young girl drawing water a short +distance below, hearing my cries, says she will come; and some children +above, who know me, begin paddling over. I decline them all. Experience +tells me it is better to wait for madame. + +In a few minutes she pushes aside the leaves, peers through, and calls +out:-- + +"Ah! it is that horrible painter. Go away! I have nothing for you. You +are hungry again that you come?" + +"Very, madame. Where is Lucette?" + +"Lucette! Lucette! It is always Lucette. Lu-c-e-t-t-e!" This in a shrill +key. "It is the painter. Come quick." + +I have known Lucette for years, even when she was a barefooted little +tangle-hair, peeping at me with her great brown eyes from beneath her +ragged straw hat. She wears high-heeled slippers now, and sometimes on +Sundays dainty silk stockings, and her hair is braided down her back, +little French Marguérite that she is, and her hat is never ragged any +more, nor her hair tangled. Her eyes, though, are still the same +velvety, half-drooping eyes, always opening and shutting and never +still. + +As she springs into the boat and pulls towards me I note how round and +trim she is, and before we have landed at Madame Laguerre's feet I have +counted up Lucette's birthdays,--those that I know myself,--and find to +my surprise that she must be eighteen. We have always been the best of +friends, Lucette and I, ever since she looked over my shoulder years ago +and watched me dot in the outlines of her boat, with her dog Mustif +sitting demurely in the bow. + +Madame, her mother, begins again:-- + +"Do you know that it is Saturday that you come again to bother? Now it +will be a _filet_, of course, with mushrooms and tomato salad; and there +are no mushrooms, and no tomatoes, and nothing. You are horrible. Then, +when I get it ready, you say you will come at three. 'Yes, madame; at +three,'--mimicking me,--'sure, very sure.' But it is four, five, +o'clock--and then everything is burned up waiting. Ah! I know you." + +This goes on always, and has for years. Presently she softens, for she +is the most tender-hearted of women, and would do anything in the world +to please me. + +"But, then, you will be tired, and of course you must have something. I +remember now there is a chicken. How will the chicken do? Oh, the +chicken it is lovely, _charmant_. And some pease--fresh. Monsieur picked +them himself this morning. And some Roquefort, with an olive. Ah! You +leave it to me; but at three--no later--not one minute. _Sacré! Vous +êtes le diable!_" + +As we walk under the arbor and by the great trees, towards the cottage, +Lucette following with the oars, I inquire after monsieur, and find that +he is in the city, and very well and very busy, and will return at +sundown. He has a shop of his own in the upper part where he makes +_passe-partouts_. Here, at his home, madame maintains a simple +restaurant for tramps like me. + +These delightful people are old friends of mine, François Laguerre and +his wife and their only child Lucette. They have lived here for nearly a +quarter of a century. He is a straight, silver-haired old Frenchman of +sixty, who left Paris, between two suns, nearly forty years ago, with a +gendarme close at his heels, a red cockade under his coat, and an +intense hatred in his heart for that "little nobody," Napoleon III. + +If you met him on the boulevard you would look for the decoration on his +lapel, remarking to yourself, "Some retired officer on half pay." If you +met him at the railway station opposite, you would say, "A French +professor returning to his school." Both of these surmises are partly +wrong, and both partly right. Monsieur Laguerre has had a history. One +can see by the deep lines in his forehead and by the firm set of his +eyes and mouth that it has been an eventful one. + +His wife is a few years his junior, short and stout, and thoroughly +French down to the very toes of her felt slippers. She is devoted to +François and Lucette, the best of cooks, and, in spite of her scoldings, +good-nature itself. As soon as she hears me calling, there arise before +her the visions of many delightful dinners prepared for me by her own +hand and ready to the minute--all spoiled by my belated sketches. So +she begins to scold before I am out of the boat or in it, for that +matter. + +Across the fence next to Laguerre's lives a _confrère_, a brother exile, +Monsieur Marmosette, who also has a shop in the city, where he carves +fine ivories. Monsieur Marmosette has only one son. He too is named +François, after his father's old friend. Farther down on both sides of +the narrow stream front the cottages of other friends, all Frenchmen; +and near the propped-up bridge an Italian who knew Garibaldi burrows in +a low, slanting cabin, which is covered with vines. I remember a dish of +_spaghetti_ under those vines, and a flask of Chianti from its cellar, +all cobwebs and plaited straw, that left a taste of Venice in my mouth +for days. + +As there is only the great bridge above, which helps the country road +across the little stream, and the little foot-bridge below, and as there +is no path or road,--all the houses fronting the water,--the Bronx here +is really the only highway, and so everybody must needs keep a boat. +This is why the stream is crowded in the warm afternoons with all sorts +of water craft loaded with whole families, even to the babies, taking +the air, or crossing from bank to bank in their daily pursuits. + +There is a quality which one never sees in Nature until she has been +rough-handled by man and has outlived the usage. It is the picturesque. +In the deep recesses of the primeval forest, along the mountain-slope, +and away up the tumbling brook, Nature may be majestic, beautiful, and +even sublime; but she is never picturesque. This quality comes only +after the axe and the saw have let the sunlight into the dense tangle +and have scattered the falling timber, or the round of the water-wheel +has divided the rush of the brook. It is so here. Some hundred years +ago, along this quiet, silvery stream were encamped the troops of the +struggling colonies, and, later, the great estates of the survivors +stretched on each side for miles. The willows that now fringe these +banks were saplings then; and they and the great butternuts were only +spared because their arching limbs shaded the cattle knee-deep along the +shelving banks. + +Then came the long interval that succeeds that deadly conversion of the +once sweet farming lands, redolent with clover, into that barren +waste--suburban property. The conflict that had lasted since the days +when the pioneer's axe first rang through the stillness of the forest +was nearly over; Nature saw her chance, took courage, and began that +regeneration which is exclusively her own. The weeds ran riot; tall +grasses shot up into the sunlight, concealing the once well-trimmed +banks; and great tangles of underbrush and alders made lusty efforts to +hide the traces of man's unceasing cruelty. Lastly came this little +group of poor people from the Seine and the Marne and lent a helping +hand, bringing with them something of their old life at home,--their +boats, rude landings, patched-up water-stairs, fences, arbors, and +vine-covered cottages,--unconsciously completing the picture and adding +the one thing needful--a human touch. So Nature, having outlived the +wrongs of a hundred years, has here with busy fingers so woven a web of +weed, moss, trailing vine, and low-branching tree that there is seen a +newer and more entrancing quality in her beauty, which, for want of a +better term, we call the picturesque. + +But madame is calling that the big boat must be bailed out; that if I +am ever coming back to dinner it is absolutely necessary that I should +go away. This boat is not of extraordinary size. It is called the big +boat from the fact that it has one more seat than the one in which +Lucette rowed me over; and not being much in use except on Sunday, is +generally half full of water. Lucette insists on doing the bailing. She +has very often performed this service, and I have always considered it +as included in the curious scrawl of a bill which madame gravely +presents at the end of each of my days here, beginning in small printed +type with "François Laguerre, Restaurant Français," and ending with +"Coffee 10 cents." + +But this time I resist, remarking that she will hurt her hands and soil +her shoes, and that it is all right as it is. + +To this François the younger, who is leaning over the fence, agrees, +telling Lucette to wait until he gets a pail. + +Lucette catches his eye, colors a little, and says she will fetch it. + +There is a break in the palings through which they both disappear, but I +am half-way out on the stream, with my traps and umbrella on the seat in +front and my coat and waistcoat tucked under the bow, before they +return. + +For half a mile down-stream there is barely a current. Then comes a +break of a dozen yards just below the perched-up bridge, and the stream +divides, one part rushing like a mill-race, and the other spreading +itself softly around the roots of leaning willows, oozing through beds +of water-plants, and creeping under masses of wild grapes and +underbrush. Below this is a broad pasture fringed with another and +larger growth of willows. Here the weeds are breast-high, and in early +autumn they burst into purple asters, and white immortelles, and +goldenrod, and flaming sumac. + +If a painter had a lifetime to spare, and loved this sort of +material,--the willows, hillsides, and winding stream,--he would grow +old and weary before he could paint it all; and yet no two of his +compositions need be alike. I have tied my boat under these same willows +for ten years back, and I have not yet exhausted one corner of this +neglected pasture. + +There may be those who go a-fishing and enjoy it. The arranging and +selecting of flies, the joining of rods, the prospective comfort in high +water-boots, the creel with the leather strap,--every crease in it a +reminder of some day without care or fret,--all this may bring the flush +to the cheek and the eager kindling of the eye, and a certain sort of +rest and happiness may come with it; but--they have never gone +a-sketching! Hauled up on the wet bank in the long grass is your boat, +with the frayed end of the painter tied around some willow that offers a +helping root. Within a stone's throw, under a great branching of gnarled +trees, is a nook where the curious sun, peeping at you through the +interlaced leaves, will stencil Japanese shadows on your white umbrella. +Then the trap is unstrapped, the stool opened, the easel put up, and you +set your palette. The critical eye with which you look over your +brush-case and the care with which you try each feather point upon your +thumb-nail are but an index of your enjoyment. + +Now you are ready. You loosen your cravat, hang your coat to some rustic +peg in the creviced bark of the tree behind you, seize a bit of charcoal +from your bag, sweep your eye around, and dash in a few guiding +strokes. Above is a turquoise sky filled with soft white clouds; behind +you the great trunks of the many-branched willows; and away off, under +the hot sun, the yellow-green of the wasted pasture, dotted with patches +of rock and weeds, and hemmed in by the low hills that slope to the +curving stream. + +It is high noon. There is a stillness in the air that impresses you, +broken only by the low murmur of the brook behind and the ceaseless song +of the grasshopper among the weeds in front. A tired bumblebee hums +past, rolls lazily over a clover blossom at your feet, and has his +midday luncheon. Under the maples near the river's bend stands a group +of horses, their heads touching. In the brook below are the patient +cattle, with patches of sunlight gilding and bronzing their backs and +sides. Every now and then a breath of cool air starts out from some +shaded retreat, plays around your forehead, and passes on. All nature +rests. It is her noontime. + +But you work on: an enthusiasm has taken possession of you; the paints +mix too slowly; you use your thumb, smearing and blending with a bit of +rag--anything for the effect. One moment you are glued to your seat, +your eye riveted on your canvas, the next, you are up and backing away, +taking it in as a whole, then pouncing down upon it quickly, belaboring +it with your brush. Soon the trees take shape; the sky forms become +definite; the meadow lies flat and loses itself in the fringe of +willows. + +When all of this begins to grow upon your once blank canvas, and some +lucky pat matches the exact tone of blue-gray haze or shimmer of leaf, +or some accidental blending of color delights you with its truth, a +tingling goes down your backbone, and a rush surges through your veins +that stirs you as nothing else in your whole life will ever do. The +reaction comes the next day when, in the cold light of your studio, you +see how far short you have come and how crude and false is your best +touch compared with the glory of the landscape in your mind and heart. +But the thrill that it gave you will linger forever. + +But I hear a voice behind me calling out:-- + +"Monsieur, mamma says that dinner will be ready in half an hour. Please +do not be late." + +It is Lucette. She and François have come down in the other boat--the +one with the little seat. They have moved so noiselessly that I have not +even heard them. The sketch is nearly finished; and so, remembering the +good madame, and the Roquefort, and the olives, and the many times I +have kept her waiting, I wash my brushes at once, throw my traps into +the boat, and pull back through the winding turn, François taking the +mill-race, and in the swiftest part springing to the bank and towing +Lucette, who sits in the stern, her white skirts tucked around her +dainty feet. + +"_Sacré!_ He is here. _C'est merveilleux!_ Why did you come?" + +"Because you sent for me, madame, and I am hungry." + +"_Mon Dieu!_ He is hungry, and no chicken!" + +It is true. The chicken was served that morning to another tramp for +breakfast, and madame had forgotten all about it, and had ransacked the +settlement for its mate. She was too honest a cook to chase another into +the frying-pan. + +But there was a _filet_ with mushrooms, and a most surprising salad of +chicory fresh from the garden, and the pease were certain, and the +Roquefort and the olives beyond question. All this she tells me as I +walk past the table covered with a snow-white cloth and spread under the +grape-vines overlooking the stream, with the trees standing against the +sky, their long shadows wrinkling down into the water. + +I enter the summer kitchen built out into the garden, which also covers +the old well, let down the bucket, and then, taking the clean crash +towel from its hook, place the basin on the bench in the sunlight, and +plunge my head into the cool water. Madame regards me curiously, her +arms akimbo, re-hangs the towel, and asks:-- + +"Well, what about the wine? The same?" + +"Yes; but I will get it myself." + +The cellar is underneath the larger house. Outside is an old-fashioned, +sloping double door. These doors are always open, and a cool smell of +damp straw flavored with vinegar greets you from a leaky keg as you +descend into its recesses. On the hard earthen floor rest eight or ten +great casks. The walls are lined with bottles large and small, loaded on +shelves to which little white cards are tacked giving the vintage and +brand. In one corner, under the small window, you will find dozens of +boxes of French delicacies--truffles, pease, mushrooms, pâté de foie +gras, mustard, and the like, and behind them rows of olive oil and +olives. I carefully draw out a bottle from the row on the last shelf +nearest the corner, mount the steps, and place it on the table. Madame +examines the cork, and puts down the bottle, remarking sententiously:-- + +"Château Lamonte, '62! Monsieur has told you." + +There may be ways of dining more delicious than out in the open air +under the vines in the cool of the afternoon, with Lucette, in her +whitest of aprons, flitting about, and madame garnishing the dishes each +in turn, and there may be better bottles of honest red wine to be found +up and down this world of care than "Château Lamonte, '62," but I have +not yet discovered them. + +Lucette serves the coffee in a little cup, and leaves the Roquefort and +the cigarettes on the table just as the sun is sinking behind the hill +skirting the railroad. While I am blowing rings through the grape leaves +over my head a quick noise is heard across the stream. Lucette runs past +me through the garden, picking up her oars as she goes. + +"_Oui, mon père._ I am coming." + +It is monsieur from his day's work in the city. + +"Who is here?" I hear him say as he mounts the terrace steps. "Oh, the +painter--good!" + +"Ah, _mon ami_. So you must see the willows once more. Have you not +tired of them yet?" Then, seating himself, "I hope madame has taken good +care of you. What, the '62? Ah, I remember I told you." + +When it is quite dark he joins me under the leaves, bringing a second +bottle a little better corked he thinks, and the talk drifts into his +early life. + +"What year was that, monsieur?" I asked. + +"In 1849. I was a young fellow just grown. I had learned my trade in +Rheims, and I had come down to Paris to make my bread. Two years later +came the little affair of December 2. That 'nobody,' Louis, had +dissolved the National Assembly and the Council of State, and had issued +his address to the army. Paris was in a ferment. By the help of his +soldiers and police he had silenced every voice in Paris except his own. +He had suppressed all the journals, and locked up everybody who had +opposed him. Victor Hugo was in exile, Louis Blanc in London, +Changarnier and Cavaignac in prison. At the moment I was working in a +little shop near the Porte St. Martin decorating lacquerwork. We workmen +all belonged to a secret society which met nightly in a back room over a +wine-shop near the Rue Royale. We had but one thought--how to upset the +little devil at the Élysée. Among my comrades was a big fellow from my +own city, one Cambier. He was the leader. On the ground floor of the +shop was built a huge oven where the lacquer was baked. At night this +was made hot with charcoal and allowed to cool off in the morning ready +for the finished work of the previous day. It was Cambier's duty to +attend to this oven. + +"One night just after all but he and two others had left the shop a +strange man was discovered in a closet where the men kept their working +clothes. He was seized, brought to the light, and instantly recognized +as a member of the secret police. + +"At daylight the next morning I was aroused from my bed, and, looking +up, saw Chapot, an inspector of police, standing over me. He had known +me from a boy, and was a friend of my father's. + +"'François, there is trouble at the shop. A police agent has been +murdered. His body was found in the oven. Cambier is under arrest. I +know what you have been doing, but I also know that in this you have had +no hand. Here are one hundred francs. Leave Paris in an hour.' + +"I put the money in my pocket, tied my clothes in a bundle, and that +night was on my way to Havre, and the next week set sail for here." + +"And what became of Cambier?" I asked. + +"I have never heard from that day to this, so I think they must have +snuffed him out." + +Then he drifted into his early life here--the weary tramping of the +streets day after day, the half-starving result, the language and people +unknown. Suddenly, somewhere in the lower part of the city, he espied a +card tacked outside of a window bearing this inscription, "Decorator +wanted." A man inside was painting one of the old-fashioned iron +tea-trays common in those days. Monsieur took off his hat, pointed to +the card, then to himself, seized the brush, and before the man could +protest had covered the bottom with morning-glories so pink and fresh +that his troubles ended on the spot. The first week he earned six +dollars; but then this was to be paid at the end of it. For these six +days he subsisted on one meal a day. This he ate at a restaurant where +at night he washed dishes and blacked the head waiter's boots. When +Saturday came, and the money was counted out in his hand, he thrust it +into his pocket, left the shop, and sat down on a doorstep outside to +think. + +"And, _mon ami_, what did I do first?" + +"Got something to eat?" + +"Never. I paid for a bath, had my hair cut and my face shaved, bought a +shirt and collar, and then went back to the restaurant where I had +washed dishes the night before, and the head waiter _served me_. After +that it was easy; the next week it was ten dollars; then in a few years +I had a place of my own; then came madame and Lucette--and here we are." + +The twilight had faded into a velvet blue, sprinkled with stars. The +lantern which madame had hung against the arbor shed a yellow light, +throwing into clear relief the sharply cut features of monsieur. Up and +down the silent stream drifted here and there a phantom boat, the gleam +of its light following like a firefly. From some came no sound but the +muffled plash of the oars. From others floated stray bits of song and +laughter. Far up the stream I heard the distant whistle of the down +train. + +"It is mine, monsieur. Will you cross with me, and bring back the boat?" + +Monsieur unhooked the lantern, and I followed through the garden and +down the terrace steps. + +At the water's edge was a bench holding two figures. + +Monsieur turned his lantern, and the light fell upon the face of young +François. + +When the bow grated on the opposite bank I shook his hand, and said, in +parting, pointing to the lovers,-- + +"The same old story, Monsieur?" + +"Yes; and always new. You must come to the church." + + +NOTES + +=Harlem River=:--Note that this river is in New York City, not in France +as one might suppose from the name of the selection. + +=Devonshire=:--A very attractive county of southwestern England. + +=filet=:--A thick slice of meat or fish. + +=charmant=:--The French word for _charming_. + +=Roquefort=:--A kind of cheese. + +=Sacré! Vous êtes le diable=:--Curses! You are the very deuce. + +=passe-partouts=:--Engraved ornamental borders for pictures. + +=gendarme=:--A policeman of France. + +=Napoleon III=:--Emperor of the French, 1852-1870. He was elected +president of the Republic in 1848; he seized full power in 1851; in +1852, he was proclaimed emperor. He was a nephew of the great Napoleon. + +=confrère=:--A close associate. + +=Garibaldi=:--Giuseppe Garibaldi, an Italian patriot (1807-1882). + +=Chianti=:--A kind of Italian wine. + +=Bronx=:--A small river in the northern part of New York City. + +=Restaurant Français=:--French restaurant. + +=the painter=:--A rope at the bow of a boat. + +=C'est merveilleux=:--It's wonderful. + +=Mon Dieu=:--Good heavens! + +=pâté de fois gras=:--A delicacy made of fat goose livers. + +=Château Lamonte, '62=:--A kind of wine; the date refers to the year in +which it was bottled. + +=Oui, mon père=:--Yes, father. + +=mon ami=:--My friend. + +=the little affair of December 2=:--On December 2, 1851, Louis Napoleon +overawed the French legislature and assumed absolute power. Just a year +later he had himself proclaimed Emperor. + +=Louis=:--Napoleon III. + +=Victor Hugo=:--French poet and novelist (1802-1885). + +=Louis Blanc=:--French author and politician (1812-1882). + +=Changarnier=:--Pronounced _shan gär ny[=a]'_; Nicholas Changarnier, a +French general (1793-1877). + +=Cavaignac=:--Pronounced _ka vay nyak'_; Louis Eugene Cavaignac, a +French general (1803-1857). He ran for the Presidency against Louis +Napoleon. + +=Porte St. Martin=:--The beginning of the Boulevard St. Martin, in +Paris. + +=Rue Royale=:--_Rue_ is the French word for _street_. + +=Élysée=:--A palace in Paris used as a residence by Napoleon III. + +=one hundred francs=:--About twenty dollars. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What does the title suggest to you? At what point do you change your +idea as to the location of Laguerre's? Do you know of any picturesque +places that are somewhat like the one described here? Could you +describe one of them for the class? Why do people usually not appreciate +the scenery near at hand? What do you think of the plan of "seeing +America first"? What is meant here by "my traps"? Why is it better to +wait for Madame? Why does Madame talk so crossly? What sort of person is +she? See if you can tell accurately, from what follows in later pages, +why Monsieur left Paris so hastily. How does the author give you an idea +of François Laguerre's appearance? Why does the author stop to give us +the two paragraphs beginning, "There is a quality," and "Then came a +long interval"? How does he get back to his subject? Why does he not let +Lucette bail the boat? Who does bail it at last? Why? Do you think that +every artist enjoys his work as the writer seems to enjoy his? How does +he make you feel the pleasure of it? Why is there more enjoyment in +eating out of doors than in eating in the house? Why does the author +sprinkle little French phrases through the piece? Is it a good plan to +use foreign phrases in this way? What kind of man is Monsieur Laguerre? +Review his story carefully. Why was the police agent murdered? Who +killed him? Why has Monsieur Laguerre never found out what became of +Cambier? + +This selection deals with a number of different subjects: Why does it +not seem "choppy"? How does the author manage to link the different +parts together? How would you describe this piece to some one who had +not read it? Mr. Smith is an artist who paints in water-colors: do you +see how his painting influences his writing? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Madame Laguerre +Old-fashioned Garden +The Ferry +Sketching +An Old Pasture +The Stream +Good Places to Sketch +Learning to Paint +An Old Man with a History +An Incident in French History +Getting Dinner under Difficulties +A Scene in the Kitchen +Washing at the Pump +The Flight of the Suspect +Crossing the Ocean +penniless +The Foreigner +Looking for Work +A Dinner out of Doors +The French Family at Home +The Cellar +Some Pictures that I Like +A Restaurant +A Country Inn +What my Foreign Neighbors Eat +Landscapes +The Artist + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=The Stream=:--Plan a description of some stream that you know well. +Imagine yourself taking a trip up the stream in a boat. Tell something +of the weather and the time of day. Speak briefly of the boat and its +occupants. Describe the first picturesque spot: the trees and flowers; +the buildings, if there are any; the reflections in the water; the +people that you see. Go on from point to point, describing the +particularly interesting places. Do not try to do too much. Vary your +account by telling of the boats you meet. Perhaps there will be some +brief dialogues that you can report, or some little adventures that you +can relate. Close your theme by telling of your arrival at your +destination, or of your turning about to go back down the stream. + +=An Old Man with a History=:--Perhaps you can take this from real life; +or perhaps you know some interesting old man whose early adventures you +can imagine. Tell briefly how you happened to know the old man. Describe +him. Speak of his manners, his way of speaking; his character as it +appeared when you knew him. How did you learn his story? Imagine him +relating it. Where was he when he told it? How did he act? Was he +willing to tell the story, or did he have to be persuaded? Tell the +story simply and directly, in his words, breaking it now and then by a +comment or a question from the listener (or listeners). It might be well +to explain occasionally how the old man seemed to feel, what expressions +his face assumed, and what gestures he made. Go on thus to the end of +the story. Is it necessary for you to make any remarks at the last, +after the man has finished? + +=A Country Inn=:--See the outline for a similar subject on page 229. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Day at Laguerre's and Other Days F. Hopkinson Smith +Gondola Days " " " +The Under Dog " " " +Caleb West, Master Diver " " " +Tom Grogan " " " +The Other Fellow " " " +Colonel Carter of Cartersville " " " +Colonel Carter's Christmas " " " +The Fortunes of Oliver Horn " " " +Forty Minutes Late " " " +At Close Range " " " +A White Umbrella in Mexico " " " +A Gentleman Vagabond " " " + (Note especially in this, _Along the Bronx_.) +Fisherman's Luck Henry van Dyke +A Lazy Idle Brook (in _Fisherman's Luck_) " " +Little Rivers " " +The Friendly Road David Grayson +Adventures in Contentment " " + +For information concerning Mr. Smith, consult:-- + +A History of Southern Literature, p. 375., Carl Holliday +American Authors and their Homes, pp. 187-194 F.W. Halsey + +Bookman, 17:16 (Portrait); 24:9, September, 1906 (Portrait); 28:9, +September, 1908 (Portrait). Arena, 38:678, December, 1907. Outlook, +93:689, November 27, 1909. Bookbuyer, 25:17-20, August, 1902. + + + + +QUITE SO + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH + +(In _Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories_) + + +I + +Of course that was not his name. Even in the State of Maine, where it is +still a custom to maim a child for life by christening him Arioch or +Shadrach or Ephraim, nobody would dream of calling a boy "Quite So." It +was merely a nickname which we gave him in camp; but it stuck to him +with such bur-like tenacity, and is so inseparable from my memory of +him, that I do not think I could write definitely of John Bladburn if I +were to call him anything but "Quite So." + +It was one night shortly after the first battle of Bull Run. The Army of +the Potomac, shattered, stunned, and forlorn, was back in its old +quarters behind the earth-works. The melancholy line of ambulances +bearing our wounded to Washington was not done creeping over Long +Bridge; the blue smocks and the gray still lay in windrows on the field +of Manassas; and the gloom that weighed down our hearts was like the fog +that stretched along the bosom of the Potomac, and infolded the valley +of the Shenandoah. A drizzling rain had set in at twilight, and, growing +bolder with the darkness, was beating a dismal tattoo on the tent,--the +tent of Mess 6, Company A, --th Regiment, N.Y. Volunteers. Our mess, +consisting originally of eight men, was reduced to four. Little Billy, +as one of the boys grimly remarked, had concluded to remain at +Manassas; Corporal Steele we had to leave at Fairfax Court-House, shot +through the hip; Hunter and Suydam we had said good-by to that +afternoon. "Tell Johnny Reb," says Hunter, lifting up the leather +sidepiece of the ambulance, "that I'll be back again as soon as I get a +new leg." But Suydam said nothing; he only unclosed his eyes languidly +and smiled farewell to us. + +The four of us who were left alive and unhurt that shameful July day sat +gloomily smoking our brier-wood pipes, thinking our thoughts, and +listening to the rain pattering against the canvas. That, and the +occasional whine of a hungry cur, foraging on the outskirts of the camp +for a stray bone, alone broke the silence, save when a vicious drop of +rain detached itself meditatively from the ridge-pole of the tent, and +fell upon the wick of our tallow candle, making it "cuss," as Ned Strong +described it. The candle was in the midst of one of its most profane +fits when Blakely, knocking the ashes from his pipe and addressing no +one in particular, but giving breath, unconsciously as it were, to the +result of his cogitations, observed that "it was considerable of a +fizzle." + +"The 'on to Richmond' business?" + +"Yes." + +"I wonder what they'll do about it over yonder," said Curtis, pointing +over his right shoulder. By "over yonder" he meant the North in general +and Massachusetts especially. Curtis was a Boston boy, and his sense of +locality was so strong that, during all his wanderings in Virginia, I do +not believe there was a moment, day or night, when he could not have +made a bee-line for Faneuil Hall. + +"Do about it?" cried Strong. "They'll make about two hundred thousand +blue flannel trousers and send them along, each pair with a man in +it,--all the short men in the long trousers, and all the tall men in the +short ones," he added, ruefully contemplating his own leg-gear, which +scarcely reached to his ankles. + +"That's so," said Blakely. "Just now, when I was tackling the commissary +for an extra candle, I saw a crowd of new fellows drawing blankets." + +"I say there, drop that!" cried Strong. "All right, sir, didn't know it +was you," he added hastily, seeing it was Lieutenant Haines who had +thrown back the flap of the tent, and let in a gust of wind and rain +that threatened the most serious bronchial consequences to our +discontented tallow dip. + +"You're to bunk in here," said the lieutenant, speaking to some one +outside. The some one stepped in, and Haines vanished in the darkness. + +When Strong had succeeded in restoring the candle to consciousness, the +light fell upon a tall, shy-looking man of about thirty-five, with long, +hay-colored beard and mustache, upon which the rain-drops stood in +clusters, like the night-dew on patches of cobweb in a meadow. It was an +honest face, with unworldly sort of blue eyes, that looked out from +under the broad visor of the infantry cap. With a deferential glance +towards us, the new-comer unstrapped his knapsack, spread his blanket +over it, and sat down unobtrusively. + +"Rather damp night out," remarked Blakely, whose strong hand was +supposed to be conversation. + +"Quite so," replied the stranger, not curtly, but pleasantly, and with +an air as if he had said all there was to be said about it. + +"Come from the North recently?" inquired Blakely, after a pause. + +"Yes." + +"From any place in particular?" + +"Maine." + +"People considerably stirred up down there?" continued Blakely, +determined not to give up. + +"Quite so." + +Blakely threw a puzzled look over the tent, and seeing Ned Strong on the +broad grin, frowned severely. Strong instantly assumed an abstracted +air, and began humming softly, + + "I wish I was in Dixie." + +"The State of Maine," observed Blakely, with a certain defiance of +manner not at all necessary in discussing a geographical question, "is a +pleasant State." + +"In summer," suggested the stranger. + +"In summer, I mean," returned Blakely with animation, thinking he had +broken the ice. "Cold as blazes in winter, though,--isn't it?" + +The new recruit merely nodded. + +Blakely eyed the man homicidally for a moment, and then, smiling one of +those smiles of simulated gayety which the novelists inform us are more +tragic than tears, turned upon him with withering irony. + +"Trust you left the old folks pretty comfortable?" + +"Dead." + +"The old folks dead!" + +"Quite so." + +Blakely made a sudden dive for his blanket, tucked it around him with +painful precision, and was heard no more. + +Just then the bugle sounded "lights out,"--bugle answering bugle in +far-off camps. When our not elaborate night-toilets were complete, +Strong threw somebody else's old boot at the candle with infallible aim, +and darkness took possession of the tent. Ned, who lay on my left, +presently reached over to me, and whispered, "I say, our friend 'quite +so' is a garrulous old boy! He'll talk himself to death some of these +odd times, if he isn't careful. How he _did_ run on!" + +The next morning, when I opened my eyes, the new member of Mess 6 was +sitting on his knapsack, combing his blond beard with a horn comb. He +nodded pleasantly to me, and to each of the boys as they woke up, one by +one. Blakely did not appear disposed to renew the animated conversation +of the previous night; but while he was gone to make a requisition for +what was in pure sarcasm called coffee, Curtis ventured to ask the man +his name. + +"Bladburn, John," was the reply. + +"That's rather an unwieldy name for everyday use," put in Strong. "If it +wouldn't hurt your feelings, I'd like to call you Quite So,--for short. +Don't say no, if you don't like it. Is it agreeable?" + +Bladburn gave a little laugh, all to himself, seemingly, and was about +to say, "Quite so," when he caught at the words, blushed like a girl, +and nodded a sunny assent to Strong. From that day until the end, the +sobriquet clung to him. + +The disaster at Bull Run was followed, as the reader knows, by a long +period of masterly inactivity, so far as the Army of the Potomac was +concerned. McDowell, a good soldier but unlucky, retired to Arlington +Heights, and McClellan, who had distinguished himself in Western +Virginia, took command of the forces in front of Washington, and bent +his energies to reorganizing the demoralized troops. It was a dreary +time to the people of the North, who looked fatuously from week to week +for "the fall of Richmond"; and it was a dreary time to the denizens of +that vast city of tents and forts which stretched in a semicircle before +the beleaguered Capitol,--so tedious and soul-wearing a time that the +hardships of forced marches and the horrors of battle became desirable +things to them. + +Roll-call morning and evening, guard-duty, dress-parades, an occasional +reconnaissance, dominoes, wrestling-matches, and such rude games as +could be carried on in camp made up the sum of our lives. The arrival of +the mail with letters and papers from home was the event of the day. We +noticed that Bladburn neither wrote nor received any letters. When the +rest of the boys were scribbling away for dear life, with drumheads and +knapsacks and cracker-boxes for writing-desks, he would sit serenely +smoking his pipe, but looking out on us through rings of smoke with a +face expressive of the tenderest interest. + +"Look here, Quite So," Strong would say, "the mail-bag closes in half an +hour. Ain't you going to write?" + +"I believe not to-day," Bladburn would reply, as if he had written +yesterday, or would write to-morrow: but he never wrote. + +He had become a great favorite with us, and with all the officers of the +regiment. He talked less than any man I ever knew, but there was nothing +sinister or sullen in his reticence. It was sunshine,--warmth and +brightness, but no voice. Unassuming and modest to the verge of +shyness, he impressed every one as a man of singular pluck and nerve. + +"Do you know," said Curtis to me one day, "that that fellow Quite So is +clear grit, and when we come to close quarters with our Palmetto +brethren over yonder, he'll do something devilish?" + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Well, nothing quite explainable; the exasperating coolness of the man, +as much as anything. This morning the boys were teasing Muffin Fan" [a +small mulatto girl who used to bring muffins into camp three times a +week,--at the peril of her life!] "and Jemmy Blunt of Company K--you +know him--was rather rough on the girl, when Quite So, who had been +reading under a tree, shut one finger in his book, walked over to where +the boys were skylarking, and with the smile of a juvenile angel on his +face lifted Jemmy out of that and set him down gently in front of his +own tent. There Blunt sat speechless, staring at Quite So, who was back +again under the tree, pegging away at his little Latin grammar." + +That Latin grammar! He always had it about him, reading it or turning +over its dog's-eared pages at odd intervals and in out-of-the-way +places. Half a dozen times a day he would draw it out from the bosom of +his blouse, which had taken the shape of the book just over the left +breast, look at it as if to assure himself it was all right, and then +put the thing back. At night the volume lay beneath his pillow. The +first thing in the morning, before he was well awake, his hand would go +groping instinctively under his knapsack in search of it. + +A devastating curiosity seized upon us boys concerning that Latin +grammar, for we had discovered the nature of the book. Strong wanted to +steal it one night, but concluded not to. "In the first place," +reflected Strong, "I haven't the heart to do it, and in the next place I +haven't the moral courage. Quite So would placidly break every bone in +my body." And I believe Strong was not far out of the way. + +Sometimes I was vexed with myself for allowing this tall, simple-hearted +country fellow to puzzle me so much. And yet, was he a simple-hearted +country fellow? City bred he certainly was not; but his manner, in spite +of his awkwardness, had an indescribable air of refinement. Now and +then, too, he dropped a word or a phrase that showed his familiarity +with unexpected lines of reading. "The other day," said Curtis, with the +slightest elevation of eyebrow, "he had the cheek to correct my Latin +for me." In short, Quite So was a daily problem to the members of Mess +6. Whenever he was absent, and Blakely and Curtis and Strong and I got +together in the tent, we discussed him, evolving various theories to +explain why he never wrote to anybody and why nobody ever wrote to him. +Had the man committed some terrible crime, and fled to the army to hide +his guilt? Blakely suggested that he must have murdered "the old folks." +What did he mean by eternally conning that tattered Latin grammar? And +was his name Bladburn, anyhow? Even his imperturbable amiability became +suspicious. And then his frightful reticence! If he was the victim of +any deep grief or crushing calamity, why didn't he seem unhappy? What +business had he to be cheerful? + +"It's my opinion," said Strong, "that he's a rival Wandering Jew; the +original Jacobs, you know, was a dark fellow." + +Blakely inferred from something Bladburn had said, or something he had +not said,--which was more likely,--that he had been a schoolmaster at +some period of his life. + +"Schoolmaster be hanged!" was Strong's comment. "Can you fancy a +schoolmaster going about conjugating baby verbs out of a dratted little +spelling-book? No, Quite So has evidently been a--a--Blest if I can +imagine _what_ he's been!" + +Whatever John Bladburn had been, he was a lonely man. Whenever I want a +type of perfect human isolation, I shall think of him, as he was in +those days, moving remote, self-contained, and alone in the midst of two +hundred thousand men. + + +II + +The Indian summer, with its infinite beauty and tenderness, came like a +reproach that year to Virginia. The foliage, touched here and there with +prismatic tints, drooped motionless in the golden haze. The delicate +Virginia creeper was almost minded to put forth its scarlet buds again. +No wonder the lovely phantom--this dusky Southern sister of the pale +Northern June--lingered not long with us, but, filling the once peaceful +glens and valleys with her pathos, stole away rebukefully before the +savage enginery of man. + +The preparations that had been going on for months in arsenals and +foundries at the North were nearly completed. For weeks past the air had +been filled with rumors of an advance; but the rumor of to-day refuted +the rumor of yesterday, and the Grand Army did not move. Heintzelman's +corps was constantly folding its tents, like the Arabs, and as silently +stealing away; but somehow it was always in the same place the next +morning. One day, at length, orders came down for our brigade to move. + +"We're going to Richmond, boys!" shouted Strong, thrusting his head in +at the tent; and we all cheered and waved our caps like mad. You see, +Big Bethel and Bull Run and Ball's Bluff (the Bloody B's, as we used to +call them,) hadn't taught us any better sense. + +Rising abruptly from the plateau, to the left of our encampment, was a +tall hill covered with a stunted growth of red-oak, persimmon, and +chestnut. The night before we struck tents I climbed up to the crest to +take a parting look at a spectacle which custom had not been able to rob +of its enchantment. There, at my feet, and extending miles and miles +away, lay the camps of the Grand Army, with its camp-fires reflected +luridly against the sky. Thousands of lights were twinkling in every +direction, some nestling in the valley, some like fire-flies beating +their wings and palpitating among the trees, and others stretching in +parallel lines and curves, like the street-lamps of a city. Somewhere, +far off, a band was playing, at intervals it seemed; and now and then, +nearer to, a silvery strain from a bugle shot sharply up through the +night, and seemed to lose itself like a rocket among the stars,--the +patient, untroubled stars. Suddenly a hand was laid upon my arm. + +"I'd like to say a word to you," said Bladburn. + +With a little start of surprise, I made room for him on the fallen tree +where I was seated. + +"I mayn't get another chance," he said. "You and the boys have been very +kind to me, kinder than I deserve; but sometimes I've fancied that my +not saying anything about myself had given you the idea that all was +not right in my past. I want to say that I came down to Virginia with a +clean record." + +"We never really doubted it, Bladburn." + +"If I didn't write home," he continued, "it was because I hadn't any +home, neither kith nor kin. When I said the old folks were dead, I said +it. Am I boring you? If I thought I was--" + +"No, Bladburn. I have often wanted you to talk to me about yourself, not +from idle curiosity, I trust, but because I liked you that rainy night +when you came to camp, and have gone on liking you ever since. This +isn't too much to say, when Heaven only knows how soon I may be past +saying it or you listening to it." + +"That's it," said Bladburn, hurriedly, "that's why I want to talk with +you. I've a fancy that I shan't come out of our first battle." + +The words gave me a queer start, for I had been trying several days to +throw off a similar presentiment concerning him,--a foolish presentiment +that grew out of a dream. + +"In case anything of that kind turns up," he continued, "I'd like you to +have my Latin grammar here,--you've seen me reading it. You might stick +it away in a bookcase, for the sake of old times. It goes against me to +think of it falling into rough hands or being kicked about camp and +trampled under foot." + +He was drumming softly with his fingers on the volume in the bosom of +his blouse. + +"I didn't intend to speak of this to a living soul," he went on, +motioning me not to answer him; "but something took hold of me to-night +and made me follow you up here. Perhaps, if I told you all, you would be +the more willing to look after the little book in case it goes ill with +me. When the war broke out I was teaching school down in Maine, in the +same village where my father was schoolmaster before me. The old man +when he died left me quite alone. I lived pretty much by myself, having +no interests outside of the district school, which seemed in a manner my +personal property. Eight years ago last spring a new pupil was brought +to the school, a slight slip of a girl, with a sad kind of face and +quiet ways. Perhaps it was because she wasn't very strong, and perhaps +because she wasn't used over well by those who had charge of her, or +perhaps it was because my life was lonely, that my heart warmed to the +child. It all seems like a dream now, since that April morning when +little Mary stood in front of my desk with her pretty eyes looking down +bashfully and her soft hair falling over her face. One day I look up, +and six years have gone by,--as they go by in dreams,--and among the +scholars is a tall girl of sixteen, with serious, womanly eyes which I +cannot trust myself to look upon. The old life has come to an end. The +child has become a woman and can teach the master now. So help me +Heaven, I didn't know that I loved her until that day! + +"Long after the children had gone home I sat in the schoolroom with my +face resting on my hands. There was her desk, the afternoon shadows +falling across it. It never looked empty and cheerless before. I went +and stood by the low chair, as I had stood hundreds of times. On the +desk was a pile of books, ready to be taken away, and among the rest a +small Latin grammar which we had studied together. What little despairs +and triumphs and happy hours were associated with it! I took it up +curiously, as if it were some gentle dead thing, and turned over the +pages, and could hardly see them. Turning the pages, idly so, I came to +a leaf on which something was written with ink, in the familiar girlish +hand. It was only the words 'Dear John,' through which she had drawn two +hasty pencil lines--I wish she hadn't drawn those lines!" added +Bladburn, under his breath. + +He was silent for a minute or two, looking off towards the camps, where +the lights were fading out one by one. + +"I had no right to go and love Mary. I was twice her age, an awkward, +unsocial man, that would have blighted her youth. I was as wrong as +wrong can be. But I never meant to tell her. I locked the grammar in my +desk and the secret in my heart for a year. I couldn't bear to meet her +in the village, and kept away from every place where she was likely to +be. Then she came to me, and sat down at my feet penitently, just as she +used to do when she was a child, and asked what she had done to anger +me; and then, Heaven forgive me! I told her all, and asked her if she +could say with her lips the words she had written, and she nestled in my +arms all a-trembling like a bird, and said them over and over again. + +"When Mary's family heard of our engagement, there was trouble. They +looked higher for Mary than a middle-aged schoolmaster. No blame to +them. They forbade me the house, her uncles; but we met in the village +and at the neighbors' houses, and I was happy, knowing she loved me. +Matters were in this state when the war came on. I had a strong call to +look after the old flag, and I hung my head that day when the company +raised in our village marched by the schoolhouse to the railroad +station; but I couldn't tear myself away. About this time the minister's +son, who had been away to college, came to the village. He met Mary here +and there, and they became great friends. He was a likely fellow, near +her own age, and it was natural they should like one another. Sometimes +I winced at seeing him made free of the home from which I was shut out; +then I would open the grammar at the leaf where 'Dear John' was written +up in the corner, and my trouble was gone. Mary was sorrowful and pale +these days, and I think her people were worrying her. + +"It was one evening two or three days before we got the news of Bull +Run. I had gone down to the burying-ground to trim the spruce hedge set +round the old man's lot, and was just stepping into the enclosure, when +I heard voices from the opposite side. One was Mary's, and the other I +knew to be young Marston's, the minister's son. I didn't mean to listen, +but what Mary was saying struck me dumb. _We must never meet again_, she +was saying in a wild way. _We must say good-by here, forever,--good-by, +good-by!_ And I could hear her sobbing. Then, presently, she said, +hurriedly, _No, no; my hand, not my lips_! Then it seemed he kissed her +hands, and the two parted, one going towards the parsonage, and the +other out by the gate near where I stood. + +"I don't know how long I stood there, but the night-dews had wet me to +the bone when I stole out of the graveyard and across the road to the +schoolhouse. I unlocked the door, and took the Latin grammar from the +desk and hid it in my bosom. There was not a sound or a light anywhere +as I walked out of the village. And now," said Bladburn, rising suddenly +from the tree-trunk, "if the little book ever falls in your way, won't +you see that it comes to no harm, for my sake, and for the sake of the +little woman who was true to me and didn't love me? Wherever she is +to-night, God bless her!" + + * * * * * + +As we descended to camp with our arms resting on each other's shoulder, +the watch-fires were burning low in the valleys and along the hillsides, +and as far as the eye could reach, the silent tents lay bleaching in the +moonlight. + + +III + +We imagined that the throwing forward of our brigade was the initial +movement of a general advance of the army: but that, as the reader will +remember, did not take place until the following March. The Confederates +had fallen back to Centreville without firing a shot, and the National +troops were in possession of Lewinsville, Vienna, and Fairfax +Court-House. Our new position was nearly identical with that which we +had occupied on the night previous to the battle of Bull Run,--on the +old turnpike road to Manassas, where the enemy was supposed to be in +great force. With a field-glass we could see the Rebel pickets moving in +a belt of woodland on our right, and morning and evening we heard the +spiteful roll of their snare-drums. + +Those pickets soon became a nuisance to us. Hardly a night passed but +they fired upon our outposts, so far with no harmful result; but after a +while it grew to be a serious matter. The Rebels would crawl out on +all-fours from the wood into a field covered with underbrush, and lie +there in the dark for hours, waiting for a shot. Then our men took to +the rifle-pits,--pits ten or twelve feet long by four or five feet deep, +with the loose earth banked up a few inches high on the exposed sides. +All the pits bore names, more or less felicitous, by which they were +known to their transient tenants. One was called "The Pepper-Box," +another "Uncle Sam's Well," another "The Reb-Trap," and another, I am +constrained to say, was named after a not to be mentioned tropical +locality. Though this rude sort of nomenclature predominated, there was +no lack of softer titles, such as "Fortress Matilda" and "Castle Mary," +and one had, though unintentionally, a literary flavor to it, "Blair's +Grave," which was not popularly considered as reflecting unpleasantly on +Nat Blair, who had assisted in making the excavation. + +Some of the regiment had discovered a field of late corn in the +neighborhood, and used to boil a few ears every day, while it lasted, +for the boys detailed on the night-picket. The corn-cobs were always +scrupulously preserved and mounted on the parapets of the pits. Whenever +a Rebel shot carried away one of these _barbette_ guns, there was +swearing in that particular trench. Strong, who was very sensitive to +this kind of disaster, was complaining bitterly one morning, because he +had lost three "pieces" the night before. + +"There's Quite So, now," said Strong, "when a Minie-ball comes _ping_! +and knocks one of his guns to flinders, he merely smiles, and doesn't at +all see the degradation of the thing." + +Poor Bladburn! As I watched him day by day going about his duties, in +his shy, cheery way, with a smile for every one and not an extra word +for anybody, it was hard to believe he was the same man who, that night +before we broke camp by the Potomac, had poured out to me the story of +his love and sorrow in words that burned in my memory. + +While Strong was speaking, Blakely lifted aside the flap of the tent and +looked in on us. + +"Boys, Quite So was hurt last night," he said, with a white tremor to +his lip. + +"What!" + +"Shot on picket." + +"Why, he was in the pit next to mine," cried Strong. + +"Badly hurt?" + +"Badly hurt." + +I knew he was; I need not have asked the question. He never meant to go +back to New England! + + * * * * * + +Bladburn was lying on the stretcher in the hospital-tent. The surgeon +had knelt down by him, and was carefully cutting away the bosom of his +blouse. The Latin grammar, stained and torn, slipped, and fell to the +floor. Bladburn gave me a quick glance. I picked up the book, and as I +placed it in his hand, the icy fingers closed softly over mine. He was +sinking fast. In a few minutes the surgeon finished his examination. +When he rose to his feet there were tears on the weather-beaten cheeks. +He was a rough outside, but a tender heart. + +"My poor lad," he blurted out, "it's no use. If you've anything to say, +say it now, for you've nearly done with this world." + +Then Bladburn lifted his eyes slowly to the surgeon, and the old smile +flitted over his face as he murmured,-- + +"Quite so." + + +NOTES + +=the first battle of Bull Run=:--Fought July 21, 1861; known in the +South as Manassas. + +=Long Bridge=:--A bridge over which the Union soldiers crossed in +fleeing to Washington after the battle of Bull Run. + +=Shenandoah=:--A river and a valley in Virginia--the scene of many +events in the Civil War. + +=Fairfax Court House=:--Near Manassas Junction. + +=On to Richmond=:--In 1861 the newspapers of the North were violently +demanding an attack on Richmond. + +=Faneuil Hall=:--An historic hall in Boston, in which important meetings +were held before the Revolution. + +=McDowell=:--Irving McDowell, who commanded the Union troops at Bull +Run. + +=McClellan=:--George B. McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac. + +=Wandering Jew=:--A legendary person said to have been condemned to +wander over the earth, undying, till the Day of Judgment. The legend is +probably founded on a passage in the Bible--John 21:20-23. + +=folding its tents=:--A quotation from _The Day is Done_, by Longfellow. +The lines are:-- + + And the night shall be filled with music, + And the cares, that infest the day, + Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, + And as silently steal away. + +=Big Bethel=:--The Union troops were defeated here on June 10, 1861. + +=Ball's Bluff=:--A place on the Potomac where the Union soldiers were +beaten, October 21, 1861. + +=Centreville=:--A small town, the Union base in the first Battle of Bull +Run. + +=Lewinsville=:--A small town, north of Centreville. + +=Vienna=:--A village in the Bull Run district. + +=Blair's Grave=:--Robert Blair, a Scotch writer, published (1743) a poem +in blank verse called "The Grave." + +=barbette guns=:--Guns elevated to fire over the top of a turret or +parapet. + +=minie-ball=:--A conical ball plugged with iron, named after its +inventor, Captain Minié, of France. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the piece through without stopping, so that you can get the story. +Then go back to the beginning and study with the help of the following +questions:-- + +Compare the first sentence with the first sentence of _Tennessee's +Partner_. What do you think of the method? What is the use of the first +paragraph in _Quite So_? Why the long paragraph giving the setting? Is +this a good method in writing a story? What had become of "Little +Billy"? Who was "Johnny Reb"? What do you think of bringing in humorous +touches when one is dealing with things so serious as war and battles? +What does "Drop that!" refer to? Why does Strong change his tone? Note +what details the author has selected in order to give a clear picture of +"Quite So" in a few words. How does the conversation reveal the +stranger's character? What is shown by the fact that "Quite So" does not +write any letters? What is the purpose of the episode of "Muffin Fan"? +What devices does the author use, in order to bring out the mystery and +the loneliness of "Quite So"? Note how the author emphasizes the passage +of time. Why does Bladburn finally tell his story? How does it reveal +his character? Was Mary right in what she did? Why are some sentences in +the text printed in italics? Was Bladburn right in leaving his home +village without explanation? Why did he do so? What do you get from the +sentence, "He never meant to go back to New England"? What is the +impression made by the last sentence? Do you like the story? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Mysterious Person +The New Girl at School +The Schoolmaster's Romance +A Sudden Departure +A Camp Scene +The G.A.R. on Memorial Day +The Militia in our Town +An Old Soldier +A Story of the Civil War +Some Relics of the Civil War +Watching the Cadets Drill +My Uncle's Experiences in the War +A Sham Battle +A Visit to an Old Battlefield +On Picket Duty +A Daughter of the Confederacy +"Stonewall" Jackson +Modern Ways of Preventing War +The Soldiers' Home +An Escape from a Military Prison +The Women's Relief Corps +Women in the Civil War + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=An Old Soldier=:--Tell how you happen to know this old soldier. Where +does he live? Do you see him often? What is he doing when you see him? +Describe him as vividly as you can:--his general appearance; his +clothes; his way of walking. Speak particularly of his face and its +expression. If possible, let us hear him talk. Perhaps you can tell some +of his war stories--in his own words. + +=A Mysterious Person=:--Imagine a mysterious person appearing in a +little town where everybody knows everybody else. Tell how he (or she) +arrives. How does he look? What does he do? Explain clearly why he is +particularly hard to account for. What do people say about him? Try to +make each person's remarks fit his individual character. How do people +try to find out about the stranger? Does he notice their curiosity? Do +they ask him questions? If so, give some bits of their conversations +with him. You might go on and make a story of some length out of this. +Show whether the stranger really has any reason for concealing his +identity. Does he get into any trouble? Does an accident reveal who he +is and why he is in the town? Does some one find out by spying upon him? +Or does he tell all about himself, when the right time comes? + +Perhaps you can put the story into the form of a series of brief +conversations about the stranger or with him. + +=An Incident of the Civil War=:--Select some historical incident, or one +that you have heard from an old soldier, and tell it simply and vividly +in your own words. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Story of a Bad Boy Thomas Bailey Aldrich +Marjorie Daw and Other People " " " +The Stillwater Tragedy " " " +Prudence Palfrey " " " +From Ponkapog to Pesth " " " +The Queen of Sheba " " " +A Sea Turn and Other Matters " " " +For Bravery on the Field of Battle + (in _Two Bites at a Cherry_) " " " +The Return of a Private + (in _Main-Travelled Roads_) Hamlin Garland +On the Eve of the Fourth Harold Frederic +Marse Chan Thomas Nelson Page +Meh Lady " " " +The Burial of the Guns " " " +Red Rock " " " +The Long Roll Mary Johnston +Cease Firing " " +The Crisis Winston Churchill +Where the Battle was Fought Mary N. Murfree +The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come John Fox, Jr. +Hospital Sketches Louisa M. Alcott +A Blockaded Family P.A. Hague +He Knew Lincoln[2] Ida Tarbell +The Perfect Tribute[3] M.R.S. Andrews +The Toy Shop[4] M.S. Gerry +Thomas Bailey Aldrich Ferris Greenslet +Park Street Papers, pp. 143-70 Bliss Perry +American Writers of To-day, pp. 104-23 H.C. Vedder +American Authors and their Homes, + pp. 89-98 F.W. Halsey +American Authors at Home, pp. 3-16 J.L. and J.B. Gilder +Literary Pilgrimages in New England, + pp. 89-97 E.M. Bacon +Thomas Bailey Aldrich (poem) Henry van Dyke + +For biographies and criticisms of Thomas B. Aldrich, see also: Outlook, +86:922, August 24, 1907; 84:735, November 24, 1906; 85:737, March 30, +1907. Bookman, 24:317, December, 1906 (Portrait); also 25:218 +(Portrait). Current Literature, 42:49, January, 1907 (Portrait). +Chautauquan, 65:168, January, 1912. + + + + +PAN IN WALL STREET + +A.D. 1867 + +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN + + + Just where the Treasury's marble front + Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations; + Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont + To throng for trade and last quotations; + Where, hour by hour, the rates of gold + Outrival, in the ears of people, + The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled + From Trinity's undaunted steeple,-- + + Even there I heard a strange, wild strain + Sound high above the modern clamor, + Above the cries of greed and gain, + The curbstone war, the auction's hammer; + And swift, on Music's misty ways, + It led, from all this strife for millions. + To ancient, sweet-do-nothing days + Among the kirtle-robed Sicilians. + + And as it stilled the multitude, + And yet more joyous rose, and shriller, + I saw the minstrel where he stood + At ease against a Doric pillar: + One hand a droning organ played, + The other held a Pan's-pipe (fashioned + Like those of old) to lips that made + The reeds give out that strain impassioned. + + 'Twas Pan himself had wandered here + A-strolling through this sordid city, + And piping to the civic ear + The prelude of some pastoral ditty! + The demigod had crossed the seas,-- + From haunts of shepherd, nymph, and satyr, + And Syracusan times,--to these + Far shores and twenty centuries later. + + A ragged cap was on his head; + But--hidden thus--there was no doubting + That, all with crispy locks o'erspread, + His gnarlèd horns were somewhere sprouting; + His club-feet, cased in rusty shoes, + Were crossed, as on some frieze you see them, + And trousers, patched of divers hues, + Concealed his crooked shanks beneath them. + + He filled the quivering reeds with sound, + And o'er his mouth their changes shifted, + And with his goat's-eyes looked around + Where'er the passing current drifted; + And soon, as on Trinacrian hills + The nymphs and herdsmen ran to hear him, + Even now the tradesmen from their tills, + With clerks and porters, crowded near him. + + The bulls and bears together drew + From Jauncey Court and New Street Alley, + As erst, if pastorals be true, + Came beasts from every wooded valley; + And random passers stayed to list,-- + A boxer Ægon, rough and merry, + A Broadway Daphnis, on his tryst + With Nais at the Brooklyn Ferry. + + A one-eyed Cyclops halted long + In tattered cloak of army pattern, + And Galatea joined the throng,-- + A blowsy apple-vending slattern; + While old Silenus staggered out + From some new-fangled lunch-house handy, + And bade the piper, with a shout, + To strike up Yankee Doodle Dandy! + + A newsboy and a peanut-girl + Like little Fauns began to caper; + His hair was all in tangled curl, + Her tawny legs were bare and taper; + And still the gathering larger grew, + And gave its pence and crowded nigher, + While aye the shepherd-minstrel blew + His pipe, and struck the gamut higher. + + O heart of Nature, beating still + With throbs her vernal passion taught her,-- + Even here, as on the vine-clad hill, + Or by the Arethusan water! + New forms may fold the speech, new lands + Arise within these ocean-portals, + But Music waves eternal wands,-- + Enchantress of the souls of mortals! + + So thought I,--but among us trod + A man in blue, with legal baton, + And scoffed the vagrant demigod, + And pushed him from the step I sat on. + Doubting I mused upon the cry, + "Great Pan is dead!"--and all the people + Went on their ways:--and clear and high + The quarter sounded from the steeple. + + +NOTES + +=Wall Street=:--An old street in New York faced by the Stock Exchange +and the offices of the wealthiest bankers and brokers. + +=the Treasury=:--The Sub-Treasury Building. + +=last quotations=:--The latest information on stock values given out +before the Stock Exchange closes. + +=Trinity=:--The famous old church that stands at the head of Wall +Street. + +=curbstone war=:--The clamorous quoting, auctioning, and bidding of +stock out on the street curb, where the "curb brokers"--brokers who do +not have seats on the Stock Exchange--do business. + +=sweet-do-nothing=:--A translation of an Italian expression, _dolce far +niente_. + +=Sicilians=:--Theocritus (3rd century before Christ), the Greek pastoral +poet, wrote of the happy life of the shepherds and shepherdesses in +Sicily. + +=Doric pillar=:--A heavy marble pillar, such as was used in the +architecture of the Dorians in Greece. + +=Pan's pipe=:--Pan was the Greek god of shepherds, and patron of fishing +and hunting. He is represented as having the head and body of a man, +with the legs, horns, and tail of a goat. It was said that he invented +the shepherd's pipe or flute, which he made from reeds plucked on the +bank of a stream. + +=pastoral ditty=:--A poem about shepherds and the happy outdoor life. +The word pastoral comes from the Latin _pastor_, shepherd. + +=Syracusan times=:--Syracuse was an important city in Sicily. See the +note on Sicilians, above. + +=Trinacrian hills=:--Trinacria is an old name for Sicily. + +=bulls and bears=:--A bull, on the Stock Exchange, is one who operates +in expectation of a rise in stocks; a bear is a person who sells stocks +in expectation of a fall in the market. + +=Jauncey Court=:--The Jauncey family were prominent in the early New +York days. This court was probably named after them. + +=Ægon=:--Usually spelled Ægaeon; another name for Briareus, a monster +with a hundred arms. + +=Daphnis=:--In Greek myth, a shepherd who loved music. + +=Nais=:--In Greek myth, a happy young girl, a nymph. + +=Cyclops=:--One of a race of giants having but one eye--in the middle of +the forehead. These giants helped Vulcan at his forge under Aetna. + +=Galatea=:--A sea-nymph beloved by the Cyclops Polyphemus. + +=Silenus=:--The foster-father and companion of Bacchus, god of wine. In +pictures and sculpture Silenus is usually represented as intoxicated. + +=Fauns=:--Fabled beings, half goat and half man. + +=Arethusan water=:--Arethusa, in Greek myth, was a wood-nymph, who was +pursued by the river Alpheus. She was changed into a fountain, and ran +under the sea to Sicily, where she rose near the city of Syracuse. +Shelley has a poem on Arethusa. + +=baton=:--A rod or wand; here, of course, a policeman's club. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The author sees an organ-grinder playing his gay tunes in Wall Street, +New York, among the buildings where enormous financial transactions are +carried on. He (the author) imagines this wandering minstrel to be Pan +himself, assuming a modern form. Read the notes carefully for what is +said about Pan. Notice, in the poem, how skillfully the author brings +out the contrast between the easy-going days of ancient Greece and the +busy, rushing times of modern America. Of what value is the word +_serenely_ in the first stanza? What is the "curbstone war"? Do you +think the old-fashioned Pan's pipe is common now? Could a man play an +organ and a pipe at the same time? Why is the city spoken of as +"sordid"? What is the "civic ear"? In the description of the player, how +is the idea of his being Pan emphasized? How was it that the bulls and +bears drew together? In plain words who were the people whom the author +describes under Greek names? Show how aptly the mythological characters +are fitted to modern persons. Read carefully what is said about the +power of music, in the stanza beginning "O heart of Nature." Who was the +man in blue? Why did he interfere? Why is the organ-grinder called a +"vagrant demigod"? What was it that the author doubted? What is meant +here by "Great Pan is dead"? Does the author mean more than the mere +words seem to express? Do you think that people are any happier in these +commercial times than they were in ancient Greece? After you have +studied the poem and mastered all the references, read the poem through, +thinking of its meaning and its lively measure. + +Read Mrs. Browning's poem, _A Musical Instrument_, which is about Pan +and his pipe of reeds. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Nooks and Corners of Old New York Charles Hemstreet +In Old New York Thomas A. Janvier +The Greatest Street in the World: + Broadway Stephen Jenkins +The God of Music (poem) Edith M. Thomas +A Musical Instrument Elizabeth Barrett Browning +Classic Myths (See Index) C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable Thomas Bulfinch +A Butterfly in Wall Street + (in _Madrigals and Catches_) Frank D. Sherman +Come Pan, and Pipe + (in _Madrigals and Catches_) " " " +Pan Learns Music (poem) Henry van Dyke +Peeps at Great Cities: New York Hildegarde Hawthorne +Vignettes of Manhattan Brander Matthews +New York Society Ralph Pulitzer +In the Cities (poem) R.W. Gilder +Up at a Villa--Down in the City Robert Browning +The Faun in Wall Street[5] (poem) John Myers O'Hara + + + + +THE HAND OF LINCOLN + +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN + + + Look on this cast, and know the hand + That bore a nation in its hold; + From this mute witness understand + What Lincoln was,--how large of mould + + The man who sped the woodman's team, + And deepest sunk the ploughman's share, + And pushed the laden raft astream, + Of fate before him unaware. + + This was the hand that knew to swing + The axe--since thus would Freedom train + Her son--and made the forest ring, + And drove the wedge, and toiled amain. + + Firm hand, that loftier office took, + A conscious leader's will obeyed, + And, when men sought his word and look, + With steadfast might the gathering swayed. + + No courtier's, toying with a sword, + Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute; + A chief's, uplifted to the Lord + When all the kings of earth were mute! + + The hand of Anak, sinewed strong, + The fingers that on greatness clutch; + Yet, lo! the marks their lines along + Of one who strove and suffered much. + + For here in knotted cord and vein + I trace the varying chart of years; + I know the troubled heart, the strain, + The weight of Atlas--and the tears. + + Again I see the patient brow + That palm erewhile was wont to press; + And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now + Made smooth with hope and tenderness. + + For something of a formless grace + This moulded outline plays about; + A pitying flame, beyond our trace, + Breathes like a spirit, in and out,-- + + The love that cast an aureole + Round one who, longer to endure, + Called mirth to ease his ceaseless dole, + Yet kept his nobler purpose sure. + + Lo, as I gaze, the statured man, + Built up from yon large hand, appears; + A type that Nature wills to plan + But once in all a people's years. + + What better than this voiceless cast + To tell of such a one as he, + Since through its living semblance passed + The thought that bade a race be free! + + +NOTES + +=this cast=:--A cast of Lincoln's hand was made by Leonard W. Volk, in +1860, on the Sunday following the nomination of Lincoln for the +Presidency. The original, in bronze, can be seen at the National Museum +in Washington. Various copies have been made in plaster. An anecdote +concerning one of these is told on page 107 of William Dean Howells's +_Literary Friends and Acquaintances_; facing page 106 of the same book +there is an interesting picture. In the _Critic_, volume 44, page 510, +there is an article by Isabel Moore, entitled _Hands that have Done +Things_; a picture of Lincoln's hand, in plaster, is given in the course +of this article. + +=Anak=:--The sons of Anak are spoken of in the Bible as a race of +giants. See Numbers, 13:33; Deuteronomy, 9:2. + +=Atlas=:--In Greek story, the giant who held the world on his shoulders. + +=the thought=:--The Emancipation Proclamation. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem through from beginning to end. Then go back to the first +and study it more carefully. Notice that there is no pause at the end of +the first stanza. In the ninth line, mentally put in _how_ after _know_. +Explain what is said about Freedom's training her son. _Loftier office_: +Loftier than what? Note that _might_ is a noun. Mentally insert _hand_ +after _courtier's_. Can you tell from the hand of a person whether he +has suffered or not? What does the author mean here by "the weight of +Atlas"? What is a "formless grace"? Is the expression appropriate here? +What characteristic of Lincoln is referred to in the line beginning +"Called mirth"? Are great men so rare as the author seems to think? Why +is the cast a good means of telling of "such a one as he"? Look +carefully at one of Lincoln's portraits, and then read this poem aloud +to yourself. + +Compare this poem with the sonnet _On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln_, +page 210. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Abraham Lincoln: A Short Life John G. Nicolay +The Boys' Life of Lincoln Helen Nicolay +Personal Traits of Abraham Lincoln " " +Lincoln the Lawyer F.T. Hill +Passages from the Speeches and Letters + of Abraham Lincoln R.W. Gilder (Ed.) +Lincoln's Own Stories Anthony Gross +Lincoln Norman Hapgood +Abraham Lincoln, the Boy and the Man James Morgan +Father Abraham Ida Tarbell +He Knew Lincoln[6] " " +Life of Abraham Lincoln " " +Abraham Lincoln Robert G. Ingersoll +Abraham Lincoln Noah Brooks +Abraham Lincoln for Boys and Girls C.W. Moores +The Graysons Edward Eggleston +The Perfect Tribute[6] M.R.S. Andrews +The Toy Shop[6] M.S. Gerry +We Talked of Lincoln (poem)[7] E.W. Thomson +Lincoln and the Sleeping Sentinel L.E. Chittenden +O Captain, my Captain! Walt Whitman +When Lilacs last in the Dooryard Bloomed " " +Poems E.C. Stedman +An American Anthology " " " +American Authors and their Homes, pp. 157-172 F.W. Halsey +American Authors at Home, pp. 273-291 J.L. and J.B. Gilder + +For portraits of E.C. Stedman, see Bookman, 34:592; Current Literature, +42:49. + + + + +JEAN VALJEAN + +AUGUSTA STEVENSON + +(Dramatized from Victor Hugo's _Les Misérables_) + + +SCENE II + +TIME: _Evening._ + +PLACE: _Village of D----; dining room of the Bishop's house._ + + * * * * * + +[_The room is poorly furnished, but orderly. A door at the back opens on +the street. At one side, a window overlooks the garden; at the other, +curtains hang before an alcove._ MADEMOISELLE, _the Bishop's_ SISTER, _a +sweet-faced lady, sits by the fire, knitting._ MADAME, _his_ +HOUSEKEEPER, _is laying the table for supper._] + +MLLE. Has the Bishop returned from the service? + +MADAME. Yes, Mademoiselle. He is in his room, reading. Shall I +call him? + +MLLE. No, do not disturb him--he will come in good time--when +supper is ready. + +MADAME. Dear me--I forgot to get bread when I went out to-day. + +MLLE. Go to the baker's, then; we will wait. + +[_Exit Madame. Pause._] + +[_Enter the_ BISHOP. _He is an old man, gentle and kindly._] + +BISHOP. I hope I have not kept you waiting, sister. + +MLLE. No, brother, Madame has just gone out for bread. She +forgot it this morning. + +BISHOP (_having seated himself by the fire_). The wind blows +cold from the mountains to-night. + +MLLE. (_nodding_). All day it has been growing colder. + +BISHOP. 'Twill bring great suffering to the poor. + +MLLE. Who suffer too much already. + +BISHOP. I would I could help them more than I do! + +MLLE. You give all you have, my brother. You keep nothing for +yourself--you have only bare necessities. + +BISHOP. Well, I have sent in a bill for carriage hire in making +pastoral visits. + +MLLE. Carriage hire! I did not know you ever rode. Now I am +glad to hear that. A bishop should go in state sometimes. I venture to +say your bill is small. + +BISHOP. Three thousand francs. + +MLLE. Three thousand francs! Why, I cannot believe it! + +BISHOP. Here is the bill. + +MLLE. (_reading bill_). What is this! + +EXPENSES OF CARRIAGE + +For furnishing soup to hospital 1500 francs +For charitable society of D---- 500 " +For foundlings 500 " +For orphans 500 " + ---- +Total 3000 francs + +So! that is your carriage hire! Ha, ha! I might have known it! + +[_They laugh together._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME, _excited, with bread._] + +MADAME. Such news as I have heard! The whole town is talking +about it! We should have locks put on our doors at once! + +MLLE. What is it, Madame? What have you heard? + +MADAME. They say there is a suspicious vagabond in the town. +The inn-keeper refused to take him in. They say he is a released convict +who once committed an awful crime. + +[_The Bishop is looking into the fire, paying no attention to Madame._] + +MLLE. Do you hear what Madame is saying, brother? + +BISHOP. Only a little. Are we in danger, Madame? + +MADAME. There is a convict in town, your Reverence! + +BISHOP. Do you fear we shall be robbed? + +MADAME. I do, indeed! + +BISHOP. Of what? + +MADAME. There are the six silver plates and the silver +soup-ladle and the two silver candlesticks. + +BISHOP. All of which we could do without. + +MADAME. Do without! + +MLLE. 'Twould be a great loss, brother. We could not treat a +guest as is our wont. + +BISHOP. Ah, there you have me, sister. I love to see the silver +laid out for every guest who comes here. And I like the candles lighted, +too; it makes a brighter welcome. + +MLLE. A bishop's house should show some state. + +BISHOP. Aye--to every stranger! Henceforth, I should like every +one of our six plates on the table whenever we have a guest here. + +MLLE. All of them? + +MADAME. For one guest? + +BISHOP. Yes--we have no right to hide treasures. Each guest +shall enjoy all that we have. + +MADAME. Then 'tis time we should look to the locks on the +doors, if we would keep our silver. I'll go for the locksmith now-- + +BISHOP. Stay! This house shall not be locked against any man! +Would you have me lock out my brothers? + +[_A loud knock is heard at street door._] + +Come in! + +[_Enter_ JEAN VALJEAN, _with his knapsack and cudgel. The women +are frightened._] + +JEAN (_roughly_). See here! My name is Jean Valjean. I am a +convict from the galleys. I was set free four days ago, and I am looking +for work. I hoped to find a lodging here, but no one will have me. It +was the same way yesterday and the day before. To-night a good woman +told me to knock at your door. I have knocked. Is this an inn? + +BISHOP. Madame, put on another plate. + +JEAN. Stop! You do not understand, I think. Here is my +passport--see what it says: "Jean Valjean, discharged convict, has been +nineteen years in the galleys; five years for theft; fourteen years for +having attempted to escape. He is a very dangerous man." There! you know +it all. I ask only for straw in your stable. + +BISHOP. Madame, you will put white sheets on the bed in the +alcove. + +[_Exit Madame. The Bishop turns to Jean._] + +We shall dine presently. Sit here by the fire, sir. + +JEAN. What! You will keep me? You call me "sir"! Oh! I am going +to dine! I am to have a bed with sheets like the rest of the world--a +bed! It is nineteen years since I have slept in a bed! I will pay +anything you ask. You are a fine man. You are an innkeeper, are you not? + +BISHOP. I am a priest who lives here. + +JEAN. A priest! Ah, yes--I ask your pardon--I didn't notice +your cap and gown. + +BISHOP. Be seated near the fire, sir. + +[_Jean deposits his knapsack, repeating to himself with delight._] + +JEAN. He calls me _sir_--_sir_. (_Aloud._) You will require me +to pay, will you not? + +BISHOP. No, keep your money. How much have you? + +JEAN. One hundred and nine francs. + +BISHOP. How long did it take you to earn it? + +JEAN. Nineteen years. + +BISHOP (_sadly_). Nineteen years--the best part of your life! + +JEAN. Aye, the best part--I am now forty-six. A beast of burden +would have earned more. + +BISHOP. This lamp gives a very bad light, sister. + +[_Mlle. gets the two silver candlesticks from the mantel, lights them, +and places them on the table._] + +JEAN. Ah, but you are good! You don't despise me. You light +your candles for me,--you treat me as a guest,--and I've told you where +I come from, who I am! + +BISHOP. This house does not demand of him who enters whether he +has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer--you are hungry--you +are welcome. + +JEAN. I cannot understand it-- + +BISHOP. This house is home to the man who needs a refuge. So, +sir, this is your house now more than it is mine. Whatever is here is +yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me, +I knew it. + +JEAN. What! You knew my name! + +BISHOP. Yes, your name is--Brother. + +JEAN. Stop! I cannot bear it--you are so good-- + +[_He buries his face in his hands._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME _with dishes for the table; she continues +passing in and out, preparing supper._] + +BISHOP. You have suffered much, sir-- + +JEAN (_nodding_). The red shirt, the ball on the ankle, a plank +to sleep on, heat, cold, toil, the whip, the double chain for nothing, +the cell for one word--even when sick in bed, still the chain! Dogs, +dogs are happier! Nineteen years! and now the yellow passport! + +BISHOP. Yes, you have suffered. + +JEAN (_with violence_). I hate this world of laws and courts! I +hate the men who rule it! For nineteen years my soul has had only +thoughts of hate. For nineteen years I've planned revenge. Do you hear? +Revenge--revenge! + +BISHOP. It is not strange that you should feel so. And if you +continue to harbor those thoughts, you are only deserving of pity. But +listen, my brother; if, in spite of all you have passed through, your +thoughts could be of peace and love, you would be better than any one of +us. + +[_Pause. Jean reflects._] + +JEAN (_speaking violently_). No, no! I do not belong to your +world of men. I am apart--a different creature from you all. The galleys +made me different. I'll have nothing to do with any of you! + +MADAME. The supper, your Reverence. + +[_The Bishop glances at the table_.] + +BISHOP. It strikes me there is something missing from this +table. + +[_Madame hesitates._] + +MLLE. Madame, do you not understand? + +[_Madame steps to a cupboard, gets the remaining silver plates, and +places them on the table._] + +BISHOP (_gayly, turning to Jean_). To table then, my friend! To +table! + +[_Jean remains for a moment, standing doggedly apart; then he steps over +to the chair awaiting him, jerks it back, and sinks into it, without +looking up._] + + +SCENE III + +TIME: _Daybreak the next morning._ + +PLACE: _The Bishop's dining room._ + + * * * * * + +[_The room is dark, except for a faint light that comes in through +window curtains._ JEAN VALJEAN _creeps in from the alcove. He +carries his knapsack and cudgel in one hand; in the other, his shoes. He +opens the window overlooking the garden; the room becomes lighter. Jean +steps to the mantel and lifts a silver candlestick._] + +JEAN (_whispering_). Two hundred francs--double what I have +earned in nineteen years! + +[_He puts it in his knapsack; takes up the other candlestick; shudders, +and sets it down again._] + +No, no, he is good--he called me "sir"-- + +[_He stands still, staring before him, his hand still gripping the +candlestick. Suddenly he straightens up; speaks bitterly._] + +Why not? 'Tis easy to give a bed and food! Why doesn't he keep men from +the galleys? Nineteen years for a loaf of bread! + +[_Pauses a moment, then resolutely puts both candlesticks into his bag; +steps to the cupboard and takes out the silver plates and the ladle, and +slips them into the bag._] + +All solid--I should gain at least one thousand francs. 'Tis due me--due +me for all these years! + +[_Closes the bag. Pause._] + +No, not the candles--I owe him that much-- + +[_He puts the candlesticks on mantel; takes up cudgel, knapsack, and +shoes; jumps out window and disappears. Pause._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME. _She shivers; discovers the open window._] + +MADAME. Why is that window open? I closed it last night myself. +Oh! Could it be possible? + +[_Crosses and looks at open cupboard._] + +It is gone! + +[_Enter the_ BISHOP _from his room._] + +BISHOP. Good morning, Madame! + +MADAME. Your Reverence! The silver is gone! Where is that man? + +BISHOP. In the alcove sleeping, I suppose. + +[_Madame runs to curtains of alcove and looks in. Enter_ +MADEMOISELLE. _Madame turns._] + +He is gone! + +MLLE. Gone? + +MADAME. Aye, gone--gone! He has stolen our silver, the +beautiful plates and the ladle! I'll inform the police at once! + +[_Starts off. The Bishop stops her._] + +BISHOP. Wait!--Let me ask you this--was that silver ours? + +MADAME. Why--why not? + +BISHOP. Because it has always belonged to the poor. I have +withheld it wrongfully. + +MLLE. Its loss makes no difference to Madame or me. + +MADAME. Oh, no! But what is your Reverence to eat from now? + +BISHOP. Are there no pewter plates? + +MADAME. Pewter has an odor. + +BISHOP. Iron ones, then. + +MADAME. Iron has a taste. + +BISHOP. Well, then, wooden plates. + +[_A knock is heard at street door._] + +Come in. + +[_Enter an_ OFFICER _and two_ SOLDIERS, _dragging in_ +JEAN VALJEAN.] + +OFFICER. Your Reverence, we found your silver on this man. + +BISHOP. Why not? I gave it to him. I am glad to see you again, +Jean. Why did you not take the candlesticks, too? + +JEAN (_trembling_). Your Reverence-- + +BISHOP. I told you everything in this house was yours, my +brother. + +OFFICER. Ah, then what he said was true. But, of course, we did +not believe him. We saw him creeping from your garden-- + +BISHOP. It is all right, I assure you. This man is a friend of +mine. + +OFFICER. Then we can let him go? + +BISHOP. Certainly. + +[_Soldiers step back._] + +JEAN (_trembling_). I am free? + +OFFICER. Yes! You can go. Do you not understand? + +[_Steps back._] + +BISHOP (_to Jean_). My friend, before you go away--here are +your candlesticks (_going to the mantel and bringing the candlesticks_); +take them. + +[_Jean takes the candlesticks, seeming not to know what he is doing._] + +By the way, my friend, when you come again you need not come through the +garden. The front door is closed only with a latch, day or night. (_To +the Officer and Soldiers._) Gentlemen, you may withdraw. + +[_Exit Officer and Soldiers._] + +JEAN (_recoiling and holding out the candlesticks_). +No--no--I--I-- + +BISHOP. Say no more; I understand. You felt that they were all +owing to you from a world that had used you ill. Keep them, my friend, +keep them. I would I had more to give you. It is small recompense for +nineteen years. + +[_Jean stands bewildered, looking down at the candlesticks in his +hands._] + +They will add something to your hundred francs. But do not forget, never +forget, that you have promised to use the money in becoming an honest +man. + +JEAN. I--promised--? + +BISHOP (_not heeding_). Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer +belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you: I +withdraw it from thoughts of hatred and revenge--I give it to peace and +hope and God. + +[_Jean stands as if stunned, staring at the Bishop, then turns and walks +unsteadily from the room._] + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Jean Valjean, as a young man, was sent to the galleys for stealing a +loaf of bread to feed his sister's hungry children. From time to time, +when he tried to escape, his sentence was increased, so that he spent +nineteen years as a convict. Scene I of Miss Stevenson's dramatization +shows Jean Valjean being turned away from the inn because he has been in +prison. + +What does the stage setting tell of the Bishop and his sister? Notice, +as you read, why each of the items in the stage setting is mentioned. +Why is Madame made to leave the room--how does her absence help the +action of the play? What is the purpose of the conversation about the +weather? About the carriage hire? Why is the Bishop not more excited at +Madame's news? What is gained by the talk about the silver? Notice the +dramatic value of the Bishop's speech beginning "Stay!" Why does Jean +Valjean speak so roughly when he enters? Why does he not try to conceal +the fact that he is a convict? Why does not the Bishop reply directly to +Jean Valjean's question? What would be the action of Mademoiselle and +Madame while Jean is speaking? What is Madame's action as she goes out? +What is gained by the conversation between Jean and the Bishop? Why does +the Bishop not reproach Jean for saying he will have revenge? Why is the +silver mentioned so many times? + +While you are reading the first part of Scene III, think how it should +be played. Note how much the stage directions add to the clearness of +the scene. How long should the pause be, before Madame enters? What is +gained by the calmness of the Bishop? How can he say that the silver was +not his? What does the Bishop mean when he says, "I gave it to him"? +What are Mademoiselle and Madame doing while the conversation with the +officers and Jean Valjean is going on? Is it a good plan to let them +drop so completely out of the conversation? Why does the Bishop say that +Jean has promised? Why does the scene close without Jean's replying to +the Bishop? How do you think the Bishop's kindness has affected Jean +Valjean's attitude toward life? + +Note how the action and the conversation increase in intensity as the +play proceeds: Is this a good method? Notice the use of contrast in +speech and action. Note how the chief characters are emphasized. Can you +discover the quality called "restraint," in this fragment of a play? How +is it gained, and what is its value? + + +EXERCISES[8] + +Select a short passage from some book that you like, and try to put it +into dramatic form, using this selection as a kind of model. Do not +attempt too much at once, but think out carefully the setting, the stage +directions, and the dialogue for a brief fragment of a play. + +Make a series of dramatic scenes from the same book, so that a connected +story is worked out. + +Read a part of some modern drama, such as _The Piper_, or _The Blue +Bird_, or one of Mr. Howells's little farces, and notice how it makes +use of setting and stage directions; how the conversation is broken up; +how the situation is brought out in the dialogue; how each person is +made to speak in his own character. + +After you have done the reading suggested above, make another attempt at +dramatizing a scene from a book, and see what improvement you can make +upon the sort of thing you did at first. + +It might be interesting for two or three persons to work on a bit of +dramatization together, and then give the fragment of a play in simple +fashion before the class. Or the whole class may work on the play, and +then select some of their number to perform it. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Dramatic Reader: Book Five Augusta Stevenson +Plays for the Home " " +Jean Valjean (translated and abridged from + Victor Hugo's _Les Misérables_) S.E. Wiltse (Ed.) +The Little Men Play (adapted from Louisa + Alcott's _Little Men_) E.L. Gould +The Little Women Play " " " +The St. Nicholas Book of Plays Century Company +The Silver Thread and Other Folk Plays Constance Mackay +Patriotic Plays and Pageants " " +Fairy Tale Plays and How to Act Them Mrs. Hugh Bell +Festival Plays Marguerite Merington +Short Plays from Dickens H.B. Browne +The Piper Josephine Preston Peabody +The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck +Riders to the Sea J.M. Synge +She Stoops to Conquer Oliver Goldsmith +The Rivals Richard Brinsley Sheridan +Prince Otto R.L. Stevenson +The Canterbury Pilgrims Percy Mackaye +The Elevator William Dean Howells +The Mouse Trap " " " +The Sleeping Car William Dean Howells +The Register " " " +The Story of Waterloo Henry Irving +The Children's Theatre A. Minnie Herts +The Art of Play-writing Alfred Hennequin + + + + +A COMBAT ON THE SANDS + +MARY JOHNSTON + +(From _To Have and to Hold_, Chapters XXI and XXII) + + +A few minutes later saw me almost upon the party gathered about the +grave. The grave had received that which it was to hold until the crack +of doom, and was now being rapidly filled with sand. The crew of +deep-dyed villains worked or stood or sat in silence, but all looked at +the grave, and saw me not. As the last handful of sand made it level +with the beach, I walked into their midst, and found myself face to face +with the three candidates for the now vacant captaincy. + +"Give you good-day, gentlemen," I cried. "Is it your captain that you +bury or one of your crew, or is it only pezos and pieces of eight? + +"The sun shining on so much bare steel hurts my eyes," I said. "Put up, +gentlemen, put up! Cannot one rover attend the funeral of another +without all this crowding and display of cutlery? If you will take the +trouble to look around you, you will see that I have brought to the +obsequies only myself." + +One by one cutlass and sword were lowered, and those who had drawn them, +falling somewhat back, spat and swore and laughed. The man in black and +silver only smiled gently and sadly. "Did you drop from the blue?" he +asked. "Or did you come up from the sea?" + +"I came out of it," I said. "My ship went down in the storm yesterday. +Your little cockboat yonder was more fortunate." I waved my hand toward +that ship of three hundred tons, then twirled my mustaches and stood at +gaze. + +"Was your ship so large, then?" demanded Paradise, while a murmur of +admiration, larded with oaths, ran around the circle. + +"She was a very great galleon," I replied, with a sigh for the good ship +that was gone. + +A moment's silence, during which they all looked at me. "A galleon," +then said Paradise softly. + +"They that sailed her yesterday are to-day at the bottom of the sea," I +continued. "Alackaday! so are one hundred thousand pezos of gold, three +thousand bars of silver, ten frails of pearls, jewels uncounted, cloth +of gold and cloth of silver. She was a very rich prize." + +The circle sucked in their breath. "All at the bottom of the sea?" +queried Red Gil, with gloating eyes fixed upon the smiling water. "Not +one pezo left, not one little, little pearl?" + +I shook my head and heaved a prodigious sigh. "The treasure is gone," I +said, "and the men with whom I took it are gone. I am a captain with +neither ship nor crew. I take you, my friends, for a ship and crew +without a captain. The inference is obvious." + +The ring gaped with wonder, then strange oaths arose. Red Gil broke into +a bellow of angry laughter, while the Spaniard glared like a catamount +about to spring. "So you would be our captain?" said Paradise, picking +up another shell, and poising it upon a hand as fine and small as a +woman's. + +"Faith, you might go farther and fare worse," I answered, and began to +hum a tune. When I had finished it, "I am Kirby," I said, and waited to +see if that shot should go wide or through the hull. + +For two minutes the dash of the surf and the cries of the wheeling sea +fowl made the only sound in that part of the world; then from those +half-clad rapscallions arose a shout of "Kirby!"--a shout in which the +three leaders did not join. That one who looked a gentleman rose from +the sand and made me a low bow. "Well met, noble captain," he cried in +those his honey tones. "You will doubtless remember me who was with you +that time at Maracaibo when you sunk the galleasses. Five years have +passed since then, and yet I see you ten years younger and three inches +taller." + +"I touched once at the Lucayas, and found the spring de Leon sought," I +said. "Sure the waters have a marvelous effect, and if they give not +eternal youth at least renew that which we have lost." + +"Truly a potent aqua vitæ," he remarked, still with thoughtful +melancholy. "I see that it hath changed your eyes from black to gray." + +"It hath that peculiar virtue," I said, "that it can make black seem +white." + +The man with the woman's mantle drawn about him now thrust himself from +the rear to the front rank. "That's not Kirby!" he bawled. "He's no more +Kirby than I am Kirby! Didn't I sail with Kirby from the Summer Isles to +Cartagena and back again? He's a cheat, and I am a-going to cut his +heart out!" He was making at me with a long knife, when I whipped out my +rapier. + +"Am I not Kirby, you dog?" I cried, and ran him through the shoulder. + +He dropped, and his fellows surged forward with a yell. "Yet a little +patience, my masters!" said Paradise in a raised voice and with genuine +amusement in his eyes. "It is true that that Kirby with whom I and our +friend there on the ground sailed was somewhat short and as swart as a +raven, besides having a cut across his face that had taken away part of +his lip and the top of his ear, and that this gentleman who announces +himself as Kirby hath none of Kirby's marks. But we are fair and +generous and open to conviction"-- + +"He'll have to convince my cutlass!" roared Red Gil. + +I turned upon him. "If I do convince it, what then?" I demanded. "If I +convince your sword, you of Spain, and yours, Sir Black and Silver?" + +The Spaniard stared. "I was the best sword in Lima," he said stiffly. "I +and my Toledo will not change our minds." + +"Let him try to convince Paradise; he's got no reputation as a +swordsman!" cried out the grave-digger with the broken head. + +A roar of laughter followed this suggestion, and I gathered from it and +from the oaths and allusions to this or that time and place that +Paradise was not without reputation. + +I turned to him. "If I fight you three, one by one, and win, am I +Kirby?" + +He regarded the shell with which he was toying with a thoughtful smile, +held it up that the light might strike through its rose and pearl, then +crushed it to dust between his fingers. + +"Ay," he said with an oath. "If you win against the cutlass of Red Gil, +the best blade of Lima, and the sword of Paradise, you may call yourself +the devil an you please, and we will all subscribe to it." + +I lifted my hand. "I am to have fair play?" + +As one man that crew of desperate villains swore that the odds should be +only three to one. By this the whole matter had presented itself to them +as an entertainment more diverting than bullfight or bear-baiting. They +that follow the sea, whether honest men or black-hearted knaves, have in +their composition a certain childlikeness that makes them easily turned, +easily led, and easily pleased. The wind of their passion shifts quickly +from point to point, one moment blowing a hurricane, the next sinking to +a happy-go-lucky summer breeze. I have seen a little thing convert a +crew on the point of mutiny into a set of rollicking, good-natured souls +who--until the wind veered again--would not hurt a fly. So with these. +They spread themselves into a circle, squatting or kneeling or standing +upon the white sand in the bright sunshine, their sinewy hands that +should have been ingrained red clasped over their knees, or, arms +akimbo, resting upon their hips, on their scoundrel faces a broad smile, +and in their eyes that had looked on nameless horrors a pleasurable +expectation as of spectators in a playhouse awaiting the entrance of the +players. + +"There is really no good reason why we should gratify your whim," said +Paradise, still amused. "But it will serve to pass the time. We will +fight you, one by one." + +"And if I win?" + +He laughed. "Then, on the honor of a gentleman, you are Kirby and our +captain. If you lose, we will leave you where you stand for the gulls to +bury." + +"A bargain," I said, and drew my sword. + +"I first!" roared Red Gil. "God's wounds! there will need no second!" + +As he spoke he swung his cutlass and made an arc of blue flame. The +weapon became in his hands a flail, terrible to look upon, making +lightnings and whistling in the air, but in reality not so deadly as it +seemed. The fury of his onslaught would have beaten down the guard of +any mere swordsman, but that I was not. A man, knowing his weakness and +insufficiency in many and many a thing, may yet know his strength in one +or two and his modesty take no hurt. I was ever master of my sword, and +it did the thing I would have it do. Moreover, as I fought I saw her as +I had last seen her, standing against the bank of sand, her dark hair, +half braided, drawn over her bosom and hanging to her knees. Her eyes +haunted me, and my lips yet felt the touch of her hand. I fought +well,--how well the lapsing of oaths and laughter into breathless +silence bore witness. + +The ruffian against whom I was pitted began to draw his breath in gasps. +He was a scoundrel not fit to die, less fit to live, unworthy of a +gentleman's steel. I presently ran him through with as little +compunction and as great a desire to be quit of a dirty job as if he had +been a mad dog. He fell, and a little later, while I was engaged with +the Spaniard, his soul went to that hell which had long gaped for it. To +those his companions his death was as slight a thing as would theirs +have been to him. In the eyes of the two remaining would-be leaders he +was a stumbling-block removed, and to the squatting, open-mouthed +commonalty his taking off weighed not a feather against the solid +entertainment I was affording them. I was now a better man than Red +Gil,--that was all. + +The Spaniard was a more formidable antagonist. The best blade of Lima +was by no means to be despised: but Lima is a small place, and its +blades can be numbered. The sword that for three years had been counted +the best in all the Low Countries was its better. But I fought fasting +and for the second time that morning, so maybe the odds were not so +great. I wounded him slightly, and presently succeeded in disarming him. +"Am I Kirby?" I demanded, with my point at his breast. + +"Kirby, of course, señor," he answered with a sour smile, his eyes upon +the gleaming blade. + +I lowered my point and we bowed to each other, after which he sat down +upon the sand and applied himself to stanching the bleeding from his +wound. The pirate ring gave him no attention, but stared at me instead. +I was now a better man than the Spaniard. + +The man in black and silver rose and removed his doublet, folding it +very carefully, inside out, that the sand might not injure the velvet, +then drew his rapier, looked at it lovingly, made it bend until point +and hilt well-nigh met, and faced me with a bow. + +"You have fought twice, and must be weary," he said. "Will you not take +breath before we engage, or will your long rest afterward suffice you?" + +"I will rest aboard my ship," I made reply. "And as I am in a hurry to +be gone we won't delay." + +Our blades had no sooner crossed than I knew that in this last encounter +I should need every whit of my skill, all my wit, audacity, and +strength. I had met my equal, and he came to it fresh and I jaded. I +clenched my teeth and prayed with all my heart; I set her face before +me, and thought if I should fail her to what ghastly fate she might +come, and I fought as I had never fought before. The sound of the surf +became a roar in my ears, the sunshine an intolerable blaze of light; +the blue above and around seemed suddenly beneath my feet as well. We +were fighting high in the air, and had fought thus for ages. I knew that +he made no thrust I did not parry, no feint I could not interpret. I +knew that my eye was more quick to see, my brain to conceive, and my +hand to execute than ever before; but it was as though I held that +knowledge of some other, and I myself was far away, at Weyanoke, in the +minister's garden, in the haunted wood, anywhere save on that barren +islet. I heard him swear under his breath, and in the face I had set +before me the eyes brightened. As if she had loved me I fought for her +with all my powers of body and mind. He swore again, and my heart +laughed within me. The sea now roared less loudly, and I felt the good +earth beneath my feet. Slowly but surely I wore him out. His breath came +short, the sweat stood upon his forehead, and still I deferred my +attack. He made the thrust of a boy of fifteen, and I smiled as I put it +by. + +"Why don't you end it?" he breathed. "Finish and be hanged to you!" + +For answer I sent his sword flying over the nearest hillock of sand. "Am +I Kirby?" I said. He fell back against the heaped-up sand and leaned +there, panting, with his hand to his side. "Kirby or devil," he replied. +"Have it your own way." + +I turned to the now highly excited rabble. "Shove the boats off, half a +dozen of you!" I ordered. "Some of you others take up that carrion there +and throw it into the sea. The gold upon it is for your pains. You there +with the wounded shoulder you have no great hurt. I'll salve it with ten +pieces of eight from the captain's own share, the next prize we take." + +A shout of acclamation arose that scared the sea fowl. They who so short +a time before had been ready to tear me limb from limb now with the +greatest apparent delight hailed me as captain. How soon they might +revert to their former mood was a question that I found not worth while +to propound to myself. + +By this the man in black and silver had recovered his breath and his +equanimity. "Have you no commission with which to honor me, noble +captain?" he asked in gently reproachful tones. "Have you forgot how +often you were wont to employ me in those sweet days when your eyes were +black?" + +"By no means, Master Paradise," I said courteously. "I desire your +company and that of the gentleman from Lima. You will go with me to +bring up the rest of my party. The three gentlemen of the broken head, +the bushy ruff, which I protest is vastly becoming, and the wounded +shoulder will escort us." + +"The rest of your party?" said Paradise softly. + +"Ay," I answered nonchalantly. "They are down the beach and around the +point warming themselves by a fire which this piled-up sand hides from +you. Despite the sunshine it is a biting air. Let us be going! This +island wearies me, and I am anxious to be on board ship and away." + +"So small an escort scarce befits so great a captain," he said. "We will +all attend you." One and all started forward. + +I called to mind and gave utterance to all the oaths I had heard in the +wars. "I entertain you for my subordinate whom I command, and not who +commands me!" I cried, when my memory failed me. "As for you, you dogs, +who would question your captain and his doings, stay where you are, if +you would not be lessoned in earnest!" + +Sheer audacity is at times the surest steed a man can bestride. Now at +least it did me good service. With oaths and grunts of admiration the +pirates stayed where they were, and went about their business of +launching the boats and stripping the body of Red Gil, while the man in +black and silver, the Spaniard, the two gravediggers, the knave with the +wounded shoulder, and myself walked briskly up the beach. + +With these five at my heels I strode up to the dying fire and to those +who had sprung to their feet at our approach. "Sparrow," I said easily, +"luck being with us as usual, I have fallen in with a party of rovers. I +have told them who I am,--that Kirby, to wit, whom an injurious world +calls the blackest pirate unhanged,--and I have recounted to them how +the great galleon which I took some months ago went down yesterday with +all on board, you and I with these others being the sole survivors. By +dint of a little persuasion they have elected me their captain, and we +will go on board directly and set sail for the Indies, a hunting ground +which we never should have left. You need not look so blank; you shall +be my mate and right hand still." I turned to the five who formed my +escort. "This, gentlemen, is my mate, Jeremy Sparrow by name, who hath a +taste for divinity that in no wise interferes with his taste for a +galleon or a guarda costa. This man, Diccon Demon by name, was of my +crew. The gentleman without a sword is my prisoner, taken by me from the +last ship I sunk. How he, an Englishman, came to be upon a Spanish bark +I have not found leisure to inquire. The lady is my prisoner, also." + +"Sure by rights she should be gaoler and hold all men's hearts in ward," +said Paradise, with a low bow to my unfortunate captive. + +While he spoke a most remarkable transformation was going on. The +minister's grave, rugged, and deeply lined face smoothed itself and shed +ten years at least; in the eyes that I had seen wet with noble tears a +laughing devil now lurked, while his strong mouth became a loose-lipped, +devil-may-care one. His head with its aureole of bushy, grizzled hair +set itself jauntily upon one side, and from it and from his face and his +whole great frame breathed a wicked jollity quite indescribable. + +"Odsbodikins, captain!" he cried. "Kirby's luck!--'twill pass into a +saw! Adzooks! and so you're captain once more, and I'm mate once more, +and we've a ship once more, and we're off once more + + To sail the Spanish Main, + And give the Spaniard pain, + Heave ho, bully boy, heave ho! + +By 'r lakin! I'm too dry to sing. It will take all the wine of Xeres in +the next galleon to unparch my tongue!" + + +NOTES + +=the grave=:--This refers to the latter part of chapter 21 of _To Have +and to Hold_; the hero, Ralph Percy, who has been shipwrecked with his +companions, discovers a group of pirates burying their dead captain. + +=pezos and pieces of eight=:--_peso_ is the Spanish word for dollar; +_pieces of eight_ are dollars also, each dollar containing eight +_reals_. + +=the man in black and silver=:--Paradise, an Englishman. + +=frails=:--Baskets made of rushes. + +=Kirby=:--A renowned pirate mentioned in chapter 21. + +=Maracaibo=:--The city or the gulf of that name in Venezuela. + +=galleasses=:--Heavy, low-built vessels having sails as well as oars. + +=Lucayas=:--An old name for the Bahama Islands. + +=de Leon=:--Ponce de Leon discovered Florida in 1513; he searched long +for a fountain which would restore youth. + +=aqua vitæ=:--Latin for _water of life_. + +=Summer Isles=:--Another name for the Bermuda Islands. + +=Cartagena=:--A city in Spain. + +=Lima=:--A city in Peru. + +=Toledo=:--A "Toledo blade"--a sword of the very finest temper, made in +Toledo, Spain. + +=the Low Countries=:--Holland and Belgium. + +=señor=:--The Spanish word for _sir_. + +=Weyanoke=:--The home of the hero, near Jamestown, Virginia. + +=Sparrow=:--A minister, one of the hero's companions; see chapter 3 of +_To Have and to Hold_. + +=guarda costa=:--Coast guard. + +=Diccon=:--Ralph Percy's servant. + +=the gentleman without a sword=:--Lord Carnal, an enemy of Percy. + +=the lady=:--She is really Percy's wife. + +=Odsbodikins=; =Adzooks=:--Oaths much used two centuries ago. + +=By 'r lakin=:--By our ladykin (little lady); an oath by the Virgin +Mary. + +=Xeres=:--The Spanish town after which sherry wine is named. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This selection is easily understood. Ralph Percy, his wife, and several +others (see notes) are cast on a desert shore after the sinking of their +boat. Percy leaves his companions for a time and falls among pirates; he +pretends to be a "sea-rover" himself. Why does he allude to the pirate +ship as a "cockboat"? Why are the pirates impressed by his remarks? Why +does Percy emphasize the riches of the sunken ship? Is what he says +true? (See chapter 19 of _To Have and to Hold_.) If not, is he +justified in telling a falsehood? Is he really Kirby? Is he fortunate in +his assertion that he is? How does he explain his lack of resemblance to +Kirby? What kind of person is the hero? Why does he wish to become the +leader of the pirates? Is it possible that the pirate crew should change +their attitude so suddenly? Is it a good plan in a story to make a hero +tell of his own successes? Characterize the man in black and silver. How +does the author make us feel the action and peril of the struggle? How +does she make us feel the long duration of the fight with Paradise? Do +you like the hero's behavior with the defeated pirates? Why is he so +careful to repeat to the minister what he has told the pirates? Why does +the minister appear to change his character? + +Can you make this piece into a little play? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Real Pirates +Spanish Gold +A Fight for Life +A Famous Duel +Buried Treasure +Playing Pirates +Sea Stories that I Like +Captain Kidd +Ponce de Leon +The Search for Gold +Story-book Heroes +Along the Sea Shore +A Barren Island +The Rivals +Land Pirates +The Pirates in _Peter Pan_ +A Struggle for Leadership +Our High School Play + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +Try to make a fragment of a play out of this selection. In this process, +all the class may work together under the direction of the teacher, or +each pupil may make his own attempt to dramatize the piece. + +In writing the drama, tell first what the setting is. In doing so, you +had better look up some modern play and see how the setting is explained +to the reader or the actors. Now show the pirates at work, and give a +few lines of their conversation; then have the hero come upon the scene. +Indicate the speech of each person, and put in all necessary stage +directions. Perhaps you will want to add more dialogue than there is +here. Some of the onlookers may have something to say. Perhaps you will +wish to leave something out. It might be well, while the fighting is +going on, to bring in remarks from the combatants and the other pirates. +You might look up the duel scene in _Hamlet_ for this point. You can end +your play with the departure of the group; or you can write a second +scene, in which the hero's companions appear, including the lady. +Considerable dialogue could be invented here, and a new episode added--a +quarrel, a plan for organization, or a merry-making. + +When your play is finished, you may possibly wish to have it acted +before the class. A few turbans, sashes, and weapons will be sufficient +to give an air of piracy to the group of players. Some grim black +mustaches would complete the effect. + +=A Pirate Story=:--Tell an old-fashioned "yarn" of adventure, in which a +modest hero relates his own experiences. Give your imagination a good +deal of liberty. Do not waste much time in getting started, but plunge +very soon into the actual story. Let your hero tell how he fell among +the pirates. Then go on with the conversation that ensued--the threats, +the boasting, and the bravado. Make the hero report his struggles, or +the tricks that he resorted to in order to outwit the sea-rovers. +Perhaps he failed at first and got into still greater dangers. Follow +out his adventures to the moment of his escape. Make your descriptions +short and vivid; put in as much direct conversation as possible; keep +the action brisk and spirited. Try to write a lively tale that would +interest a group of younger boys. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +To Have and to Hold Mary Johnston +Prisoners of Hope " " +The Long Roll " " +Cease Firing " " +Audrey " " +The Virginians W.M. Thackeray +White Aprons Maude Wilder Goodwin +The Gold Bug Edgar Allan Poe +Treasure Island R.L. Stevenson +Kidnapped " " +Ebb Tide " " +Buccaneers and Pirates of our Coast Frank R. Stockton +Kate Bonnett " " +Drake Julian Corbett +Drake and his Yeomen James Barnes +Drake, the Sea-king of Devon G.M. Towle +Raleigh " " +Red Rover J.F. Cooper +The Pirate Walter Scott +Robinson Crusoe Daniel Defoe +Two Years before the Mast R.H. Dana +Tales of a Traveller (Part IV) Washington Irving +Nonsense Novels (chapter 8) Stephen Leacock +The Duel (in _The Master of Ballantrae_, + chapter 4) R.L. Stevenson +The Lost Galleon (poem) Bret Harte +Stolen Treasure Howard Pyle +Jack Ballister's Fortunes " " +Buried Treasure R.B. Paine +The Last Buccaneer (poem) Charles Kingsley +The Book of the Ocean Ernest Ingersoll +Ocean Life in the Old Sailing-Ship Days J.D. Whidden + +For Portraits of Miss Johnston, see Bookman, 20:402; 28:193. + + + + +THE GRASSHOPPER + +EDITH M. THOMAS + + + Shuttle of the sunburnt grass, + Fifer in the dun cuirass, + Fifing shrilly in the morn, + Shrilly still at eve unworn; + Now to rear, now in the van, + Gayest of the elfin clan: + Though I watch their rustling flight, + I can never guess aright + Where their lodging-places are; + 'Mid some daisy's golden star, + Or beneath a roofing leaf, + Or in fringes of a sheaf, + Tenanted as soon as bound! + Loud thy reveille doth sound, + When the earth is laid asleep, + And her dreams are passing deep, + On mid-August afternoons; + And through all the harvest moons, + Nights brimmed up with honeyed peace, + Thy gainsaying doth not cease. + When the frost comes, thou art dead; + We along the stubble tread, + On blue, frozen morns, and note + No least murmur is afloat: + Wondrous still our fields are then, + Fifer of the elfin men! + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why is the grasshopper called a "shuttle"? What does the word _still_ +mean here? Who are the "elfin clan"? By whom is the sheaf tenanted? What +is a _reveille_? Does the grasshopper chirp at night? Why is its cry +called "gainsaying"? + +See how simple the meter (measure) is in this little poem. Ask your +teacher to explain how it is represented by these characters: + + -u-u-u- + -u-u-u- + +[Transcriber's note: The u's represent breve marks in the text] + + +Note which signs indicate the accented syllables. See whether or not the +accent comes at the end of the line. The rhyme-scheme is called a +_couplet_, because of the way in which two lines are linked together. +This kind of rhyme is represented by _aa_, _bb_, _cc_, etc. + + +EXERCISES + +Find some other poem that has the same meter and rhyme that this one +has. Try to write a short poem of five or six couplets, using this meter +and rhyme. You do not need to choose a highly poetic subject: Try +something very simple. + +Perhaps you can "get a start" from one of the lines given below:-- + +1. Glowing, darting dragon-fly. +2. Voyager on dusty wings (A Moth). +3. Buzzing through the fragrant air (A Bee). +4. Trembling lurker in the gloom (A Mouse). +5. Gay red-throated epicure (A humming-bird). +6. Stealthy vagrant of the night (An Owl). +7. Flashing through your crystal room (A Gold-fish). +8. Fairyland is all awake. +9. Once when all the woods were green. +10. In the forest is a pool. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +On the Grasshopper and Cricket John Keats +To the Grasshopper and the Cricket Leigh Hunt +Little Brother of the Ground Edwin Markham +The Humble Bee R.W. Emerson +The Cricket Percy Mackaye +The Katydid " " +A Glow Worm (in _Little Folk Lyrics_) F.D. Sherman +Bees " " " " " " + + + + +MOLY + +EDITH M. THOMAS + + The root is hard to loose + From hold of earth by mortals, but Gods' power + Can all things do. 'Tis black, but bears a flower + As white as milk. (Chapman's Homer.) + + + Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, + If thou touch at Circe's isle,-- + Hermes' moly, growing solely + To undo enchanter's wile. + When she proffers thee her chalice,-- + Wine and spices mixed with malice,-- + When she smites thee with her staff + To transform thee, do thou laugh! + Safe thou art if thou but bear + The least leaf of moly rare. + Close it grows beside her portal, + Springing from a stock immortal,-- + Yes, and often has the Witch + Sought to tear it from its niche; + But to thwart her cruel will + The wise God renews it still. + Though it grows in soil perverse, + Heaven hath been its jealous nurse, + And a flower of snowy mark + Springs from root and sheathing dark; + Kingly safeguard, only herb + That can brutish passion curb! + Some do think its name should be + Shield-heart, White Integrity. + + Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, + If thou touch at Circe's isle,-- + Hermes' moly, growing solely + To undo enchanter's wile! + + +NOTES + +=Chapman's Homer=:--George Chapman (1559?-1634) was an English poet. He +translated Homer from the Greek into English verse. + +=moly=:--An herb with a black root and a white flower, which Hermes gave +to Odysseus in order to help him withstand the spell of the witch Circe. + +=Circe=:--A witch who charmed her victims with a drink that she prepared +for them, and then changed them into the animals they in character most +resembled. + +=Hermes=:--The messenger of the other Greek gods; he was crafty and +eloquent. + +=The wise God=:--Hermes, or Mercury. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Before you try to study this poem carefully, find out something of the +story of Ulysses and Circe: when you have this information, the poem +will become clear. Notice how the author applies the old Greek tale to +the experiences of everyday life. This would be a good poem to memorize. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +On First Looking into Chapman's Homer John Keats +The Strayed Reveller Matthew Arnold +The Wine of Circe Dante Gabriel Rossetti +Tanglewood Tales (Circe's Palace) Nathaniel Hawthorne +Greek Story and Song, pp. 214-225 A.J. Church +The Odyssey, pp. 151-164 (School Ed.) G.H. Palmer (Trans.) +Classic Myths, chapter 24 C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable, p. 295 Thomas Bulfinch +The Prayer of the Swine to Circe Austin Dobson + + +PICTURES + +The Wine of Circe Sir Edward Burne-Jones +Circe and the Companions of Ulysses Briton Rivière + + + + +THE PROMISED LAND + +MARY ANTIN + +(From Chapter IX of _The Promised Land_) + + +During his three years of probation, my father had made a number of +false starts in business. His history for that period is the history of +thousands who come to America, like him, with pockets empty, hands +untrained to the use of tools, minds cramped by centuries of repression +in their native land. Dozens of these men pass under your eyes every +day, my American friend, too absorbed in their honest affairs to notice +the looks of suspicion which you cast at them, the repugnance with which +you shrink from their touch. You see them shuffle from door to door with +a basket of spools and buttons, or bending over the sizzling irons in a +basement tailor shop, or rummaging in your ash can, or moving a pushcart +from curb to curb, at the command of the burly policeman. "The Jew +peddler!" you say, and dismiss him from your premises and from your +thoughts, never dreaming that the sordid drama of his days may have a +moral that concerns you. What if the creature with the untidy beard +carries in his bosom his citizenship papers? What if the cross-legged +tailor is supporting a boy in college who is one day going to mend your +state constitution for you? What if the ragpicker's daughters are +hastening over the ocean to teach your children in the public schools? +Think, every time you pass the greasy alien on the street, that he was +born thousands of years before the oldest native American; and he may +have something to communicate to you, when you two shall have learned a +common language. Remember that his very physiognomy is a cipher the key +to which it behooves you to search for most diligently. + + * * * * * + +By the time we joined my father, he had surveyed many avenues of +approach toward the coveted citadel of fortune. One of these, heretofore +untried, he now proposed to essay, armed with new courage, and cheered +on by the presence of his family. In partnership with an energetic +little man who had an English chapter in his history, he prepared to set +up a refreshment booth on Crescent Beach. But while he was completing +arrangements at the beach, we remained in town, where we enjoyed the +educational advantages of a thickly populated neighborhood; namely, Wall +Street, in the West End of Boston. + +Anybody who knows Boston knows that the West and North Ends are the +wrong ends of that city. They form the tenement district, or, in the +newer phrase, the slums of Boston. Anybody who is acquainted with the +slums of any American metropolis knows that that is the quarter where +poor immigrants foregather, to live, for the most part, as unkempt, +half-washed, toiling, unaspiring foreigners; pitiful in the eyes of +social missionaries, the despair of boards of health, the hope of ward +politicians, the touchstone of American democracy. The well-versed +metropolitan knows the slums as a sort of house of detention for poor +aliens, where they live on probation till they can show a certificate of +good citizenship. + +He may know all this and yet not guess how Wall Street, in the West End, +appears in the eyes of a little immigrant from Polotzk. What would the +sophisticated sight-seer say about Union Place, off Wall Street, where +my new home waited for me? He would say that it is no place at all, but +a short box of an alley. Two rows of three-story tenements are its +sides, a stingy strip of sky is its lid, a littered pavement is the +floor, and a narrow mouth its exit. + +But I saw a very different picture on my introduction to Union Place. I +saw two imposing rows of brick buildings, loftier than any dwelling I +had ever lived in. Brick was even on the ground for me to tread on, +instead of common earth or boards. Many friendly windows stood open, +filled with uncovered heads of women and children. I thought the people +were interested in us, which was very neighborly. I looked up to the +topmost row of windows, and my eyes were filled with the May blue of an +American sky! + +In our days of affluence in Russia we had been accustomed to upholstered +parlors, embroidered linen, silver spoons and candlesticks, goblets of +gold, kitchen shelves shining with copper and brass. We had feather-beds +heaped halfway to the ceiling; we had clothes presses dusky with velvet +and silk and fine woolen. The three small rooms into which my father now +ushered us, up one flight of stairs, contained only the necessary beds, +with lean mattresses; a few wooden chairs; a table or two; a mysterious +iron structure, which later turned out to be a stove; a couple of +unornamental kerosene lamps; and a scanty array of cooking-utensils and +crockery. And yet we were all impressed with our new home and its +furniture. It was not only because we had just passed through our seven +lean years, cooking in earthern vessels, eating black bread on holidays +and wearing cotton; it was chiefly because these wooden chairs and tin +pans were American chairs and pans that they shone glorious in our +eyes. And if there was anything lacking for comfort or decoration we +expected it to be presently supplied--at least, we children did. Perhaps +my mother alone, of us newcomers, appreciated the shabbiness of the +little apartment, and realized that for her there was as yet no laying +down of the burden of poverty. + +Our initiation into American ways began with the first step on the new +soil. My father found occasion to instruct or correct us even on the way +from the pier to Wall Street, which journey we made crowded together in +a rickety cab. He told us not to lean out of the windows, not to point, +and explained the word "greenhorn." We did not want to be "greenhorns," +and gave the strictest attention to my father's instructions. I do not +know when my parents found opportunity to review together the history of +Polotzk in the three years past, for we children had no patience with +the subject; my mother's narrative was constantly interrupted by +irrelevant questions, interjections, and explanations. + +The first meal was an object lesson of much variety. My father produced +several kinds of food, ready to eat, without any cooking, from little +tin cans that had printing all over them. He attempted to introduce us +to a queer, slippery kind of fruit, which he called "banana," but had to +give it up for the time being. After the meal, he had better luck with a +curious piece of furniture on runners, which he called "rocking-chair." +There were five of us newcomers, and we found five different ways of +getting into the American machine of perpetual motion, and as many ways +of getting out of it. One born and bred to the use of a rocking-chair +cannot imagine how ludicrous people can make themselves when attempting +to use it for the first time. We laughed immoderately over our various +experiments with the novelty, which was a wholesome way of letting off +steam after the unusual excitement of the day. + +In our flat we did not think of such a thing as storing the coal in the +bathtub. There was no bathtub. So in the evening of the first day my +father conducted us to the public baths. As we moved along in a little +procession, I was delighted with the illumination of the streets. So +many lamps, and they burned until morning, my father said, and so people +did not need to carry lanterns. In America, then, everything was free, +as we had heard in Russia. Light was free; the streets were as bright as +a synagogue on a holy day. Music was free; we had been serenaded, to our +gaping delight, by a brass band of many pieces, soon after our +installation on Union Place. + +Education was free. That subject my father had written about repeatedly, +as comprising his chief hope for us children, the essence of American +opportunity, the treasure that no thief could touch, not even misfortune +or poverty. It was the one thing that he was able to promise us when he +sent for us; surer, safer than bread or shelter. On our second day I was +thrilled with the realization of what this freedom of education meant. A +little girl from across the alley came and offered to conduct us to +school. My father was out, but we five between us had a few words of +English by this time. We knew the word school. We understood. This +child, who had never seen us till yesterday, who could not pronounce our +names, who was not much better dressed than we, was able to offer us the +freedom of the schools of Boston! No application made, no questions +asked, no examinations, rulings, exclusions; no machinations, no fees. +The doors stood open for every one of us. The smallest child could show +us the way. + +This incident impressed me more than anything I had heard in advance of +the freedom of education in America. It was a concrete proof--almost the +thing itself. One had to experience it to understand it. + +It was a great disappointment to be told by my father that we were not +to enter upon our school career at once. It was too near the end of the +term, he said, and we were going to move to Crescent Beach in a week or +so. We had to wait until the opening of the schools in September. What a +loss of precious time--from May till September! + +Not that the time was really lost. Even the interval on Union Place was +crowded with lessons and experiences. We had to visit the stores and be +dressed from head to foot in American clothing; we had to learn the +mysteries of the iron stove, the washboard, and the speaking-tube; we +had to learn to trade with the fruit peddler through the window, and not +to be afraid of the policeman; and, above all, we had to learn English. + +The kind people who assisted us in these important matters form a group +by themselves in the gallery of my friends. If I had never seen them +from those early days till now, I should still have remembered them with +gratitude. When I enumerate the long list of American teachers, I must +begin with those who came to us on Wall Street and taught us our first +steps. To my mother, in her perplexity over the cookstove, the woman who +showed her how to make the fire was an angel of deliverance. A fairy +godmother to us children was she who led us to a wonderful country +called "uptown," where in a dazzlingly beautiful palace called a +"department store," we exchanged our hateful homemade European costumes, +which pointed us out as "greenhorns" to the children on the street, for +real American machine-made garments, and issued forth glorified in each +other's eyes. + +With our despised immigrant clothing we shed also our impossible Hebrew +names. A committee of our friends, several years ahead of us in American +experience, put their heads together and concocted American names for us +all. Those of our real names that had no pleasing American equivalents +they ruthlessly discarded, content if they retained the initials. My +mother, possessing a name that was not easily translatable, was punished +with the undignified nickname of Annie. Fetchke, Joseph, and Deborah +issued as Frieda, Joseph, and Dora, respectively. As for poor me, I was +simply cheated. The name they gave me was hardly new. My Hebrew name +being Maryashe in full, Mashke for short, Russianized into Marya +(_Mar-ya_) my friends said that it would hold good in English as _Mary_; +which was very disappointing, as I longed to possess a strange-sounding +American name like the others. + +I am forgetting the consolation I had, in this matter of names, from the +use of my surname, which I have had no occasion to mention until now. I +found on my arrival that my father was "Mr. Antin" on the slightest +provocation, and not, as in Polotzk, on state occasions alone. And so I +was "Mary Antin," and I felt very important to answer to such a +dignified title. It was just like America that even plain people should +wear their surnames on week days. + +As a family we were so diligent under instruction, so adaptable, and so +clever in hiding our deficiencies, that when we made the journey to +Crescent Beach, in the wake of our small wagon-load of household goods, +my father had very little occasion to admonish us on the way, and I am +sure he was not ashamed of us. So much we had achieved toward our +Americanization during the two weeks since our landing. + +Crescent Beach is a name that is printed in very small type on the maps +of the environs of Boston, but a life-size strip of sand curves from +Winthrop to Lynn; and that is historic ground in the annals of my +family. The place is now a popular resort for holiday crowds, and is +famous under the name of Revere Beach. When the reunited Antins made +their stand there, however, there were no boulevards, no stately +bath-houses, no hotels, no gaudy amusement places, no illuminations, no +showmen, no tawdry rabble. There was only the bright clean sweep of +sand, the summer sea, and the summer sky. At high tide the whole +Atlantic rushed in, tossing the seaweeds in his mane; at low tide he +rushed out, growling and gnashing his granite teeth. Between tides a +baby might play on the beach, digging with pebbles and shells, till it +lay asleep on the sand. The whole sun shone by day, troops of stars by +night, and the great moon in its season. + +Into this grand cycle of the seaside day I came to live and learn and +play. A few people came with me, as I have already intimated; but the +main thing was that _I_ came to live on the edge of the sea--I, who had +spent my life inland, believing that the great waters of the world were +spread out before me in the Dvina. My idea of the human world had grown +enormously during the long journey; my idea of the earth had expanded +with every day at sea, my idea of the world outside the earth now budded +and swelled during my prolonged experience of the wide and unobstructed +heavens. + +Not that I got any inkling of the conception of a multiple world. I had +had no lessons in cosmogony, and I had no spontaneous revelation of the +true position of the earth in the universe. For me, as for my fathers, +the sun set and rose, and I did not feel the earth rushing through +space. But I lay stretched out in the sun, my eyes level with the sea, +till I seemed to be absorbed bodily by the very materials of the world +around me; till I could not feel my hand as separate from the warm sand +in which it was buried. Or I crouched on the beach at full moon, +wondering, wondering, between the two splendors of the sky and the sea. +Or I ran out to meet the incoming storm, my face full in the wind, my +being a-tingle with an awesome delight to the tips of my fog-matted +locks flying behind; and stood clinging to some stake or upturned boat, +shaken by the roar and rumble of the waves. So clinging, I pretended +that I was in danger, and was deliciously frightened; I held on with +both hands, and shook my head, exulting in the tumult around me, equally +ready to laugh or sob. Or else I sat, on the stillest days, with my back +to the sea, not looking at all, but just listening to the rustle of the +waves on the sand; not thinking at all, but just breathing with the sea. + +Thus courting the influence of sea and sky and variable weather, I was +bound to have dreams, hints, imaginings. It was no more than this, +perhaps: that the world as I knew it was not large enough to contain +all that I saw and felt; that the thoughts that flashed through my +mind, not half understood, unrelated to my utterable thoughts, concerned +something for which I had as yet no name. Every imaginative growing +child has these flashes of intuition, especially one that becomes +intimate with some one aspect of nature. With me it was the growing +time, that idle summer by the sea, and I grew all the faster because I +had been so cramped before. My mind, too, had so recently been worked +upon by the impressive experience of a change of country that I was more +than commonly alive to impressions, which are the seeds of ideas. + +Let no one suppose that I spent my time entirely, or even chiefly, in +inspired solitude. By far the best part of my day was spent in +play--frank, hearty, boisterous play, such as comes natural to American +children. In Polotzk I had already begun to be considered too old for +play, excepting set games or organized frolics. Here I found myself +included with children who still played, and I willingly returned to +childhood. There were plenty of playfellows. My father's energetic +little partner had a little wife and a large family. He kept them in the +little cottage next to ours; and that the shanty survived the tumultuous +presence of that brood is a wonder to me to-day. The young Wilners +included an assortment of boys, girls, and twins, of every possible +variety of age, size, disposition, and sex. They swarmed in and out of +the cottage all day long, wearing the door-sill hollow, and trampling +the ground to powder. They swung out of windows like monkeys, slid up +the roof like flies, and shot out of trees like fowls. Even a small +person like me couldn't go anywhere without being run over by a Wilner; +and I could never tell which Wilner it was because none of them ever +stood still long enough to be identified; and also because I suspected +that they were in the habit of interchanging conspicuous articles of +clothing, which was very confusing. + +You would suppose that the little mother must have been utterly lost, +bewildered, trodden down in this horde of urchins; but you are mistaken. +Mrs. Wilner was a positively majestic little person. She ruled her brood +with the utmost coolness and strictness. She had even the biggest boy +under her thumb, frequently under her palm. If they enjoyed the wildest +freedom outdoors, indoors the young Wilners lived by the clock. And so +at five o'clock in the evening, on seven days in the week, my father's +partner's children could be seen in two long rows around the supper +table. You could tell them apart on this occasion, because they all had +their faces washed. And this is the time to count them: there are twelve +little Wilners at table. + +I managed to retain my identity in this multitude somehow, and while I +was very much impressed with their numbers, I even dared to pick and +choose my friends among the Wilners. One or two of the smaller boys I +liked best of all, for a game of hide-and-seek or a frolic on the beach. +We played in the water like ducks, never taking the trouble to get dry. +One day I waded out with one of the boys, to see which of us dared go +farthest. The tide was extremely low, and we had not wet our knees when +we began to look back to see if familiar objects were still in sight. I +thought we had been wading for hours, and still the water was so shallow +and quiet. My companion was marching straight ahead, so I did the same. +Suddenly a swell lifted us almost off our feet, and we clutched at each +other simultaneously. There was a lesser swell, and little waves began +to run, and a sigh went up from the sea. The tide was turning--perhaps a +storm was on the way--and we were miles, dreadful miles from dry land. + +Boy and girl turned without a word, four determined bare legs ploughing +through the water, four scared eyes straining toward the land. Through +an eternity of toil and fear they kept dumbly on, death at their heels, +pride still in their hearts. At last they reach high-water mark--six +hours before full tide. + +Each has seen the other afraid, and each rejoices in the knowledge. But +only the boy is sure of his tongue. + +"You was scared, warn't you?" he taunts. + +The girl understands so much, and is able to reply: + +"You can schwimmen, I not." + +"Betcher life I can schwimmen," the other mocks. + +And the girl walks off, angry and hurt. + +"An' I can walk on my hands," the tormentor calls after her. "Say, you +greenhorn, why don'tcher look?" + +The girl keeps straight on, vowing that she would never walk with that +rude boy again, neither by land nor sea, not even though the waters +should part at his bidding. + +I am forgetting the more serious business which had brought us to +Crescent Beach. While we children disported ourselves like mermaids and +mermen in the surf, our respective fathers dispensed cold lemonade, hot +peanuts, and pink popcorn, and piled up our respective fortunes, nickel +by nickel, penny by penny. I was very proud of my connection with the +public life of the beach. I admired greatly our shining soda fountain, +the rows of sparkling glasses, the pyramids of oranges, the sausage +chains, the neat white counter, and the bright array of tin spoons. It +seemed to me that none of the other refreshment stands on the +beach--there were a few--were half so attractive as ours. I thought my +father looked very well in a long white apron and shirt sleeves. He +dished out ice cream with enthusiasm, so I supposed he was getting rich. +It never occurred to me to compare his present occupation with the +position for which he had been originally destined; or if I thought +about it, I was just as well content, for by this time I had by heart my +father's saying, "America is not Polotzk." All occupations were +respectable, all men were equal, in America. + +If I admired the soda fountain and the sausage chains, I almost +worshipped the partner, Mr. Wilner. I was content to stand for an hour +at a time watching him make potato chips. In his cook's cap and apron, +with a ladle in his hand and a smile on his face, he moved about with +the greatest agility, whisking his raw materials out of nowhere, dipping +into his bubbling kettle with a flourish, and bringing forth the +finished product with a caper. Such potato chips were not to be had +anywhere else on Crescent Beach. Thin as tissue paper, crisp as dry +snow, and salt as the sea--such thirst-producing, lemonade-selling, +nickel-bringing potato chips only Mr. Wilner could make. On holidays, +when dozens of family parties came out by every train from town, he +could hardly keep up with the demand for his potato chips. And with a +waiting crowd around him our partner was at his best. He was as voluble +as he was skilful, and as witty as he was voluble; at least so I guessed +from the laughter that frequently drowned his voice. I could not +understand his jokes, but if I could get near enough to watch his lips +and his smile and his merry eyes, I was happy. That any one could talk +so fast, and in English, was marvel enough, but that this prodigy should +belong to _our_ establishment was a fact to thrill me. I had never seen +anything like Mr. Wilner, except a wedding jester; but then he spoke +common Yiddish. So proud was I of the talent and good taste displayed at +our stand that if my father beckoned to me in the crowd and sent me on +an errand, I hoped the people noticed that I, too, was connected with +the establishment. + +And all this splendor and glory and distinction came to a sudden end. +There was some trouble about a license--some fee or fine--there was a +storm in the night that damaged the soda fountain and other +fixtures--there was talk and consultation between the houses of Antin +and Wilner--and the promising partnership was dissolved. No more would +the merry partner gather the crowd on the beach; no more would the +twelve young Wilners gambol like mermen and mermaids in the surf. And +the less numerous tribe of Antin must also say farewell to the jolly +seaside life; for men in such humble business as my father's carry their +families, along with their other earthly goods, wherever they go, after +the manner of the gypsies. We had driven a feeble stake into the sand. +The jealous Atlantic, in conspiracy with the Sunday law, had torn it +out. We must seek our luck elsewhere. + +In Polotzk we had supposed that "America" was practically synonymous +with "Boston." When we landed in Boston, the horizon was pushed back, +and we annexed Crescent Beach. And now, espying other lands of promise, +we took possession of the province of Chelsea, in the name of our +necessity. + +In Chelsea, as in Boston, we made our stand in the wrong end of the +town. Arlington Street was inhabited by poor Jews, poor Negroes, and a +sprinkling of poor Irish. The side streets leading from it were occupied +by more poor Jews and Negroes. It was a proper locality for a man +without capital to do business. My father rented a tenement with a store +in the basement. He put in a few barrels of flour and of sugar, a few +boxes of crackers, a few gallons of kerosene, an assortment of soap of +the "save the coupon" brands; in the cellar a few barrels of potatoes, +and a pyramid of kindling-wood; in the showcase, an alluring display of +penny candy. He put out his sign, with a gilt-lettered warning of +"Strictly Cash," and proceeded to give credit indiscriminately. That was +the regular way to do business on Arlington Street. My father, in his +three years' apprenticeship, had learned the tricks of many trades. He +knew when and how to "bluff." The legend of "Strictly Cash" was a +protection against notoriously irresponsible customers; while none of +the "good" customers, who had a record for paying regularly on Saturday, +hesitated to enter the store with empty purses. + +If my father knew the tricks of the trade, my mother could be counted on +to throw all her talent and tact into the business. Of course she had no +English yet, but as she could perform the acts of weighing, measuring, +and mental computation of fractions mechanically, she was able to give +her whole attention to the dark mysteries of the language, as +intercourse with her customers gave her opportunity. In this she made +such rapid progress that she soon lost all sense of disadvantage, and +conducted herself behind the counter very much as if she were back in +her old store in Polotzk. It was far more cozy than Polotzk--at least, +so it seemed to me; for behind the store was the kitchen, where, in the +intervals of slack trade, she did her cooking and washing. Arlington +Street customers were used to waiting while the storekeeper salted the +soup or rescued a loaf from the oven. + +Once more Fortune favored my family with a thin little smile, and my +father, in reply to a friendly inquiry, would say, "One makes a living," +with a shrug of the shoulders that added "but nothing to boast of." It +was characteristic of my attitude toward bread-and-butter matters that +this contented me, and I felt free to devote myself to the conquest of +my new world. Looking back to those critical first years, I see myself +always behaving like a child let loose in a garden to play and dig and +chase the butterflies. Occasionally, indeed, I was stung by the wasp of +family trouble; but I knew a healing ointment--my faith in America. My +father had come to America to make a living. America, which was free and +fair and kind, must presently yield him what he sought. I had come to +America to see a new world, and I followed my own ends with the utmost +assiduity; only, as I ran out to explore, I would look back to see if my +house were in order behind me--if my family still kept its head above +water. + +In after years, when I passed as an American among Americans, if I was +suddenly made aware of the past that lay forgotten,--if a letter from +Russia, or a paragraph in the newspaper, or a conversation overheard in +the street-car, suddenly reminded me of what I might have been,--I +thought it miracle enough that I, Mashke, the granddaughter of Raphael +the Russian, born to a humble destiny, should be at home in an American +metropolis, be free to fashion my own life, and should dream my dreams +in English phrases. But in the beginning my admiration was spent on more +concrete embodiments of the splendors of America; such as fine houses, +gay shops, electric engines and apparatus, public buildings, +illuminations, and parades. My early letters to my Russian friends were +filled with boastful descriptions of these glories of my new country. No +native citizen of Chelsea took such pride and delight in its +institutions as I did. It required no fife and drum corps, no Fourth of +July procession, to set me tingling with patriotism. Even the common +agents and instruments of municipal life, such as the letter carrier and +the fire engines, I regarded with a measure of respect. I know what I +thought of people who said that Chelsea was a very small, dull, +unaspiring town, with no discernible excuse for a separate name or +existence. + +The apex of my civic pride and personal contentment was reached on the +bright September morning when I entered the public school. That day I +must always remember, even if I live to be so old that I cannot tell my +name. To most people their first day at school is a memorable occasion. +In my case the importance of the day was a hundred times magnified, on +account of the years I had waited, the road I had come, and the +conscious ambitions I entertained. + +I am wearily aware that I am speaking in extreme figures, in +superlatives. I wish I knew some other way to render the mental life of +the immigrant child of reasoning age. I may have been ever so much an +exception in acuteness of observation, powers of comparison, and +abnormal self-consciousness; none the less were my thoughts and conduct +typical of the attitude of the intelligent immigrant child toward +American institutions. And what the child thinks and feels is a +reflection of the hopes, desires, purposes of the parent who brought him +overseas, no matter how precocious and independent the child may be. +Your immigrant inspectors will tell you what poverty the foreigner +brings in his baggage, what want in his pockets. Let the overgrown boy +of twelve, reverently drawing his letters in the baby class, testify to +the noble dreams and high ideals that may be hidden beneath the greasy +caftan of the immigrant. Speaking for the Jews, at least, I know I am +safe in inviting such an investigation. + +Who were my companions on my first day at school? Whose hand was in +mine, as I stood, overcome with awe, by the teacher's desk, and +whispered my name as my father prompted? Was it Frieda's steady, capable +hand? Was it her loyal heart that throbbed, beat for beat with mine, as +it had done through all our childish adventures? Frieda's heart did +throb that day, but not with my emotions. My heart pulsed with joy and +pride and ambition; in her heart longing fought with abnegation. For I +was led to the schoolroom, with its sunshine and its singing and the +teacher's cheery smile; while she was led to the workshop, with its foul +air, care-lined faces, and the foreman's stern command. Our going to +school was the fulfilment of my father's best promises to us, and +Frieda's share in it was to fashion and fit the calico frocks in which +the baby sister and I made our first appearance in a public schoolroom. + +I remember to this day the gray pattern of the calico, so affectionately +did I regard it as it hung upon the wall--my consecration robe awaiting +the beatific day. And Frieda, I am sure, remembers it, too, so +longingly did she regard it as the crisp, starchy breadths of it slid +between her fingers. But whatever were her longings, she said nothing of +them; she bent over the sewing-machine humming an Old-World melody. In +every straight, smooth seam, perhaps, she tucked away some lingering +impulse of childhood; but she matched the scrolls and flowers with the +utmost care. If a sudden shock of rebellion made her straighten up for +an instant, the next instant she was bending to adjust a ruffle to the +best advantage. And when the momentous day arrived, and the little +sister and I stood up to be arrayed, it was Frieda herself who patted +and smoothed my stiff new calico; who made me turn round and round, to +see that I was perfect; who stooped to pull out a disfiguring +basting-thread. If there was anything in her heart besides sisterly love +and pride and good-will, as we parted that morning, it was a sense of +loss and a woman's acquiescence in her fate; for we had been close +friends, and now our ways would lie apart. Longing she felt, but no +envy. She did not grudge me what she was denied. Until that morning we +had been children together, but now, at the fiat of her destiny she +became a woman, with all a woman's cares; whilst I, so little younger +than she, was bidden to dance at the May festival of untroubled +childhood. + +I wish, for my comfort, that I could say that I had some notion of the +difference in our lots, some sense of the injustice to her, of the +indulgence to me. I wish I could even say that I gave serious thought to +the matter. There had always been a distinction between us rather out of +proportion to the difference in our years. Her good health and domestic +instincts had made it natural for her to become my mother's right hand, +in the years preceding the emigration, when there were no more servants +or dependents. Then there was the family tradition that Mary was the +quicker, the brighter of the two, and that hers could be no common lot. +Frieda was relied upon for help, and her sister for glory. And when I +failed as a milliner's apprentice, while Frieda made excellent progress +at the dressmaker's, our fates, indeed, were sealed. It was understood, +even before we reached Boston, that she would go to work and I to +school. In view of the family prejudices, it was the inevitable course. +No injustice was intended. My father sent us hand in hand to school, +before he had ever thought of America. If, in America, he had been able +to support his family unaided, it would have been the culmination of his +best hopes to see all his children at school, with equal advantages at +home. But when he had done his best, and was still unable to provide +even bread and shelter for us all, he was compelled to make us children +self-supporting as fast as it was practicable. There was no choosing +possible; Frieda was the oldest, the strongest, the best prepared, and +the only one who was of legal age to be put to work. + +My father has nothing to answer for. He divided the world between his +children in accordance with the laws of the country and the compulsion +of his circumstances. I have no need of defending him. It is myself that +I would like to defend, and I cannot. I remember that I accepted the +arrangements made for my sister and me without much reflection, and +everything that was planned for my advantage I took as a matter of +course. I was no heartless monster, but a decidedly self-centered child. +If my sister had seemed unhappy it would have troubled me; but I am +ashamed to recall that I did not consider how little it was that +contented her. I was so preoccupied with my own happiness that I did not +half perceive the splendid devotion of her attitude towards me, the +sweetness of her joy in my good luck. She not only stood by approvingly +when I was helped to everything; she cheerfully waited on me herself. +And I took everything from her hand as if it were my due. + +The two of us stood a moment in the doorway of the tenement house on +Arlington Street, that wonderful September morning when I first went to +school. It was I that ran away, on winged feet of joy and expectation; +it was she whose feet were bound in the tread-mill of daily toil. And I +was so blind that I did not see that the glory lay on her, and not on +me. + + * * * * * + +Father himself conducted us to school. He would not have delegated that +mission to the President of the United States. He had awaited the day +with impatience equal to mine, and the visions he saw as he hurried us +over the sun-flecked pavements transcended all my dreams. Almost his +first act on landing on American soil, three years before, had been his +application for naturalization. He had taken the remaining steps in the +process with eager promptness, and at the earliest moment allowed by the +law, he became a citizen of the United States. It is true that he had +left home in search of bread for his hungry family, but he went blessing +the necessity that drove him to America. The boasted freedom of the New +World meant to him far more than the right to reside, travel, and work +wherever he pleased; it meant the freedom to speak his thoughts, to +throw off the shackles of superstition, to test his own fate, unhindered +by political or religious tyranny. He was only a young man when he +landed--thirty-two; and most of his life he had been held in +leading-strings. He was hungry for his untasted manhood. + +Three years passed in sordid struggle and disappointment. He was not +prepared to make a living even in America, where the day laborer eats +wheat instead of rye. Apparently the American flag could not protect him +against the pursuing Nemesis of his limitations; he must expiate the +sins of his fathers who slept across the seas. He had been endowed at +birth with a poor constitution, a nervous, restless temperament, and an +abundance of hindering prejudices. In his boyhood his body was starved, +that his mind might be stuffed with useless learning. In his youth this +dearly gotten learning was sold, and the price was the bread and salt +which he had not been trained to earn for himself. Under the wedding +canopy he was bound for life to a girl whose features were still strange +to him; and he was bidden to multiply himself, that sacred learning +might be perpetuated in his sons, to the glory of the God of his +fathers. All this while he had been led about as a creature without a +will, a chattel, an instrument. In his maturity he awoke, and found +himself poor in health, poor in purse, poor in useful knowledge, and +hampered on all sides. At the first nod of opportunity he broke away +from his prison, and strove to atone for his wasted youth by a life of +useful labor; while at the same time he sought to lighten the gloom of +his narrow scholarship by freely partaking of modern ideas. But his +utmost endeavor still left him far from his goal. In business nothing +prospered with him. Some fault of hand or mind or temperament led him to +failure where other men found success. Wherever the blame for his +disabilities be placed, he reaped their bitter fruit. "Give me bread!" +he cried to America. "What will you do to earn it?" the challenge came +back. And he found that he was master of no art, of no trade; that even +his precious learning was of no avail, because he had only the most +antiquated methods of communicating it. + +So in his primary quest he had failed. There was left him the +compensation of intellectual freedom. That he sought to realize in every +possible way. He had very little opportunity to prosecute his education, +which, in truth, had never been begun. His struggle for a bare living +left him no time to take advantage of the public evening school; but he +lost nothing of what was to be learned through reading, through +attendance at public meetings, through exercising the rights of +citizenship. Even here he was hindered by a natural inability to acquire +the English language. In time, indeed, he learned to read, to follow a +conversation or lecture; but he never learned to write correctly, and +his pronunciation remains extremely foreign to this day. + +If education, culture, the higher life were shining things to be +worshipped from afar, he had still a means left whereby he could draw +one step nearer to them. He could send his children to school, to learn +all those things that he knew by fame to be desirable. The common +school, at least, perhaps high school; for one or two, perhaps even +college! His children should be students, should fill his house with +books and intellectual company; and thus he would walk by proxy in the +Elysian Fields of liberal learning. As for the children themselves, he +knew no surer way to their advancement and happiness. + +So it was with a heart full of longing and hope that my father led us +to school on that first day. He took long strides in his eagerness, the +rest of us running and hopping to keep up. + +At last the four of us stood around the teacher's desk; and my father, +in his impossible English, gave us over in her charge, with some broken +word of his hopes for us that his swelling heart could no longer +contain. I venture to say that Miss Nixon was struck by something +uncommon in the group we made, something outside of Semitic features and +the abashed manner of the alien. My little sister was as pretty as a +doll, with her clear pink-and-white face, short golden curls, and eyes +like blue violets when you caught them looking up. My brother might have +been a girl, too, with his cherubic contours of face, rich red color, +glossy black hair, and fine eyebrows. Whatever secret fears were in his +heart, remembering his former teachers, who had taught with the rod, he +stood up straight and uncringing before the American teacher, his cap +respectfully doffed. Next to him stood a starved-looking girl with eyes +ready to pop out, and short dark curls that would not have made much of +a wig for a Jewish bride. + +All three children carried themselves rather better than the common run +of "green" pupils that were brought to Miss Nixon. But the figure that +challenged attention to the group was the tall, straight father, with +his earnest face and fine forehead, nervous hands eloquent in gesture, +and a voice full of feeling. This foreigner, who brought his children to +school as if it were an act of consecration, who regarded the teacher of +the primer class with reverence, who spoke of visions, like a man +inspired, in a common schoolroom, was not like other aliens, who +brought their children in dull obedience to the law; was not like the +native fathers, who brought their unmanageable boys, glad to be relieved +of their care. I think Miss Nixon guessed what my father's best English +could not convey. I think she divined that by the simple act of +delivering our school certificates to her he took possession of America. + + +NOTES + +=The Promised Land=:--The land of freedom and peace which the Jews have +hoped to attain. See Exodus, 3:8; 6:8; Genesis, 12:5-7; Deuteronomy, +8:7-10; Hebrews, 11:9. + +=his three years of probation=:--Mary Antin's father had spent three +years in America before sending back to Russia for his family. + +=Polotzk=:--Pronounced P[=o]'lotsk; a town in Russia on the Dwina River. + +=seven lean years=:--A reference to the famine in Egypt predicted by +Joseph, Pharaoh's Hebrew favorite. See Genesis, 40. + +=Dvina=:--The Düna or Dwina River, in Russia. + +=originally destined=:--Mr. Antin's parents had intended him to be a +scholar and teacher. + +=Yiddish=:--From the German word _jüdisch_, meaning Jewish; a mixed +language made up of German, Hebrew, and Russian words. It is generally +spoken by Jews. + +=Chelsea=:--A suburb of Boston. + +=Nemesis=:--In Greek mythology, a goddess of vengeance or punishment for +sins and errors. + +=the sins of his fathers=:--See Exodus, 20:5; Numbers, 14:18; +Deuteronomy, 5:9. + +=Elysian fields=:--In Greek thought, the home of the happy dead. + +=Semitic=:--Jewish; from the name of Shem, the son of Noah. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This selection gives the experience of a Jewish girl who came from +Polotzk, Russia, to Boston. Read rather slowly, with the help of these +questions: What is meant by "centuries of repression"? Is there no such +repression in America? How is it true that the Jew peddler "was born +thousands of years before the oldest native American"? What are the +educational advantages of a thickly populated neighborhood? What is your +idea of the slums? Why did the children expect every comfort to be +supplied? How much is really free in America? Is education free? How +does one secure an education in Russia? How are American machine-made +garments superior to those made by hand in Russia? Was it a good thing +to change the children's names? What effect does the sea have upon those +who live near it? What effect has a great change of environment on a +growing young person? What kind of person was Mrs. Wilner? What does Mr. +Antin mean when he says, "America is not Polotzk"? Are all men equal in +America? Read carefully the description of Mr. Wilner: How does the +author make it vivid and lively? Why was Mary Antin's first day in +school so important to her? Was it fair that Frieda should not go to +school? Should an older child be sacrificed for a younger? Should a slow +child always give way to a bright one? What do you think of the way in +which Mary accepted the situation when Frieda had to go to work? Read +carefully what Mary says about it. Is it easy to make a living in +America? Why did Mr. Antin not succeed in business? What is meant by +"the compensation of intellectual freedom"? What did Mr. Antin gain from +his life in America? What sort of man was he? In reading the selection, +what idea do you get of the Russian immigrant? Of what America means to +the poor foreigner? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Foreigners in our Town +The "Greenhorn" +The Immigrant Family +The Peddler +Ellis Island +What America Means to the Foreigner +The Statue of Liberty +A Russian Woman +The New Girl at School +The Basement Store +A Large Family +Learning to Speak a New Language +What the Public School can Do +A Russian Brass Shop +The Factory Girl +My Childish Sports +The Refreshment Stand +On the Sea Shore +The Popcorn Man +A Home in the Tenements +Earning a Living +More about Mary Antin[9] +How Children Amuse Themselves +A Fragment of My Autobiography +An Autobiography that I Have Read + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=The Immigrant Family=:--Have you ever seen a family that have just +arrived in America from a foreign land? Tell where you saw them. How +many persons were there? What were they doing? Describe each person, +noting especially anything odd or picturesque in looks, dress, or +behavior. Were they carrying anything? What expressions did they have on +their faces? Did they seem pleased with their new surroundings? Was +anyone trying to help them? Could they speak English? If possible, +report a few fragments of their conversation. Did you have a chance to +find out what they thought of America? Do you know what has become of +them, and how they are getting along? + +=A Fragment of my Autobiography=:--Did you, as a child, move into a +strange town, or make a visit in a place entirely new to you? Tell +rather briefly why you went and what preparations were made. Then give +an account of your arrival. What was the first thing that impressed you? +What did you do or say? What did the grown people say? Was there +anything unusual about the food, or the furniture, or the dress of the +people? Go on and relate your experiences, telling any incidents that +you remember. Try to make your reader share the bewilderment and +excitement you felt. Did anyone laugh at you, or make fun of you, or +hurt your feelings? Were you glad or sorry that you had come? Finish +your story by telling of your departure from the place, or of your +gradually getting used to your new surroundings. + +Try to recall some other experiences of your childhood. Write them out +quite fully, giving space to your feelings as well as to the events. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Promised Land Mary Antin +They Who Knock at Our Gates " " +The Lie " " + (Atlantic Monthly, August, 1913) +Children of the Tenements Jacob A. Riis +The Making of an American " " " +On the Trail of the Immigrant E.A. Steiner +Against the Current " " " +The Immigrant Tide " " " +The Man Farthest Down Booker T. Washington +Up from Slavery " " " +The Woman who Toils Marie and Mrs. John Van Vorst +The Long Day Anonymous +Old Homes of New Americans F.E. Clark +Autobiography S.S. McClure +Autobiography Theodore Roosevelt +A Buckeye Boyhood W.H. Venable +A Tuscan Childhood Lisa Cipriani +An Indian Boyhood Charles Eastman +When I Was Young Yoshio Markino +When I Was a Boy in Japan Sakae Shioya +The Story of my Childhood Clara Barton +The Story of my Boyhood and Youth John Muir +The Biography of a Prairie Girl Eleanor Gates +Autobiography of a Tomboy Jeanette Gilder +The One I Knew Best of All Frances Hodgson Burnett +The Story of my Life Helen Keller +The Story of a Child Pierre Loti +A New England Girlhood Lucy Larcom +Autobiography Joseph Jefferson +Dream Days Kenneth Grahame +The Golden Age " " +The Would-be-Goods E. Nesbit +In the Morning Glow Roy Rolfe Gilson +Chapters from a Life Elizabeth Stuart Phelps-Ward + +Mary Antin: Outlook, 102:482, November 2, 1912; 104:473, June 28, 1913 +(Portrait). Bookman, 35:419-421, June 1912. + + + + +WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME + +WALT WHITMAN + + + Warble me now for joy of lilac-time (returning in reminiscence), + Sort me, O tongue and lips for Nature's sake, souvenirs of + earliest summer, + Gather the welcome signs (as children with pebbles or + stringing shells), + Put in April and May, the hylas croaking in the ponds, the elastic air, + Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes, + Blue-bird and darting swallow, nor forget the high-hole + flashing his golden wings, + The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor, + Shimmer of waters with fish in them, the cerulean above, + All that is jocund and sparkling, the brooks running, + The maple woods, the crisp February days, and the sugar-making, + The robin where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted, + With musical clear call at sunrise and again at sunset, + Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the + nest of his mate, + The melted snow of March, the willow sending forth its + yellow-green sprouts, + For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in + it and from it? + Thou, soul, unloosen'd--the restlessness after I know not what; + Come, let us lag here no longer, let us be up and away! + + O if one could but fly like a bird! + O to escape, to sail forth as in a ship! + To glide with thee, O soul, o'er all, in all, as a ship o'er + the waters; + Gathering these hints, the preludes, the blue sky, the grass, + the morning drops of dew, + The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark-green heart-shaped leaves, + Wood-violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence, + Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere, + To grace the bush I love--to sing with the birds, + A warble for joy of lilac-time, returning in reminiscence. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is the meaning of "sort me"? Why jumble all these signs of summer +together? Does one naturally think in an orderly way when recalling the +details of spring or summer? Can you think of any important points that +the author has left out? Is _samples_ a poetic word? What is meant by +the line "not for themselves alone," etc.? Note the sound-words in the +poem: What is their value here? Read the lines slowly to yourself, or +have some one read them aloud, and see how many of them suggest little +pictures. Note the punctuation: Do you approve? Is this your idea of +poetry? What is poetry? Would this be better if it were in the full form +of verse? Can you see why the critics have disagreed over Whitman's +poetry? + + + + +WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER + +WALT WHITMAN + + + When I heard the learn'd astronomer, + When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, + When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide + and measure them, + When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much + applause in the lecture-room, + How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, + Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself, + In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, + Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why did the listener become tired of the lecturer who spoke with much +applause? What did he learn from the stars when he was alone out of +doors? Does he not think the study of astronomy worth while? What would +be his feeling toward other scientific studies? What do you get out of +this poem? What do you think of the way in which it is written? + + + + +VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT + +WALT WHITMAN + + + Vigil strange I kept on the field one night; + When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day, + One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look + I shall never forget, + One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reach'd up as you lay + on the ground, + Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle, + Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made + my way, + Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body, + son of responding kisses (never again on earth responding), + Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, + cool blew the moderate night-wind, + Long there and then in vigil I stood, + dimly around me the battle-field spreading, + Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, + But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, + Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side + leaning my chin in my hands, + Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest + comrade--not a tear, not a word, + Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, + As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole, + Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was + your death, + I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, + I think we shall surely meet again,) + Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the + dawn appear'd, + My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form, + Folded the blanket well, tucked it carefully over head and + carefully under feet, + And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, + in his rude-dug grave I deposited, + Ending my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim, + Vigil for boy of responding kisses (never again on earth responding), + Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, + how as day brighten'd, + I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, + And buried him where he fell. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is a vigil? Was Whitman ever in battle? Does he mean himself +speaking? Was the boy really his son? Is the man's calmness a sign that +he does not care? Why does he call the vigil "wondrous" and "sweet"? +What does he think about the next life? Read the poem over slowly and +thoughtfully to yourself, or aloud to some one: How does it make you +feel? + +Can you see any reason for calling Whitman a great poet? Has he +broadened your idea of what poetry may be? Read, if possible, in John +Burroughs's book on Whitman, pages 48-53. + + +EXERCISES + +Re-read the _Warble for Lilac-Time_. Can you write of the signs of fall, +in somewhat the same way? Choose the most beautiful and the most +important characteristics that you can think of. Try to use color-words +and sound-words so that they make your composition vivid and musical. +Compare the _Warble for Lilac-Time_ with the first lines of Chaucer's +_Prologue_ to the _Canterbury Tales_. With Lowell's _How Spring Came in +New England_. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Walk in the Woods +A Spring Day +Sugar-Making +My Flower Garden +The Garden in Lilac Time +The Orchard in Spring +On a Farm in Early Summer +A Walk on a Summer Night +Waiting for Morning +The Stars +Walt Whitman and his Poetry + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Poems by Whitman suitable for class reading:-- + On the Beach at Night + Bivouac on a Mountain Side + To a Locomotive in Winter + A Farm Picture + The Runner + I Hear It was Charged against Me + A Sight in Camp + By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame + Song of the Broad-Axe + A Child said _What is the grass?_ (from _A Song of Myself_) + +The Rolling Earth (Selections from Whitman) W.R. Browne (Ed.) +The Life of Walt Whitman H.B. Binns +Walt Whitman John Burroughs +A Visit to Walt Whitman (Portraits) John Johnston +Walt Whitman the Man (Portraits) Thomas Donaldson +Walt Whitman G.R. Carpenter +Walt Whitman (Portraits) I.H. Platt +Whitman Bliss Perry +Early May in New England (poem) Percy Mackaye +Knee-deep in June J.W. Riley +Spring Henry Timrod +Spring Song Bliss Carman + + + + +ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA + +TRANSLATED BY GEORGE HERBERT PALMER + + +Thus long-tried royal Odysseus slumbered here, heavy with sleep and +toil; but Athene went to the land and town of the Phaeacians. This +people once in ancient times lived in the open highlands, near that rude +folk the Cyclops, who often plundered them, being in strength more +powerful than they. Moving them thence, godlike Nausithoüs, their +leader, established them at Scheria, far from toiling men. He ran a wall +around the town, built houses there, made temples for the gods, and laid +out farms; but Nausithoüs had met his doom and gone to the house of +Hades, and Alcinoüs now was reigning, trained in wisdom by the gods. To +this man's dwelling came the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, planning a safe +return for brave Odysseus. She hastened to a chamber, richly wrought, in +which a maid was sleeping, of form and beauty like the immortals, +Nausicaä, daughter of generous Alcinoüs. Near by two damsels, dowered +with beauty by the Graces, slept by the threshold, one on either hand. +The shining doors were shut; but Athene, like a breath of air, moved to +the maid's couch, stood by her head, and thus addressed her,--taking the +likeness of the daughter of Dymas, the famous seaman, a maiden just +Nausicaä's age, dear to her heart. Taking her guise, thus spoke +clear-eyed Athene:-- + +"Nausicaä, how did your mother bear a child so heedless? Your gay +clothes lie uncared for, though the wedding time is near, when you must +wear fine clothes yourself and furnish them to those that may attend +you. From things like these a good repute arises, and father and honored +mother are made glad. Then let us go a-washing at the dawn of day, and I +will go to help, that you may soon be ready; for really not much longer +will you be a maid. Already you have for suitors the chief ones of the +land throughout Phaeacia, where you too were born. Come, then, beg your +good father early in the morning to harness the mules and cart, so as to +carry the men's clothes, gowns, and bright-hued rugs. Yes, and for you +yourself it is more decent so than setting forth on foot; the pools are +far from the town." + +Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, off to Olympus, where they +say the dwelling of the gods stands fast forever. Never with winds is it +disturbed, nor by the rain made wet, nor does the snow come near; but +everywhere the upper air spreads cloudless, and a bright radiance plays +over all; and there the blessed gods are happy all their days. Thither +now came the clear-eyed one, when she had spoken with the maid. + +Soon bright-throned morning came, and waked fair-robed Nausicaä. She +marveled at the dream, and hastened through the house to tell it to her +parents, her dear father and her mother. She found them still in-doors: +her mother sat by the hearth among the waiting-women, spinning +sea-purple yarn; she met her father at the door, just going forth to +join the famous princes at the council, to which the high Phaeacians +summoned him. So standing close beside him, she said to her dear +father:-- + +"Papa dear, could you not have the wagon harnessed for me,--the high +one, with good wheels,--to take my nice clothes to the river to be +washed, which now are lying dirty? Surely for you yourself it is but +proper, when you are with the first men holding councils, that you +should wear clean clothing. Five good sons too are here at home,--two +married, and three merry young men still,--and they are always wanting +to go to the dance wearing fresh clothes. And this is all a trouble on +my mind." + +Such were her words, for she was shy of naming the glad marriage to her +father; but he understood it all, and answered thus: + +"I do not grudge the mules, my child, nor anything beside. Go! Quickly +shall the servants harness the wagon for you, the high one, with good +wheels, fitted with rack above." + +Saying this, he called to the servants, who gave heed. Out in the court +they made the easy mule-cart ready; they brought the mules and yoked +them to the wagon. The maid took from her room her pretty clothing, and +stowed it in the polished wagon; her mother put in a chest food the maid +liked, of every kind, put dainties in, and poured some wine into a +goat-skin bottle,--the maid, meanwhile, had got into the wagon,--and +gave her in a golden flask some liquid oil, that she might bathe and +anoint herself, she and the waiting-women. Nausicaä took the whip and +the bright reins, and cracked the whip to start. There was a clatter of +the mules, and steadily they pulled, drawing the clothing and the +maid,--yet not alone; beside her went the waiting-women too. + +When now they came to the fair river's current, where the pools were +always full,--for in abundance clear water bubbles from beneath to +cleanse the foulest stains,--they turned the mules loose from the +wagon, and let them stray along the eddying stream, to crop the honeyed +pasturage. Then from the wagon they took the clothing in their arms, +carried it into the dark water, and stamped it in the pits with rivalry +in speed. And after they had washed and cleansed it of all stains, they +spread it carefully along the shore, just where the waves washed up the +pebbles on the beach. Then bathing and anointing with the oil, they +presently took dinner on the river bank and waited for the clothes to +dry in the sunshine. And when they were refreshed with food, the maids +and she, they then began to play at ball, throwing their wimples off. +White-armed Nausicaä led their sport; and as the huntress Artemis goes +down a mountain, down long Taÿgetus or Erymanthus, exulting in the boars +and the swift deer, while round her sport the woodland nymphs, daughters +of ægis-bearing Zeus, and glad is Leto's heart, for all the rest her +child o'ertops by head and brow, and easily marked is she, though all +are fair; so did this virgin pure excel her women. + +But when Nausicaä thought to turn toward home once more, to yoke the +mules and fold up the clean clothes, then a new plan the goddess formed, +clear-eyed Athene; for she would have Odysseus wake and see the +bright-eyed maid, who might to the Phaeacian city show the way. Just +then the princess tossed the ball to one of her women, and missing her +it fell in the deep eddy. Thereat they screamed aloud. Royal Odysseus +woke, and sitting up debated in his mind and heart:-- + +"Alas! To what men's land am I come now? Lawless and savage are they, +with no regard for right, or are they kind to strangers and reverent +toward the gods? It was as if there came to me the delicate voice of +maids--nymphs, it may be, who haunt the craggy peaks of hills, the +springs of streams and grassy marshes; or am I now, perhaps, near men of +human speech? Suppose I make a trial for myself, and see." + +So saying, royal Odysseus crept from the thicket, but with his strong +hand broke a spray of leaves from the close wood, to be a covering round +his body for his nakedness. He set off like a lion that is bred among +the hills and trusts its strength; onward it goes, beaten with rain and +wind; its two eyes glare; and now in search of oxen or of sheep it +moves, or tracking the wild deer; its belly bids it make trial of the +flocks, even by entering the guarded folds; so was Odysseus about to +meet those fair-haired maids, for need constrained him. To them he +seemed a loathsome sight, befouled with brine. They hurried off, one +here, one there, over the stretching sands. Only the daughter of +Alcinoüs stayed, for in her breast Athene had put courage and from her +limbs took fear. Steadfast she stood to meet him. And now Odysseus +doubted whether to make his suit by clasping the knees of the +bright-eyed maid, or where he stood, aloof, in winning words to make +that suit, and try if she would show the town and give him clothing. +Reflecting thus, it seemed the better way to make his suit in winning +words, aloof; for fear if he should clasp her knees, the maid might be +offended. Forthwith he spoke, a winning and shrewd speech:-- + +"I am your suppliant, princess. Are you some god or mortal? If one of +the gods who hold the open sky, to Artemis, daughter of mighty Zeus, in +beauty, height, and bearing I find you likest. But if you are a mortal, +living on the earth, most happy are your father and your honored +mother, most happy your brothers also. Surely their hearts ever grow +warm with pleasure over you, when watching such a blossom moving in the +dance. And then exceeding happy he, beyond all others, who shall with +gifts prevail and lead you home. For I never before saw such a being +with these eyes--no man, no woman. I am amazed to see. At Delos once, by +Apollo's altar, something like you I noticed, a young palm shoot +springing up; for thither too I came, and a great troop was with me, +upon a journey where I was to meet with bitter trials. And just as when +I looked on that I marveled long within, since never before sprang such +a stalk from earth; so, lady, I admire and marvel now at you, and +greatly fear to touch your knees. Yet grievous woe is on me. Yesterday, +after twenty days, I escaped from the wine-dark sea, and all that time +the waves and boisterous winds bore me away from the island of Ogygia. +Now some god cast me here, that probably here also I may meet with +trouble; for I do not think trouble will cease, but much the gods will +first accomplish. Then, princess, have compassion, for it is you to whom +through many grievous toils I first am come; none else I know of all who +own this city and this land. Show me the town, and give me a rag to +throw around me, if you had perhaps on coming here some wrapper for your +linen. And may the gods grant all that in your thoughts you long for: +husband and home and true accord may they bestow; for a better and +higher gift than this there cannot be, when with accordant aims man and +wife have a home. Great grief it is to foes and joy to friends; but they +themselves best know its meaning." + +Then answered him white-armed Nausicaä: "Stranger, because you do not +seem a common, senseless person,--and Olympian Zeus himself distributes +fortune to mankind and gives to high and low even as he wills to each; +and this he gave to you, and you must bear it therefore,--now you have +reached our city and our land, you shall not lack for clothes nor +anything besides which it is fit a hard-pressed suppliant should find. I +will point out the town and tell its people's name. The Phaeacians own +this city and this land, and I am the daughter of generous Alcinoüs, on +whom the might and power of the Phaeacians rests." + +She spoke, and called her fair-haired waiting-women: "My women, stay! +Why do you run because you saw a man? You surely do not think him +evil-minded, The man is not alive, and never will be born, who can come +and offer harm to the Phaeacian land: for we are very dear to the +immortals; and then we live apart, far on the surging sea, no other +tribe of men has dealings with us. But this poor man has come here +having lost his way, and we should give him aid; for in the charge of +Zeus all strangers and beggars stand, and a small gift is welcome. Then +give, my women, to the stranger food and drink, and let him bathe in the +river where there is shelter from the breeze." + +She spoke; the others stopped and called to one another, and down they +brought Odysseus to the place of shelter, even as Nausicaä, daughter of +generous Alcinoüs, had ordered. They placed a robe and tunic there for +clothing, they gave him in the golden flask the liquid oil, and bade him +bathe in the stream's currents. + + * * * * * + +The women went away.... And now, with water from the stream, royal +Odysseus washed his skin clean of the salt which clung about his back +and his broad shoulders, and wiped from his head the foam brought by the +barren sea; and when he had thoroughly bathed and oiled himself and had +put on the clothing which the chaste maiden gave, Athene, the daughter +of Zeus, made him taller than before and stouter to behold, and she made +the curling locks to fall around his head as on the hyacinth flower. As +when a man lays gold on silver,--some skillful man whom Hephaestus and +Pallas Athene have trained in every art, and he fashions graceful work; +so did she cast a grace upon his head and shoulders. He walked apart +along the shore, and there sat down, beaming with grace and beauty. The +maid observed; then to her fair-haired waiting-women said:-- + +"Hearken, my white-armed women, while I speak. Not without purpose on +the part of all the gods that hold Olympus is this man's meeting with +the godlike Phaeacians. A while ago, he really seemed to me ill-looking, +but now he is like the gods who hold the open sky. Ah, might a man like +this be called my husband, having his home here, and content to stay! +But give, my women, to the stranger food and drink." + +She spoke, and very willingly they heeded and obeyed, and set beside +Odysseus food and drink. Then long-tried Odysseus eagerly drank and ate, +for he had long been fasting. + +And now to other matters white-armed Nausicaä turned her thoughts. She +folded the clothes and laid them in the beautiful wagon, she yoked the +stout-hoofed mules, mounted herself, and calling to Odysseus thus she +spoke and said:-- + +"Arise now, stranger, and hasten to the town, that I may set you on the +road to my wise father's house, where you shall see, I promise you, the +best of all Phaeacia. Only do this,--you seem to me not to lack +understanding: while we are passing through the fields and farms, here +with my women, behind the mules and cart, walk rapidly along, and I will +lead the way. But as we near the town,--round which is a lofty rampart, +a beautiful harbor on each side and a narrow road between,--there curved +ships line the way; for every man has his own mooring-place. Beyond is +the assembly near the beautiful grounds of Poseidon, constructed out of +blocks of stone deeply imbedded. Further along, they make the black +ships' tackling, cables and canvas, and shape out the oars; for the +Phaeacians do not care for bow and quiver, only for masts and oars of +ships and the trim ships themselves, with which it is their joy to cross +the foaming sea. Now the rude talk of such as these I would avoid, that +no one afterwards may give me blame. For very forward persons are about +the place, and some coarse man might say, if he should meet us: 'What +tall and handsome stranger is following Nausicaä? Where did she find +him? A husband he will be, her very own. Some castaway, perhaps, she +rescued from his vessel, some foreigner; for we have no neighbors here. +Or at her prayer some long-entreated god has come straight down from +heaven, and he will keep her his forever. So much the better, if she has +gone herself and found a husband elsewhere! The people of our own land +here, Phaeacians, she disdains, though she has many high-born suitors.' +So they will talk, and for me it would prove a scandal. I should myself +censure a girl who acted so, who, heedless of friends, while father and +mother were alive, mingled with men before her public wedding. And, +stranger, listen now to what I say, that you may soon obtain assistance +and safe conduct from my father. Near our road you will see a stately +grove of poplar trees, belonging to Athene; in it a fountain flows, and +round it is a meadow. That is my father's park, his fruitful vineyard, +as far from the town as one can call. There sit and wait a while, until +we come to the town and reach my father's palace. But when you think we +have already reached the palace, enter the city of the Phaeacians, and +ask for the palace of my father, generous Alcinoüs. Easily is it known; +a child, though young, could show the way; for the Phaeacians do not +build their houses like the dwelling of Alcinoüs their prince. But when +his house and court receive you, pass quickly through the hall until you +find my mother. She sits in the firelight by the hearth, spinning +sea-purple yarn, a marvel to behold, and resting against a pillar. Her +handmaids sit behind her. Here too my father's seat rests on the +self-same pillar, and here he sits and sips his wine like an immortal. +Passing him by, stretch out your hands to our mother's knees, if you +would see the day of your return in gladness and with speed, although +you come from far. If she regards you kindly in her heart, then there is +hope that you may see your friends and reach your stately house and +native land." + +Saying this, with her bright whip she struck the mules, and fast they +left the river's streams; and well they trotted, well they plied their +feet, and skillfully she reined them that those on foot might +follow,--the waiting-women and Odysseus,--and moderately she used the +lash. The sun was setting when they reached the famous grove, Athene's +sacred ground where royal Odysseus sat him down. And thereupon he prayed +to the daughter of mighty Zeus:-- + +"Hearken, thou child of ægis-bearing Zeus, unwearied one! O hear me +now, although before thou didst not hear me, when I was wrecked, what +time the great Land-shaker wrecked me. Grant that I come among the +Phaeacians welcomed and pitied by them." + +So spoke he in his prayer, and Pallas Athene heard, but did not yet +appear to him in open presence; for she regarded still her father's +brother, who stoutly strove with godlike Odysseus until he reached his +land. + +Here, then, long-tried royal Odysseus made his prayer; but to the town +the strong mules bore the maid. And when she reached her father's famous +palace, she stopped before the door-way, and round her stood her +brothers, men like immortals, who from the cart unyoked the mules and +carried the clothing in. The maid went to her chamber, where a fire was +kindled for her by an old Apeirean woman, the chamber-servant +Eurymedousa, whom long ago curved ships brought from Apeira; her they +had chosen from the rest to be the gift of honor for Alcinoüs, because +he was the lord of all Phaeacians, and people listened to his voice as +if he were a god. She was the nurse of white-armed Nausicaä at the +palace, and she it was who kindled her the fire and in her room prepared +her supper. + +And now Odysseus rose to go to the city; but Athene kindly drew thick +clouds around Odysseus, for fear some bold Phaeacian meeting him might +trouble him with talk and ask him who he was. And just as he was +entering the pleasant town, the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, came to meet +him, disguised as a young girl who bore a water-jar. She paused as she +drew near, and royal Odysseus asked:-- + +"My child, could you not guide me to the house of one Alcinoüs, who is +ruler of this people? For I am a toil-worn stranger come from far, out +of a distant land. Therefore I know not one among the men who own this +city and this land." + +Then said to him the goddess, clear-eyed Athene: "Yes, good old +stranger, I will show the house for which you ask, for it stands near my +gentle father's. But follow in silence: I will lead the way. Cast not a +glance at any man and ask no questions, for our people do not well +endure a stranger, nor courteously receive a man who comes from +elsewhere. Yet they themselves trust in swift ships and traverse the +great deep, for the Earth-shaker permits them. Swift are their ships as +wing or thought." + +Saying this, Pallas Athene led the way in haste, and he walked after in +the footsteps of the goddess. So the Phaeacians, famed for shipping, did +not observe him walking through the town among them, because Athene, the +fair-haired powerful goddess, did not allow it, but in the kindness of +her heart drew a marvelous mist around him. And now Odysseus admired the +harbors, the trim ships, the meeting-places of the lords themselves, and +the long walls that were so high, fitted with palisades, a marvel to +behold. Then as they neared the famous palace of the king, the goddess, +clear-eyed Athene, thus began:-- + +"Here, good old stranger, is the house you bade me show. You will see +heaven-descended kings sitting at table here. But enter, and have no +misgivings in your heart; for the courageous man in all affairs better +attains his end, come he from where he may. First you shall find the +Queen within the hall. Arete is her name.... Alcinoüs took Arete for his +wife, and he has honored her as no one else on earth is honored among +the women who to-day keep houses for their husbands. Thus has she had a +heartfelt honor, and she has it still, from her own children, from +Alcinoüs himself, and from the people also, who gaze on her as on a god +and greet her with welcomes when she walks about the town. For of sound +judgment, woman as she is, she has no lack; and those whom she regards, +though men, find troubles clear away. If she regards you kindly in her +heart, then there is hope that you may see your friends and reach your +high-roofed house and native land." + +Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, over the barren sea. She +turned from pleasant Scheria, and came to Marathon and wide-wayed Athens +and entered there the strong house of Erechtheus. Meanwhile Odysseus +neared the lordly palace of Alcinoüs, and his heart was deeply stirred +so that he paused before he crossed the brazen threshold; for a sheen as +of the sun or moon played through the high-roofed house of generous +Alcinoüs. On either hand ran walls of bronze from threshold to recess, +and round about the ceiling was a cornice of dark metal. Doors made of +gold closed in the solid building. The door-posts were of silver and +stood on a bronze threshold, silver the lintel overhead, and gold the +handle. On the two sides were gold and silver dogs; these had Hephaestus +wrought with subtle craft to guard the house of generous Alcinoüs, +creatures immortal, young forever. Within were seats planted against the +wall on this side and on that, from threshold to recess, in long array; +and over these were strewn light fine-spun robes, the work of women. +Here the Phaeacian leaders used to sit, drinking and eating, holding +constant cheer. And golden youths on massive pedestals stood and held +flaming torches in their hands to light by night the palace for the +feasters. + +In the King's house are fifty serving maids, some grinding at the mill +the yellow corn, some plying looms or twisting yarn, who as they sit are +like the leaves of a tall poplar; and from the close-spun linen drops +the liquid oil. And as Phaeacian men are skilled beyond all others in +speeding a swift ship along the sea, so are their women practiced at the +loom; for Athene has given them in large measure skill in fair works and +noble minds. + +Without the court and close beside its gate is a large garden, covering +four acres; around it runs a hedge on either side. Here grow tall +thrifty trees--pears, pomegranates, apples with shining fruit, sweet +figs and thrifty olives. On them fruit never fails; it is not gone in +winter or in summer, but lasts throughout the year; for constantly the +west wind's breath brings some to bud and mellows others. Pear ripens +upon pear, apple on apple, cluster on cluster, fig on fig. Here too the +teeming vineyard has been planted, one part of which, the drying place, +lying on level ground, is heating in the sun; elsewhere men gather +grapes; and elsewhere still they tread them. In front, the grapes are +green and shed their flower, but a second row are now just turning dark. +And here trim garden-beds, along the outer line, spring up in every kind +and all the year are gay. Near by, two fountains rise, one scattering +its streams throughout the garden, one bounding by another course +beneath the courtyard gate toward the high house; from this the +towns-folk draw their water. Such at the palace of Alcinoüs were the +gods' splendid gifts. + +Here long-tried royal Odysseus stood and gazed. Then after he had gazed +his heart's fill on all, he quickly crossed the threshold and came +within the house. + + +NOTES + +=Phaeacia=:--The land of the Phaeacians, on the Island of Scheria, or +Corcyra, the modern Corfu. + +=Athene=:--Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, skill, and science. She was +interested in war, and protected warlike heroes. + +=Cyclops=:--One of a race of uncouth giants, each of whom had but a +single eye, which was in the middle of the forehead. + +=Nausithoüs=:--The king of the Phaeacians at the time they entered +Scheria. + +=Hades=:--The realm of souls; not necessarily a place of punishment. + +=Artemis=:--Another name for Diana, goddess of the moon. + +=Taÿgetus and Erymanthus=:--Mountains in Greece. + +=Leto=:--The mother of Artemis. + +=Delos=:--An island in the Aegean Sea. + +=Ogygia=:--The island of the goddess Calypso, who held Odysseus captive +for seven years. + +=Hephaestus=:--Another name for Vulcan, the god of the under-world. He +was a skilled worker in metal. + +=Poseidon=:--Neptune, god of the ocean. + +=Land-shaker=:--Neptune. + +=Marathon=:--A plain eighteen miles from Athens. It was here that the +Greeks defeated the Persians in 490 B.C. + +=Erectheus=:--The mythical founder of Attica; he was half man and half +serpent. + + +=THE PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES IN THIS SELECTION= + +Al cin' o us ([)a]l sïn' [+o] _[)u]_ s) +Ap ei' ra ([.a]p [=i]' r_a_) +Ap ei re' an ([)a]p [=i] r[=e]' _[)a]_n) +A re' te ([.a] r[=e]' t[=e]) +Ar' te mis (är' t[+e] m[)i]s) +A the' ne ([.a] th[=e]' n[=e]) +Ca lyp' so (k_a_ l[)i]p' s[=o]) +Cir' ce (sûr' s[=e]) +Cy' clops (s[=i]' cl[)o]ps) +De' los (d[=e]' l[)o]s) +Dy' mas (d[=i]' m_[.a]_s) +E rech' theus ([+e] r[)e]k' th[=u]s) +E ry man' thus ([)e]r [)i] m[)a]n' th_[=u]_s) +Eu rym e dou' sa ([=u] r[)i]m [+e] d[=oo]' s_[.a]_) +He phaes' tus (h[+e] f[)e]s' t_[)u]_s) +Le' to (l[=e]' t[=o]) +Mar' a thon (m[)a]r' [.a] th[)o]n) +Nau sic' a ä (nô s[)i]k' [+a] _[.a]_) +Nau sith' o us (nô s[)i]th' [+o] _[)u]_s) +O dys' seus ([+o] d[)i]s' [=u]s) +O gyg' i a ([+o] j[)i]j' _[.a]_) +Phae a' cia (f[+e] [=a]' sh_[.a]_) +Po sei' don (p[+o] s[=i]' d_[)o]_n) +Scher' i a (sk[=e]' r[)i] _[.a]_) +Ta ÿg' e tus (t[=a] [)i]j' [+e] t_[)u]_s) + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Odysseus (Ulysses) has been cast ashore after a long battle with the +sea, following his attempt to escape on a raft from Calypso's island. He +has been saved by the intervention of the goddess Athene, who often +protects distressed heroes. When Book VI opens, he is sleeping in a +secluded nook under an olive tree. (For Odysseus's adventures on the +sea, consult Book V of the _Odyssey_.) Is Athene's visit to Nausicaä an +unusual sort of thing in Greek story? Does it appear that it was +customary for princesses to do their own washing? Note here that _I_ +refers to the daughter of Dymas, since Athene is not speaking in her own +character. From Nausicaä's conversation with her father and her +preparations for departure, what can you judge of Greek family life? How +does the author make us see vividly the activities of Nausicaä and her +maids? Does the out-door scene appear true to life? _This virgin pure_ +refers to Nausicaä, who is being compared to Artemis (Diana), the +goddess of the hunt. What plan has Athene for assisting Odysseus? From +the hero's speech, what can you tell of his character? Can you find out +what adjectives are usually applied to Odysseus in the _Iliad_ and the +_Odyssey_? Why does he here call Nausicaä "Princess"? What effect is his +speech likely to have? What can you tell of Nausicaä from her reply? +Give her reasons for not taking Odysseus with her to the town. Does she +fail in hospitality? What do her reasons show of the life of Greek +women? What do you judge of the prosperity of the Phaeacians? Why does +Nausicaä tell Odysseus to seek the favor of her mother? _Her father's +brother_ means Neptune (the Sea)--brother of Zeus, Athene's father; +Neptune is enraged at Odysseus and wishes to destroy him. _Here then_: +At this point Book VII begins. From what is said of Arete, what can you +tell of the influence of the Greek women? How does the author make you +feel the richness of Alcinoüs's palace? How does it differ from modern +houses? _Corn_ means grain, not Indian corn, which, of course, had not +yet been brought from the New World. Note the vivid description of the +garden. How do you think Odysseus is received at the house of Alcinoüs? +You can find out by reading the rest of Book VII of the _Odyssey_. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +One of Ulysses's Adventures +An Escape from the Sea +A Picnic on the Shore +The Character of Nausicaä +My Idea of a Princess +The Life of a Greek Woman +A Group of Girls +The Character of Odysseus +Shipwrecked +A Beautiful Building +Along the Shore +Among Strangers +A Garden +A Story from the Odyssey +Odysseus at the House of Alcinoüs +The Lady of the House +The Greek Warrior +The Stranger +Why I Wish to Study Greek + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Story from the Odyssey=:--Read, in a translation of the _Odyssey_, a +story of Odysseus, and tell it in your own words. The following stories +are appropriate: The Departure from Calypso's Island, Book V; The +Cyclops Polyphemus, Book IX; The Palace of Circe, Book X; The Land of +the Dead, Book XI; Scylla and Charybdis, Book XII; The Swineherd, Book +XIV; The Trial of the Bow, Book XXI; The Slaughter of the Suitors, Book +XXII. + +After you have chosen a story, read it through several times, to fix the +details in your mind. Lay the book aside, and write the story simply, +but as vividly as possible. + +=The Stranger=:--Explain the circumstances under which the stranger +appears. Are people startled at seeing him (or her)? Describe him. Is he +bewildered? Does he ask directions? Does he ask help? Quote his words +directly. How are his remarks received? Are people afraid of him? or do +they make sport of him? or do they receive him kindly? Who aids him? +Tell what he does and what becomes of him. Quote what is said of him +after he is gone. + +Perhaps you will like to tell the story of Ulysses's arrival among the +Phaeacians, giving it a modern setting, and using modern names. + +=Odysseus at the House of Alcinoüs=:--Without reading Book VII of the +_Odyssey_, write what you imagine to be the conversation between +Alcinoüs (or Arete) and Odysseus, when the shipwrecked hero enters the +palace. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Odyssey George Herbert Palmer (Trans.) +The Odyssey of Homer (prose translation) Butcher and Lang +The Iliad of Homer Lang, Leaf, and Myers +The Odyssey (translation in verse) William Cullen Bryant +The Odyssey for Boys and Girls A.J. Church +The Story of the Odyssey " " " +Greek Song and Story " " " +The Adventures of Odysseus Marvin, Mayor, and Stawell +Tanglewood Tales Nathaniel Hawthorne +Home Life of the Ancient Greeks H. Blümner (trans, by A. + Zimmerman +Classic Myths (chapter 27) C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable (chapters 22 and 23) Thomas Bulfinch +The Story of the Greek People Eva March Tappan +Greece and the Aegean Isles Philip S. Marden +Greek Lands and Letters F.G. and A.C.E. Allinson +Old Greek Folk Stories J.P. Peabody +Men of Old Greece Jennie Hall +The Lotos-eaters Alfred Tennyson +Ulysses " " +The Strayed Reveller Matthew Arnold +A Song of Phaeacia Andrew Lang +The Voyagers (in _The Fields of Dawn_) Lloyd Mifflin +Alice Freeman Palmer George Herbert Palmer + +See the references for _Moly_ on p. 84, and for Odysseus on p. 140. + + + + +ODYSSEUS + +GEORGE CABOT LODGE + + + He strove with Gods and men in equal mood + Of great endurance: Not alone his hands + Wrought in wild seas and labored in strange lands, + And not alone his patient strength withstood + The clashing cliffs and Circe's perilous sands: + Eager of some imperishable good + He drave new pathways thro' the trackless flood + Foreguarded, fearless, free from Fate's commands. + How shall our faith discern the truth he sought? + We too must watch and wander till our eyes, + Turned skyward from the topmost tower of thought, + Haply shall find the star that marked his goal, + The watch-fire of transcendent liberties + Lighting the endless spaces of the soul. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem through. How did Ulysses strive with gods and men? Why can +it be said that he did not labor alone? Look up the story of Circe and +her palace.[10] What was the imperishable good that Ulysses sought? What +does his experience have to do with our lives? What sort of freedom does +the author speak of in the last few lines? + +This verse-form is called the sonnet. How many lines has it? Make out a +scheme of the rhymes: _a b b a_, etc. Notice the change of thought at +the ninth line. Do all sonnets show this change? + + +EXERCISES + +Read several other sonnets; for instance, the poem _On the Life-Mask of +Abraham Lincoln_, on page 210, or _On First Looking into Chapman's +Homer_, by John Keats, or _The Grasshopper and the Cricket_, by Leigh +Hunt. + +Notice how these other sonnets are constructed. Why are they considered +good? + +If possible, read part of what is said about the sonnet in _English +Verse_, by R.M. Alden or in _Forms of English Poetry_, by C.F. Johnson, +or in _Melodies of English Verse_, by Lewis Kennedy Morse; notice some +of the examples given. + +Look in the good magazines for examples of the sonnet. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +To the Grasshopper and the Cricket Leigh Hunt +The Fish Answers (or, The Fish to the Man)[11] Leigh Hunt +On the Grasshopper and Cricket John Keats +On First Looking into Chapman's Homer John Keats +Ozymandias P.B. Shelley +The Sonnet R.W. Gilder +The Odyssey (sonnet) Andrew Lang +The Wine of Circe (sonnet) Dante Gabriel Rossetti +The Automobile (sonnet)[12] Percy Mackaye +The Sonnet William Wordsworth + +See also references for the _Odyssey_, p. 137, and for _Moly_, p. 84. + + + + +A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + +(In _Suburban Sketches_) + + +It was long past the twilight hour, which has been already mentioned as +so oppressive in suburban places, and it was even too late for visitors, +when a resident, whom I shall briefly describe as a contributor to the +magazines, was startled by a ring at his door. As any thoughtful person +would have done upon the like occasion, he ran over his acquaintance in +his mind, speculating whether it were such or such a one, and dismissing +the whole list of improbabilities, before he laid down the book he was +reading and answered the bell. When at last he did this, he was rewarded +by the apparition of an utter stranger on his threshold,--a gaunt figure +of forlorn and curious smartness towering far above him, that jerked him +a nod of the head, and asked if Mr. Hapford lived there. The face which +the lamplight revealed was remarkable for a harsh two days' growth of +beard, and a single bloodshot eye; yet it was not otherwise a sinister +countenance, and there was something in the strange presence that +appealed and touched. The contributor, revolving the facts vaguely in +his mind, was not sure, after all, that it was not the man's clothes +rather than his expression that softened him toward the rugged visage: +they were so tragically cheap; and the misery of helpless needle-women, +and the poverty and ignorance of the purchaser, were so apparent in +their shabby newness, of which they appeared still conscious enough to +have led the way to the very window, in the Semitic quarter of the +city, where they had lain ticketed, "This nobby suit for $15." + +But the stranger's manner put both his face and his clothes out of mind, +and claimed a deeper interest when, being answered that the person for +whom he asked did not live there, he set his bristling lips hard +together, and sighed heavily. + +"They told me," he said, in a hopeless way, "that he lived on this +street, and I've been to every other house. I'm very anxious to find +him, Cap'n,"--the contributor, of course, had no claim to the title with +which he was thus decorated,--"for I've a daughter living with him, and +I want to see her; I've just got home from a two years' voyage, +and"--there was a struggle of the Adam's-apple in the man's gaunt +throat--"I find she's about all there is left of my family." + +How complex is every human motive! This contributor had been lately +thinking, whenever he turned the pages of some foolish traveller,--some +empty prattler of Southern or Eastern lands, where all sensation was +long ago exhausted, and the oxygen has perished from every sentiment, so +has it been breathed and breathed again,--that nowadays the wise +adventurer sat down beside his own register and waited for incidents to +seek him out. It seemed to him that the cultivation of a patient and +receptive spirit was the sole condition needed to insure the occurrence +of all manner of surprising facts within the range of one's own personal +knowledge; that not only the Greeks were at our doors, but the fairies +and the genii, and all the people of romance, who had but to be +hospitably treated in order to develop the deepest interest of fiction, +and to become the characters of plots so ingenious that the most cunning +invention were poor beside them. I myself am not so confident of this, +and would rather trust Mr. Charles Reade, say, for my amusement than any +chance combination of events. But I should be afraid to say how much his +pride in the character of the stranger's sorrows, as proof of the +correctness of his theory, prevailed with the contributor to ask him to +come in and sit down; though I hope that some abstract impulse of +humanity, some compassionate and unselfish care for the man's +misfortunes as misfortunes, was not wholly wanting. Indeed, the helpless +simplicity with which he had confided his case might have touched a +harder heart. "Thank you," said the poor fellow, after a moment's +hesitation. "I believe I will come in. I've been on foot all day, and +after such a long voyage it makes a man dreadfully sore to walk about so +much. Perhaps you can think of a Mr. Hapford living somewhere in the +neighborhood." + +He sat down, and, after a pondering silence, in which he had remained +with his head fallen upon his breast, "My name is Jonathan Tinker," he +said, with the unaffected air which had already impressed the +contributor, and as if he felt that some form of introduction was +necessary, "and the girl that I want to find is Julia Tinker." Then he +added, resuming the eventful personal history which the listener +exulted, while he regretted, to hear: "You see, I shipped first to +Liverpool, and there I heard from my family; and then I shipped again +for Hong-Kong, and after that I never heard a word: I seemed to miss the +letters everywhere. This morning, at four o'clock, I left my ship as +soon as she had hauled into the dock, and hurried up home. The house +was shut, and not a soul in it; and I didn't know what to do, and I sat +down on the doorstep to wait till the neighbors woke up, to ask them +what had become of my family. And the first one come out he told me my +wife had been dead a year and a half, and the baby I'd never seen, with +her; and one of my boys was dead; and he didn't know where the rest of +the children was, but he'd heard two of the little ones was with a +family in the city." + +The man mentioned these things with the half-apologetical air observable +in a certain kind of Americans when some accident obliges them to +confess the infirmity of the natural feelings. They do not ask your +sympathy, and you offer it quite at your own risk, with a chance of +having it thrown back upon your hands. The contributor assumed the risk +so far as to say, "Pretty rough!" when the stranger paused; and perhaps +these homely words were best suited to reach the homely heart. The man's +quivering lips closed hard again, a kind of spasm passed over his dark +face, and then two very small drops of brine shone upon his weather-worn +cheeks. This demonstration, into which he had been surprised, seemed to +stand for the passion of tears into which the emotional races fall at +such times. He opened his lips with a kind of dry click, and went on:-- + +"I hunted about the whole forenoon in the city, and at last I found the +children. I'd been gone so long they didn't know me, and somehow I +thought the people they were with weren't over-glad I'd turned up. +Finally the oldest child told me that Julia was living with a Mr. +Hapford on this street, and I started out here to-night to look her up. +If I can find her, I'm all right. I can get the family together, then, +and start new." + +"It seems rather odd," mused the listener aloud, "that the neighbors let +them break up so, and that they should all scatter as they did." + +"Well, it ain't so curious as it seems, Cap'n. There was money for them +at the owners', all the time; I'd left part of my wages when I sailed; +but they didn't know how to get at it, and what could a parcel of +children do? Julia's a good girl, and when I find her I'm all right." + +The writer could only repeat that there was no Mr. Hapford living on +that street, and never had been, so far as he knew. Yet there might be +such a person in the neighborhood: and they would go out together and +ask at some of the houses about. But the stranger must first take a +glass of wine; for he looked used up. + +The sailor awkwardly but civilly enough protested that he did not want +to give so much trouble, but took the glass, and, as he put it to his +lips, said formally, as if it were a toast or a kind of grace, "I hope I +may have the opportunity of returning the compliment." The contributor +thanked him; though, as he thought of all the circumstances of the case, +and considered the cost at which the stranger had come to enjoy his +politeness, he felt little eagerness to secure the return of the +compliment at the same price, and added, with the consequence of another +set phrase, "Not at all." But the thought had made him the more anxious +to befriend the luckless soul fortune had cast in his way; and so the +two sallied out together, and rang doorbells wherever lights were still +seen burning in the windows, and asked the astonished people who +answered their summons whether any Mr. Hapford were known to live in the +neighborhood. + +And although the search for this gentleman proved vain, the contributor +could not feel that an expedition which set familiar objects in such +novel lights was altogether a failure. He entered so intimately into the +cares and anxieties of his protégé that at times he felt himself in some +inexplicable sort a shipmate of Jonathan Tinker, and almost personally a +partner of his calamities. The estrangement of all things which takes +place, within doors and without, about midnight may have helped to cast +this doubt upon his identity;--he seemed to be visiting now for the +first time the streets and neighborhoods nearest his own, and his feet +stumbled over the accustomed walks. In his quality of houseless +wanderer, and--so far as appeared to others--possibly worthless +vagabond, he also got a new and instructive effect upon the faces which, +in his real character, he knew so well by their looks of neighborly +greeting; and it is his belief that the first hospitable prompting of +the human heart is to shut the door in the eyes of homeless strangers +who present themselves after eleven o'clock. By that time the servants +are all abed, and the gentleman of the house answers the bell, and looks +out with a loath and bewildered face, which gradually changes to one of +suspicion, and of wonder as to what those fellows can possibly want of +_him_, till at last the prevailing expression is one of contrite desire +to atone for the first reluctance by any sort of service. The +contributor professes to have observed these changing phases in the +visages of those whom he that night called from their dreams, or +arrested in the act of going to bed; and he drew the conclusion--very +proper for his imaginable connection with the garroting and other +adventurous brotherhoods--that the most flattering moment for knocking +on the head people who answer a late ring at night is either in their +first selfish bewilderment, or their final self-abandonment to their +better impulses. It does not seem to have occurred to him that he would +himself have been a much more favorable subject for the predatory arts +than any of his neighbors, if his shipmate, the unknown companion of his +researches for Mr. Hapford, had been at all so minded. But the faith of +the gaunt giant upon which he reposed was good, and the contributor +continued to wander about with him in perfect safety. Not a soul among +those they asked had ever heard of a Mr. Hapford,--far less of a Julia +Tinker living with him. But they all listened to the contributor's +explanation with interest and eventual sympathy; and in truth,--briefly +told, with a word now and then thrown in by Jonathan Tinker, who kept at +the bottom of the steps, showing like a gloomy spectre in the night, or, +in his grotesque length and gauntness, like the other's shadow cast +there by the lamplight,--it was a story which could hardly fail to +awaken pity. + +At last, after ringing several bells where there were no lights, in the +mere wantonness of good-will, and going away before they could be +answered (it would be entertaining to know what dreams they caused the +sleepers within), there seemed to be nothing for it but to give up the +search till morning, and go to the main street and wait for the last +horse-car to the city. + +There, seated upon the curbstone, Jonathan Tinker, being plied with a +few leading questions, told in hints and scraps the story of his hard +life, which was at present that of a second mate, and had been that of +a cabin-boy and of a seaman before the mast. The second mate's place he +held to be the hardest aboard ship. You got only a few dollars more than +the men, and you did not rank with the officers; you took your meals +alone, and in everything you belonged by yourself. The men did not +respect you, and sometimes the captain abused you awfully before the +passengers. The hardest captain that Jonathan Tinker ever sailed with +was Captain Gooding of the Cape. It had got to be so that no man could +ship second mate under Captain Gooding; and Jonathan Tinker was with him +only one voyage. When he had been home awhile, he saw an advertisement +for a second mate, and he went round to the owners'. They had kept it +secret who the captain was; but there was Captain Gooding in the owners' +office. "Why, here's the man, now, that I want for a second mate," said +he, when Jonathan Tinker entered; "he knows me."--"Captain Gooding, I +know you 'most too well to want to sail under you," answered Jonathan. +"I might go if I hadn't been with you one voyage too many already." + +"And then the men!" said Jonathan, "the men coming aboard drunk, and +having to be pounded sober! And the hardest of the fight falls on the +second mate! Why, there isn't an inch of me that hasn't been cut over or +smashed into a jell. I've had three ribs broken; I've got a scar from a +knife on my cheek; and I've been stabbed bad enough, half a dozen times, +to lay me up." + +Here he gave a sort of desperate laugh, as if the notion of so much +misery and such various mutilation were too grotesque not to be amusing. +"Well, what can you do?" he went on. "If you don't strike, the men think +you're afraid of them; and so you have to begin hard and go on hard. I +always tell a man, 'Now, my man, I always begin with a man the way I +mean to keep on. You do your duty and you're all right. But if you +don't'--Well, the men ain't Americans any more,--Dutch, Spaniards, +Chinese, Portuguee, and it ain't like abusing a white man." + +Jonathan Tinker was plainly part of the horrible tyranny which we all +know exists on shipboard; and his listener respected him the more that, +though he had heart enough to be ashamed of it, he was too honest not to +own it. + +Why did he still follow the sea? Because he did not know what else to +do. When he was younger, he used to love it, but now he hated it. Yet +there was not a prettier life in the world if you got to be captain. He +used to hope for that once, but not now; though he _thought_ he could +navigate a ship. Only let him get his family together again, and he +would--yes, he would--try to do something ashore. + +No car had yet come in sight, and so the contributor suggested that they +should walk to the car-office, and look in the "Directory," which is +kept there, for the name of Hapford, in search of whom it had already +been arranged that they should renew their acquaintance on the morrow. +Jonathan Tinker, when they had reached the office, heard with +constitutional phlegm that the name of the Hapford for whom he inquired +was not in the "Directory." "Never mind," said the other; "come round to +my house in the morning. We'll find him yet." So they parted with a +shake of the hand, the second mate saying that he believed he should go +down to the vessel and sleep aboard,--if he could sleep,--and murmuring +at the last moment the hope of returning the compliment, while the +other walked homeward, weary as to the flesh, but, in spite of his +sympathy for Jonathan Tinker, very elate in spirit. The truth is,--and +however disgraceful to human nature, let the truth still be told,--he +had recurred to his primal satisfaction in the man as calamity capable +of being used for such and such literary ends, and, while he pitied him, +rejoiced in him as an episode of real life quite as striking and +complete as anything in fiction. It was literature made to his hand. +Nothing could be better, he mused; and once more he passed the details +of the story in review, and beheld all those pictures which the poor +fellow's artless words had so vividly conjured up: he saw him leaping +ashore in the gray summer dawn as soon as the ship hauled into the dock, +and making his way, with his vague sea-legs unaccustomed to the +pavements, up through the silent and empty city streets; he imagined the +tumult of fear and hope which the sight of the man's home must have +caused in him, and the benumbing shock of finding it blind and deaf to +all his appeals; he saw him sitting down upon what had been his own +threshold, and waiting in a sort of bewildered patience till the +neighbors should be awake, while the noises of the streets gradually +arose, and the wheels began to rattle over the stones, and the milk-man +and the ice-man came and went, and the waiting figure began to be stared +at, and to challenge the curiosity of the passing policeman; he fancied +the opening of the neighbor's door, and the slow, cold understanding of +the case; the manner, whatever it was, in which the sailor was told that +one year before his wife had died, with her babe, and that his children +were scattered, none knew where. As the contributor dwelt pityingly upon +these things, but at the same time estimated their aesthetic value one +by one, he drew near the head of his street, and found himself a few +paces behind a boy slouching onward through the night, to whom he called +out, adventurously, and with no real hope of information,-- + +"Do you happen to know anybody on this street by the name of Hapford?" + +"Why, no, not in this town," said the boy; but he added that there was a +street of the same name in a neighboring suburb, and that there was a +Hapford living on it. + +"By Jove!" thought the contributor, "this is more like literature than +ever"; and he hardly knew whether to be more provoked at his own +stupidity in not thinking of a street of the same name in the next +village, or delighted at the element of fatality which the fact +introduced into the story; for Tinker, according to his own account, +must have landed from the cars a few rods from the very door he was +seeking, and so walked farther and farther from it every moment. He +thought the case so curious, that he laid it briefly before the boy, +who, however he might have been inwardly affected, was sufficiently true +to the national traditions not to make the smallest conceivable outward +sign of concern in it. + +At home, however, the contributor related his adventures and the story +of Tinker's life, adding the fact that he had just found out where Mr. +Hapford lived. "It was the only touch wanting," said he; "the whole +thing is now perfect." + +"It's _too_ perfect," was answered from a sad enthusiasm. "Don't speak +of it! I can't take it in." + +"But the question is," said the contributor, penitently taking himself +to task for forgetting the hero of these excellent misfortunes in his +delight at their perfection, "how am I to sleep to-night, thinking of +that poor soul's suspense and uncertainty? Never mind,--I'll be up +early, and run over and make sure that it is Tinker's Hapford, before he +gets out here, and have a pleasant surprise for him. Would it not be a +justifiable _coup de théâtre_ to fetch his daughter here, and let her +answer his ring at the door when he comes in the morning?" + +This plan was discouraged. "No, no; let them meet in their own way. Just +take him to Hapford's house and leave him." + +"Very well. But he's too good a character to lose sight of. He's got to +come back here and tell us what he intends to do." + +The birds, next morning, not having had the second mate on their minds +either as an unhappy man or a most fortunate episode, but having slept +long and soundly, were singing in a very sprightly way in the wayside +trees; and the sweetness of their notes made the contributor's heart +light as he climbed the hill and rang at Mr. Hapford's door. + +The door was opened by a young girl of fifteen or sixteen, whom he knew +at a glance for the second mate's daughter, but of whom, for form's +sake, he asked if there were a girl named Julia Tinker living there. + +"My name's Julia Tinker," answered the maid, who had rather a +disappointing face. + +"Well," said the contributor, "your father's got back from his Hong-Kong +voyage." + +"Hong-Kong voyage?" echoed the girl, with a stare of helpless inquiry, +but no other visible emotion. + +"Yes. He had never heard of your mother's death. He came home yesterday +morning, and was looking for you all day." + +Julia Tinker remained open-mouthed but mute; and the other was puzzled +at the want of feeling shown, which he could not account for even as a +national trait. "Perhaps there's some mistake," he said. + +"There must be," answered Julia: "my father hasn't been to sea for a +good many years. _My_ father," she added, with a diffidence +indescribably mingled with a sense of distinction,--"_my_ father 's in +State's Prison. What kind of looking man was this?" + +The contributor mechanically described him. + +Julia Tinker broke into a loud, hoarse laugh. "Yes, it's him, sure +enough." And then, as if the joke were too good to keep: "Mis' Hapford, +Mis' Hapford, father's got out. Do come here!" she called into a back +room. + +When Mrs. Hapford appeared, Julia fell back, and, having deftly caught a +fly on the doorpost, occupied herself in plucking it to pieces, while +she listened to the conversation of the others. + +"It's all true enough," said Mrs. Hapford, when the writer had recounted +the moving story of Jonathan Tinker, "so far as the death of his wife +and baby goes. But he hasn't been to sea for a good many years, and he +must have just come out of State's Prison, where he was put for bigamy. +There's always two sides to a story, you know; but they say it broke his +first wife's heart, and she died. His friends don't want him to find his +children, and this girl especially." + +"He's found his children in the city," said the contributor gloomily, +being at a loss what to do or say, in view of the wreck of his romance. + +"Oh, he's found 'em, has he?" cried Julia, with heightened amusement. +"Then he'll have me next, if I don't pack and go." + +"I'm very, very sorry," said the contributor, secretly resolved never to +do another good deed, no matter how temptingly the opportunity presented +itself. "But you may depend he won't find out from _me_ where you are. +Of course I had no earthly reason for supposing his story was not true." + +"Of course," said kind-hearted Mrs. Hapford, mingling a drop of honey +with the gall in the contributor's soul, "you only did your duty." + +And indeed, as he turned away, he did not feel altogether without +compensation. However Jonathan Tinker had fallen in his esteem as a man, +he had even risen as literature. The episode which had appeared so +perfect in its pathetic phases did not seem less finished as a farce; +and this person, to whom all things of every-day life presented +themselves in periods more or less rounded, and capable of use as facts +or illustrations, could not but rejoice in these new incidents, as +dramatically fashioned as the rest. It occurred to him that, wrought +into a story, even better use might be made of the facts now than +before, for they had developed questions of character and of human +nature which could not fail to interest. The more he pondered upon his +acquaintance with Jonathan Tinker, the more fascinating the erring +mariner became, in his complex truth and falsehood, his delicately +blended shades of artifice and naïveté. He must, it was felt, have +believed to a certain point in his own inventions: nay, starting with +that groundwork of truth,--the fact that his wife was really dead, and +that he had not seen his family for two years,--why should he not place +implicit faith in all the fictions reared upon it? It was probable that +he felt a real sorrow for her loss, and that he found a fantastic +consolation in depicting the circumstances of her death so that they +should look like his inevitable misfortunes rather than his faults. He +might well have repented his offence during those two years of prison; +and why should he not now cast their dreariness and shame out of his +memory, and replace them with the freedom and adventure of a two years' +voyage to China,--so probable, in all respects, that the fact should +appear an impossible nightmare? In the experiences of his life he had +abundant material to furnish forth the facts of such a voyage, and in +the weariness and lassitude that should follow a day's walking equally +after a two years' voyage and two years' imprisonment, he had as much +physical proof in favor of one hypothesis as the other. It was doubtless +true, also, as he said, that he had gone to his house at dawn, and sat +down on the threshold of his ruined home; and perhaps he felt the desire +he had expressed to see his daughter, with a purpose of beginning life +anew; and it may have cost him a veritable pang when he found that his +little ones did not know him. All the sentiments of the situation were +such as might persuade a lively fancy of the truth of its own +inventions; and as he heard these continually repeated by the +contributor in their search for Mr. Hapford, they must have acquired an +objective force and repute scarcely to be resisted. At the same time, +there were touches of nature throughout Jonathan Tinker's narrative +which could not fail to take the faith of another. The contributor, in +reviewing it, thought it particularly charming that his mariner had not +overdrawn himself, or attempted to paint his character otherwise than as +it probably was; that he had shown his ideas and practices of life to be +those of a second mate, nor more nor less, without the gloss of regret +or the pretences to refinement that might be pleasing to the supposed +philanthropist with whom he had fallen in. Captain Gooding was of course +a true portrait; and there was nothing in Jonathan Tinker's statement of +the relations of a second mate to his superiors and his inferiors which +did not agree perfectly with what the contributor had just read in "Two +Years before the Mast,"--a book which had possibly cast its glamour upon +the adventure. He admired also the just and perfectly characteristic air +of grief in the bereaved husband and father,--those occasional escapes +from the sense of loss into a brief hilarity and forgetfulness, and +those relapses into the hovering gloom, which every one has observed in +this poor, crazy human nature when oppressed by sorrow, and which it +would have been hard to simulate. But, above all, he exulted in that +supreme stroke of the imagination given by the second mate when, at +parting, he said he believed he would go down and sleep on board the +vessel. In view of this, the State's Prison theory almost appeared a +malign and foolish scandal. + +Yet even if this theory were correct, was the second mate wholly +answerable for beginning his life again with the imposture he had +practised? The contributor had either so fallen in love with the +literary advantages of his forlorn deceiver that he would see no moral +obliquity in him, or he had touched a subtler verity at last in +pondering the affair. It seemed now no longer a farce, but had a pathos +which, though very different from that of its first aspect, was hardly +less tragical. Knowing with what coldness, or at the best, uncandor, he +(representing Society in its attitude toward convicted Error) would have +met the fact had it been owned to him at first, he had not virtue enough +to condemn the illusory stranger, who must have been helpless to make at +once evident any repentance he felt or good purpose he cherished. Was it +not one of the saddest consequences of the man's past,--a dark necessity +of misdoing,--that, even with the best will in the world to retrieve +himself, his first endeavor must involve a wrong? Might he not, indeed, +be considered a martyr, in some sort, to his own admirable impulses? I +can see clearly enough where the contributor was astray in this +reasoning, but I can also understand how one accustomed to value +realities only as they resembled fables should be won with such pensive +sophistry; and I can certainly sympathize with his feeling that the +mariner's failure to reappear according to appointment added its final +and most agreeable charm to the whole affair, and completed the mystery +from which the man emerged and which swallowed him up again. + + +NOTES + +=Mr. Charles Reade=:--An English novelist (1814-1884). + +=protégé= (French):--A person under the care of another. The form given +here is masculine; the feminine is _protégée_. + +=coup de théâtre=:--(French) A very striking scene, such as might appear +on the stage. + +=Two Years before the Mast=:--A sea story written by R.H. Dana, about +1840. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is a romance? The phrase _already mentioned_ refers to earlier +parts of the book _Suburban Sketches_, from which this story is taken. +What effect does the author gain by the ring at the door-bell? How does +he give you a quick and vivid idea of the visitor? What significance do +the man's clothes have in the story? By means of what devices does the +author interest you in the stranger? Do adventures really happen in +everyday life? Why does the author speak of one's own "register"? Mr. +Howells has written a number of novels in which he pictures ordinary +people, and shows the romance of commonplace events. Why does the +listener "exult"? How does the man's story affect you? What is gained by +having it told in his own words? Is Jonathan Tinker's toast a happy one? +What does the contributor mean by saying that he would have been a good +subject for "the predatory arts"? _The last horse-car_: To Boston; the +scene is probably laid in Cambridge where Mr. Howells lived for some +years. In what way does the sailor's language emphasize the pathetic +quality of his story? How was the man "literature made to the author's +hand"? What are the "national traditions" mentioned in connection with +the boy? Why was the story regarded as "too perfect" when it was related +at home? In what way was Julia Tinker's face "disappointing"? How does +the author feel when he hears the facts in the case? Why does he resolve +never to do a good deed again? The author gives two reasons why Jonathan +Tinker did not tell the truth: what seems to you the real reason? +Characterize Tinker in your own words. Is the ending of the selection +satisfactory? Did you think that Tinker would come back? Can you make a +little drama of this story? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +An Old Sailor +People who do not Tell the Truth +The Forsaken House +Asking Directions +A Tramp +The Lost Address +An Evening at Home +A Sketch of Julia Tinker +The Surprise +A Long-lost Relative +What Becomes of the Ex-Convicts? +The Jail +A Stranger in Town +A Late Visitor +What I Think of Jonathan Tinker +The Disadvantages of a Lively Imagination +Unwelcome +If Jonathan Tinker had Told the Truth +The Lie +A Call at a Stranger's House +An Unfortunate Man +A Walk in Dark Streets +The Sea Captain +Watching the Sailors + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Late Visitor=:--Try to write this in the form of a dialogue or little +play. The host is reading or conversing in the family sitting-room, when +the doorbell rings. There is a conversation at the door, and then the +caller is brought in. Perhaps the stranger has some evil design. Perhaps +he (or she) is lost, or in great need. Perhaps he turns out to be in +some way connected with the family. Think out the plan of the dialogue +pretty thoroughly before you begin to write. It is possible that you +will want to add a second act in which the results of the first are +shown. Plan your stage directions with the help of some other drama, as, +for instance, that given on page 52. + +=The Lie=:[13]--This also may be written in the form of a slight +dramatic composition. There might be a few brief scenes, according to +the following plan:-- + +Scene 1: The lie is told. +Scene 2: It makes trouble. +Scene 3: It is found out. +Scene 4: Complications are untangled, and the lie is atoned for. + (Perhaps this scene can be combined with the preceding.) + +=A Long-lost Relative=:--This may be taken from a real or an imaginary +circumstance. Tell of the first news that the relative is coming. Where +has he (or she) been during the past years? Speak of the period before +the relative arrives: the conjectures as to his appearance; the +preparations made; the conversation regarding him. Tell of his arrival. +Is his appearance such as has been expected? Describe him rather fully. +What does he say and do? Does he make himself agreeable? Are his ideas +in any way peculiar? Do the neighbors like him? Give some of the +incidents of his visit. Tell about his departure. Are the family glad or +sorry to have him go? What is said about him after he has gone? What has +been heard of him since? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Suburban Sketches William Dean Howells +A Boy's Town " " " +The Rise of Silas Lapham " " " +The Minister's Charge " " " +Their Wedding Journey " " " +The Lady of the Aroostook " " " +Venetian Life " " " +Italian Journeys " " " +The Mouse Trap (a play) " " " +Evening Dress (a play) " " " +The Register (a play) " " " +The Elevator (a play) " " " +Unexpected Guests (a play) " " " +The Albany Depot (a play) " " " +Literary Friends and Acquaintances " " " +Their California Uncle Bret Harte +A Lodging for the Night R.L. Stevenson +Kidnapped " " +Ebb Tide " " +Enoch Arden Alfred Tennyson +Rip Van Winkle Washington Irving +Wakefield Nathaniel Hawthorne +Two Years before the Mast R.H. Dana +Out of Gloucester J.B. Connolly +Jean Valjean (from _Les Misérables_) Victor Hugo (Ed. S.E. Wiltse) +Historic Towns of New England + (Cambridge) L.P. Powell (Ed.) +Old Cambridge T.W. Higginson +American Authors at Home, pp. 193-211 J.L. and J.B. Gilder +American Authors and their Homes, + pp. 99-110 F.W. Halsey +American Writers of To-day, pp. 43-68 H.C. Vedder + +Bookman, 17:342 (Portrait); 35:114, April, 1912; Current Literature, +42:49, January, 1907 (Portrait). + + + + +THE WILD RIDE + +LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY + + _I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses + All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, + All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing_. + + Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle, + Weather-worn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion, + With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him. + + The trail is through dolour and dread, over crags and morasses; + There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us: + What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding. + + Thought's self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb, + And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sun-beam: + Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing. + + A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle, + A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty: + We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers. + + (_I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses + All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, + All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing._) + + We spur to a land of no name, out-racing the storm-wind; + We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil. + Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This poem is somewhat like the _Road-Hymn for the Start_, on page 184. +It is about those people who go forward eagerly into the work of the +world, without fearing, and without shrinking from difficulties. Read it +through completely, trying to get its meaning. Regard the lines in +italic as a kind of chorus, and study the meaning of the other stanzas +first. Who are the galloping legions? A _stirrup-cup_ was a draught of +wine, taken just before a rider began his journey; it was usually drunk +to some one's health. Is _dolour_ a common word? Is it good here? Try to +put into your own words the ideas in the "land of no name," and "the +infinite dark," remembering what is said above about the general meaning +of the poem. What picture and what idea do you get from "like sparks +from the anvil"? Now go back to the lines in italic, and look for their +meaning. + +What do you notice about the length of the words in this poem? Why has +the author used this kind of words? Notice carefully how the sound and +the sense are made harmonious. Look for the rhyme. How does the poem +differ from most short poems? + +Bead the verses aloud, trying to make your reading suggest "the hoofs of +invisible horses." + + +OTHER POEMS TO READ + +A Troop of the Guard Hermann Hagedorn +How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix Robert Browning +Through the Metidja to Abd-el-Kadr " " +Reveille Bret Harte +A Song of the Road Richard Watson Gilder +The House and the Road J.P. Peabody +The Mystic Cale Young Rice + (In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, Ed. by J.B. Rittenhouse.) +A Winter Ride Amy Lowell + (In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_.) +The Ride Clinton Scollard + (In _Songs of Sunrise Lands_.) + + + + +CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS + +DALLAS LORE SHARP + +(In _The Lay of the Land_) + + +On the night before this particular Christmas every creature of the +woods that could stir was up and stirring; for over the old snow was +falling swiftly, silently, a soft, fresh covering that might mean a +hungry Christmas unless the dinner were had before morning. + +But when the morning dawned, a cheery Christmas sun broke across the +great gum swamp, lighting the snowy boles and soft-piled limbs of the +giant trees with indescribable glory, and pouring, a golden flood, into +the deep spongy bottoms below. It would be a perfect Christmas in the +woods, clear, mild, stirless, with silent footing for me, and everywhere +the telltale snow. + +And everywhere the Christmas spirit, too. As I paused among the pointed +cedars of the pasture, looking down into the cripple at the head of the +swamp, a clear wild whistle rang in the thicket, followed by a flash +through the alders like a tongue of fire, as a cardinal grosbeak shot +down to the tangle of greenbrier and magnolia under the slope. It was a +fleck of flaming summer. As warm as summer, too, the staghorn sumac +burned on the crest of the ridge against the group of holly +trees,--trees as fresh as April, and all aglow with berries. The woods +were decorated for the holy day. The gentleness of the soft new snow +touched everything; cheer and good-will lighted the unclouded sky and +warmed the thick depths of the evergreens, and blazed in the +crimson-berried bushes of the ilex and alder. The Christmas woods were +glad. + +Nor was the gladness all show, mere decoration. There was real cheer in +abundance; for I was back in the old home woods, back along the +Cohansey, back where you can pick persimmons off the trees at Christmas. +There are persons who say the Lord might have made a better berry than +the strawberry, but He didn't. Perhaps He didn't make the strawberry at +all. But He did make the Cohansey Creek persimmon, and He made it as +good as He could. Nowhere else under the sun can you find such +persimmons as these along the creek, such richness of flavor, such +gummy, candied quality, woodsy, wild, crude,--especially the fruit of +two particular trees on the west bank, near Lupton's Pond. But they +never come to this perfection, never quite lose their pucker, until +midwinter,--as if they had been intended for the Christmas table of the +woods. + +It had been nearly twenty years since I crossed this pasture of the +cedars on my way to the persimmon trees. The cows had been crossing +every year, yet not a single new crook had they worn in the old paths. +But I was half afraid as I came to the fence where I could look down +upon the pond and over to the persimmon trees. Not one of the Luptons, +who owned pasture and pond and trees, had ever been a boy, so far as I +could remember, or had ever eaten of those persimmons. Would they have +left the trees through all these years? + +I pushed through the hedge of cedars and stopped for an instant, +confused. The very pond was gone! and the trees! No, there was the +pond,--but how small the patch of water! and the two persimmon trees? +The bush and undergrowth had grown these twenty years. Which way--Ah, +there they stand, only their leafless tops showing; but see the hard +angular limbs, how closely globed with fruit! how softly etched upon the +sky! + +I hurried around to the trees and climbed the one with the two broken +branches, up, clear up to the top, into the thick of the persimmons. + +Did I say it had been twenty years? That could not be. Twenty years +would have made me a man, and this sweet, real taste in my mouth only a +_boy_ could know. But there was college, and marriage, a Massachusetts +farm, four boys of my own, and--no matter! it could not have been +_years_--twenty years--since. It was only yesterday that I last climbed +this tree and ate the rich rimy fruit frosted with a Christmas snow. + +And yet, could it have been yesterday? It was storming, and I clung here +in the swirling snow and heard the wild ducks go over in their hurry +toward the bay. Yesterday, and all this change in the vast treetop +world, this huddled pond, those narrowed meadows, that shrunken creek! I +should have eaten the persimmons and climbed straight down, not stopped +to gaze out upon the pond, and away over the dark ditches to the creek. +But reaching out quickly I gathered another handful,--and all was +yesterday again. + +I filled both pockets of my coat and climbed down. I kept those +persimmons and am tasting them to-night. Lupton's Pond may fill to a +puddle, the meadows may shrivel, the creek dry up and disappear, and old +Time may even try his wiles on me. But I shall foil him to the +end; for I am carrying still in my pocket some of yesterday's +persimmons,--persimmons that ripened in the rime of a winter when I was +a boy. + +High and alone in a bare persimmon tree for one's dinner hardly sounds +like a merry Christmas. But I was not alone. I had noted the fresh +tracks beneath the tree before I climbed up, and now I saw that the snow +had been partly brushed from several of the large limbs as the 'possum +had moved about in the tree for his Christmas dinner. We were guests at +the same festive board, and both of us at Nature's invitation. It +mattered not that the 'possum had eaten and gone this hour or more. Such +is good form in the woods. He was expecting me, so he came early, out of +modesty; and, that I too might be entirely at my ease, he departed +early, leaving his greetings for me in the snow. + +Thus I was not alone; here was good company and plenty of it. I never +lack a companion in the woods when I can pick up a trail. The 'possum +and I ate together. And this was just the fellowship I needed, this +sharing the persimmons with the 'possum. I had broken bread, not with +the 'possum only, but with all the out-of-doors. I was now fit to enter +the woods, for I was filled with good-will and persimmons, as full as +the 'possum; and putting myself under his gentle guidance, I got down +upon the ground, took up his clumsy trail, and descended toward the +swamp. Such an entry is one of the particular joys of the winter. To go +in with a fox, a mink, or a 'possum through the door of the woods is to +find yourself at home. Any one can get inside the out-of-doors, as the +grocery boy or the census man gets inside our houses. You can bolt in at +any time on business. A trail, however, is Nature's invitation. There +may be other, better beaten paths for mere feet. But go softly with the +'possum, and at the threshold you are met by the spirit of the wood, you +are made the guest of the open, silent, secret out-of-doors. + +I went down with the 'possum. He had traveled home in leisurely fashion +and without fear, as his tracks plainly showed. He was full of +persimmons. A good happy world this, where such fare could be had for +the picking! What need to hurry home, except one were in danger of +falling asleep by the way? So I thought, too, as I followed his winding +path; and if I was tracking him to his den, it was only to wake him for +a moment with the compliments of the season. But it was not even a +momentary disturbance; for when I finally found him in his hollow gum, +he was sound asleep, and only half realized that some one was poking him +gently in the ribs and wishing him a merry Christmas. + +The 'possum had led me to the center of the empty, hollow swamp, where +the great-boled gums lifted their branches like a timbered, unshingled +roof between me and the wide sky. Far away through the spaces of the +rafters I saw a pair of wheeling buzzards and, under them, in lesser +circles, a broad-winged hawk. Here, at the feet of the tall, clean +trees, looking up through the leafless limbs, I had something of a +measure for the flight of the birds. The majesty and the mystery of the +distant buoyant wings were singularly impressive. + +I have seen the turkey-buzzard sailing the skies on the bitterest winter +days. To-day, however, could hardly be called winter. Indeed, nothing +yet had felt the pinch of the cold. There was no hunger yet in the +swamp, though this new snow had scared the raccoons out, and their +half-human tracks along the margin of the swamp stream showed that, if +not hungry, they at least feared that they might be. + +For a coon hates snow. He will invariably sleep off the first light +snowfalls, and even in the late winter he will not venture forth in +fresh snow unless driven by hunger or some other dire need. Perhaps, +like a cat or a hen, he dislikes the wetting of his feet. Or it may be +that the soft snow makes bad hunting--for him. The truth is, T believe, +that such a snow makes too good hunting for the dogs and the gunner. The +new snow tells too clear a story. His home is no inaccessible den among +the ledges; only a hollow in some ancient oak or tupelo. Once within, he +is safe from the dogs; but the long fierce fight for life taught him +generations ago that the nest-tree is a fatal trap when behind the dogs +come the axe and the gun. So he has grown wary and enduring. He waits +until the snow grows crusty, when, without sign, and almost without +scent, he can slip forth among the long shadows and prowl to the edge of +dawn. + +Skirting the stream out toward the higher back woods, I chanced to spy a +bunch of snow in one of the great sour gums, that I thought was an old +nest. A second look showed me tiny green leaves, then white berries, +then mistletoe. + +It was not a surprise, for I had found it here before,--a long, long +time before. It was back in my school-boy days, back beyond those twenty +years, that I first stood here under the mistletoe and had my first +romance. There was no chandelier, no pretty girl, in that romance,--only +a boy, the mistletoe, the giant trees, and the somber, silent swamp. +Then there was his discovery, the thrill of deep delight, and the wonder +of his knowledge of the strange unnatural plant! All plants had been +plants to him until, one day, he read the life of the mistletoe. But +that was English mistletoe; so the boy's wonder world of plant life was +still as far away as Mars, when, rambling alone through the swamp along +the creek, he stopped under a big curious bunch of green, high up in one +of the gums, and--made his first discovery. + +So the boy climbed up again this Christmas Day at the peril of his +precious neck, and brought down a bit of that old romance. + +I followed the stream along through the swamp to the open meadows, and +then on under the steep wooded hillside that ran up to the higher land +of corn and melon fields. Here at the foot of the slope the winter sun +lay warm, and here in the sheltered briery border I came upon the +Christmas birds. + +There was a great variety of them, feeding and preening and chirping in +the vines. The tangle was a-twitter with their quiet, cheery talk. Such +a medley of notes you could not hear at any other season outside a city +bird store. How far the different species understood one another I +should like to know, and whether the hum of voices meant sociability to +them, as it certainly meant to me. Doubtless the first cause of their +flocking here was the sheltered warmth and the great numbers of +berry-laden bushes, for there was no lack either of abundance or variety +on the Christmas table. + +In sight from where I stood hung bunches of withering chicken or frost +grapes, plump clusters of blue-black berries of the greenbrier, and +limbs of the smooth winterberry bending with their flaming fruit. There +were bushes of crimson ilex, too, trees of fruiting dogwood and holly, +cedars in berry, dwarf sumac and seedy sedges, while patches on the +wood slopes uncovered by the sun were spread with trailing partridge +berry and the coral-fruited wintergreen. I had eaten part of my dinner +with the 'possum; I picked a quantity of these wintergreen berries, and +continued my meal with the birds. And they also had enough and to spare. + +Among the birds in the tangle was a large flock of northern fox +sparrows, whose vigorous and continuous scratching in the bared spots +made a most lively and cheery commotion. Many of them were splashing +about in tiny pools of snow-water, melted partly by the sun and partly +by the warmth of their bodies as they bathed. One would hop to a +softening bit of snow at the base of a tussock keel over and begin to +flop, soon sending up a shower of sparkling drops from his rather chilly +tub. A winter snow-water bath seemed a necessity, a luxury indeed; for +they all indulged, splashing with the same purpose and zest that they +put into their scratching among the leaves. + +A much bigger splashing drew me quietly through the bushes to find a +marsh hawk giving himself a Christmas souse. The scratching, washing, +and talking of the birds; the masses of green in the cedars, holly, and +laurels; the glowing colors of the berries against the snow; the blue of +the sky, and the golden warmth of the light made Christmas in the heart +of the noon that the very swamp seemed to feel. + +Three months later there was to be scant picking here, for this was the +beginning of the severest winter I ever knew. From this very ridge, in +February, I had reports of berries gone, of birds starving, of whole +coveys of quail frozen dead in the snow; but neither the birds nor I +dreamed to-day of any such hunger and death. A flock of robins whirled +into the cedars above me; a pair of cardinals whistled back and forth; +tree sparrows, juncos, nuthatches, chickadees, and cedar-birds cheeped +among the trees and bushes; and from the farm lands at the top of the +slope rang the calls of meadowlarks. + +Halfway up the hill I stopped under a blackjack oak where, in the thin +snow, there were signs of something like a Christmas revel. The ground +was sprinkled with acorn shells and trampled over with feet of several +kinds and sizes,--quail, jay, and partridge feet; rabbit, squirrel, and +mice feet, all over the snow as the feast of acorns had gone on. +Hundreds of the acorns were lying about, gnawed away at the cup end, +where the shell was thinnest, many of them further broken and cleaned +out by the birds. + +As I sat studying the signs in the snow, my eye caught a tiny trail +leading out from the others straight away toward a broken pile of cord +wood. The tracks were planted one after the other, so directly in line +as to seem like the prints of a single foot. "That's a weasel's trail," +I said, "the death's-head at this feast," and followed it slowly to the +wood. A shiver crept over me as I felt, even sooner than I saw, a pair +of small sinister eyes fixed upon mine. The evil pointed head, heavy but +alert, and with a suggestion of fierce strength out of all relation to +the slender body, was watching me from between the sticks of cordwood. +And so he had been watching the mice and birds and rabbits feasting +under the tree! + +I packed a ball of snow round and hard, slipped forward upon my knees, +and hurled it. "Spat!" it struck the end of a stick within an inch of +the ugly head, filling the crevice with snow. Instantly the head +appeared at another crack, and another ball struck viciously beside it. +Now it was back where it first appeared, and did not flinch for the +next, or the next ball. The third went true, striking with a "chug" and +packing the crack. But the black, hating eyes were still watching me a +foot lower down. + +It is not all peace and good-will in the Christmas woods. But there is +more of peace and good-will than of any other spirit. The weasels are +few. More friendly and timid eyes were watching me than bold and +murderous. It was foolish to want to kill--even the weasel. For one's +woods are what one makes them; and so I let the man with the gun, who +chanced along, think that I had turned boy again, and was snowballing +the woodpile, just for the fun of trying to hit the end of the biggest +stick. + +I was glad he had come. As he strode off with his stained bag, I felt +kindlier toward the weasel. There were worse in the woods than +he,--worse, because all of their killing was pastime. The weasel must +kill to live, and if he gloated over the kill, why, what fault of his? +But the other weasel, the one with the blood-stained bag, he killed for +the love of killing. I was glad he was gone. + +The crows were winging over toward their great roost in the pines when I +turned toward the town. They, too, had had good picking along the creek +flats and ditches of the meadows. Their powerful wing-beats and constant +play told of full crops and no fear for the night, already softly gray +across the white silent fields. The air was crisper; the snow began to +crackle under foot; the twigs creaked and rattled as I brushed along; a +brown beech leaf wavered down and skated with a thin scratch over the +crust; and pure as the snow-wrapped crystal world, and sweet as the +soft gray twilight, came the call of a quail. + +The voices, colors, odors, and forms of summer were gone. The very face +of things had changed; all had been reduced, made plain, simple, single, +pure! There was less for the senses, but how much keener now their joy! +The wide landscape, the frosty air, the tinkle of tiny icicles, and, out +of the quiet of the falling twilight, the voice of the quail! + +There is no day but is beautiful in the woods; and none more beautiful +than one like this Christmas Day,--warm and still and wrapped, to the +round red berries of the holly, in the magic of the snow. + + +NOTES + +=cripple=:--A dense thicket in swampy land. + +=good-will=:--See the Bible, Luke 2:13, 14. + +=Cohansey=:--A creek in southern New Jersey. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the selection through once without stopping. Afterward, go through +it with these questions:-- + +Why might the snow mean a "hungry Christmas"? Note the color words in +paragraph three: Of what value are they? Why does the pond seem small to +the visitor? Does the author mean anything more than persimmons in the +last part of the paragraph beginning "I filled both pockets"? What sort +of man do you think he is? What is the meaning of "broken bread"? What +is meant by entering the woods "at Nature's invitation"? What do you +understand by "the long fierce fight for life"? What was it that the +coon learned "generations ago"? What does the author mean here? Do you +know anything of the Darwinian theory of life? What has it to do with +what is said here about the coon? How does the author make you feel the +variety and liveliness of the bird life which he observes? What shows +his keenness of sight? What do you know about weasels? Is it, true that +"one's woods are what one makes them"? Do you think the author judges +the hunter too harshly? How does the author make you feel the charm of +the late afternoon? Go through the selection and see how many different +subjects are discussed! How is the unity of the piece preserved? Notice +the pictures in the piece. What feeling prevails in the selection? How +can you tell whether the author really loves nature? Could you write a +sketch somewhat like this, telling what you saw during a walk in the +woods? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Walk in the Winter Woods +An Outdoor Christmas Tree +A Lumber Camp at Christmas +The Winter Birds +Tracking a Rabbit +Hunting Deer in Winter +A Winter Landscape +Home Decorations from the Winter Fields +Wild Apples +Fishing through the Ice +A Winter Camp +A Strange Christmas +Playing Santa Claus +A Snow Picnic +Making Christmas Gifts +Feeding the Birds +The Christmas Guest +Turkey and Plum Pudding +The Children's Christmas Party +Christmas on the Farm +The Christmas Tree at the Schoolhouse +What he Found in his Stocking +Bringing Home the Christmas Tree +Christmas in the South +Christmas away from Home +A "Sensible" Christmas +Christmas at our House + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Walk in the Winter Woods=:--Tell of a real or imaginary stroll in the +woods when the snow is on the ground. If possible, plan the theme some +time before you write, and obtain your material through actual and +recent observation. In everything you say, be careful and accurate. You +might speak first of the time of day at which your walk was taken; the +weather; the condition of the snow. Speak of the trees: the kinds; how +they looked. Were any of the trees weighted with snow? Describe the +bushes, and the berries and grasses; use color words, if possible, as +Mr. Sharp does. What sounds did you hear in the woods? Did you see any +tracks of animals? If so, tell about these tracks, and show what they +indicated. Describe the animals that you saw, and tell what they were +doing. What did you gather regarding the way in which the animals live +in winter? Speak in the same way of the birds. Re-read what Mr. Sharp +says about the birds he saw, and try to make your own account clear and +full of action. Did you see any signs of human inhabitants or visitors? +If so, tell about them. Did you find anything to eat in the woods? Speak +briefly of your return home. Had the weather changed since your entering +the woods? Was there any alteration in the landscape? How did you feel +after your walk? + +=The Winter Birds=:--For several days before writing this theme, prepare +material for it by observation and reading. Watch the birds, and see +what they are doing and how they live. Use a field glass if you can get +one, and take careful notes on what you see. Make especial use of any +interesting incidents that come under your observation. + +When you write, take up each kind of bird separately, and tell what you +have found out about its winter life: how it looks; where you have seen +it; what it was doing. Speak also of its food and shelter; the perils it +endures; its intelligence; anecdotes about it. Make your theme simple +and lively, as if you were talking to some one about the birds. Try to +use good color words and sound words, and expressions that give a vivid +idea of the activities and behavior of the birds. + +When you have finished, lay the theme aside for a time; then read it +again and see how you can touch it up to make it clearer and more +straightforward. + +=Christmas at our House=:--Write as if you were telling of some +particular occasion, although you may perhaps be combining the events of +several Christmas days. Tell of the preparations for Christmas: the +planning; the cooking; the whispering of secrets. Make as much use of +conversation as possible, and do not hesitate to use even very small +details and little anecdotes. Perhaps you will wish to tell of the +hanging of the stockings on Christmas Eve; if there are children in the +family, tell what they did and said. Write as vividly as possible of +Christmas morning, and the finding of the gifts; try to bring out the +confusion and the happiness of opening the parcels and displaying the +presents. Quote some of the remarks directly, and speak of particularly +pleasing or absurd gifts. Go on and tell of the sports and pleasures of +the day. Speak of the guests, describing some of them, and telling what +they said and did. Try to bring out contrasts here. Put as much emphasis +as you wish upon the dinner, and the quantities of good things consumed. +Try to quote the remarks of some of the people at the table. If your +theme has become rather long, you might close it by a brief account of +the dispersing of the family after dinner. You might, however, complete +your account of the day by telling of the evening, with its enjoyments +and its weariness. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Wild Life Near Home D.L. Sharp +A Watcher in the Woods " " +The Lay of the Land " " +Winter " " +The Face of the Fields " " +The Fall of the Year " " +Roof and Meadow " " +Wild Life in the Rockies Enos A. Mills +Kindred of the Wild C.G.D. Roberts +Watchers of the Trail " " " +Haunters of the Silences " " " +The Ways of Wood Folk W.J. Long +Eye Spy W.H. Gibson +Sharp Eyes " " +Birds in the Bush Bradford Torrey +Everyday Birds " " +Nature's Invitation " " +Bird Stories from Burroughs (selections) John Burroughs +Winter Sunshine " " +Pepacton " " +Riverby " " +Wake-Robin " " +Signs and Seasons " " +How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar Bret Harte +Santa Claus's Partner T.N. Page +The First Christmas Tree Henry Van Dyke +The Other Wise Man " " +The Old Peabody Pew K.D. Wiggin +Miss Santa Claus of the Pullman Annie F. Johnson +Christmas Zona Gale +A Christmas Mystery W.J. Locke +Christmas Eve on Lonesome John Fox, Jr. +By the Christmas Fire S.M. Crothers +Colonel Carter's Christmas F.H. Smith +Christmas Jenny (in _A New England Nun_) Mary E. Wilkins +A Christmas Sermon R.L. Stevenson +The Boy who Brought Christmas Alice Morgan +Christmas Stories Charles Dickens +The Christmas Guest Selma Lagerlöf +The Legend of the Christmas Rose " " + + + + +GLOUCESTER MOORS + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + A mile behind is Gloucester town + Where the fishing fleets put in, + A mile ahead the land dips down + And the woods and farms begin. + Here, where the moors stretch free + In the high blue afternoon, + Are the marching sun and talking sea, + And the racing winds that wheel and flee + On the flying heels of June. + + Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue, + Blue is the quaker-maid, + The wild geranium holds its dew + Long in the boulder's shade. + Wax-red hangs the cup + From the huckleberry boughs, + In barberry bells the grey moths sup, + Or where the choke-cherry lifts high up + Sweet bowls for their carouse. + + Over the shelf of the sandy cove + Beach-peas blossom late. + By copse and cliff the swallows rove + Each calling to his mate. + Seaward the sea-gulls go, + And the land birds all are here; + That green-gold flash was a vireo, + And yonder flame where the marsh-flags grow + Was a scarlet tanager. + + This earth is not the steadfast place + We landsmen build upon; + From deep to deep she varies pace, + And while she comes is gone. + Beneath my feet I feel + Her smooth bulk heave and dip; + With velvet plunge and soft upreel + She swings and steadies to her keel + Like a gallant, gallant ship. + + These summer clouds she sets for sail, + The sun is her masthead light, + She tows the moon like a pinnace frail + Where her phospher wake churns bright, + Now hid, now looming clear, + On the face of the dangerous blue + The star fleets tack and wheel and veer, + But on, but on does the old earth steer + As if her port she knew. + + God, dear God! Does she know her port, + Though she goes so far about? + Or blind astray, does she make her sport + To brazen and chance it out? + I watched where her captains passed: + She were better captainless. + Men in the cabin, before the mast, + But some were reckless and some aghast, + And some sat gorged at mess. + + By her battered hatch I leaned and caught + Sounds from the noisome hold,-- + Cursing and sighing of souls distraught + And cries too sad to be told. + Then I strove to go down and see; + But they said, "Thou art not of us!" + I turned to those on the deck with me + And cried, "Give help!" But they said, "Let be: + Our ship sails faster thus." + + Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue, + Blue is the quaker-maid, + The alder clump where the brook comes through + Breeds cresses in its shade. + To be out of the moiling street + With its swelter and its sin! + Who has given to me this sweet, + And given my brother dust to eat? + And when will his wage come in? + + Scattering wide or blown in ranks, + Yellow and white and brown, + Boats and boats from the fishing banks + Come home to Gloucester town. + There is cash to purse and spend, + There are wives to be embraced, + Hearts to borrow and hearts to lend, + And hearts to take and keep to the end,-- + O little sails, make haste! + + But thou, vast outbound ship of souls, + What harbor town for thee? + What shapes, when thy arriving tolls, + Shall crowd the banks to see? + Shall all the happy shipmates then + Stand singing brotherly? + Or shall a haggard ruthless few + Warp her over and bring her to, + While the many broken souls of men + Fester down in the slaver's pen, + And nothing to say or do? + + +NOTES + +=Gloucester town=: Gloucester is a seaport town in Massachusetts, the +chief seat of the cod and mackerel fisheries of the coast. + +=Jill-o'er-the-ground=: Ground ivy; usually written +_Gill-over-the-ground_. + +=Quaker-maid=: Quaker ladies; small blue flowers growing low on the +ground. + +=wax-red=: The huckleberry blossom is red and waxy. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem slowly through to yourself, getting what you can out of +it, without trying too hard. Note that after the third stanza the earth +is compared to a ship. After you have read the poem through, go back and +study it with the help of the following questions and suggestions:-- + +The author is out on the moors not far from the sea: What details does +he select to make you feel the beauty of the afternoon? What words in +the first stanza suggest movement and freedom? Why does the author stop +to tell about the flowers, when he has so many important things to say? +Note a change of tone at the beginning of the fourth stanza. What +suggests to the author that the earth is like a ship? Why does he say +that it is not a steadfast place? How does the fifth stanza remind you +of _The Ancient Mariner_? Why does the author speak so passionately at +the beginning of the sixth stanza? Here he wonders whether there is +really any plan in the universe, or whether things all go by chance. Who +are the captains of whom he speaks? What different types of people are +represented in the last two lines of stanza six? What is the "noisome +hold" of the Earth ship? Who are those cursing and sighing? Who are +_they_ in the line, "But they said, 'Thou art not of us!'"? Who are +_they_ in the next line but one? Why does the author turn back to the +flowers in the next few lines? What is omitted from the line beginning +"To be out"? Explain the last three lines of stanza eight. How do the +ships of Gloucester differ from the ship _Earth_? What is the "arriving" +spoken of in the last stanza? What two possibilities does the author +suggest as to the fate of the ship? Why does he end his poem with a +question? What is the purpose of the poem? Why is it considered good? +What do you think was the author's feeling about the way the poor and +helpless are treated? Read the poem through aloud, thinking what each +line means. + + + + +ROAD-HYMN FOR THE START + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + Leave the early bells at chime, + Leave the kindled hearth to blaze, + Leave the trellised panes where children linger out the waking-time, + Leave the forms of sons and fathers trudging through the misty ways, + Leave the sounds of mothers taking up their sweet laborious days. + + Pass them by! even while our soul + Yearns to them with keen distress. + Unto them a part is given; we will strive to see the whole. + Dear shall be the banquet table where their singing spirits press; + Dearer be our sacred hunger, and our pilgrim loneliness. + + We have felt the ancient swaying + Of the earth before the sun, + On the darkened marge of midnight heard sidereal rivers playing; + Rash it was to bathe our souls there, but we plunged and all was done. + That is lives and lives behind us--lo, our journey is begun! + + Careless where our face is set, + Let us take the open way. + What we are no tongue has told us: Errand-goers who forget? + Soldiers heedless of their harry? Pilgrim people gone astray? + We have heard a voice cry "Wander!" That was all we heard it say. + + Ask no more: 'tis much, 'tis much! + Down the road the day-star calls; + Touched with change in the wide heavens, like a leaf the + frost winds touch, + Flames the failing moon a moment, ere it shrivels white and falls; + Hid aloft, a wild throat holdeth sweet and sweeter intervals. + + Leave him still to ease in song + Half his little heart's unrest: + Speech is his, but we may journey toward the life for which we long. + God, who gives the bird its anguish, maketh nothing manifest, + But upon our lifted foreheads pours the boon of endless quest. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Do not be alarmed if you find this a little hard to understand. It is +expressed in rather figurative language, and one has to study it to get +its meaning. The poem is about those people who look forward constantly +to something better, and feel that they must always be pressing forward +at any cost. Who is represented as speaking? What sort of life are the +travelers leaving behind them? Why do they feel a keen distress? What is +the "whole" that they are striving to see? What is their "sacred +hunger"? Why is it "dearer" than the feasting of those who stay at home? +Notice how the third stanza reminds one of _Gloucester Moors_. Look up +the word _sidereal_: Can you tell what it means here? "Lives and lives +behind us" means _a long time ago_; you will perhaps have to ask your +teacher for its deeper meaning. Do the travelers know where they are +going? Why do they set forth? Note the description of the dawn in the +fifth stanza. What is the boon of "endless quest"? Why is it spoken of +as a gift (boon)? Compare the last line of this poem with the last line +of _The Wild Ride_, on page 161. Perhaps you will be interested to +compare the _Road-Hymn_ with Whitman's _The Song of the Open Road_. + +Do the meter and verse-form seem appropriate here? Is anything gained by +the difference in the length of the lines? + + + + +ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILIPPINES + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + Streets of the roaring town, + Hush for him, hush, be still! + He comes, who was stricken down + Doing the word of our will. + Hush! Let him have his state, + Give him his soldier's crown. + The grists of trade can wait + Their grinding at the mill, + But he cannot wait for his honor, now the trumpet has been blown; + Wreathe pride now for his granite brow, lay love on his breast + of stone. + + Toll! Let the great bells toll + Till the clashing air is dim. + Did we wrong this parted soul? + We will make it up to him. + Toll! Let him never guess + What work we set him to. + Laurel, laurel, yes; + He did what we bade him do. + Praise, and never a whispered hint but the fight he fought was good; + Never a word that the blood on his sword was his country's + own heart's-blood. + + A flag for the soldier's bier + Who dies that his land may live; + O, banners, banners here, + That he doubt not nor misgive! + That he heed not from the tomb + The evil days draw near + When the nation, robed in gloom, + With its faithless past shall strive. + Let him never dream that his bullet's scream went wide of its + island mark, + Home to the heart of his darling land where she stumbled + and sinned in the dark. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is "his state," in line five? How has the soldier been "wronged"? +Does the author think that the fight in the Philippines has not been +"good"? Why? What does he mean by the last line of stanza two? What +"evil days" are those mentioned in stanza three? Have they come yet? +What "faithless past" is meant? Do you think that the United States has +treated the Philippines unfairly?[14] + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Gloucester Moors and Other Poems William Vaughn Mood +Poems and Plays of William Vaughn + Moody (2 vols. Biographical introduction) John M. Manley (Ed.) +Letters of William Vaughn Moody Daniel Mason (Ed.) +Out of Gloucester J.B. Connolly + +For biography, criticism, and portraits of William Vaughn Moody, +consult: Atlantic Monthly, 98:326, September, 1906; World's Work, 13: +8258, December, 1906 (Portrait); Century, 73:431 (Portrait); Reader, +10:173; Bookman, 32:253 (Portrait.) + + + + +THE COON DOG + +SARAH ORNE JEWETT + +(In _The Queen's Twin and Other Stories_) + + +I + +In the early dusk of a warm September evening the bats were flitting to +and fro, as if it were still summer, under the great elm that +overshadowed Isaac Brown's house, on the Dipford road. Isaac Brown +himself, and his old friend and neighbor John York, were leaning against +the fence. + +"Frost keeps off late, don't it?" said John York. "I laughed when I +first heard about the circus comin'; I thought 'twas so unusual late in +the season. Turned out well, however. Everybody I noticed was returnin' +with a palm-leaf fan. Guess they found 'em useful under the tent; 'twas +a master hot day. I saw old lady Price with her hands full o' those free +advertising fans, as if she was layin' in a stock against next summer. +Well, I expect she'll live to enjoy 'em." + +"I was right here where I'm standin' now, and I see her as she was goin' +by this mornin'," said Isaac Brown, laughing, and settling himself +comfortably against the fence as if they had chanced upon a welcome +subject of conversation. "I hailed her, same's I gener'lly do. 'Where +are you bound to-day, ma'am?' says I. + +"'I'm goin' over as fur as Dipford Centre,' says she. 'I'm goin' to see +my poor dear 'Liza Jane. I want to 'suage her grief; her husband, Mr. +'Bijah Topliff, has passed away.' + +"'So much the better,' says I. + +"'No; I never l'arnt about it till yisterday,' says she;' an' she looked +up at me real kind of pleasant, and begun to laugh. + +"'I hear he's left property,' says she, tryin' to pull her face down +solemn. I give her the fifty cents she wanted to borrow to make up her +car-fare and other expenses, an' she stepped off like a girl down tow'ds +the depot. + +"This afternoon, as you know, I'd promised the boys that I'd take 'em +over to see the menagerie, and nothin' wouldn't do none of us any good +but we must see the circus too; an' when we'd just got posted on one o' +the best high seats, mother she nudged me, and I looked right down front +two, three rows, an' if there wa'n't Mis' Price, spectacles an' all, +with her head right up in the air, havin' the best time you ever see. I +laughed right out. She hadn't taken no time to see 'Liza Jane; she +wa'n't 'suagin' no grief for nobody till she'd seen the circus. 'There,' +says I, 'I do like to have anybody keep their young feelin's!'" + +"Mis' Price come over to see our folks before breakfast," said John +York. "Wife said she was inquirin' about the circus, but she wanted to +know first if they couldn't oblige her with a few trinkets o' mournin', +seein' as how she'd got to pay a mournin' visit. Wife thought't was a +bosom-pin, or somethin' like that, but turned out she wanted the skirt +of a dress; 'most anything would do, she said." + +"I thought she looked extra well startin' off," said Isaac, with an +indulgent smile. "The Lord provides very handsome for such, I do +declare! She ain't had no visible means o' support these ten or fifteen +years back, but she don't freeze up in winter no more than we do." + +"Nor dry up in summer," interrupted his friend; "I never did see such an +able hand to talk." + +"She's good company, and she's obliging an' useful when the women folks +have their extra work progressin'," continued Isaac Brown kindly. +"'Tain't much for a well-off neighborhood like this to support that old +chirpin' cricket. My mother used to say she kind of helped the work +along by 'livenin' of it. Here she comes now; must have taken the last +train, after she had supper with 'Lizy Jane. You stay still; we're goin' +to hear all about it." + +The small, thin figure of Mrs. Price had to be hailed twice before she +could be stopped. + +"I wish you a good evenin', neighbors," she said. "I have been to the +house of mournin'." + +"Find 'Liza Jane in, after the circus?" asked Isaac Brown, with equal +seriousness. "Excellent show, wasn't it, for so late in the season?" + +"Oh, beautiful; it was beautiful, I declare," answered the pleased +spectator readily. "Why, I didn't see you, nor Mis' Brown. Yes; I felt +it best to refresh my mind an' wear a cheerful countenance. When I see +'Liza Jane I was able to divert her mind consid'able. She was glad I +went. I told her I'd made an effort, knowin' 'twas so she had to lose +the a'ternoon. 'Bijah left property, if he did die away from home on a +foreign shore." + +"You don't mean that 'Bijah Topliff's left anything!" exclaimed John +York with interest, while Isaac Brown put both hands deep into his +pockets, and leaned back in a still more satisfactory position against +the gatepost. + +"He enjoyed poor health," answered Mrs. Price, after a moment of +deliberation, as if she must take time to think. "'Bijah never was one +that scattereth, nor yet increaseth. 'Liza Jane's got some memories o' +the past that's a good deal better than others; but he died somewheres +out in Connecticut, or so she heard, and he's left a very val'able coon +dog,--one he set a great deal by. 'Liza Jane said, last time he was to +home, he priced that dog at fifty dollars. 'There, now, 'Liza Jane,' +says I, right to her, when she told me, 'if I could git fifty dollars +for that dog, I certain' would. Perhaps some o' the circus folks would +like to buy him; they've taken in a stream o' money this day.' But 'Liza +Jane ain't never inclined to listen to advice. 'Tis a dreadful +poor-spirited-lookin' creatur'. I don't want no right o' dower in him, +myself." + +"A good coon dog's worth somethin', certain," said John York handsomely. + +"If he _is_ a good coon dog," added Isaac Brown. "I wouldn't have parted +with old Rover, here, for a good deal of money when he was right in his +best days; but a dog like him's like one of the family. Stop an' have +some supper, won't ye, Mis' Price?"--as the thin old creature was +flitting off again. At that same moment this kind invitation was +repeated from the door of the house; and Mrs. Price turned in, +unprotesting and always sociably inclined, at the open gate. + + +II + +It was a month later, and a whole autumn's length colder, when the two +men were coming home from a long tramp through the woods. They had been +making a solemn inspection of a wood-lot that they owned together, and +had now visited their landmarks and outer boundaries, and settled the +great question of cutting or not cutting some large pines. When it was +well decided that a few years' growth would be no disadvantage to the +timber, they had eaten an excellent cold luncheon and rested from their +labors. + +"I don't feel a day older'n ever I did when I get out in the woods this +way," announced John York, who was a prim, dusty-looking little man, a +prudent person, who had been selectman of the town at least a dozen +times. + +"No more do I," agreed his companion, who was large and jovial and +open-handed, more like a lucky sea-captain than a farmer. After pounding +a slender walnut-tree with a heavy stone, he had succeeded in getting +down a pocketful of late-hanging nuts which had escaped the squirrels, +and was now snapping them back, one by one, to a venturesome chipmunk +among some little frost-bitten beeches. Isaac Brown had a wonderfully +pleasant way of getting on with all sorts of animals, even men. After a +while they rose and went their way, these two companions, stopping here +and there to look at a possible woodchuck's hole, or to strike a few +hopeful blows at a hollow tree with the light axe which Isaac had +carried to blaze new marks on some of the line-trees on the farther edge +of their possessions. Sometimes they stopped to admire the size of an +old hemlock, or to talk about thinning out the young pines. At last they +were not very far from the entrance to the great tract of woodland. The +yellow sunshine came slanting in much brighter against the tall trunks, +spotting them with golden light high among the still branches. + +Presently they came to a great ledge, frost-split and cracked into +mysterious crevices. + +"Here's where we used to get all the coons," said John York. "I haven't +seen a coon this great while, spite o' your courage knocking on the +trees up back here. You know that night we got the four fat ones? We +started 'em somewheres near here, so the dog could get after 'em when +they come out at night to go foragin'." + +"Hold on, John;" and Mr. Isaac Brown got up from the log where he had +just sat down to rest, and went to the ledge, and looked carefully all +about. When he came back he was much excited, and beckoned his friend +away, speaking in a stage whisper. + +"I guess you'll see a coon before you're much older," he proclaimed. +"I've thought it looked lately as if there'd been one about my place, +and there's plenty o' signs here, right in their old haunts. Couple o' +hens' heads an' a lot o' feathers"-- + +"Might be a fox," interrupted John York. + +"Might be a coon," answered Mr. Isaac Brown. "I'm goin' to have him, +too. I've been lookin' at every old hollow tree I passed, but I never +thought o' this place. We'll come right off to-morrow night, I guess, +John, an' see if we can't get him. 'Tis an extra handy place for 'em to +den; in old times the folks always called it a good place; they've been +so sca'ce o' these late years that I've thought little about 'em. +Nothin' I ever liked so well as a coon-hunt. Gorry! he must be a big old +fellow, by his tracks! See here, in this smooth dirt; just like a baby's +footmark." + +"Trouble is, we lack a good dog," said John York anxiously, after he had +made an eager inspection. "I don't know where in the world to get one, +either. There ain't no such a dog about as your Rover, but you've let +him get spoilt; these days I don't see him leave the yard. You ought to +keep the women folks from overfeedin' of him so. He ought to've lasted a +good spell longer. He's no use for huntin' now, that's certain." + +Isaac accepted the rebuke meekly. John York was a calm man, but he now +grew very fierce under such a provocation. Nobody likes to be hindered +in a coon-hunt. + +"Oh, Rover's too old, anyway," explained the affectionate master +regretfully. "I've been wishing all this afternoon I'd brought him; but +I didn't think anything about him as we came away, I've got so used to +seeing him layin' about the yard. 'Twould have been a real treat for old +Rover, if he could have kept up. Used to be at my heels the whole time. +He couldn't follow us, anyway, up here." + +"I shouldn't wonder if he could," insisted John, with a humorous glance +at his old friend, who was much too heavy and huge of girth for quick +transit over rough ground. John York himself had grown lighter as he had +grown older. + +"I'll tell you one thing we could do," he hastened to suggest. "There's +that dog of 'Bijah Topliff's. Don't you know the old lady told us, that +day she went over to Dipford, how high he was valued? Most o' 'Bijah's +important business was done in the fall, goin' out by night, gunning +with fellows from the mills. He was just the kind of a worthless +do-nothing that's sure to have an extra knowin' smart dog. I expect +'Liza Jane's got him now. Perhaps we could get him by to-morrow night. +Let one o' my boys go over!" + +"Why, 'Liza Jane's come, bag an' baggage, to spend the winter with her +mother," exclaimed Isaac Brown, springing to his feet like a boy. "I've +had it in mind to tell you two or three times this afternoon, and then +something else has flown it out of my head. I let my John Henry take the +long-tailed wagon an' go down to the depot this mornin' to fetch her an' +her goods up. The old lady come in early, while we were to breakfast, +and to hear her lofty talk you'd thought 't would taken a couple o' +four-horse teams to move her. I told John Henry he might take that wagon +and fetch up what light stuff he could, and see how much else there was, +an' then I'd make further arrangements. She said 'Liza Jane'd see me +well satisfied, an' rode off, pleased to death. I see 'em returnin' +about eight, after the train was in. They'd got 'Liza Jane with 'em, +smaller'n ever; and there was a trunk tied up with a rope, and a small +roll o' beddin' and braided mats, and a quilted rockin'-chair. The old +lady was holdin' on tight to a bird-cage with nothin' in it. Yes; an' I +see the dog, too, in behind. He appeared kind of timid. He's a yaller +dog, but he ain't stump-tailed. They hauled up out front o' the house, +and mother an' I went right out; Mis' Price always expects to have +notice taken. She was in great sperits. Said 'Liza Jane concluded to +sell off most of her stuff rather 'n have the care of it. She'd told the +folks that Mis' Topliff had a beautiful sofa and a lot o' nice chairs, +and two framed pictures that would fix up the house complete, and +invited us all to come over and see 'em. There, she seemed just as +pleased returnin' with the bird-cage. Disappointments don't appear to +trouble her no more than a butterfly. I kind of like the old creator'; I +don't mean to see her want." + +"They'll let us have the dog," said John York. "I don't know but I'll +give a quarter for him, and we'll let 'em have a good piece o' the +coon." + +"You really comin' 'way up here by night, coon-huntin'?" asked Isaac +Brown, looking reproachfully at his more agile comrade. + +"I be," answered John York. + +"I was dre'tful afraid you was only talking, and might back out," +returned the cheerful heavy-weight, with a chuckle. "Now we've got +things all fixed, I feel more like it than ever. I tell you there's just +boy enough left inside of me. I'll clean up my old gun to-morrow +mornin', and you look right after your'n. I dare say the boys have took +good care of 'em for us, but they don't know what we do about huntin', +and we'll bring 'em all along and show 'em a little fun." + +"All right," said John York, as soberly as if they were going to look +after a piece of business for the town; and they gathered up the axe and +other light possessions, and started toward home. + + +III + +The two friends, whether by accident or design, came out of the woods +some distance from their own houses, but very near to the low-storied +little gray dwelling of Mrs. Price. They crossed the pasture, and +climbed over the toppling fence at the foot of her small sandy piece of +land, and knocked at the door. There was a light already in the kitchen. +Mrs. Price and Eliza Jane Topliff appeared at once, eagerly hospitable. + +"Anybody sick?" asked Mrs. Price, with instant sympathy. "Nothin' +happened, I hope?" + +"Oh, no," said both the men. + +"We came to talk about hiring your dog to-morrow night," explained +Isaac Brown, feeling for the moment amused at his eager errand. "We got +on track of a coon just now, up in the woods, and we thought we'd give +our boys a little treat. You shall have fifty cents, an' welcome, and a +good piece o' the coon." + +"Yes, Square Brown; we can let you have the dog as well as not," +interrupted Mrs. Price, delighted to grant a favor. "Poor departed +'Bijah, he set everything by him as a coon dog. He always said a dog's +capital was all in his reputation." + +"You'll have to be dreadful careful an' not lose him," urged Mrs. +Topliff "Yes, sir; he's a proper coon dog as ever walked the earth, but +he's terrible weak-minded about followin' 'most anybody. 'Bijah used to +travel off twelve or fourteen miles after him to git him back, when he +wa'n't able. Somebody'd speak to him decent, or fling a whip-lash as +they drove by, an' off he'd canter on three legs right after the wagon. +But 'Bijah said he wouldn't trade him for no coon dog he ever was +acquainted with. Trouble is, coons is awful sca'ce." + +"I guess he ain't out o' practice," said John York amiably; "I guess +he'll know when he strikes the coon. Come, Isaac, we must be gittin' +along tow'ds home. I feel like eatin' a good supper. You tie him up +to-morrow afternoon, so we shall be sure to have him," he turned to say +to Mrs. Price, who stood smiling at the door. + +"Land sakes, dear, he won't git away; you'll find him right there +betwixt the wood-box and the stove, where he is now. Hold the light, +'Liza Jane; they can't see their way out to the road. I'll fetch him +over to ye in good season," she called out, by way of farewell; "'twill +save ye third of a mile extra walk. No, 'Liza Jane; you'll let me do it, +if you please. I've got a mother's heart. The gentlemen will excuse us +for showin' feelin'. You're all the child I've got, an' your prosperity +is the same as mine." + + +IV + +The great night of the coon-hunt was frosty and still, with only a dim +light from the new moon. John York and his boys, and Isaac Brown, whose +excitement was very great, set forth across the fields toward the dark +woods. The men seemed younger and gayer than the boys. There was a burst +of laughter when John Henry Brown and his little brother appeared with +the coon dog of the late Mr. Abijah Topliff, which had promptly run away +home again after Mrs. Price had coaxed him over in the afternoon. The +captors had tied a string round his neck, at which they pulled +vigorously from time to time to urge him forward. Perhaps he found the +night too cold; at any rate, he stopped short in the frozen furrows +every few minutes, lifting one foot and whining a little. Half a dozen +times he came near to tripping up Mr. Isaac Brown and making him fall at +full length. + +"Poor Tiger! poor Tiger!" said the good-natured sportsman, when somebody +said that the dog didn't act as if he were much used to being out by +night. "He'll be all right when he once gets track of the coon." But +when they were fairly in the woods, Tiger's distress was perfectly +genuine. The long rays of light from the old-fashioned lanterns of +pierced tin went wheeling round and round, making a tall ghost of every +tree, and strange shadows went darting in and out behind the pines. The +woods were like an interminable pillared room where the darkness made a +high ceiling. The clean frosty smell of the open fields was changed for +a warmer air, damp with the heavy odor of moss and fallen leaves. There +was something wild and delicious in the forest in that hour of night. +The men and boys tramped on silently in single file, as if they followed +the flickering light instead of carrying it. The dog fell back by +instinct, as did his companions, into the easy familiarity of forest +life. He ran beside them, and watched eagerly as they chose a safe place +to leave a coat or two and a basket. He seemed to be an affectionate +dog, now that he had made acquaintance with his masters. + +"Seems to me he don't exactly know what he's about," said one of the +York boys scornfully; "we must have struck that coon's track somewhere, +comin' in." + +"We'll get through talkin' an' heap up a little somethin' for a fire, if +you'll turn to and help," said his father. "I've always noticed that +nobody can give so much good advice about a piece o' work as a new hand. +When you've treed as many coons as your Uncle Brown an' me, you won't +feel so certain. Isaac, you be the one to take the dog up round the +ledge, there. He'll scent the coon quick enough then. We'll tend to this +part o' the business." + +"You may come too, John Henry," said the indulgent father, and they set +off together silently with the coon dog. He followed well enough now; +his tail and ears were drooping even more than usual, but he whimpered +along as bravely as he could, much excited, at John Henry's heels, like +one of those great soldiers who are all unnerved until the battle is +well begun. + +A minute later the father and son came hurrying back, breathless, and +stumbling over roots and bushes. The fire was already lighted, and +sending a great glow higher and higher among the trees. + +"He's off! He's struck a track! He was off like a major!" wheezed Mr. +Isaac Brown. + +"Which way'd he go?" asked everybody. + +"Right out toward the fields. Like's not the old fellow was just +starting after more of our fowls. I'm glad we come early,--he can't have +got far yet. We can't do nothin' but wait now, boys. I'll set right down +here." + +"Soon as the coon trees, you'll hear the dog sing, now I tell you!" said +John York, with great enthusiasm. "That night your father an' me got +those four busters we've told you about, they come right back here to +the ledge. I don't know but they will now. 'Twas a dreadful cold night, +I know. We didn't get home till past three o'clock in the mornin', +either. You remember, don't you, Isaac?" + +"I do," said Isaac. "How old Rover worked that night! Couldn't see out +of his eyes, nor hardly wag his clever old tail, for two days; thorns in +both his fore paws, and the last coon took a piece right out of his off +shoulder." + +"Why didn't you let Rover come to-night, father?" asked the younger boy. +"I think he knew somethin' was up. He was jumpin' round at a great rate +when I come out of the yard." + +"I didn't know but he might make trouble for the other dog," answered +Isaac, after a moment's silence. He felt almost disloyal to the faithful +creature, and had been missing him all the way. "Sh! there's a bark!" +And they all stopped to listen. + +The fire was leaping higher; they all sat near it, listening and +talking by turns. There is apt to be a good deal of waiting in a +coon-hunt. + +"If Rover was young as he used to be, I'd resk him to tree any coon that +ever run," said the regretful master. "This smart creature o' Topliff's +can't beat him, I know. The poor old fellow's eyesight seems to be +going. Two--three times he's run out at me right in broad day, an' +barked when I come up the yard toward the house, and I did pity him +dreadfully; he was so 'shamed when he found out what he'd done. Rover's +a dog that's got an awful lot o' pride. He went right off out behind the +long barn the last time, and wouldn't come in for nobody when they +called him to supper till I went out myself and made it up with him. No; +he can't see very well now, Rover can't." + +"He's heavy, too; he's got too unwieldy to tackle a smart coon, I +expect, even if he could do the tall runnin'" said John York, with +sympathy. "They have to get a master grip with their teeth through a +coon's thick pelt this time o' year. No; the young folks get all the +good chances after a while;" and he looked round indulgently at the +chubby faces of his boys, who fed the fire, and rejoiced in being +promoted to the society of their elders on equal terms. "Ain't it time +we heard from the dog?" And they all listened, while the fire snapped +and the sap whistled in some green sticks. + +"I hear him," said John Henry suddenly; and faint and far away there +came the sound of a desperate bark. There is a bark that means attack, +and there is a bark that means only foolish excitement. + +"They ain't far off!" said Isaac. "My gracious, he's right after him! I +don't know's I expected that poor-looking dog to be so smart. You can't +tell by their looks. Quick as he scented the game up here in the rocks, +off he put. Perhaps it ain't any matter if they ain't stump-tailed, +long's they're yaller dogs. He didn't look heavy enough to me. I tell +you, he means business. Hear that bark!" + +"They all bark alike after a coon." John York was as excited as anybody. +"Git the guns laid out to hand, boys; I told you we'd ought to follow!" +he commanded. "If it's the old fellow that belongs here, he may put in +any minute." But there was again a long silence and state of suspense; +the chase had turned another way. There were faint distant yaps. The +fire burned low and fell together with a shower of sparks. The smaller +boys began to grow chilly and sleepy, when there was a thud and rustle +and snapping of twigs close at hand, then the gasp of a breathless dog. +Two dim shapes rushed by; a shower of bark fell, and a dog began to sing +at the foot of the great twisted pine not fifty feet away. + +"Hooray for Tiger!" yelled the boys; but the dog's voice filled all the +woods. It might have echoed to the mountain-tops. There was the old +coon; they could all see him half-way up the tree, flat to the great +limb. They heaped the fire with dry branches till it flared high. Now +they lost him in a shadow as he twisted about the tree. John York fired, +and Isaac Brown fired, and the boys took a turn at the guns, while John +Henry started to climb a neighboring oak; but at last it was Isaac who +brought the coon to ground with a lucky shot, and the dog stopped his +deafening bark and frantic leaping in the underbrush, and after an +astonishing moment of silence crept out, a proud victor, to his prouder +master's feet. + +"Goodness alive, who's this? Good for you, old handsome! Why, I'll be +hanged if it ain't old Rover, boys; _it's old Rover_!" But Isaac could +not speak another word. They all crowded round the wistful, clumsy old +dog, whose eyes shone bright, though his breath was all gone. Each man +patted him, and praised him and said they ought to have mistrusted all +the time that it could be nobody but he. It was some minutes before +Isaac Brown could trust himself to do anything but pat the sleek old +head that was always ready to his hand. + +"He must have overheard us talkin'; I guess he'd have come if he'd +dropped dead half-way," proclaimed John Henry, like a prince of the +reigning house; and Rover wagged his tail as if in honest assent, as he +lay at his master's side. They sat together, while the fire was +brightened again to make a good light for the coon-hunt supper; and +Rover had a good half of everything that found its way into his master's +hand. It was toward midnight when the triumphal procession set forth +toward home, with the two lanterns, across the fields. + + +V + +The next morning was bright and warm after the hard frost of the night +before. Old Rover was asleep on the doorstep in the sun, and his master +stood in the yard, and saw neighbor Price come along the road in her +best array, with a gay holiday air. + +"Well, now," she said eagerly, "you wa'n't out very late last night, was +you? I got up myself to let Tiger in. He come home, all beat out, about +a quarter past nine. I expect you hadn't no kind o' trouble gittin' the +coon. The boys was tellin' me he weighed 'most thirty pounds." + +"Oh, no kind o' trouble," said Isaac, keeping the great secret +gallantly. "You got the things I sent over this mornin'?" + +"Bless your heart, yes! I'd a sight rather have all that good pork an' +potatoes than any o' your wild meat," said Mrs. Price, smiling with +prosperity. "You see, now, 'Liza Jane she's given in. She didn't re'lly +know but 'twas all talk of 'Bijah 'bout that dog's bein' wuth fifty +dollars. She says she can't cope with a huntin' dog same's he could, an' +she's given me the money you an' John York sent over this mornin'; an' I +didn't know but what you'd lend me another half a dollar, so I could +both go to Dipford Centre an' return, an' see if I couldn't make a sale +o' Tiger right over there where they all know about him. It's right in +the coon season; now's my time, ain't it?" + +"Well, gettin' a little late," said Isaac, shaking with laughter as he +took the desired sum of money out of his pocket. "He seems to be a +clever dog round the house." + +"I don't know's I want to harbor him all winter," answered the +excursionist frankly, striking into a good traveling gait as she started +off toward the railroad station. + + +NOTES + +=Dipford=:--The New England town in which the scenes of some of Miss +Jewett's stories are laid. + +=master hot=:--In the New England dialect, _master_ is used in the sense +of _very_ or _extremely_. + +=bosom-pin=:--Mourning pins of jet or black enamel were much worn in +times past. + +='suage=:--Assuage, meaning to soften or decrease. + +=selectman=:--One of a board chosen in New England towns to transact +the business of the community. + +=scattereth nor yet increaseth=:--See Proverbs, 11:24. + +=right o' dower=:--The right to claim a part of a deceased husband's +property. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The action takes place in a country district in New England. Judging by +the remarks about the fans, what kind of person do you suppose Old Lady +Price to be? Is there any particular meaning in the word _to-day_? How +is 'Liza Jane related to Mrs. Price? What was the character of Mr. +'Bijah Topliff? Does the old lady feel grieved at his death? What does +Isaac mean by _such_, in the last line, page 190? How does the old lady +live? What is shown of her character when she is called "a chirpin' old +cricket"? Does she feel ashamed of having gone to the circus? How does +she explain her going? What can you tell of 'Bijah from what is said of +'Liza's "memories"? Would the circus people have cared to buy the dog? +Notice how the author makes you feel the pleasantness of the walk in the +woods. Do you know where coons have their dens? How does Isaac show his +affection for old Rover? Is it true that "worthless do-nothings" usually +have "smart" dogs? Why does the author stop to tell all about 'Liza +Jane's arrival? What light is thrown on the old lady's character by +Isaac's words beginning, "Disappointments don't appear to trouble her"? +Are the men very anxious to "give the boys a treat"? Why does the old +lady call Mr. York "dear"? What is meant by the last five lines of Part +III? What sort of dog is Tiger? What is meant by "soon as the coon +trees"? How does the author tell you of old Rover's defects? What person +would you like to have shoot the coon at last? Why could Isaac Brown not +"trust himself to speak"? Do you think old Rover "overheard them +talking," as John Henry suggests? How does the author let you into the +secret of Tiger's behavior? Why does Isaac not tell the old lady which +dog treed the coon? What does he mean by saying that Tiger is "a clever +dog round the house"? Do you think that Mrs. Price succeeded in getting +fifty dollars for the dog? Why does the author not tell whether she does +or not? Try to put into your own words a summing up of the old lady's +character. Tell what you think of the two old men. Do you like the use +of dialect in this story? Would it have been better if the people had +all spoken good English? Why, or why not? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Hunting for Squirrels +An Intelligent Dog +A Night in the Woods +An Old Man +Tracking Rabbits +Borrowers +The Circus +Old Lady Price +A Group of Odd Characters +Raccoons +Opossums +The Tree-dwellers +Around the Fire +How to Make a Camp Fire +The Picnic Lunch +An Interesting Old Lady + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +Try to write a theme in which uneducated people talk as they do in real +life; as far as possible, fit every person's speech to his character. +Below are given some suggestions for this work: + +Mrs. Wicks borrows Mrs. Hall's flat-irons. +Two or three country children quarrel over a hen's nest. +The family get ready to go to the Sunday School picnic. +Sammie tells his parents that he has been whipped at school. +Two old men talk about the crops. +One of the pigs gets out of the pen. +Two boys go hunting. +The farmer has just come back from town. +Mrs. Robbins describes the moving-picture show. + +=An Intelligent Dog=:--Tell who owns the dog, and how much you have had +opportunity to observe him. Describe him as vividly as possible. Give +some incidents that show his intelligence. + +Perhaps you can make a story out of this, giving the largest amount of +space to an event in which the dog accomplished some notable thing, as +protecting property, bringing help in time of danger, or saving his +master's life. In this case, try to tell some of the story by means of +conversation, as Miss Jewett does. + +=An Interesting Old Lady=:--Tell where you saw the old lady; or, if you +know her well, explain the nature of your acquaintance with her. +Describe her rather fully, telling how she looks and what she wears. How +does she walk and talk? What is her chief occupation? If possible, quote +some of her remarks in her own words. Tell some incidents in which she +figures. Try to bring out her most interesting qualities, so that the +reader can see them for himself. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Dogs and Men H.C. Merwin +Stickeen: The Story of John Muir +Another Dog (in _A Gentleman Vagabond_) F.H. Smith +The Sporting Dog Joseph A. Graham +Dogtown Mabel Osgood Wright +Bob, Son of Battle Alfred Ollivant +A Boy I Knew and Four Dogs Laurence Hutton +A Boy I Knew and Some More Dogs " " +A Dog of Flanders Louise de la Ramée +The Call of the Wild Jack London +White Fang " " +My Dogs in the Northland E.R. Young +Dogs of all Nations C.J. Miller +Leo (poem) R.W. Gilder +Greyfriar's Bobby Eleanor Atkinson +The Biography of a Silver Fox E.S. Thompson +Our Friend the Dog (trans.) Maurice Maeterlinck +Following the Deer W.J. Long +The Trail of the Sand-hill Stag Ernest Thompson Seton +Lives of the Hunted " " " +The Wilderness Hunter Theodore Roosevelt +A Watcher in the Woods Dallas Lore Sharp +Wild Life near Home " " " +The Watchers of the Trails C.G.D. Roberts +Kindred of the Wild " " +Little People of the Sycamore " " +The Haunters of the Silences " " +Squirrels and other Fur-bearers John Burroughs +My Woodland Intimates E. Bignell + + +Stories of old people:-- + +Aged Folk (in _Letters from my Mill_) Alphonse Daudet +Green Island (chapter 8 of + _The Country of the Pointed Firs_) Sarah Orne Jewett +Aunt Cynthy Dallett " " " +The Failure of David Berry " " " +A Church Mouse Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman +A White Heron and Other Stories Sarah Orne Jewett +Tales of New England " " " +The Country of the Pointed Firs " " " +A Country Doctor " " " +Deephaven " " " +The Queen's Twin and Other Stories " " " +The King of Folly Island and Other People " " " +A Marsh Island " " " +The Tory Lover " " " +A Native of Winby and Other Tales " " " +Betty Leicester's Christmas " " " +Betty Leicester " " " +Country By-ways " " " +Letters of Sarah Orne Jewett Mrs. James T. Fields (Ed.) + +For Biographies and criticisms of Miss Jewett, see: Atlantic Monthly, +94:485; Critic, 39:292, October, 1901 (Portrait); New England Magazine, +22:737, August, 1900; Outlook, 69:423; Bookman, 34:221 (Portrait). + + + + +ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN + +RICHARD WATSON GILDER + + + This bronze doth keep the very form and mold + Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he: + That brow all wisdom, all benignity; + That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold + Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold; + That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea + For storms to beat on; the lone agony + Those silent, patient lips too well foretold. + Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men + As might some prophet of the elder day-- + Brooding above the tempest and the fray + With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken. + A power was his beyond the touch of art + Or armèd strength--his pure and mighty heart. + + +NOTES + +=the life-mask=:--The life-mask of Abraham Lincoln was made by Leonard +W. Volk, in Chicago, in April, 1860. A good picture of it is given as +the frontispiece to Volume 4 of Nicolay and Hay's _Abraham Lincoln, A +History_. + +=this bronze=:--A life-mask is made of plaster first; then usually it is +cast in bronze. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This is not difficult to understand. Read it over slowly, trying first +to get the meaning of each sentence as if it were prose. You may have +to read it several times before you see the exact meaning of each part. +When you have mastered it, read it through consecutively, thinking of +what it tells about Lincoln. + +This poem is, as you may know, a sonnet. Notice the number of lines, the +meter, and the rhyme-scheme, referring to page 139 for a review of the +sonnet form. Notice how the thought changes at the ninth line. Find a +sonnet in one of the good current magazines. How can you recognize it? +Read it carefully. If it is appropriate, bring it to class, and read and +explain it to your classmates. Why has the sonnet form been used so much +by poets? + +If you can find it, read the sonnet on _The Sonnet_, by Richard Watson +Gilder. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +For references on Lincoln, see pages 50 and 51. + +For portraits of Richard Watson Gilder, and biographical material, +consult: Current Literature, 41:319 (Portrait); Review of Reviews, 34: +491 (Portrait); Nation, 89:519; Dial, 47:441; Harper's Weekly, 53:6; +World's Work, 17:11293 (Portrait); Craftsman, 16:130, May, 1909 +(Portrait); Outlook, 93:689 (Portrait). + +For references to material on the sonnet, see page 140. + + + + +A FIRE AMONG THE GIANTS + +JOHN MUIR + +(From _Our National Parks_) + + +In the forest between the Middle and East forks of the Kaweah, I met a +great fire, and as fire is the master scourge and controller of the +distribution of trees, I stopped to watch it and learn what I could of +its works and ways with the giants. It came racing up the steep +chaparral-covered slopes of the East Fork cañon with passionate +enthusiasm in a broad cataract of flames, now bending down low to feed +on the green bushes, devouring acres of them at a breath, now towering +high in the air as if looking abroad to choose a way, then stooping to +feed again,--the lurid flapping surges and the smoke and terrible +rushing and roaring hiding all that is gentle and orderly in the work. +But as soon as the deep forest was reached, the ungovernable flood +became calm like a torrent entering a lake, creeping and spreading +beneath the trees where the ground was level or sloped gently, slowly +nibbling the cake of compressed needles and scales with flames an inch +high, rising here and there to a foot or two on dry twigs and clumps of +small bushes and brome grass. Only at considerable intervals were fierce +bonfires lighted, where heavy branches broken off by snow had +accumulated, or around some venerable giant whose head had been stricken +off by lightning. + +I tethered Brownie on the edge of a little meadow beside a stream a good +safe way off, and then cautiously chose a camp for myself in a big +stout hollow trunk not likely to be crushed by the fall of burning +trees, and made a bed of ferns and boughs in it. The night, however, and +the strange wild fireworks were too beautiful and exciting to allow much +sleep. There was no danger of being chased and hemmed in; for in the +main forest belt of the Sierra, even when swift winds are blowing, fires +seldom or never sweep over the trees in broad all-embracing sheets as +they do in the dense Rocky Mountain woods and in those of the Cascade +Mountains of Oregon and Washington. Here they creep from tree to tree +with tranquil deliberation, allowing close observation, though caution +is required in venturing around the burning giants to avoid falling +limbs and knots and fragments from dead shattered tops. Though the day +was best for study, I sauntered about night after night, learning what I +could, and admiring the wonderful show vividly displayed in the lonely +darkness, the ground-fire advancing in long crooked lines gently grazing +and smoking on the close-pressed leaves, springing up in thousands of +little jets of pure flame on dry tassels and twigs, and tall spires and +flat sheets with jagged flapping edges dancing here and there on grass +tufts and bushes, big bonfires blazing in perfect storms of energy where +heavy branches mixed with small ones lay smashed together in hundred +cord piles, big red arches between spreading root-swells and trees +growing close together, huge fire-mantled trunks on the hill slopes +glowing like bars of hot iron, violet-colored fire running up the tall +trees, tracing the furrows of the bark in quick quivering rills, and +lighting magnificent torches on dry shattered tops, and ever and anon, +with a tremendous roar and burst of light, young trees clad in +low-descending feathery branches vanishing in one flame two or three +hundred feet high. + +One of the most impressive and beautiful sights was made by the great +fallen trunks lying on the hillsides all red and glowing like colossal +iron bars fresh from a furnace, two hundred feet long some of them, and +ten to twenty feet thick. After repeated burnings have consumed the bark +and sapwood, the sound charred surface, being full of cracks and +sprinkled with leaves, is quickly overspread with a pure, rich, furred, +ruby glow almost flameless and smokeless, producing a marvelous effect +in the night. Another grand and interesting sight are the fires on the +tops of the largest living trees flaming above the green branches at a +height of perhaps two hundred feet, entirely cut off from the +ground-fires, and looking like signal beacons on watch towers. From one +standpoint I sometimes saw a dozen or more, those in the distance +looking like great stars above the forest roof. At first I could not +imagine how these Sequoia lamps were lighted, but the very first night, +strolling about waiting and watching, I saw the thing done again and +again. The thick fibrous bark of old trees is divided by deep, nearly +continuous furrows, the sides of which are bearded with the bristling +ends of fibres broken by the growth swelling of the trunk, and when the +fire comes creeping around the feet of the trees, it runs up these +bristly furrows in lovely pale blue quivering, bickering rills of flame +with a low, earnest whispering sound to the lightning-shattered top of +the trunk, which, in the dry Indian summer, with perhaps leaves and +twigs and squirrel-gnawed cone-scales and seed-wings lodged in it, is +readily ignited. These lamp-lighting rills, the most beautiful +fire-streams I ever saw, last only a minute or two, but the big lamps +burn with varying brightness for days and weeks, throwing off sparks +like the spray of a fountain, while ever and anon a shower of red coals +comes sifting down through the branches, followed at times with +startling effect by a big burned-off chunk weighing perhaps half a ton. + +The immense bonfires where fifty or a hundred cords of peeled, split, +smashed wood has been piled around some old giant by a single stroke of +lightning is another grand sight in the night. The light is so great I +found I could read common print three hundred yards from them, and the +illumination of the circle of onlooking trees is indescribably +impressive. Other big fires, roaring and booming like waterfalls, were +blazing on the upper sides of trees on hillslopes, against which limbs +broken off by heavy snow had rolled, while branches high overhead, +tossed and shaken by the ascending air current, seemed to be writhing in +pain. Perhaps the most startling phenomenon of all was the quick death +of childlike Sequoias only a century or two of age. In the midst of the +other comparatively slow and steady fire work one of these tall, +beautiful saplings, leafy and branchy, would be seen blazing up +suddenly, all in one heaving, booming, passionate flame reaching from +the ground to the top of the tree, and fifty to a hundred feet or more +above it, with a smoke column bending forward and streaming away on the +upper, free-flowing wind. To burn these green trees a strong fire of dry +wood beneath them is required, to send up a current of air hot enough to +distill inflammable gases from the leaves and sprays; then instead of +the lower limbs gradually catching fire and igniting the next and the +next in succession, the whole tree seems to explode almost +simultaneously, and with awful roaring and throbbing a round, tapering +flame shoots up two or three hundred feet, and in a second or two is +quenched, leaving the green spire a black, dead mast, bristled and +roughened with down-curling boughs. Nearly all the trees that have been +burned down are lying with their heads up hill, because they are burned +far more deeply on the upper side, on account of broken limbs rolling +down against them to make hot fires, while only leaves and twigs +accumulate on the lower side and are quickly consumed without injury to +the tree. But green, resinless Sequoia wood burns very slowly, and many +successive fires are required to burn down a large tree. Fires can run +only at intervals of several years, and when the ordinary amount of +fire-wood that has rolled against the gigantic trunk is consumed, only a +shallow scar is made, which is slowly deepened by recurring fires until +far beyond the centre of gravity, and when at last the tree falls, it of +course falls up hill. The healing folds of wood layers on some of the +deeply burned trees show that centuries have elapsed since the last +wounds were made. + +When a great Sequoia falls, its head is smashed into fragments about as +small as those made by lightning, which are mostly devoured by the first +running, hunting fire that finds them, while the trunk is slowly wasted +away by centuries of fire and weather. One of the most interesting +fire-actions on the trunk is the boring of those great tunnel-like +hollows through which horsemen may gallop. All of these famous hollows +are burned out of the solid wood, for no Sequoia is ever hollowed by +decay. When the tree falls, the brash trunk is often broken straight +across into sections as if sawed; into these joints the fire creeps, +and, on account of the great size of the broken ends, burns for weeks or +even months without being much influenced by the weather. After the +great glowing ends fronting each other have burned so far apart that +their rims cease to burn, the fire continues to work on in the centres, +and the ends become deeply concave. Then heat being radiated from side +to side, the burning goes on in each section of the trunk independent of +the other, until the diameter of the bore is so great that the heat +radiated across from side to side is not sufficient to keep them +burning. It appears, therefore, that only very large trees can receive +the fire-auger and have any shell-rim left. + +Fire attacks the large trees only at the ground, consuming the fallen +leaves and humus at their feet, doing them but little harm unless +considerable quantities of fallen limbs happen to be piled about them, +their thick mail of spongy, unpitchy, almost unburnable bark affording +strong protection. Therefore the oldest and most perfect unscarred trees +are found on ground that is nearly level, while those growing on +hillsides, against which fallen branches roll, are always deeply scarred +on the upper side, and as we have seen are sometimes burned down. The +saddest thing of all was to see the hopeful seedlings, many of them +crinkled and bent with the pressure of winter snow, yet bravely aspiring +at the top, helplessly perishing, and young trees, perfect spires of +verdure and naturally immortal, suddenly changed to dead masts. Yet the +sun looked cheerily down the openings in the forest roof, turning the +black smoke to a beautiful brown as if all was for the best. + + +NOTES + +=Kaweah=:--A river in California, which runs through the Sequoia +National Park. + +=Brownie=:--A small donkey which Mr. Muir had brought along to carry his +pack of blankets and provisions. (See pp. 285, 286 of _Our National +Parks_.) + +=humus=:--Vegetable mold. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +In 1875, Mr. Muir spent some weeks in the Sequoia forests, learning what +he could of the life and death of the giant trees. This selection is +from his account of his experiences. How does the author make you feel +the fierceness of the fire? Why does it become calmer when it enters the +forest? Would most people care to linger in a burning forest? What is +shown by Mr. Muir's willingness to stay? Note the vividness of the +passage beginning "Though the day was best": How does the author manage +to make it so clear? Might this passage be differently punctuated, with +advantage? What is the value of the figure "like colossal iron bars"? +Note the vivid words in the passage beginning "The thick" and ending +with "half a ton." What do you think of the expressions _onlooking +trees_, and _childlike Sequoias_? Explain why the burned trees fall up +hill. Go through the selection and pick out the words that show action; +color; sound. Try to state clearly the reasons why this selection is +clear and picturesque. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Forest Fire +A Group of Large Trees +Felling a Tree +A Fire in the Country +A Fire in the City +Alone in the Woods +The Woodsman +In the Woods +Camping Out for the Night +By-products of the Forest +A Tree Struck by Lightning +A Famous Student of Nature +Planting Trees +The Duties of a Forest Ranger +The Lumber Camp +A Fire at Night +Learning to Observe +The Conservation of the Forests +The Pine +Ravages of the Paper Mill + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Fire at Night=:--If possible, found this theme on actual observation +and experience. Tell of your first knowledge of the fire--the smoke and +the flame, or the ringing of bells and the shouting. From what point of +view did you see the fire? Tell how it looked when you first saw it. Use +words of color and action, as Mr. Muir does. Perhaps you can make your +description vivid by means of sound-words. Tell what people did and what +they said. Did you hear anything said by the owners of the property that +was burning? Go on and trace the progress of the fire, describing its +change in volume and color. Try at all times to make your reader see the +beauty and fierceness and destructiveness of the fire. You might close +your theme with the putting out of the fire, or perhaps you will prefer +to speak of the appearance of the ruins by daylight. When you have +finished your theme, read it over, and see where you can touch it up to +make it clearer and more impressive. Read again some of the most +brilliant passages in Mr. Muir's description, and see how you can profit +by the devices he uses. + +=In the Woods=:--Give an account of a long or a short trip in the woods, +and tell what you observed. It might be well to plan this theme a number +of days before writing it, and in the interim to take a walk in the +woods to get mental notes. In writing the theme, give your chief +attention to the trees--their situation, appearance, height, manner of +growth from the seedling up, peculiarities. Make clear the differences +between the kinds of trees, especially between varieties of the same +species. You can make good use of color-words in your descriptions of +leaves, flowers, seed-receptacles (cones, keys, wings, etc.), and +berries. Keep your work simple, almost as if you were talking to some +one who wishes information about the forest trees. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Our National Parks John Muir +My First Summer in the Sierra " " +The Mountains of California " " +The Story of my Boyhood and Youth " " +Stickeen: The Story of a Dog " " +The Yosemite John Muir +The Giant Forest (chapter 18 of _The Mountains_) Stewart Edward White +The Pines (chapter 8 of _The Mountains_) " " " +The Blazed Trail " " " +The Forest " " " +The Heart of the Ancient Wood C.G.D. Roberts +The Story of a Thousand-year Pine + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) Enos A. Mills +The Lodge-pole Pine + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) " " +Rocky Mountain Forests + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) " " +The Spell of the Rockies " " +Under the Sky in California C.F. Saunders +Field Days in California Bradford Torrey +The Snowing of the Pines (poem) T.W. Higginson +A Young Fir Wood (poem) D.G. Rossetti +The Spirit of the Pine (poem) Bayard Taylor +To a Pine Tree J.R. Lowell +Silverado Squatters Robert Louis Stevenson +Travels with a Donkey " " " +A Forest Fire (in _The Old Pacific Capital_) " " " +The Two Matches (in _Fables_) " " " +In the Maine Woods Henry D. Thoreau +Yosemite Trails J.S. Chase +The Conservation of Natural Resources Charles R. Van Hise +Getting Acquainted with the Trees J.H. McFarland +The Trees (poem) Josephine Preston Peabody + +For biographical material relating to John Muir, consult: With John o' +Birds and John o' Mountains, Century, 80:521 (Portraits); At Home with +Muir, Overland Monthly (New Series), 52:125, August, 1908; Craftsman, +7:665 (page 637 for portrait), March, 1905; Craftsman, 23:324 +(Portrait); Outlook, 80:303, January 3, 1905; Bookman, 26:593, +February, 1908; World's Work, 17:11355, March, 1909; 19:12529, +February, 1910. + + + + +WAITING + +JOHN BURROUGHS + + + Serene, I fold my hands and wait, + Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; + I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, + For lo! my own shall come to me. + + I stay my haste, I make delays, + For what avails this eager pace? + I stand amid the eternal ways, + And what is mine shall know my face. + + Asleep, awake, by night or day, + The friends I seek are seeking me; + No wind can drive my bark astray + Nor change the tide of destiny. + + What matter if I stand alone? + I wait with joy the coming years; + My heart shall reap where it has sown, + And garner up its fruit of tears. + + The law of love binds every heart + And knits it to its utmost kin, + Nor can our lives flow long apart + From souls our secret souls would win. + + The stars come nightly to the sky, + The tidal wave comes to the sea; + Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high + Can keep my own away from me. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This poem is so easy that it needs little explanation. It shows the +calmness and confidence of one who feels that the universe is right, and +that everything comes out well sooner or later. Read the poem through +slowly. _Its utmost kin_ means its most distant relations or +connections. _The tidal wave_ means the regular and usual flow of the +tide. _Nor time nor space_:--Perhaps Mr. Burroughs was thinking of the +Bible, Romans 8:38, 39. + +Does the poem mean to encourage mere waiting, without action? Does it +discourage effort? Just how much is it intended to convey? Is the theory +expressed here a good one? Do you believe it to be true? Read the verses +again, slowly and carefully, thinking what they mean. If you like them, +take time to learn them. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +For a list of Mr. Burrough's books, see page 177. + +Song: The year's at the spring Robert Browning +The Building of the Chimney Richard Watson Gilder + +With John o'Birds and John o'Mountains (Century Magazine, 80:521) + +A Day at Slabsides (Outlook, 66:351) Washington Gladden + +Century, 86:884, October, 1915 (Portrait); Outlook, 78:878, December 3, +1904. + + +EXERCISES + +Try writing a stanza or two in the meter and with the rhyme that Mr. +Burroughs uses. Below are given lines that may prove suggestive:-- + +1. One night when all the sky was clear +2. The plum tree near the garden wall +3. I watched the children at their play +4. The wind swept down across the plain +5. The yellow leaves are drifting down +6. Along the dusty way we sped (In an Automobile) +7. I looked about my garden plot (In my Garden) +8. The sky was red with sudden flame +9. I walked among the forest trees +10. He runs to meet me every day (My Dog) + + + + +THE PONT DU GARD + +HENRY JAMES + +(Chapter XXVI of _A Little Tour in France_) + + +It was a pleasure to feel one's self in Provence again,--the land where +the silver-gray earth is impregnated with the light of the sky. To +celebrate the event, as soon as I arrived at Nîmes I engaged a calèche +to convey me to the Pont du Gard. The day was yet young, and it was +perfectly fair; it appeared well, for a longish drive, to take +advantage, without delay, of such security. After I had left the town I +became more intimate with that Provençal charm which I had already +enjoyed from the window of the train, and which glowed in the sweet +sunshine and the white rocks, and lurked in the smoke-puffs of the +little olives. The olive-trees in Provence are half the landscape. They +are neither so tall, so stout, nor so richly contorted as I have seen +them beyond the Alps; but this mild colorless bloom seems the very +texture of the country. The road from Nîmes, for a distance of fifteen +miles, is superb; broad enough for an army, and as white and firm as a +dinner-table. It stretches away over undulations which suggest a kind of +harmony; and in the curves it makes through the wide, free country, +where there is never a hedge or a wall, and the detail is always +exquisite, there is something majestic, almost processional. Some twenty +minutes before I reached the little inn that marks the termination of +the drive, my vehicle met with an accident which just missed being +serious, and which engaged the attention of a gentleman, who, followed +by his groom and mounted on a strikingly handsome horse, happened to +ride up at the moment. This young man, who, with his good looks and +charming manner, might have stepped out of a novel of Octave Feuillet, +gave me some very intelligent advice in reference to one of my horses +that had been injured, and was so good as to accompany me to the inn, +with the resources of which he was acquainted, to see that his +recommendations were carried out. The result of our interview was that +he invited me to come and look at a small but ancient château in the +neighborhood, which he had the happiness--not the greatest in the world, +he intimated--to inhabit, and at which I engaged to present myself after +I should have spent an hour at the Pont du Gard. For the moment, when we +separated, I gave all my attention to that great structure. You are very +near it before you see it; the ravine it spans suddenly opens and +exhibits the picture. The scene at this point grows extremely beautiful. +The ravine is the valley of the Gardon, which the road from Nîmes has +followed some time without taking account of it, but which, exactly at +the right distance from the aqueduct, deepens and expands, and puts on +those characteristics which are best suited to give it effect. The gorge +becomes romantic, still, and solitary, and, with its white rocks and +wild shrubbery, hangs over the clear, colored river, in whose slow +course there is here and there a deeper pool. Over the valley, from side +to side, and ever so high in the air, stretch the three tiers of the +tremendous bridge. They are unspeakably imposing, and nothing could well +be more Roman. The hugeness, the solidity, the unexpectedness, the +monumental rectitude of the whole thing leave you nothing to say--at the +time--and make you stand gazing. You simply feel that it is noble and +perfect, that it has the quality of greatness. A road, branching from +the highway, descends to the level of the river and passes under one of +the arches. This road has a wide margin of grass and loose stones, which +slopes upward into the bank of the ravine. You may sit here as long as +you please, staring up at the light, strong piers; the spot is extremely +natural, though two or three stone benches have been erected on it. I +remained there an hour and got a complete impression; the place was +perfectly soundless, and for the time, at least, lonely; the splendid +afternoon had begun to fade, and there was a fascination in the object I +had come to see. It came to pass that at the same time I discovered in +it a certain stupidity, a vague brutality. That element is rarely absent +from great Roman work, which is wanting in the nice adaptation of the +means to the end. The means are always exaggerated; the end is so much +more than attained. The Roman rigidity was apt to overshoot the mark, +and I suppose a race which could do nothing small is as defective as a +race that can do nothing great. Of this Roman rigidity the Pont du Gard +is an admirable example. It would be a great injustice, however, not to +insist upon its beauty,--a kind of manly beauty, that of an object +constructed not to please but to serve, and impressive simply from the +scale on which it carries out this intention. The number of arches in +each tier is different; they are smaller and more numerous as they +ascend. The preservation of the thing is extraordinary; nothing has +crumbled or collapsed; every feature remains; and the huge blocks of +stone, of a brownish-yellow (as if they had been baked by the Provençal +sun for eighteen centuries), pile themselves, without mortar or cement, +as evenly as the day they were laid together. All this to carry the +water of a couple of springs to a little provincial city! The conduit on +the top has retained its shape and traces of the cement with which it +was lined. When the vague twilight began to gather, the lonely valley +seemed to fill itself with the shadow of the Roman name, as if the +mighty empire were still as erect as the supports of the aqueduct; and +it was open to a solitary tourist, sitting there sentimental, to believe +that no people has ever been, or will ever be, as great as that, +measured, as we measure the greatness of an individual, by the push they +gave to what they undertook. The Pont du Gard is one of the three or +four deepest impressions they have left; it speaks of them in a manner +with which they might have been satisfied. + +I feel as if it were scarcely discreet to indicate the whereabouts of +the château of the obliging young man I had met on the way from Nîmes; I +must content myself with saying that it nestled in an enchanting +valley,--_dans le fond_, as they say in France,--and that I took my +course thither on foot, after leaving the Pont du Gard. I find it noted +in my journal as "an adorable little corner." The principal feature of +the place is a couple of very ancient towers, brownish-yellow in hue, +and mantled in scarlet Virginia-creeper. One of these towers, reputed to +be of Saracenic origin, is isolated, and is only the more effective; the +other is incorporated in the house, which is delightfully fragmentary +and irregular. It had got to be late by this time, and the lonely +_castel_ looked crepuscular and mysterious. An old housekeeper was sent +for, who showed me the rambling interior; and then the young man took me +into a dim old drawing-room, which had no less than four +chimney-pieces, all unlighted, and gave me a refection of fruit and +sweet wine. When I praised the wine and asked him what it was, he said +simply, "C'est du vin de ma mère!" Throughout my little journey I had +never yet felt myself so far from Paris; and this was a sensation I +enjoyed more than my host, who was an involuntary exile, consoling +himself with laying out a _manège_, which he showed me as I walked away. +His civility was great, and I was greatly touched by it. On my way back +to the little inn where I had left my vehicle, I passed the Pont du +Gard, and took another look at it. Its great arches made windows for the +evening sky, and the rocky ravine, with its dusky cedars and shining +river, was lonelier than before. At the inn I swallowed, or tried to +swallow, a glass of horrible wine with my coachman; after which, with my +reconstructed team, I drove back to Nîmes in the moonlight. It only +added a more solitary whiteness to the constant sheen of the Provençal +landscape. + + +NOTES + +=The Pont du Gard=:--A famous aqueduct built by the Romans many years +ago. + +=Provence=:--One of the old provinces in southeast France. + +=Nîmes=:--(N[=e][=e]m) A town in southeast France, noted for its Roman +ruins. + +=calèche=:--(ka l[=a]sh') The French term for a light covered carriage +with seats for four besides the driver. + +=Octave Feuillet=:--A French writer, the author of _The Romance of a +Poor Young Man_; Feuillet's heroes are young, dark, good-looking, and +poetic. + +=château=:--The country residence of a wealthy or titled person. + +=Gardon=:--A river in France flowing into the Rhone. + +=nice=:--Look up the meaning of this word. + +=dans le fond=:--In the bottom. + +=Saracenic=:--The Saracen invaders of France were vanquished at Tours in +732 A.D. + +=castel=:--A castle. + +=C'est=, etc.:--It is some of my mother's wine. + +=manège=:--A place where horses are kept and trained. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Can you find out anything about Provence and its history? By means of +what details does Mr. James give you an idea of the country? What is +meant by _processional_? Why is the episode of the young man +particularly pleasing at the point at which it is related? How does the +author show the character of the aqueduct? What does _monumental +rectitude_ mean? Why is it a good term? What is meant here by "a certain +stupidity, a vague brutality"? Can you think of any great Roman works of +which Mr. James's statement is true? What did the Romans most commonly +build? Can you find out something of their style of building? Are there +any reasons why the arches at the top should be smaller and lighter than +those below? What does this great aqueduct show of the Roman people and +the Roman government? Notice what Mr. James says of the way in which we +measure greatness: Is this a good way? Why would the Romans like the way +in which the Pont du Gard speaks of them? Why is it not "discreet" to +tell where the young man's château is? Why does the traveler feel so far +from Paris? Why does the young man treat the traveler with such +unnecessary friendliness? See how the author closes his chapter by +bringing the description round to the Pont du Gard again and ending with +the note struck in the first lines. Is this a good method? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Bridge +Country Roads +An Accident on the Road +A Remote Dwelling +The Stranger +At a Country Hotel +Roman Roads +A Moonlight Scene +A Picturesque Ravine +What I should Like to See in Europe +Traveling in Europe +Reading a Guide Book +The Baedeker +A Ruin +The Character of the Romans +The Romans in France +Level Country +A Sunny Day +The Parlor + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=At a Country Hotel=:--Tell how you happened to go to the hotel (this +part may be true or merely imagined). Describe your approach, on foot or +in some conveyance. Give your first general impression of the building +and its surroundings. What persons were visible when you reached the +entrance? What did they say and do? How did you feel? Describe the room +that you entered, noting any striking or amusing things. Tell of any +particularly interesting person, and what he (or she) said. Did you have +something to eat? If so, describe the dining-room, and tell about the +food. Perhaps you will have something to say about the waiter. How long +did you stay at the hotel? What incident was connected with your +departure? Were you glad or sorry to leave? + +=The Bridge=:--Choose a large bridge that you have seen. Where is it, +and what stream or ravine does it span? When was it built? Clearly +indicate the point of view of your description. If you change the point +of view, let the reader know of your doing so. Give a general idea of +the size of the bridge: You need not give measurements; try rather to +make the reader feel the size from the comparisons that you use. +Describe the banks at each end of the bridge, and the effect of the +water or the abyss between. How is the bridge supported? Try to make the +reader feel its solidity and safety. Is it clumsy or graceful? Why? Give +any interesting details in its appearance. What conveyances or persons +are passing over it? How does the bridge make you feel? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Little Tour in France Henry James +A Small Boy and Others " " +Portraits of Places " " +Travels with a Donkey R.L. Stevenson +An Inland Voyage " " +Along French Byways Clifton Johnson +Seeing France with Uncle John Anne Warner +The Story of France Mary Macgregor +The Reds of the Midi Felix Gras +A Wanderer in Paris E.V. Lucas +An American in Europe (poem) Henry Van Dyke +Home Thoughts from Abroad Robert Browning +In and Out of Three Normandy Inns Anna Bowman Dodd +Cathedral Days " " " +From Ponkapog to Pesth T.B. Aldrich +Our Hundred Days in Europe O.W. Holmes +One Year Abroad Blanche Willis Howard +Well-worn Roads F.H. Smith +Gondola Days " " +Saunterings C.D. Warner +By Oak and Thorn Alice Brown +Fresh Fields John Burroughs +Our Old Home Nathaniel Hawthorne +Penelope's Progress Kate Douglas Wiggin +Penelope's Experiences " " " +A Cathedral Courtship " " " +Ten Days in Spain Kate Fields +Russian Rambles Isabel F. Hapgood + +For biography and criticism of Mr. James, see: American Writers of +To-day, pp. 68-86, H.C. Vedder; American Prose Masters, pp. 337-400, +W.C. Brownell; and (for the teacher), Century, 84:108 (Portrait) and +87:150 (Portrait); Scribners, 48:670 (Portrait); Chautauquan, 64:146 +(Portrait). + + + + +THE YOUNGEST SON OF HIS FATHER'S HOUSE + +ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH + + + The eldest son of his father's house, + His was the right to have and hold; + He took the chair before the hearth, + And he was master of all the gold. + + The second son of his father's house, + He took the wheatfields broad and fair, + He took the meadows beside the brook, + And the white flocks that pastured there. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Along the way + From dawn till eve I needs must sing! + Who has a song throughout the day, + He has no need of anything!_" + + The youngest son of his father's house + Had neither gold nor flocks for meed. + He went to the brook at break of day, + And made a pipe out of a reed. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Each wind that blows + Is comrade to my wandering. + Who has a song wherever he goes, + He has no need of anything!_" + + His brother's wife threw open the door. + "Piper, come in for a while," she said. + "Thou shalt sit at my hearth since thou art so poor + And thou shalt give me a song instead!" + + Pipe high--pipe low--all over the wold! + "Lad, wilt thou not come in?" asked she. + "Who has a song, he feels no cold! + My brother's hearth is mine own," quoth he. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! For what care I + Though there be no hearth on the wide gray plain? + I have set my face to the open sky, + And have cloaked myself in the thick gray rain._" + + Over the hills where the white clouds are, + He piped to the sheep till they needs must come. + They fed in pastures strange and far, + But at fall of night he brought them home. + + They followed him, bleating, wherever he led: + He called his brother out to see. + "I have brought thee my flocks for a gift," he said, + "For thou seest that they are mine," quoth he. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! wherever I go + The wide grain presses to hear me sing. + Who has a song, though his state be low, + He has no need of anything._" + + "Ye have taken my house," he said, "and my sheep, + But ye had no heart to take me in. + I will give ye my right for your own to keep, + But ye be not my kin. + + "To the kind fields my steps are led. + My people rush across the plain. + My bare feet shall not fear to tread + With the cold white feet of the rain. + + "My father's house is wherever I pass; + My brothers are each stock and stone; + My mother's bosom in the grass + Yields a sweet slumber to her son. + + "Ye are rich in house and flocks," said he, + "Though ye have no heart to take me in. + There was only a reed that was left for me, + And ye be not my kin." + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Though skies be gray, + Who has a song, he needs must roam! + Even though ye call all day, all day, + 'Brother, wilt thou come home?_'" + + Over the meadows and over the wold, + Up to the hills where the skies begin, + The youngest son of his father's house + Went forth to find his kin. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The stanzas in italic are a kind of refrain; they represent the music of +the youngest son. + +Why does the piper not go into the house when his brother's wife invites +him? What does he mean when he says, "My brother's hearth is mine own"? +Why does he say that the sheep are his? What does he mean when he says, +"I will give ye my right," etc.? Why are his brothers not his kin? Who +are the people that "rush across the plain"? Explain the fourteenth +stanza. Why did the piper go forth to find his kin? Whom would he claim +as his kindred? Why? Does the poem have a deeper meaning than that which +first appears? What kind of person is represented by the youngest son? +What are meant by his pipe and the music? Who are those who cast him +out? Re-read the whole poem with the deeper meaning in mind. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Prophet Josephine Preston Peabody +The Piper: Act I " " " +The Shepherd of King Admetus James Russell Lowell +The Shoes that Danced Anna Hempstead Branch +The Heart of the Road and Other Poems " " " +Rose of the Wind and Other Poems " " " + + + + +TENNESSEE'S PARTNER + +BRET HARTE + + +I do not think that we ever knew his real name. Our ignorance of it +certainly never gave us any social inconvenience, for at Sandy Bar in +1854 most men were christened anew. Sometimes these appellatives were +derived from some distinctiveness of dress, as in the case of "Dungaree +Jack"; or from some peculiarity of habit, as shown in "Saleratus Bill," +so called from an undue proportion of that chemical in his daily bread; +or from some unlucky slip, as exhibited in "The Iron Pirate," a mild, +inoffensive man, who earned that baleful title by his unfortunate +mispronunciation of the term "iron pyrites." Perhaps this may have been +the beginning of a rude heraldry; but I am constrained to think that it +was because a man's real name in that day rested solely upon his own +unsupported statement. "Call yourself Clifford, do you?" said Boston, +addressing a timid newcomer with infinite scorn; "hell is full of such +Cliffords!" He then introduced the unfortunate man, whose name happened +to be really Clifford, as "Jaybird Charley,"--an unhallowed inspiration +of the moment that clung to him ever after. + +But to return to Tennessee's Partner, whom we never knew by any other +than this relative title. That he had ever existed as a separate and +distinct individuality we only learned later. It seems that in 1853 he +left Poker Flat to go to San Francisco, ostensibly to procure a wife. He +never got any farther than Stockton. At that place he was attracted by a +young person who waited upon the table at the hotel where he took his +meals. One morning he said something to her which caused her to smile +not unkindly, to somewhat coquettishly break a plate of toast over his +upturned, serious, simple face, and to retreat to the kitchen. He +followed her, and emerged a few moments later, covered with more toast +and victory. That day week they were married by a justice of the peace, +and returned to Poker Flat. I am aware that something more might be made +of this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at Sandy +Bar,--in the gulches and bar-rooms,--where all sentiment was modified by +a strong sense of humor. + +Of their married felicity but little is known, perhaps for the reason +that Tennessee, then living with his partner, one day took occasion to +say something to the bride on his own account, at which, it is said, she +smiled not unkindly and chastely retreated,--this time as far as +Marysville, where Tennessee followed her, and where they went to +housekeeping without the aid of a justice of the peace. Tennessee's +Partner took the loss of his wife simply and seriously, as was his +fashion. But to everybody's surprise, when Tennessee one day returned +from Marysville, without his partner's wife,--she having smiled and +retreated with somebody else,--Tennessee's Partner was the first man to +shake his hand and greet him with affection. The boys who had gathered +in the cañon to see the shooting were naturally indignant. Their +indignation might have found vent in sarcasm but for a certain look in +Tennessee's Partner's eye that indicated a lack of humorous +appreciation. In fact, he was a grave man, with a steady application to +practical detail which was unpleasant in a difficulty. + +Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had grown up on the Bar. +He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief. In these +suspicions Tennessee's Partner was equally compromised; his continued +intimacy with Tennessee after the affair above quoted could only be +accounted for on the hypothesis of a copartnership of crime. At last +Tennessee's guilt became flagrant. One day he overtook a stranger on his +way to Red Dog. The stranger afterward related that Tennessee beguiled +the time with interesting anecdote and reminiscence, but illogically +concluded the interview in the following words: "And now, young man, +I'll trouble you for your knife, your pistols, and your money. You see +your weppings might get you into trouble at Red Dog, and your money's a +temptation to the evilly disposed. I think you said your address was San +Francisco. I shall endeavor to call." It may be stated here that +Tennessee had a fine flow of humor, which no business preoccupation +could wholly subdue. + +This exploit was his last. Red Dog and Sandy Bar made common cause +against the highwayman. Tennessee was hunted in very much the same +fashion as his prototype, the grizzly. As the toils closed around him, +he made a desperate dash through the Bar, emptying his revolver at the +crowd before the Arcade Saloon, and so on up Grizzly Cañon; but at its +farther extremity he was stopped by a small man on a gray horse. The men +looked at each other a moment in silence. Both were fearless, both +self-possessed and independent, and both types of a civilization that in +the seventeenth century would have been called heroic, but in the +nineteenth simply "reckless." + +"What have you got there?--I call," said Tennessee quietly. + +"Two bowers and an ace," said the stranger as quietly, showing two +revolvers and a bowie-knife. + +"That takes me," returned Tennessee; and, with this gambler's epigram, +he threw away his useless pistol and rode back with his captor. + +It was a warm night. The cool breeze which usually sprang up with the +going down of the sun behind the chaparral-crested mountain was that +evening withheld from Sandy Bar. The little cañon was stifling with +heated resinous odors, and the decaying driftwood on the Bar sent forth +faint sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day and its fierce +passions still filled the camp. Lights moved restlessly along the bank +of the river, striking no answering reflection from its tawny current. +Against the blackness of the pines the windows of the old loft above the +express-office stood out staringly bright; and through their curtainless +panes the loungers below could see the forms of those who were even then +deciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on the dark +firmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned with remoter +passionless stars. + +The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was consistent with a +judge and jury who felt themselves to some extent obliged to justify, in +their verdict, the previous irregularities of arrest and indictment. The +law of Sandy Bar was implacable, but not vengeful. The excitement and +personal feeling of the chase were over; with Tennessee safe in their +hands, they were ready to listen patiently to any defense, which they +were already satisfied was insufficient. There being no doubt in their +own minds, they were willing to give the prisoner the benefit of any +that might exist. Secure in the hypothesis that he ought to be hanged +on general principles, they indulged him with more latitude of defense +than his reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The Judge appeared to be more +anxious than the prisoner, who, otherwise unconcerned, evidently took a +grim pleasure in the responsibility he had created. "I don't take any +hand in this yer game," had been his invariable but good-humored reply +to all questions. The Judge--who was also his captor--for a moment +vaguely regretted that he had not shot him "on sight" that morning, but +presently dismissed this human weakness as unworthy of the judicial +mind. Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was said +that Tennessee's Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he was +admitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger members of the +jury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailed +him as a relief. For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. Short +and stout, with a square face, sunburned into a preternatural redness, +clad in a loose duck "jumper" and trousers streaked and splashed with +red soil, his aspect under any circumstances would have been quaint, and +was now even ridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy +carpetbag he was carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed +legends and inscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had +been patched had been originally intended for a less ambitious covering. +Yet he advanced with great gravity, and after shaking the hand of each +person in the room with labored cordiality, he wiped his serious +perplexed face on a red bandana handkerchief, a shade lighter than his +complexion, laid his powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, and +thus addressed the Judge:-- + +"I was passin' by," he began, by way of apology, "and I thought I'd just +step in and see how things was gittin' on with Tennessee thar,--my +pardner. It's a hot night. I disremember any sich weather before on the +Bar." + +He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorological +recollection, he again had recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and for +some moments mopped his face diligently. + +"Have you anything to say on behalf of the prisoner?" said the Judge +finally. + +"Thet's it," said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief. "I come yar +as Tennessee's pardner,--knowing him nigh on four year, off and on, wet +and dry, in luck and, out o' luck. His ways ain't aller my ways, but +thar ain't any p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness as +he's been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sez +you,--confidential-like, and between man and man,--sez you, 'Do you know +anything in his behalf?' and I sez to you, sez I,--confidential-like, as +between man and man,--'What should a man know of his pardner?'" + +"Is this all you have to say?" asked the Judge impatiently, feeling, +perhaps, that a dangerous sympathy of humor was beginning to humanize +the court. + +"Thet's so," continued Tennessee's Partner. "It ain't for me to say +anything agin' him. And now, what's the case? Here's Tennessee wants +money, wants it bad, and doesn't like to ask it of his old pardner. +Well, what does Tennessee do? He lays for a stranger, and he fetches +that stranger; and you lays for _him_, and you fetches _him_; and the +honors is easy. And I put it to you, bein' a fa'r-minded man, and to +you, gentlemen all, as fa'r-minded men, ef this isn't so." + +"Prisoner," said the Judge, interrupting, "have you any questions to ask +this man?" + +"No! no!" continued Tennessee's Partner hastily. "I play this yer hand +alone. To come down to the bed-rock, it's just this: Tennessee, thar, +has played it pretty rough and expensive-like on a stranger, and on this +yer camp. And now, what's the fair thing? Some would say more, some +would say less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars in coarse gold and a +watch,--it's about all my pile,--and call it square!" And before a hand +could be raised to prevent him, he had emptied the contents of the +carpetbag upon the table. + +For a moment his life was in jeopardy. One or two men sprang to their +feet, several hands groped for hidden weapons, and a suggestion to +"throw him from the window" was only overridden by a gesture from the +Judge. Tennessee laughed. And apparently oblivious of the excitement, +Tennessee's Partner improved the opportunity to mop his face again with +his handkerchief. + +When order was restored, and the man was made to understand, by the use +of forcible figures and rhetoric, that Tennessee's offense could not be +condoned by money, his face took a more serious and sanguinary hue, and +those who were nearest to him noticed that his rough hand trembled +slightly on the table. He hesitated a moment as he slowly returned the +gold to the carpetbag, as if he had not yet entirely caught the elevated +sense of justice which swayed the tribunal, and was perplexed with the +belief that he had not offered enough. Then he turned to the Judge, and +saying, "This yer is a lone hand, played alone, and without my pardner," +he bowed to the jury and was about to withdraw, when the Judge called +him back:-- + +"If you have anything to say to Tennessee, you had better say it now." + +For the first time that evening the eyes of the prisoner and his strange +advocate met. Tennessee smiled, showed his white teeth, and saying, +"Euchred, old man!" held out his hand. Tennessee's Partner took it in +his own, and saying, "I just dropped in as I was passin' to see how +things was gettin' on," let the hand passively fall, and adding that "it +was a warm night," again mopped his face with his handkerchief, and +without another word withdrew. + +The two men never again met each other alive. For the unparalleled +insult of a bribe offered to Judge Lynch--who, whether bigoted, weak, or +narrow, was at least incorruptible--firmly fixed in the mind of that +mythical personage any wavering determination of Tennessee's fate; and +at the break of day he was marched, closely guarded, to meet it at the +top of Marley's Hill. + +How he met it, how cool he was, how he refused to say anything, how +perfect were the arrangements of the committee, were all duly reported, +with the addition of a warning moral and example to all future +evil-doers, in the "Red Dog Clarion," by its editor, who was present, +and to whose vigorous English I cheerfully refer the reader. But the +beauty of that midsummer morning, the blessed amity of earth and air and +sky, the awakened life of the free woods and hills, the joyous renewal +and promise of Nature, and above all, the infinite serenity that +thrilled through each, was not reported, as not being a part of the +social lesson. And yet, when the weak and foolish deed was done, and a +life, with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed out of the +misshapen thing that dangled between earth and sky, the birds sang, the +flowers bloomed, the sun shone, as cheerily as before; and possibly the +"Red Dog Clarion" was right. + +Tennessee's Partner was not in the group that surrounded the ominous +tree. But as they turned to disperse, attention was drawn to the +singular appearance of a motionless donkey-cart halted at the side of +the road. As they approached, they at once recognized the venerable +"Jenny" and the two-wheeled cart as the property of Tennessee's Partner, +used by him in carrying dirt from his claim; and a few paces distant the +owner of the equipage himself, sitting under a buckeye-tree, wiping the +perspiration from his glowing face. In answer to an inquiry, he said he +had come for the body of the "diseased," "if it was all the same to the +committee." He didn't wish to "hurry anything"; he could "wait." He was +not working that day; and when the gentlemen were done with the +"diseased," he would take him. "Ef thar is any present," he added, in +his simple, serious way, "as would care to jine in the fun'l, they kin +come." Perhaps it was from a sense of humor, which I have already +intimated was a feature of Sandy Bar,--perhaps it was from something +even better than that, but two thirds of the loungers accepted the +invitation at once. + +It was noon when the body of Tennessee was delivered into the hands of +his partner. As the cart drew up to the fatal tree, we noticed that it +contained a rough oblong box,--apparently made from a section of +sluicing,--and half filled with bark and the tassels of pine. The cart +was further decorated with slips of willow and made fragrant with +buckeye-blossoms. When the body was deposited in the box, Tennessee's +Partner's drew over it a piece of tarred canvas, and gravely mounting +the narrow seat in front, with his feet upon the shafts, urged the +little donkey forward. The equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous +pace which was habitual with Jenny even under less solemn +circumstances. The men--half curiously, half jestingly, but all +good-humoredly--strolled along beside the cart, some in advance, some a +little in the rear of the homely catafalque. But whether from the +narrowing of the road or some present sense of decorum, as the cart +passed on, the company fell to the rear in couples, keeping step, and +otherwise assuming the external show of a formal procession. Jack +Folinsbee, who had at the outset played a funeral march in dumb show +upon an imaginary trombone, desisted from a lack of sympathy and +appreciation,--not having, perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be +content with the enjoyment of his own fun. + +The way led through Grizzly Cañon, by this time clothed in funereal +drapery and shadows. The redwoods, burying their moccasined feet in the +red soil, stood in Indian file along the track, trailing an uncouth +benediction from their bending boughs upon the passing bier. A hare, +surprised into helpless inactivity, sat upright and pulsating in the +ferns by the roadside as the cortège went by. Squirrels hastened to gain +a secure outlook from higher boughs; and the blue-jays, spreading their +wings, fluttered before them like outriders, until the outskirts of +Sandy Bar were reached, and the solitary cabin of Tennessee's Partner. + +Viewed under more favorable circumstances, it would not have been a +cheerful place. The unpicturesque site, the rude and unlovely outlines, +the unsavory details, which distinguish the nest-building of the +California miner, were all here with the dreariness of decay superadded. +A few paces from the cabin there was a rough inclosure, which, in the +brief days of Tennessee's Partner's matrimonial felicity, had been used +as a garden, but was now overgrown with fern. As we approached it, we +were surprised to find that what we had taken for a recent attempt at +cultivation was the broken soil about an open grave. + +The cart was halted before the inclosure, and rejecting the offers of +assistance with the same air of simple self-reliance he had displayed +throughout, Tennessee's Partner lifted the rough coffin on his back, and +deposited it unaided within the shallow grave. He then nailed down the +board which served as a lid, and mounting the little mound of earth +beside it, took off his hat and slowly mopped his face with his +handkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary to speech, and they +disposed themselves variously on stumps and boulders, and sat expectant. + +"When a man," began Tennessee's Partner slowly, "has been running free +all day, what's the natural thing for him to do? Why, to come home. And +if he ain't in a condition to go home, what can his best friend do? Why, +bring him home. And here's Tennessee has been running free, and we +brings him home from his wandering." He paused and picked up a fragment +of quartz, rubbed it thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on: "It ain't +the first time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd me now. It +ain't the first time that I brought him to this yer cabin when he +couldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and Jinny have +waited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so fetched him home, +when he couldn't speak and didn't know me. And now that it's the last +time, why"--he paused and rubbed the quartz gently on his sleeve--"you +see it's sort of rough on his pardner. And now, gentlemen," he added +abruptly, picking up his long-handled shovel, "the fun'l's over; and my +thanks, and Tennessee's thanks, to you for your trouble." + +Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the grave, +turning his back upon the crowd, that after a few moments' hesitation +gradually withdrew. As they crossed the little ridge that hid Sandy Bar +from view, some, looking back, thought they could see Tennessee's +Partner, his work done, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between his +knees, and his face buried in his red bandana handkerchief. But it was +argued by others that you couldn't tell his face from his handkerchief +at that distance, and this point remained undecided. + +In the reaction that followed the feverish excitement of that day, +Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret investigation had +cleared him of any complicity in Tennessee's guilt, and left only a +suspicion of his general sanity. Sandy Bar made a point of calling on +him, and proffering various uncouth but well-meant kindnesses. But from +that day his rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline; +and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-blades were +beginning to peep from the rocky mound above Tennessee's grave, he took +to his bed. + +One night, when the pines beside the cabin were swaying in the storm and +trailing their slender fingers over the roof, and the roar and rush of +the swollen river were heard below, Tennessee's Partner lifted his head +from the pillow, saying, "It is time to go for Tennessee; I must put +Jinny in the cart"; and would have risen from his bed but for the +restraint of his attendant. Struggling, he still pursued his singular +fancy: "There, now, steady, Jinny,--steady, old girl. How dark it is! +Look out for the ruts,--and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes, +you know, when he's blind drunk, he drops down right in the trail. Keep +on straight up to the pine on the top of the hill. Thar! I told you +so!--thar he is,--coming this way, too,--all by himself, sober, and his +face a-shining. Tennessee! Pardner!" + +And so they met. + + +NOTES + +=Sandy Bar=:--The imaginary mining-camp in which Bret Harte laid the +scenes of many of his stories. + +=dungaree=:--A coarse kind of unbleached cotton cloth. + +=I call=:--An expression used in the game of euchre. + +=bowers=:--_Bower_ is from the German word _bauer_, meaning a +peasant,--so called from the jack or knave; the right bower, in the game +of euchre, is the jack of trumps, and the left bower is the other jack +of the same color. + +=chaparral=:--A thicket of scrub-oaks or thorny shrubs. + +=euchred=:--Defeated, as in the game of euchre. + +=Judge Lynch=:--A name used for the hurried judging and executing of a +suspected person, by private citizens, without due process of law. A +Virginian named Lynch is said to have been connected with the origin of +the expression. + +"=diseased=":--Tennessee's Partner means _deceased_. + +=sluicing=:--A trough for water, fitted with gates and valves; it is +used in washing out gold from the soil. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why is the first sentence a good introduction? Compare it with the first +sentence of _Quite So_, page 21. In this selection, why does the author +say so much about names? Of what value is the first paragraph? Why is it +necessary to tell about Tennessee's Partner's earlier experiences? Who +were "the boys" who gathered to see the shooting? Why did they think +there would be shooting? Why was there not? Why does the author not give +us a fuller picture of Tennessee? What is the proof that he had "a fine +flow of humor"? Try in a few words to sum up his character. Read +carefully the paragraph beginning "It was a warm night": How does the +author give us a good picture of Sandy Bar? Tell in your own words the +feelings of the judge, the prisoner, and the jury, as explained in the +paragraph beginning "The trial of Tennessee." What does the author gain +by such expressions as "a less ambitious covering," "meteorological +recollection"? What does Tennessee's Partner mean when he says "What +should a man know of his pardner"? Why did the judge think that humor +would be dangerous? Why are the people angry when Tennessee's Partner +offers his seventeen hundred dollars for Tennessee's release? Why does +Tennessee's Partner take its rejection so calmly? What effect does his +offer have on the jury? What does the author mean by "the weak and +foolish deed"? Does he approve the hanging? Why does Tennessee's Partner +not show any grief? What do you think of Jack Folinsbee? What is gained +by the long passage of description? What does Tennessee's Partner's +speech show about the friendship of the two men? About friendship in +general? Do men often care so much for each other? Is it possible that +Tennessee's Partner died of grief? Is the conclusion good? Comment on +the kind of men who figure in the story. Are there any such men now? Why +is this called a very good story? + +Some time after you have read the story, run through it and see how many +different sections or scenes there are in it. How are these sections +linked together? Look carefully at the beginning of each paragraph and +see how the connection is made with the paragraph before. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Two Friends +A Miner's Cabin +The Thief +The Road through the Woods +The Trial +A Scene in the Court Room +Early Days in our County +Bret Harte's Best Stories +The Escaped Convict +The Highwayman +A Lumber Camp +Roughing It +The Judge +The Robbers' Rendezvous +An Odd Character +Early Days in the West +A Mining Town +Underground with the Miners +Capturing the Thieves +The Sheriff + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=Two Friends=:--Tell where these two friends lived and how long they had +known each other. Describe each one, explaining his peculiarities; +perhaps you can make his character clear by telling some incident +concerning him. What seemed to be the attraction between the two +friends? Were they much together? What did people say of them? What did +they do for each other? Did they talk to others about their friendship? +Did either make a sacrifice for the other? If so, tell about it rather +fully. Was there any talk about it? What was the result of the +sacrifice? Was the friendship ever broken? + +=Early Days in our County=:--Perhaps you can get material for this from +some old settlers, or from a county history. Tell of the first +settlement: Who was first on the ground, and why did he choose this +particular region? What kind of shelter was erected? How fast did the +settlement grow? Tell some incidents of the early days. You might speak +also of the processes of clearing the land and of building; of primitive +methods of living, and the difficulty of getting supplies. Were there +any dangers? Speak of several prominent persons, and tell what they did. +Go on and tell of development of the settlements and the surrounding +country. Were there any strikingly good methods of making money? Was +there any excitement over land, or gold, or high prices of products? +Were there any misfortunes, such as floods, or droughts, or fires, or +cyclones? When did the railroad reach the region? What differences did +it make? What particular influences have brought about recent +conditions? + +=The Sheriff=:--Describe the sheriff--his physique, his features, his +clothes, his manner. Does he look the part? Do you know, or can you +imagine, one of his adventures? Perhaps you will wish to tell his story +in his own words. Think carefully whether it would be better to do this, +or to tell the story in the third person. Make the tale as lively and +stirring as possible. Remember that when you are reporting the talk of +the persons involved, it is better to quote their words directly. See +that everything you say helps in making the situation clear or in +actually telling the story. Close the story rather quickly after its +outcome has been made quite clear. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar Bret Harte +The Outcasts of Poker Flat " " +The Luck of Roaring Camp " " +Baby Sylvester " " +A Waif of the Plains " " +How I Went to the Mines " " +M'liss " " +Frontier Stories " " +Tales of the Argonauts " " +A Sappho of Green Springs and Other Stories " " +Pony Tracks Frederic Remington +Crooked Trails " " +Coeur d'Alène Mary Hallock Foote +The Led-Horse Claim " " " +Wolfville Days Alfred Henry Lewis +Wolfville Nights " " " +The Sunset Trail " " " +Pathfinders of the West Agnes C. Laut +The Old Santa Fé Trail H. Inman +Stories of the Great West Theodore Roosevelt +California and the Californians D.S. Jordan +Our Italy C.D. Warner +California Josiah Royce +The West from a Car Window R.H. Davis +The Story of the Railroad Cy Warman +Roughing It S.L. Clemens +Poems Joaquin Miller + + +Appropriate poems by Bret Harte:-- + +John Burns of Gettysburg +In the Tunnel +The Lost Galleon +Grizzly +Battle Bunny +The Wind in the Chimney +Reveille +Plain Language from Truthful James (The Heathen Chinee) + +Highways and Byways in the Rocky Mountains Clifton Johnson +Trails of the Pathfinders G.B. Grinnell +Stories of California E.M. Sexton +Glimpses of California Helen Hunt Jackson +California: Its History and Romance J.S. McGroarty +Heroes of California G.W. James +Recollections of an Old Pioneer P.H. Bennett +The Mountains of California John Muir +Romantic California E.C. Peixotto +Silverado Squatters R.L. Stevenson +Jimville: A Bret Harte Town + (in _Atlantic Monthly_, November, 1902) Mary Austin +The Prospector (poem) Robert W. Service +The Rover " " " +The Life of Bret Harte H.C. Merwin +Bret Harte Henry W. Boynton +Bret Harte T.E. Pemberton +American Writers of To-day, pp. 212-229 H.C. Vedder +Bookman, 15:312 (see also map on page 313). + +For stories of famous friendships, look up:-- + +Damon and Pythias (any good encyclopedia). +Patroclus and Achilles (the Iliad). +David and Jonathan (the Bible: 1st Samuel 18:1-4; 19:1-7; chapter 20, + entire; 23:16-18; chapter 31, entire; 2d Samuel, chapter 1, entire). +The Substitute (Le Remplaçant) François Coppée + (In _Modern Short-stories_ edited by M. Ashmun.) + + + + +THE COURSE OF AMERICAN HISTORY + +WOODROW WILSON + +(In _Mere Literature_) + + +Our national history has been written for the most part by New England +men. All honor to them! Their scholarship and their characters alike +have given them an honorable enrollment amongst the great names of our +literary history; and no just man would say aught to detract, were it +never so little, from their well-earned fame. They have written our +history, nevertheless, from but a single point of view. From where they +sit, the whole of the great development looks like an Expansion of New +England. Other elements but play along the sides of the great process by +which the Puritan has worked out the development of nation and polity. +It is he who has gone out and possessed the land: the man of destiny, +the type and impersonation of a chosen people. To the Southern writer, +too, the story looks much the same, if it be but followed to its +culmination,--to its final storm and stress and tragedy in the great +war. It is the history of the Suppression of the South. Spite of all her +splendid contributions to the steadfast accomplishment of the great task +of building the nation; spite of the long leadership of her statesmen in +the national counsels; spite of her joint achievements in the conquest +and occupation of the West, the South was at last turned upon on every +hand, rebuked, proscribed, defeated. The history of the United States, +we have learned, was, from the settlement at Jamestown to the surrender +at Appomattox, a long-drawn contest for mastery between New England and +the South,--and the end of the contest we know. All along the parallels +of latitude ran the rivalry, in those heroical days of toil and +adventure during which population crossed the continent, like an army +advancing its encampments, Up and down the great river of the continent, +too, and beyond, up the slow incline of the vast steppes that lift +themselves toward the crowning towers of the Rockies,--beyond that, +again, in the gold-fields and upon the green plains of California, the +race for ascendency struggled on,--till at length there was a final +coming face to face, and the masterful folk who had come from the loins +of New England won their consummate victory. + +It is a very dramatic form for the story. One almost wishes it were +true. How fine a unity it would give our epic! But perhaps, after all, +the real truth is more interesting. The life of the nation cannot be +reduced to these so simple terms. These two great forces, of the North +and of the South, unquestionably existed,--were unquestionably projected +in their operation out upon the great plane of the continent, there to +combine or repel, as circumstances might determine. But the people that +went out from the North were not an unmixed people; they came from the +great Middle States as well as from New England. Their transplantation +into the West was no more a reproduction of New England or New York or +Pennsylvania or New Jersey than Massachusetts was a reproduction of old +England, or New Netherland a reproduction of Holland. The Southern +people, too, whom they met by the western rivers and upon the open +prairies, were transformed, as they themselves were, by the rough +fortunes of the frontier. A mixture of peoples, a modification of mind +and habit, a new round of experiment and adjustment amidst the novel +life of the baked and untilled plain, and the far valleys with the +virgin forests still thick upon them: a new temper, a new spirit of +adventure, a new impatience of restraint, a new license of life,--these +are the characteristic notes and measures of the time when the nation +spread itself at large upon the continent, and was transformed from a +group of colonies into a family of States. + +The passes of these eastern mountains were the arteries of the nation's +life. The real breath of our growth and manhood came into our nostrils +when first, like Governor Spotswood and that gallant company of +Virginian gentlemen that rode with him in the far year 1716, the Knights +of the Order of the Golden Horseshoe, our pioneers stood upon the ridges +of the eastern hills and looked down upon those reaches of the continent +where lay the untrodden paths of the westward migration. There, upon the +courses of the distant rivers that gleamed before them in the sun, down +the farther slopes of the hills beyond, out upon the broad fields that +lay upon the fertile banks of the "Father of Waters," up the long tilt +of the continent to the vast hills that looked out upon the +Pacific--there were the regions in which, joining with people from every +race and clime under the sun, they were to make the great compounded +nation whose liberty and mighty works of peace were to cause all the +world to stand at gaze. Thither were to come Frenchmen, Scandinavians, +Celts, Dutch, Slavs,--men of the Latin races and of the races of the +Orient, as well as men, a great host, of the first stock of the +settlements: English, Scots, Scots-Irish,--like New England men, but +touched with the salt of humor, hard, and yet neighborly too. For this +great process of growth by grafting, of modification no less than of +expansion, the colonies,--the original thirteen States,--were only +preliminary studies and first experiments. But the experiments that most +resembled the great methods by which we peopled the continent from side +to side and knit a single polity across all its length and breadth, were +surely the experiments made from the very first in the Middle States of +our Atlantic seaboard. + +Here from the first were mixture of population, variety of element, +combination of type, as if of the nation itself in small. Here was never +a simple body, a people of but a single blood and extraction, a polity +and a practice brought straight from one motherland. The life of these +States was from the beginning like the life of the country: they have +always shown the national pattern. In New England and the South it was +very different. There some of the great elements of the national life +were long in preparation: but separately and with an individual +distinction; without mixture,--for long almost without movement. That +the elements thus separately prepared were of the greatest importance, +and run everywhere like chief threads of the pattern through all our +subsequent life, who can doubt? They give color and tone to every part +of the figure. The very fact that they are so distinct and separately +evident throughout, the very emphasis of individuality they carry with +them, but proves their distinct origin. The other elements of our life, +various though they be, and of the very fibre, giving toughness and +consistency to the fabric, are merged in its texture, united, confused, +almost indistinguishable, so thoroughly are they mixed, intertwined, +interwoven, like the essential strands of the stuff itself: but these +of the Puritan and the Southerner, though they run everywhere with the +rest and seem upon a superficial view themselves the body of the cloth, +in fact modify rather than make it. + +What in fact has been the course of American history? How is it to be +distinguished from European history? What features has it of its own, +which give it its distinctive plan and movement? We have suffered, it is +to be feared, a very serious limitation of view until recent years by +having all our history written in the East. It has smacked strongly of a +local flavor. It has concerned itself too exclusively with the origins +and Old-World derivations of our story. Our historians have made their +march from the sea with their heads over shoulder, their gaze always +backward upon the landing-places and homes of the first settlers. In +spite of the steady immigration, with its persistent tide of foreign +blood, they have chosen to speak often and to think always of our people +as sprung after all from a common stock, bearing a family likeness in +every branch, and following all the while old, familiar, family ways. +The view is the more misleading because it is so large a part of the +truth without being all of it. The common British stock did first make +the country, and has always set the pace. There were common institutions +up and down the coast; and these had formed and hardened for a +persistent growth before the great westward migration began which was to +re-shape and modify every element of our life. The national government +itself was set up and made strong by success while yet we lingered for +the most part upon the eastern coast and feared a too distant frontier. + +But, the beginnings once safely made, change set in apace. Not only so: +there had been slow change from the first. We have no frontier now, we +are told,--except a broken fragment, it may be, here and there in some +barren corner of the western lands, where some inhospitable mountain +still shoulders us out, or where men are still lacking to break the +baked surface of the plains and occupy them in the very teeth of hostile +nature. But at first it was all frontier,--a mere strip of settlements +stretched precariously upon the sea-edge of the wilds: an untouched +continent in front of them, and behind them an unfrequented sea that +almost never showed so much as the momentary gleam of a sail. Every step +in the slow process of settlement was but a step of the same kind as the +first, an advance to a new frontier like the old. For long we lacked, it +is true, that new breed of frontiersmen born in after years beyond the +mountains. Those first frontiersmen had still a touch of the timidity of +the Old World in their blood: they lacked the frontier heart. They were +"Pilgrims" in very fact,--exiled, not at home. Fine courage they had: +and a steadfastness in their bold design which it does a faint-hearted +age good to look back upon. There was no thought of drawing back. +Steadily, almost calmly, they extended their seats. They built homes, +and deemed it certain their children would live there after them. But +they did not love the rough, uneasy life for its own sake. How long did +they keep, if they could, within sight of the sea! The wilderness was +their refuge; but how long before it became their joy and hope! Here was +their destiny cast; but their hearts lingered and held back. It was only +as generations passed and the work widened about them that their thought +also changed, and a new thrill sped along their blood. Their life had +been new and strange from their first landing in the wilderness. Their +houses, their food, their clothing, their neighborhood dealings were all +such as only the frontier brings. Insensibly they were themselves +changed. The strange life became familiar; their adjustment to it was at +length unconscious and without effort; they had no plans which were not +inseparably a part and a product of it. But, until they had turned their +backs once for all upon the sea; until they saw their western borders +cleared of the French; until the mountain passes had grown familiar, and +the lands beyond the central and constant theme of their hope, the goal +and dream of their young men, they did not become an American people. + +When they did, the great determining movement of our history began. The +very visages of the people changed. That alert movement of the eye, that +openness to every thought of enterprise or adventure, that nomadic habit +which knows no fixed home and has plans ready to be carried any +whither,--all the marks of the authentic type of the "American" as we +know him came into our life. The crack of the whip and the song of the +teamster, the heaving chorus of boatmen poling their heavy rafts upon +the rivers, the laughter of the camp, the sound of bodies of men in the +still forests, became the characteristic notes in our air. A roughened +race, embrowned in the sun, hardened in manner by a coarse life of +change and danger, loving the rude woods and the crack of the rifle, +living to begin something new every day, striking with the broad and +open hand, delicate in nothing but the touch of the trigger, leaving +cities in its track as if by accident rather than design, settling again +to the steady ways of a fixed life only when it must: such was the +American people whose achievement it was to be to take possession of +their continent from end to end ere their national government was a +single century old. The picture is a very singular one! Settled life and +wild side by side: civilization frayed at the edges,--taken forward in +rough and ready fashion, with a song and a swagger,--not by statesmen, +but by woodsmen and drovers, with axes and whips and rifles in their +hands, clad in buckskin, like huntsmen. + +It has been said that we have here repeated some of the first processes +of history; that the life and methods of our frontiersmen take us back +to the fortunes and hopes of the men who crossed Europe when her +forests, too, were still thick upon her. But the difference is really +very fundamental, and much more worthy of remark than the likeness. +Those shadowy masses of men whom we see moving upon the face of the +earth in the far-away, questionable days when states were forming: even +those stalwart figures we see so well as they emerge from the deep +forests of Germany, to displace the Roman in all his western provinces +and set up the states we know and marvel upon at this day, show us men +working their new work at their own level. They do not turn back a long +cycle of years from the old and settled states, the ordered cities, the +tilled fields, and the elaborated governments of an ancient +civilization, to begin as it were once more at the beginning. They carry +alike their homes and their states with them in the camp and upon the +ordered march of the host. They are men of the forest, or else men +hardened always to take the sea in open boats. They live no more roughly +in the new lands than in the old. The world has been frontier for them +from the first. They may go forward with their life in these new seats +from where they left off in the old. How different the circumstances of +our first settlement and the building of new states on this side the +sea! Englishmen, bred in law and ordered government ever since the +Norman lawyers were followed a long five hundred years ago across the +narrow seas by those masterful administrators of the strong Plantagenet +race, leave an ancient realm and come into a wilderness where states +have never been; leave a land of art and letters, which saw but +yesterday "the spacious times of great Elizabeth," where Shakespeare +still lives in the gracious leisure of his closing days at Stratford, +where cities teem with trade and men go bravely dight in cloth of gold, +and turn back six centuries,--nay, a thousand years and more,--to the +first work of building states in a wilderness! They bring the steadied +habits and sobered thoughts of an ancient realm into the wild air of an +untouched continent. The weary stretches of a vast sea lie, like a full +thousand years of time, between them and the life in which till now all +their thought was bred. Here they stand, as it were, with all their +tools left behind, centuries struck out of their reckoning, driven back +upon the long dormant instincts and forgotten craft of their race, not +used this long age. Look how singular a thing: the work of a primitive +race, the thought of a civilized! Hence the strange, almost grotesque +groupings of thought and affairs in that first day of our history. +Subtle politicians speak the phrases and practice the arts of intricate +diplomacy from council chambers placed within log huts within a +clearing. Men in ruffs and lace and polished shoe-buckles thread the +lonely glades of primeval forests. The microscopical distinctions of the +schools, the thin notes of a metaphysical theology are woven in and out +through the labyrinths of grave sermons that run hours long upon the +still air of the wilderness. Belief in dim refinements of dogma is made +the test for man or woman who seeks admission to a company of pioneers. +When went there by an age since the great flood when so singular a thing +was seen as this: thousands of civilized men suddenly rusticated and +bade do the work of primitive peoples,--Europe _frontiered_! + +Of course there was a deep change wrought, if not in these men, at any +rate in their children; and every generation saw the change deepen. It +must seem to every thoughtful man a notable thing how, while the change +was wrought, the simples of things complex were revealed in the clear +air of the New World: how all accidentals seemed to fall away from the +structure of government, and the simple first principles were laid bare +that abide always; how social distinctions were stripped off, shown to +be the mere cloaks and masks they were, and every man brought once again +to a clear realization of his actual relations to his fellows! It was as +if trained and sophisticated men had been rid of a sudden of their +sophistication and of all the theory of their life, and left with +nothing but their discipline of faculty, a schooled and sobered +instinct. And the fact that we kept always, for close upon three hundred +years, a like element in our life, a frontier people always in our van, +is, so far, the central and determining fact of our national history. +"East" and "West," an ever-changing line, but an unvarying experience +and a constant leaven of change working always within the body of our +folk. Our political, our economic, our social life has felt this potent +influence from the wild border all our history through. The "West" is +the great word of our history. The "Westerner" has been the type and +master of our American life. Now at length, as I have said, we have lost +our frontier; our front lies almost unbroken along all the great coast +line of the western sea. The Westerner, in some day soon to come, will +pass out of our life, as he so long ago passed out of the life of the +Old World. Then a new epoch will open for us. Perhaps it has opened +already. Slowly we shall grow old, compact our people, study the +delicate adjustments of an intricate society, and ponder the niceties, +as we have hitherto pondered the bulks and structural framework, of +government. Have we not, indeed, already come to these things? But the +past we know. We can "see it steady and see it whole"; and its central +movement and motive are gross and obvious to the eye. + +Till the first century of the Constitution is rounded out we stand all +the while in the presence of that stupendous westward movement which has +filled the continent: so vast, so various, at times so tragical, so +swept by passion. Through all the long time there has been a line of +rude settlements along our front wherein the same tests of power and of +institutions were still being made that were made first upon the sloping +banks of the rivers of old Virginia and within the long sweep of the Bay +of Massachusetts. The new life of the West has reacted all the +while--who shall say how powerfully?--upon the older life of the East; +and yet the East has moulded the West as if she sent forward to it +through every decade of the long process the chosen impulses and +suggestions of history. The West has taken strength, thought, training, +selected aptitudes out of the old treasures of the East,--as if out of +a new Orient; while the East has itself been kept fresh, vital, alert, +originative by the West, her blood quickened all the while, her youth +through every age renewed. Who can say in a word, in a sentence, in a +volume, what destinies have been variously wrought, with what new +examples of growth and energy, while, upon this unexampled scale, +community has passed beyond community across the vast reaches of this +great continent! + + +NOTES + +=Jamestown=:--A town in Virginia, the site of the first English +settlement in America (1607). + +=Appomattox=:--In 1865 Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox, Virginia. + +=epic=:--A long narrative poem recounting in a stirring way some great +series of events. + +=Governor Spotswood=:--Governor of Virginia in the early part of the +eighteenth century. + +=Knights of the Golden Horseshoe=:--In 1716 an exploring expedition +under Governor Spotswood made a journey across the Blue Ridge. The +Governor gave each member of the party a gold horseshoe, as a souvenir. + +=Celts=:--One of the early Aryan races of southwestern Europe; the Welsh +and the Highland Scotch are descended from the Celts. + +=Slavs=:--The race of people inhabiting Russia, Poland, Bohemia, and +Servia. + +=Latin races=:--The French, Spanish, and Italian people, whose languages +are derived chiefly from the Latin. + +=Orient=:--The far East--India, China, Japan, etc. + +=Norman=:--The Norman-French from northern France had been in possession +of England for the greater part of a century (1066-1154) when Henry, son +of a Saxon princess and a French duke (Geoffrey of Anjou) came to +England as Henry II, the first of the Plantagenet line of English kings. + +=Stratford=:--A small town on the Avon River in England; the birthplace +of Shakespeare. + +=dight=:--Clothed. (What does an unabridged dictionary say about this +word? Is it commonly used nowadays? Was it used in Shakespeare's time? +Why does the author use it here?) + +=see it steady and see it whole=:--A quotation from the works of Matthew +Arnold, an English poet and critic. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What has been the disadvantage of having our history written by New +England men? Do you know what particular New England men have written of +American history? What state is President Wilson from? What is meant by +the "Suppression of the South"? Why does the author put in the phrase +"we have learned"? Does he believe what he is saying? Show where he +makes his own view clear. What "story" is it that one "almost wishes" +were true? _Went out from the North_: Where? How are the Northerners and +the Southerners changed after they have gone West? What "new temper" do +they have? How do they show their "impatience of restraint"? What +eastern mountains are meant here? How did our nation gain new life when +the pioneers looked westward from the eastern ridges? Why are we spoken +of as a "great compounded nation"? What are our "mighty works of peace"? +The author now shows how the Middle Seaboard States were a type of the +later form of the nation, because they had a mixed population. What does +he think about the influence of the Puritan and the Southerner? Note the +questions that he asks regarding the course of American history. See how +he answers them in the pages that follow. Why does he say that the first +frontiersmen were "timid"? When, according to the author, did the "great +determining movement" of our history begin? Why does he call the picture +that he draws a "singular" one? What is meant by "civilization frayed at +the edges"? How do the primitive conditions of our nation differ from +the earliest beginnings of the European nations? (See the long passage +beginning "How different.") What is meant by "Europe frontiered"? Look +carefully on page 261, to see what the author says is "the central and +determining fact of our national history." What is the "great word" of +our history? Has the author answered the questions he set for himself on +page 256? What is happening to us as a nation now that we have lost our +frontier? What is the relation between the East and the West? Perhaps +you will like to go on and read some more of this essay, from which we +have here only a selection. Do you like what the author has said? What +do you think of the way in which he has said it? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Life in the Wilderness +The Log Cabin +La Salle +My Friend from the West +My Friend from the East +Crossing the Mountains +Early Days in our State +An Encounter with the Indians +The Coming of the Railroad +Daniel Boone +A Home on the Prairies +Cutting down the Forest +The Homesteader +A Frontier Town +Life on a Western Ranch +The Old Settler +Some Stories of the Early Days +Moving West +Lewis and Clark +The Pioneer +The Old Settlers' Picnic +"Home-coming Day" in our Town +An Explorer +My Trip through the West (or the East) +The President + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=La Salle=:--Look up, in Parkman's _La Salle_ or elsewhere, the facts of +La Salle's life. Make very brief mention of his life in France. Contrast +it with his experiences in America. What were his reasons for becoming +an explorer? Give an account of one of his expeditions: his plans; his +preparations; his companions; his hardships; his struggles to establish +a fort; his return to Canada for help; his failure or success. Perhaps +you will want to write of his last expedition, and its unfortunate +ending. Speak of his character as a man and an explorer. Show briefly +the results of his endeavors. + +=Daniel Boone=:--Look up the adventures of Daniel Boone, and tell some +of them in a lively way. Perhaps you can imagine his telling them in his +own words to a settler or a companion. In that case, try to put in the +questions and the comments of the other person. This will make a kind of +dramatic conversation. + +=Early Days in our State=:--With a few changes, you can use the outline +given on page 249 for "Early Days in our County." + +=An Encounter with the Indians=:--Tell a story that you have heard or +imagined, about some one's escape from the Indians. How did the hero +happen to get into such a perilous situation? Briefly describe his +surroundings. Tell of his first knowledge that the Indians were about to +attack him. What did he do? How did he feel? Describe the Indians. Tell +what efforts the hero made to get away or to protect himself. Make the +account of his action brief and lively. Try to keep him before the +reader all the time. Now and then explain what was going on in his mind. +This is often a good way to secure suspense. Tell very clearly how the +hero succeeded in escaping, and what his difficulties were in getting +away from the spot. Condense the account of what took place after his +actual escape. Where did he take refuge? Was he much the worse for his +adventure? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Course of American History + (in _Mere Literature_) Woodrow Wilson +The Life of George Washington " " +The Winning of the West Theodore Roosevelt +Stories of the Great West " " +Hero Tales from American History Roosevelt and Lodge +The Great Salt Lake Trail Inman and Cody +The Old Santa Fé Trail H. Inman +Rocky Mountain Exploration Reuben G. Thwaites +Daniel Boone " " " +How George Rogers Clark Won the Northwest " " " +Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road H.A. Bruce +The Crossing Winston Churchill +The Conquest of Arid America W.E. Smythe +The Last American Frontier F.L. Paxon +Northwestern Fights and Fighters Cyrus Townsend Brady +Western Frontier Stories The Century Company +The Story of Tonty Mary Hartwell Catherwood +Heroes of the Middle West " " " +Pony Tracks Frederic Remington +The Different West A.E. Bostwick +The Expedition of Lewis and Clark J.K. Hosmer +The Trail of Lewis and Clark O.D. Wheeler +The Discovery of the Old Northwest James Baldwin +Boots and Saddles Elizabeth Custer +La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West Francis Parkman +The Oregon Trail " " +Samuel Houston Henry Bruce +The Story of the Railroad Cy Warman +The Pioneers Walt Whitman +The Story of the Cowboy Emerson Hough +Woodrow Wilson W.B. Hale +Recollections of Thirteen Presidents John S. Wise +Presidential Problems Grover Cleveland +The Story of the White House Esther Singleton + + + + +WHAT I KNOW ABOUT GARDENING + +CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER + +(From _My Summer in a Garden_) + + +NINTH WEEK + +I am more and more impressed with the moral qualities of vegetables, and +contemplate forming a science which shall rank with comparative anatomy +and comparative philology,--the science of comparative vegetable +morality. We live in an age of protoplasm. And, if life-matter is +essentially the same in all forms of life, I purpose to begin early, and +ascertain the nature of the plants for which I am responsible. I will +not associate with any vegetable which is disreputable, or has not some +quality that can contribute to my moral growth. I do not care to be seen +much with the squashes or the dead-beets.... + +This matter of vegetable rank has not been at all studied as it should +be. Why do we respect some vegetables, and despise others, when all of +them come to an equal honor or ignominy on the table? The bean is a +graceful, confiding, engaging vine; but you never can put beans into +poetry, nor into the highest sort of prose. There is no dignity in the +bean. Corn, which in my garden grows alongside the bean, and, so far as +I can see, with no affectation of superiority, is, however, the child of +song. It waves in all literature. But mix it with beans, and its high +tone is gone. Succotash is vulgar. It is the bean in it. The bean is a +vulgar vegetable, without culture, or any flavor of high society among +vegetables. Then there is the cool cucumber, like so many people,--good +for nothing when it is ripe and the wildness has gone out of it. How +inferior in quality it is to the melon, which grows upon a similar vine, +is of a like watery consistency, but is not half so valuable! The +cucumber is a sort of low comedian in a company where the melon is a +minor gentleman. I might also contrast the celery with the potato. The +associations are as opposite as the dining-room of the duchess and the +cabin of the peasant. I admire the potato, both in vine and blossom; but +it is not aristocratic. I began digging my potatoes, by the way, about +the 4th of July; and I fancy I have discovered the right way to do it. I +treat the potato just as I would a cow. I do not pull them up, and shake +them out, and destroy them; but I dig carefully at the side of the hill, +remove the fruit which is grown, leaving the vine undisturbed: and my +theory is that it will go on bearing, and submitting to my exactions, +until the frost cuts it down. It is a game that one would not undertake +with a vegetable of tone. + +The lettuce is to me a most interesting study. Lettuce is like +conversation: it must be fresh and crisp, so sparkling that you scarcely +notice the bitter in it. Lettuce, like most talkers, is, however, apt to +run rapidly to seed. Blessed is that sort which comes to a head, and so +remains, like a few people I know; growing more solid and satisfactory +and tender at the same time, and whiter at the centre, and crisp in +their maturity. Lettuce, like conversation, requires a good deal of oil, +to avoid friction, and keep the company smooth; a pinch of attic salt; a +dash of pepper; a quantity of mustard and vinegar, by all means, but so +mixed that you will notice no sharp contrasts; and a trifle of sugar. +You can put anything, and the more things the better, into salad, as +into a conversation; but everything depends upon the skill of mixing. I +feel that I am in the best society when I am with lettuce. It is in the +select circle of vegetables. The tomato appears well on the table; but +you do not want to ask its origin. It is a most agreeable _parvenu_. Of +course, I have said nothing about the berries. They live in another and +more ideal region: except, perhaps, the currant. Here we see that, even +among berries, there are degrees of breeding. The currant is well +enough, clear as truth, and exquisite in color; but I ask you to notice +how far it is from the exclusive _hauteur_ of the aristocratic +strawberry, and the native refinement of the quietly elegant raspberry. + +I do not know that chemistry, searching for protoplasm, is able to +discover the tendency of vegetables. It can only be found out by outward +observation. I confess that I am suspicious of the bean, for instance. +There are signs in it of an unregulated life. I put up the most +attractive sort of poles for my Limas. They stand high and straight, +like church-spires, in my theological garden,--lifted up; and some of +them have even budded, like Aaron's rod. No church-steeple in a New +England village was ever better fitted to draw to it the rising +generation on Sunday than those poles to lift up my beans towards +heaven. Some of them did run up the sticks seven feet, and then +straggled off into the air in a wanton manner; but more than half of +them went galivanting off to the neighboring grape-trellis, and wound +their tendrils with the tendrils of the grape, with a disregard of the +proprieties of life which is a satire upon human nature. And the grape +is morally no better. I think the ancients, who were not troubled with +the recondite mystery of protoplasm, were right in the mythic union of +Bacchus and Venus. + +Talk about the Darwinian theory of development and the principle of +natural selection! I should like to see a garden let to run in +accordance with it. If I had left my vegetables and weeds to a free +fight, in which the strongest specimens only should come to maturity, +and the weaker go to the wall, I can clearly see that I should have had +a pretty mess of it. It would have been a scene of passion and license +and brutality. The "pusley" would have strangled the strawberry; the +upright corn, which has now ears to hear the guilty beating of the +hearts of the children who steal the raspberries, would have been +dragged to the earth by the wandering bean; the snake-grass would have +left the place for the potatoes under ground; and the tomatoes would +have been swamped by the lusty weeds. With a firm hand, I have had to +make my own "natural selection." Nothing will so well bear watching as a +garden except a family of children next door. Their power of selection +beats mine. If they could read half as well as they can steal a while +away, I should put up a notice, "_Children, beware! There is Protoplasm +here._" But I suppose it would have no effect. I believe they would eat +protoplasm as quick as anything else, ripe or green. I wonder if this is +going to be a cholera-year. Considerable cholera is the only thing that +would let my apples and pears ripen. Of course I do not care for the +fruit; but I do not want to take the responsibility of letting so much +"life-matter," full of crude and even wicked vegetable-human tendencies, +pass into the composition of the neighbors' children, some of whom may +be as immortal as snake-grass. + +There ought to be a public meeting about this, and resolutions, and +perhaps a clambake. At least, it ought to be put into the catechism, and +put in strong. + + +TENTH WEEK + +I THINK I have discovered the way to keep peas from the birds. +I tried the scarecrow plan, in a way which I thought would outwit the +shrewdest bird. The brain of the bird is not large; but it is all +concentrated on one object, and that is the attempt to elude the devices +of modern civilization which injure his chances of food. I knew that, if +I put up a complete stuffed man, the bird would detect the imitation at +once; the perfection of the thing would show him that it was a trick. +People always overdo the matter when they attempt deception. I therefore +hung some loose garments, of a bright color, upon a rake-head, and set +them up among the vines. The supposition was, that the bird would think +there was an effort to trap him, that there was a man behind, holding up +these garments, and would sing, as he kept at a distance, "You can't +catch me with any such double device." The bird would know, or think he +knew, that I would not hang up such a scare, in the expectation that it +would pass for a man, and deceive a bird; and he would therefore look +for a deeper plot. I expected to outwit the bird by a duplicity that was +simplicity itself. I may have over-calculated the sagacity and reasoning +power of the bird. At any rate, I did over-calculate the amount of peas +I should gather. + +But my game was only half played. In another part of the garden were +other peas, growing and blowing. To these I took good care not to +attract the attention of the bird by any scarecrow whatever! I left the +old scarecrow conspicuously flaunting above the old vines; and by this +means I hope to keep the attention of the birds confined to that side of +the garden. I am convinced that this is the true use of a scarecrow: it +is a lure, and not a warning. If you wish to save men from any +particular vice, set up a tremendous cry of warning about some other, +and they will all give their special efforts to the one to which +attention is called. This profound truth is about the only thing I have +yet realized out of my pea-vines. + +However, the garden does begin to yield. I know of nothing that makes +one feel more complacent, in these July days, than to have his +vegetables from his own garden. What an effect it has on the market-man +and the butcher! It is a kind of declaration of independence. The +market-man shows me his peas and beets and tomatoes, and supposes he +shall send me out some with the meat. "No, I thank you," I say +carelessly: "I am raising my own this year." Whereas I have been wont to +remark, "Your vegetables look a little wilted this weather," I now say, +"What a fine lot of vegetables you've got!" When a man is not going to +buy, he can afford to be generous. To raise his own vegetables makes a +person feel, somehow, more liberal. I think the butcher is touched by +the influence, and cuts off a better roast for me. The butcher is my +friend when he sees that I am not wholly dependent on him. + +It is at home, however, that the effect is most marked, though sometimes +in a way that I had not expected. I have never read of any Roman supper +that seemed to me equal to a dinner of my own vegetables, when +everything on the table is the product of my own labor, except the +clams, which I have not been able to raise yet, and the chickens, which +have withdrawn from the garden just when they were most attractive. It +is strange what a taste you suddenly have for things you never liked +before. The squash has always been to me a dish of contempt; but I eat +it now as if it were my best friend. I never cared for the beet or the +bean; but I fancy now that I could eat them all, tops and all, so +completely have they been transformed by the soil in which they grew. I +think the squash is less squashy, and the beet has a deeper hue of rose, +for my care of them. + +I had begun to nurse a good deal of pride in presiding over a table +whereon was the fruit of my honest industry. But woman!--John Stuart +Mill is right when he says that we do not know anything about women. Six +thousand years is as one day with them. I thought I had something to do +with those vegetables. + +But when I saw Polly seated at her side of the table, presiding over the +new and susceptible vegetables, flanked by the squash and the beans, and +smiling upon the green corn and the new potatoes, as cool as the +cucumbers which lay sliced in ice before her, and when she began to +dispense the fresh dishes, I saw at once that the day of my destiny was +over. You would have thought that she owned all the vegetables, and had +raised them all from their earliest years. Such quiet, vegetable airs! +Such gracious appropriation! + +At length I said,-- + +"Polly, do you know who planted that squash, or those squashes?" + +"James, I suppose." + +"Well, yes, perhaps James did plant them to a certain extent. But who +hoed them?" + +"We did." + +"_We_ did!" I said in the most sarcastic manner. "And I suppose _we_ put +on the sackcloth and ashes, when the striped bug came at four o'clock, +A.M., and we watched the tender leaves, and watered night and +morning the feeble plants. I tell you, Polly," said I, uncorking the +Bordeaux raspberry vinegar, "there is not a pea here that does not +represent a drop of moisture wrung from my brow, not a beet that does +not stand for a backache, not a squash that has not caused me untold +anxiety, and I did hope--but I will say no more." + +_Observation._--In this sort of family discussion, "I will say no more" +is the most effective thing you can close up with. + +I am not an alarmist. I hope I am as cool as anybody this hot summer. +But I am quite ready to say to Polly or any other woman, "You can have +the ballot; only leave me the vegetables, or, what is more important, +the consciousness of power in vegetables." I see how it is. Woman is now +supreme in the house. She already stretches out her hand to grasp the +garden. She will gradually control everything. Woman is one of the +ablest and most cunning creatures who have ever mingled in human +affairs. I understand those women who say they don't want the ballot. +They purpose to hold the real power while we go through the mockery of +making laws. They want the power without the responsibility. (Suppose my +squash had not come up, or my beans--as they threatened at one time--had +gone the wrong way: where would I have been?) We are to be held to all +the responsibilities. Woman takes the lead in all the departments, +leaving us politics only. And what is politics? Let me raise the +vegetables of a nation, says Polly, and I care not who makes its +politics. Here I sat at the table, armed with the ballot, but really +powerless among my own vegetables. While we are being amused by the +ballot, woman is quietly taking things into her own hands. + + +NOTES + +=comparative philology=:--The comparison of words from different +languages, for the purpose of seeing what relationships can be found. + +=protoplasm=:--"The physical basis of life"; the substance which passes +life on from one vegetable or animal to another. + +=attic salt=:--The delicate wit of the Athenians, who lived in the state +of Attica, in Greece. + +=parvenu=:--A French word meaning an upstart who tries to force himself +into good society. + +=Aaron's rod=:--See Numbers, 17:1-10. + +=Bacchus and Venus=:--Bacchus was the Greek god of wine; Venus was the +Greek goddess of love. + +=Darwinian theory=:--Charles R. Darwin (1809-1882) was a great English +scientist who proved that the higher forms of life have developed from +the lower. + +=natural selection=:--One of Darwin's theories, to the effect that +nature weeds out the weak and unfit, leaving the others to continue the +species; the result is called "the survival of the fittest." + +=steal a while away=:--A quotation from a well known hymn beginning,-- + + I love to steal a while away + From every cumbering care. + +It was written in 1829, by Deodatus Dutton. + +=Roman supper=:--The Romans were noted for the extravagance of their +evening meals, at which all sorts of delicacies were served. + +=John Stuart Mill=:--An English philosopher (1806-1873). He wrote about +theories of government. + +=Polly=:--The author's wife. + +=the day of my destiny=:--A quotation from Lord Byron's poem, _Stanzas +to Augusta_ [his sister]. The lines run:-- + + Though the day of my destiny's over, + And the star of my fate hath declined, + Thy soft heart refused to discover + The faults that so many could find. + +=sack-cloth and ashes=:--In old Jewish times, a sign of grief or +mourning. See Esther, 4:1; Isaiah, 58:5. + +=Bordeaux=:--A province in France noted for its wine. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The author is writing of the ninth and tenth weeks of his work; he now +has time to stop and moralize about his garden. Do not take what he says +too seriously; look for the fun in it. Is he in earnest about the moral +qualities of vegetables? Why cannot the bean figure in poetry and +romance? Can you name any prose or verse in which corn does? Explain +what is said about the resemblance of some people to cucumbers. Why is +celery more aristocratic than potato? Is "them" the right word in the +sentence: "I do not pull them up"? Explain what is meant by the +paragraph on salads. Why is the tomato a "_parvenu_"? Does the author +wish to cast a slur on the Darwinian theory? Is it true that moral +character is influenced by what one eats? What is the catechism? What do +you think of the author's theories about scarecrows? About "saving men +from any particular vice"? Why does raising one's own vegetables make +one feel generous? How does the author pass from vegetables to woman +suffrage? Is he in earnest in what he says? What does one get out of a +selection like this? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +My Summer on a Farm +A Garden on the Roof +The Truck Garden +My First Attempt at Gardening +Raspberrying +Planting Time +The Watermelon Patch +Weeding the Garden +Visiting in the Country +Getting Rid of the Insects +School Gardens +A Window-box Garden +Some Weeds of our Vicinity +The Scarecrow +Going to Market +"Votes for Women" +How Women Rule +A Suffrage Meeting +Why I Believe [or do not Believe] in Woman's Suffrage +The "Militants" + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=My First Attempt at Gardening=:--Tell how you came to make the garden. +Was there any talk about it before it was begun? What were your plans +concerning it? Did you spend any time in consulting seed catalogues? +Tell about buying (or otherwise securing) the seeds. If you got them +from some more experienced gardener than yourself, report the talk about +them. Tell how you made the ground ready; how you planted the seeds. +Take the reader into your confidence as to your hopes and uncertainties +when the sprouts began to appear. Did the garden suffer any misfortunes +from the frost, or the drought, or the depredations of the hens? Can you +remember any conversation about it? Tell about the weeding, and what was +said when it became necessary. Trace the progress of the garden; tell of +its success or failure as time went on. What did you do with the +products? Did any one praise or make fun of you? How did you feel? Did +you want to have another garden? + +=The Scarecrow=:--You might speak first about the garden--its prosperity +and beauty, and the fruit or vegetables that it was producing. Then +speak about the birds, and tell how they acted and what they did. Did +you try driving them away? What was said about them? Now tell about the +plans for the scarecrow. Give an account of how it was set up, and what +clothes were put on it. How did it look? What was said about it? Give +one or two incidents (real or imaginary) in which it was concerned. Was +it of any use? How long did it remain in its place? + +=Votes for Women=:--There are several ways in which you could deal with +this subject:-- + +(_a_) If you have seen a suffrage parade, you might describe it and tell +how it impressed you. (_b_) Perhaps you could write of some particular +person who was interested in votes for women: How did she [or he] look, +and what did she say? (_c_) Report a lecture on suffrage. (_d_) Give two +or three arguments for or against woman's suffrage; do not try to take +up too many, but deal with each rather completely. (_e_) Imagine two +people talking together about suffrage--for instance, two old men; a man +and a woman; a young woman and an old one; a child and a grown person; +two children. (_f_) Imagine the author of the selection and his wife +Polly talking about suffrage at the dinner table. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +My Summer in a Garden Charles Dudley Warner +Being a Boy " " " +In the Wilderness " " " +My Winter on the Nile " " " +On Horseback " " " +Back-log Studies " " " +A Journey to Nature A.C. Wheeler +The Making of a Country Home " " +A Self-supporting Home Kate V. St. Maur +Folks back Home Eugene Wood +Adventures in Contentment David Grayson +Adventures in Friendship " " +The Friendly Road " " +New Lives for Old William Carleton +A Living without a Boss Anonymous +The Fat of the Land J.W. Streeter +The Jonathan Papers Elizabeth Woodbridge +Adopting an Abandoned Farm Kate Sanborn +Out-door Studies T.W. Higginson +The Women of America Elizabeth McCracken +The Country Home E.P. Powell +Blessing the Cornfields (in _Hiawatha_) H.W. Longfellow +The Corn Song (in _The Huskers_) J.G. Whittier +Charles Dudley Warner + (in _American Writers of To-day_, pp. 89-103) H.C. Vedder + + + + +THE SINGING MAN + +JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + + +I + + He sang above the vineyards of the world. + And after him the vines with woven hands + Clambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled + Triumphing green above the barren lands; + Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood, + Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil, + And looked upon his work; and it was good: + The corn, the wine, the oil. + + He sang above the noon. The topmost cleft + That grudged him footing on the mountain scars + He planted and despaired not; till he left + His vines soft breathing to the host of stars. + He wrought, he tilled; and even as he sang, + The creatures of his planting laughed to scorn + The ancient threat of deserts where there sprang + The wine, the oil, the corn! + + He sang not for abundance.--Over-lords + Took of his tilth. Yet was there still to reap, + The portion of his labor; dear rewards + Of sunlit day, and bread, and human sleep. + He sang for strength; for glory of the light. + He dreamed above the furrows, 'They are mine!' + When all he wrought stood fair before his sight + With corn, and oil, and wine. + + _Truly, the light is sweet_ + _Yea, and a pleasant thing_ + _It is to see the Sun._ + _And that a man should eat_ + _His bread that he hath won_;-- + (_So is it sung and said_), + _That he should take and keep_, + _After his laboring_, + _The portion of his labor in his bread_, + _His bread that he hath won_; + _Yea, and in quiet sleep_, + _When all is done._ + + He sang; above the burden and the heat, + Above all seasons with their fitful grace; + Above the chance and change that led his feet + To this last ambush of the Market-place. + 'Enough for him,' they said--and still they say-- + 'A crust, with air to breathe, and sun to shine; + He asks no more!'--Before they took away + The corn, the oil, the wine. + + He sang. No more he sings now, anywhere. + Light was enough, before he was undone. + They knew it well, who took away the air, + --Who took away the sun; + Who took, to serve their soul-devouring greed, + Himself, his breath, his bread--the goad of toil;-- + Who have and hold, before the eyes of Need, + The corn, the wine,--the oil! + + + _Truly, one thing is sweet_ + _Of things beneath the Sun_; + _This, that a man should earn his bread and eat_, + _Rejoicing in his work which he hath done._ + _What shall be sung or said_ + _Of desolate deceit_, + _When others take his bread_; + _His and his children's bread?_-- + _And the laborer hath none._ + _This, for his portion now, of all that he hath done._ + _He earns; and others eat._ + _He starves;--they sit at meat_ + _Who have taken away the Sun._ + + +II + + Seek him now, that singing Man. + Look for him, + Look for him + In the mills, + In the mines; + Where the very daylight pines,-- + He, who once did walk the hills! + You shall find him, if you scan + Shapes all unbefitting Man, + Bodies warped, and faces dim. + In the mines; in the mills + Where the ceaseless thunder fills + Spaces of the human brain + Till all thought is turned to pain. + Where the skirl of wheel on wheel, + Grinding him who is their tool, + Makes the shattered senses reel + To the numbness of the fool. + Perisht thought, and halting tongue-- + (Once it spoke;--once it sung!) + Live to hunger, dead to song. + Only heart-beats loud with wrong + Hammer on,--_How long?_ + ... _How long?_--_How long?_ + + Search for him; + Search for him; + Where the crazy atoms swim + Up the fiery furnace-blast. + You shall find him, at the last,-- + He whose forehead braved the sun,-- + Wreckt and tortured and undone. + Where no breath across the heat + Whispers him that life was sweet; + But the sparkles mock and flare, + Scattering up the crooked air. + (Blackened with that bitter mirk,-- + Would God know His handiwork?) + + Thought is not for such as he; + Naught but strength, and misery; + Since, for just the bite and sup, + Life must needs be swallowed up. + Only, reeling up the sky, + Hurtling flames that hurry by, + Gasp and flare, with _Why_--_Why_, + ... _Why?_... + + Why the human mind of him + Shrinks, and falters and is dim + When he tries to make it out: + What the torture is about.-- + Why he breathes, a fugitive + Whom the World forbids to live. + Why he earned for his abode, + Habitation of the toad! + Why his fevered day by day + Will not serve to drive away + Horror that must always haunt:-- + ... _Want_ ... _Want!_ + Nightmare shot with waking pangs;-- + Tightening coil, and certain fangs, + Close and closer, always nigh ... + ... _Why?_... _Why?_ + + Why he labors under ban + That denies him for a man. + Why his utmost drop of blood + Buys for him no human good; + Why his utmost urge of strength + Only lets Them starve at length;-- + Will not let him starve alone; + He must watch, and see his own + Fade and fail, and starve, and die. + . . . . . . . + ... _Why?_... _Why?_ + . . . . . . . + Heart-beats, in a hammering song, + Heavy as an ox may plod, + Goaded--goaded--faint with wrong, + Cry unto some ghost of God + ... _How long_?... _How long?_ + ... _How long?_ + + +III + + Seek him yet. Search for him! + You shall find him, spent and grim; + In the prisons, where we pen + These unsightly shards of men. + Sheltered fast; + Housed at length; + Clothed and fed, no matter how!-- + Where the householders, aghast, + Measure in his broken strength + Nought but power for evil, now. + Beast-of-burden drudgeries + Could not earn him what was his: + He who heard the world applaud + Glories seized by force and fraud, + He must break,--he must take!-- + Both for hate and hunger's sake. + He must seize by fraud and force; + He must strike, without remorse! + Seize he might; but never keep. + Strike, his once!--Behold him here. + (Human life we buy so cheap, + Who should know we held it dear?) + + No denial,--no defence + From a brain bereft of sense, + Any more than penitence. + But the heart-beats now, that plod + Goaded--goaded--dumb with wrong, + Ask not even a ghost of God + ... _How long_? + + _When the Sea gives up its dead,_ + _Prison caverns, yield instead_ + _This, rejected and despised;_ + _This, the Soiled and Sacrificed!_ + _Without form or comeliness;_ + _Shamed for us that did transgress_ + _Bruised, for our iniquities,_ + _With the stripes that are all his!_ + _Face that wreckage, you who can._ + _It was once the Singing Man._ + + +IV + + Must it be?--Must we then + Render back to God again + This His broken work, this thing, + For His man that once did sing? + Will not all our wonders do? + Gifts we stored the ages through, + (Trusting that He had forgot)-- + Gifts the Lord requirèd not? + + Would the all-but-human serve! + Monsters made of stone and nerve; + Towers to threaten and defy + Curse or blessing of the sky; + Shafts that blot the stars with smoke; + Lightnings harnessed under yoke; + Sea-things, air-things, wrought with steel, + That may smite, and fly, and feel! + Oceans calling each to each; + Hostile hearts, with kindred speech. + Every work that Titans can; + Every marvel: save a man, + Who might rule without a sword.-- + Is a man more precious, Lord? + + Can it be?--Must we then + Render back to Thee again + Million, million wasted men? + Men, of flickering human breath, + Only made for life and death? + + Ah, but see the sovereign Few, + Highly favored, that remain! + These, the glorious residue, + Of the cherished race of Cain. + These, the magnates of the age, + High above the human wage, + Who have numbered and possesst + All the portion of the rest! + + What are all despairs and shames, + What the mean, forgotten names + Of the thousand more or less, + For one surfeit of success? + + For those dullest lives we spent, + Take these Few magnificent! + For that host of blotted ones, + Take these glittering central suns. + Few;--but how their lustre thrives + On the million broken lives! + Splendid, over dark and doubt, + For a million souls gone out! + These, the holders of our hoard,-- + Wilt thou not accept them, Lord? + + +V + + Oh in the wakening thunders of the heart, + --The small lost Eden, troubled through the night, + Sounds there not now,--forboded and apart, + Some voice and sword of light? + Some voice and portent of a dawn to break?-- + Searching like God, the ruinous human shard + Of that lost Brother-man Himself did make, + And Man himself hath marred? + + It sounds!--And may the anguish of that birth + Seize on the world; and may all shelters fail, + Till we behold new Heaven and new Earth + Through the rent Temple-vail! + When the high-tides that threaten near and far + To sweep away our guilt before the sky,-- + Flooding the waste of this dishonored Star, + Cleanse, and o'ewhelm, and cry! + + Cry, from the deep of world-accusing waves, + With longing more than all since Light began, + Above the nations,--underneath the graves,-- + 'Give back the Singing Man!' + + +NOTES + +=and it was good=:--Genesis, 1:31: "And God saw all that he had made, +and, behold, it was very good." + +=the ancient threat of deserts=:--Isaiah, 35:1-2: "The desert shall +rejoice and blossom as the rose." + +=after his laboring=:--Luke, 10:7, and 1st Timothy, 5:18: "The laborer +is worthy of his hire." + +=portion of his labor=:--Ecclesiastes, 2:10: "For my heart rejoiced in +my labor; and this was my portion of all my labor." + +=the light is sweet=:--Ecclesiastes, 11:7: "Truly the light is sweet, +and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun." + +=How long=:--Revelation, 6:10: "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost +thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" + +=when the sea=:--Revelation, 20:13: "And the sea gave up the dead which +were in it." + +=rejected and despised=:--For this and the remainder of the stanza, see +Isaiah, 53. + +=Titans=:--In Greek mythology, powerful and troublesome giants. + +=Cain=:--See the story of Cain, Genesis, 4:2-16. + +=searching like God=:--Genesis, 4:9: "And the Lord said unto Cain, Where +is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not! Am I my brother's keeper?" + +=Temple-vail=:--At the death of Christ, the vail of the temple was rent; +see Matthew, 27:51. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY[15] + +Read the poem slowly and thoughtfully. The "singing man" is the laborer +who, in days gone by, was happy in his work. People were not crowded +into great cities, and there was more simple out-door labor than there +is now, and less strife for wealth. + +_Above the vineyards_: In Europe, vineyards are often planted on the +slopes of hills and mountains. What ancient country do you think of in +connection with "the corn [grain], the oil, the wine"? Were the laborers +happy in that country? What were the "creatures" of man's planting +(second stanza)? What was the "ancient threat" of deserts? Of what kind +of deserts, as described here? Of what deserts would this be true after +the rainy season? _Laughed to scorn_: Does this mean "outdid"? Mentally +insert the word _something_ after _still_ in the second line of the +third stanza. If the laborer in times gone by did not sing for +abundance, what did he sing for (stanza three)? The verses in italics +are a kind of refrain, as if the laborer were singing to himself. _So is +it said and sung_ refers to the fact that these lines are adapted from +passages in the Bible. _This last ambush_: What does the author mean +here by suggesting that the laborer has been entrapped? Who are "they" +in the line "'Enough for him,' they said"? How did they take away "the +corn, the oil, the wine"? How did they take away "the air and the sun"? +Who now has the product of the workman's toil? What are "the eyes of +Need"? Is it true that one may work hard and still be in need? If it is +true, who is to blame? What are "dim" faces? Why does the author begin +the word _Man_ with a capital? What effect does too much hard work have +upon the laborer? What is "the crooked air"? Who is represented as +saying _Why_? How does the world forbid the laborer to live? Why are +there dotted lines before and after _Why_ and _What_ and _How long_? Who +are meant by _Them_ in the line beginning "Only lets"? Why does the +author say that the prisons are filled with ill-used laborers? What does +she mean by saying that the prisoners are "bruised for our iniquities"? +What is gained here by using the language of the Bible? _The +all-but-human_ means "almost intelligent"--referring to machinery. Does +the author mean to praise the "sovereign Few"? Who are these "Few +magnificent"? Are they really to blame for the sufferings of the poor? +_Himself_ in the line beginning "Of that lost," refers to God. What is +meant here by "a new Heaven and a new Earth"? What is "this dishonored +Star"? What conditions does the author think will bring back the singing +man? Are they possible conditions? + +Re-read the poem, thinking of the author's protest against the +sufferings of the poor and the selfishness of the rich. What do you +think of the poem? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Singing Man and Other Poems Josephine Preston Peabody +The Piper " " " +The Singing Leaves " " " +Fortune and Men's Eyes " " " +The Wolf of Gubbio " " " +The Man with the Hoe Edwin Markham + + + + +THE DANCE OF THE BON-ODORI + +LAFCADIO HEARN + +(From _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_, Volume I, Chapter VI) + + +I + +At last, from the verge of an enormous ridge, the roadway suddenly +slopes down into a vista of high peaked roofs of thatch and green-mossed +eaves--into a village like a colored print out of old Hiroshige's +picture-books, a village with all its tints and colors precisely like +the tints and colors of the landscape in which it lies. This is +Kami-Ichi, in the land of Hoki. + +We halt before a quiet, dingy little inn, whose host, a very aged man, +comes forth to salute me; while a silent, gentle crowd of villagers, +mostly children and women, gather about the kuruma to see the stranger, +to wonder at him, even to touch his clothes with timid smiling +curiosity. One glance at the face of the old inn-keeper decides me to +accept his invitation. I must remain here until to-morrow: my runners +are too wearied to go farther to-night. + +Weather-worn as the little inn seemed without, it is delightful within. +Its polished stairway and balconies are speckless, reflecting like +mirror-surfaces the bare feet of the maid-servants; its luminous rooms +are fresh and sweet-smelling as when their soft mattings were first laid +down. The carven pillars of the alcove (toko) in my chamber, leaves and +flowers chiseled in some black rich wood, are wonders; and the kakemono +or scroll-picture hanging there is an idyl, Hotei, God of Happiness, +drifting in a bark down some shadowy stream into evening mysteries of +vapory purple. Far as this hamlet is from all art-centres, there is no +object visible in the house which does not reveal the Japanese sense of +beauty in form. The old gold-flowered lacquer-ware, the astonishing box +in which sweetmeats (kwashi) are kept, the diaphanous porcelain +wine-cups dashed with a single tiny gold figure of a leaping shrimp, the +tea-cup holders which are curled lotus-leaves of bronze, even the iron +kettle with its figurings of dragons and clouds, and the brazen hibachi +whose handles are heads of Buddhist lions, delight the eye and surprise +the fancy. Indeed, wherever to-day in Japan one sees something totally +uninteresting in porcelain or metal, something commonplace and ugly, one +may be almost sure that detestable something has been shaped under +foreign influence. But here I am in ancient Japan; probably no European +eyes ever looked upon these things before. + +A window shaped like a heart peeps out upon the garden, a wonderful +little garden with a tiny pond and miniature bridges and dwarf trees, +like the landscape of a tea-cup; also some shapely stones of course, and +some graceful stone lanterns, or t[=o]r[=o], such as are placed in the +courts of temples. And beyond these, through the warm dusk, I see +lights, colored lights, the lanterns of the Bonku, suspended before each +home to welcome the coming of beloved ghosts; for by the antique +calendar, according to which in this antique place the reckoning of time +is still made, this is the first night of the Festival of the Dead. + +As in all other little country villages where I have been stopping, I +find the people here kind to me with a kindness and a courtesy +unimaginable, indescribable, unknown in any other country, and even in +Japan itself only in the interior. Their simple politeness is not an +art; their goodness is absolutely unconscious goodness; both come +straight from the heart. And before I have been two hours among these +people, their treatment of me, coupled with the sense of my utter +inability to repay such kindness, causes a wicked wish to come into my +mind. I wish these charming folk would do me some unexpected wrong, +something surprisingly evil, something atrociously unkind, so that I +should not be obliged to regret them, which I feel sure I must begin to +do as soon as I go away. + +While the aged landlord conducts me to the bath, the wife prepares for +us a charming little repast of rice, eggs, vegetables, and sweetmeats. +She is painfully in doubt about her ability to please me, even after I +have eaten enough for two men, and apologizes too much for not being +able to offer me more. + +"There is no fish," she says, "for to-day is the first day of the Bonku, +the Festival of the Dead; being the thirteenth day of the month. On the +thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth of the month nobody may eat fish. +But on the morning of the sixteenth day, the fishermen go out to catch +fish; and everybody who has both parents living may eat of it. But if +one has lost one's father or mother then one must not eat fish, even +upon the sixteenth day." + +While the good soul is thus explaining I become aware of a strange +remote sound from without, a sound I recognize through memory of +tropical dances, a measured clapping of hands. But this clapping is very +soft and at long intervals. And at still longer intervals there comes to +us a heavy muffled booming, the tap of a great drum, a temple drum. + +"Oh! we must go to see it," cries Akira; "it is the Bon-odori, the +Dance of the Festival of the Dead. And you will see the Bon-odori danced +here as it is never danced in cities--the Bon-odori of ancient days. For +customs have not changed here; but in the cities all is changed." + +So I hasten out, wearing only, like the people about me, one of those +light wide-sleeved summer robes--yukata--which are furnished to male +guests at all Japanese hotels; but the air is so warm that even thus +lightly clad, I find myself slightly perspiring. And the night is +divine,--still, clear, vaster than the nights of Europe, with a big +white moon flinging down queer shadows of tilted eaves and horned +gables, and delightful silhouettes of robed Japanese. A little boy, the +grandson of our host, leads the way with a crimson paper lantern; and +the sonorous echoing of geta, the _koro-koro_ of wooden sandals, fills +all the street, for many are going whither we are going, to see the +dance. + +A little while we proceed along the main street; then, traversing a +narrow passage between two houses, we find ourselves in a great open +space flooded by moonlight. This is the dancing-place; but the dance has +ceased for a time. Looking about me, I perceive that we are in the court +of an ancient Buddhist temple. The temple building itself remains +intact, a low, long peaked silhouette against the starlight; but it is +void and dark and unhallowed now; it has been turned, they tell me, into +a schoolhouse. The priests are gone; the great bell is gone; the Buddhas +and the Bodhisattvas have vanished, all save one,--a broken-handed Jizo +of stone, smiling with eyelids closed, under the moon. + +In the centre of the court is a framework of bamboo supporting a great +drum; and about it benches have been arranged, benches from the +schoolhouse, on which the villagers are resting. There is a hum of +voices, voices of people speaking very low, as if expecting something +solemn; and cries of children betimes, and soft laughter of girls. And +far behind the court, beyond a low hedge of sombre evergreen shrubs, I +see soft white lights and a host of tall gray shapes throwing long +shadows; and I know that the lights are the _white_ lanterns of the dead +(those hung in cemeteries only), and that the gray shapes are the shapes +of tombs. + +Suddenly a girl rises from her seat, and taps the huge drum once. It is +the signal for the Dance of Souls. + + +II + +Out of the shadow of the temple a professional line of dancers files +into the moonlight and as suddenly halts,--all young women or girls, +clad in their choicest attire; the tallest leads; her comrades follow in +order of stature. Little maids of ten or twelve years compose the end of +the procession. Figures lightly poised as birds,--figures that somehow +recall the dreams of shapes circling about certain antique vases; those +charming Japanese robes, close-clinging about the knees, might seem, but +for the great fantastic drooping sleeves, and the curious broad girdles +confining them, designed after the drawing of some Greek or Etruscan +artist. And, at another tap of the drum, there begins a performance +impossible to picture in words, something unimaginable, phantasmal,--a +dance, an astonishment. + +All together glide the right foot forward one pace, without lifting the +sandal from the ground, and extend both hands to the right, with a +strange floating motion and a smiling, mysterious obeisance. Then the +right foot is drawn back, with a repetition of the waving of hands and +the mysterious bow. Then all advance the left foot and repeat the +previous movements, half-turning to the left. Then all take two gliding +paces forward, with a single simultaneous soft clap of the hands, and +the first performance is reiterated, alternately to the right and left; +all the sandaled feet gliding together, all the supple hands waving +together, all the pliant bodies bowing and swaying together. And so +slowly, weirdly, the processional movement changes into a great round, +circling about the moon-lit court and around the voiceless crowd of +spectators. + +And always the white hands sinuously wave together, as if weaving +spells, alternately without and within the round, now with palms upward, +now with palms downward; and all the elfish sleeves hover duskily +together, with a shadowing as of wings; and all the feet poise together +with such a rhythm of complex motion, that, in watching it, one feels a +sensation of hypnotism--as while striving to watch a flowing and +shimmering of water. + +And this soporous allurement is intensified by a dead hush. No one +speaks, not even a spectator. And, in the long intervals between the +soft clapping of hands, one hears only the shrilling of the crickets in +the trees, and the _shu-shu_ of sandals, lightly stirring the dust. Unto +what, I ask myself, may this be likened? Unto nothing; yet it suggests +some fancy of somnambulism,--dreamers, who dream themselves flying, +dreaming upon their feet. + +And there comes to me the thought that I am looking at something +immemorially old, something belonging to the unrecorded beginning of +this Oriental life, perhaps to the crepuscular Kamiyo itself, to the +magical Age of the Gods; a symbolism of motion whereof the meaning has +been forgotten for innumerable years. Yet more and more unreal the +spectacle appears, with silent smilings, with its silent bowings, as if +obeisance to watchers invisible; and I find myself wondering whether, +were I to utter but a whisper, all would not vanish forever, save the +gray mouldering court and the desolate temple, and the broken statue of +Jizo, smiling always the same mysterious smile I see upon the faces of +the dancers. + +Under the wheeling moon, in the midst of the round, I feel as one within +the circle of a charm. And verily, this is enchantment; I am bewitched, +by the ghostly weaving of hands, by the rhythmic gliding of feet, above +all by the flittering of the marvellous sleeves--apparitional, +soundless, velvety as a flitting of great tropical bats. No; nothing I +ever dreamed of could be likened to this. And with the consciousness of +the ancient hakaba behind me, and the weird invitation of its lanterns, +and the ghostly beliefs of the hour and the place, there creeps upon me +a nameless, tingling sense of being haunted. But no! these gracious, +silent, waving, weaving shapes are not of the Shadowy Folk, for whose +coming the white fires were kindled: a strain of song, full of sweet, +clear quavering, like the call of a bird, gushes from some girlish +mouth, and fifty soft voices join the chant:-- + + _Sorota soroimashita odorikoga sorota, + Soroikita, kita hare yukata._ + +"Uniform to view [as ears of young rice ripening in the field] all clad +alike in summer festal robes, the company of dancers have assembled." + +Again only the shrilling of the crickets, the _shu-shu_ of feet, the +gentle clapping; and the wavering hovering measure proceeds in silence, +with mesmeric lentor,--with a strange grace, which by its very naïveté, +seems as old as the encircling hills. + +Those who sleep the sleep of centuries out there, under the gray stones +where the white lanterns are, and their fathers, and the fathers of +their fathers' fathers, and the unknown generations behind them, buried +in cemeteries of which the place has been forgotten for a thousand +years, doubtless looked upon a scene like this. Nay! the dust stirred by +those young feet was human life, and so smiled and so sang under this +self-same moon, "with woven paces and with waving hands." + +Suddenly a deep male chant breaks the hush. Two giants have joined the +round, and now lead it, two superb young mountain peasants nearly nude, +towering head and shoulders above the whole of the assembly. Their +kimono are rolled about their waists like girdles, leaving their bronzed +limbs and torsos naked to the warm air; they wear nothing else save +their immense straw hats, and white tabi, donned expressly for the +festival. Never before among these people saw I such men, such thews; +but their smiling beardless faces are comely and kindly as those of +Japanese boys. They seem brothers, so like in frame, in movement, in the +timbre of their voices, as they intone the same song:-- + + _No demo yama demo ko wa umiokeyo, + Sen ryo kura yori ko ga takara._ + +"Whether brought forth upon the mountain or in the field, it matters +nothing: more than a treasure of one thousand ryo, a baby precious is." + +And Jizo, the lover of children's ghosts, smiles across the silence. + +Souls close to nature's Soul are these; artless and touching their +thought, like the worship of that Kishibojin to whom wives pray. And +after the silence, the sweet thin voices of the women answer:-- + + _Oomu otoko ni sowa sanu oya wa, + Oyade gozaranu ko no kataki._ + +"The parents who will not allow their girl to be united with her lover; +they are not the parents, but the enemies of their child." + +And song follows song; and the round ever becomes larger; and the hours +pass unfelt, unheard, while the moon wheels slowly down the blue steeps +of the night. + +A deep low boom rolls suddenly across the court, the rich tone of some +temple bell telling the twelfth hour. Instantly the witchcraft ends, +like the wonder of some dream broken by a sound; the chanting ceases; +the round dissolves in an outburst of happy laughter, and chatting, and +softly-voweled callings of flower-names which are names of girls, and +farewell cries of "Sayonara!" as dancers and spectators alike betake +themselves homeward, with a great _koro-koro_ of getas. + +And I, moving with the throng, in the bewildered manner of one suddenly +roused from sleep, know myself ungrateful. These silvery-laughing folk +who now toddle along beside me upon their noisy little clogs, stepping +very fast to get a peep at my foreign face, these but a moment ago were +visions of archaic grace, illusions of necromancy, delightful phantoms; +and I feel a vague resentment against them for thus materializing into +simple country-girls. + + +NOTES + +Lafcadio Hearn, the author of this selection, took a four days' journey +in a jinrikisha to the remote country district which he describes. He is +almost the only foreigner who has ever entered the village. + +=Bon-odori=:--The dance in honor of the dead. + +=Hiroshige=:--A Japanese landscape painter of an early date. + +=kuruma=:--A jinrikisha; a two-wheeled cart drawn by a man. + +=hibachi=:--(hi bä' chi) A brazier. + +=Bonku=:--The Festival of the Dead. + +=The memory of tropical dances=:--Lafcadio Hearn had previously spent +some years in the West Indies. + +=Akira=:--The name of the guide who has drawn the kuruma in which the +foreigner has come to the village. (See page 18 of _Glimpses of +Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=yukata=:--Pronounced _yu kä' ta._ + +=geta=:--Pronounced _g[=e][=e]' ta_, not _j[=e][=e]' ta;_ high noisy +wooden clogs. (See page 10 of _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=Buddhist=:--One who believes in the doctrines of Gautama Siddartha, a +religious teacher of the sixth century before Christ. + +=Buddha=:--A statue representing the Buddha Siddartha in a very calm +position, usually sitting cross-legged. + +=Bodhisattvas=:--Pronounced _b[=o] di säht' vas;_ gods who have almost +attained the perfection of Buddha (Gautama Siddartha). + +=Jizo=:--A Japanese God. See page 297. + +=Etruscan=:--Relating to Etruria, a division of ancient Italy. Etruscan +vases have graceful figures upon them. + +=soporous=:--Drowsy; sleep-producing. + +=crepuscular=:--Relating to twilight. + +=Kamiyo=:--The Age of the Gods in Japan. + +=hakaba=:--Cemetery. + +=lentor=:--Slowness. + +="with woven paces,"= etc. See Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_: "With +woven paces and with waving arms." + +=tabi=:--White stockings with a division for the great toe. + +=ryo=:--About fifty cents. + +=Kishibojin=:--Pronounced _ki shi b[=o]' jin._ (See page 96 of _Glimpses +of Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=Sayonara=:--Good-bye. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the selection through rather slowly. Do not be alarmed at the +Japanese names: they are usually pronounced as they are spelled. Perhaps +your teacher will be able to show you a Japanese print; at least you can +see on a Japanese fan quaint villages such as are here described. What +sort of face has the host? How does this Japanese inn differ from the +American hotel? Does there seem to be much furniture? If the Americans +had the same sense of beauty that the Japanese have, what changes would +be made in most houses? Why does the foreign influence make the Japanese +manufactures "uninteresting" and "detestable"? If you have been in a +shop where Japanese wares are sold, tell what seemed most striking about +the objects and their decoration. What is meant by "the landscape of a +tea-cup"? Why does the author say so much about the remoteness of the +village? See how the author uses picture-words and sound-words to make +his description vivid. Note his use of contrasts. Why does he preface +his account of the dance by the remark that it cannot be described in +words? Is this a good method? How does the author make you feel the +swing and rhythm of the dance? Do not try to pronounce the Japanese +verses: Notice that they are translated. Why are the Japanese lines put +in at all? Why does the author say that he is ungrateful at the last? +Try to tell in a few sentences what are the good qualities of this +selection. Make a little list of the devices that the author has used in +order to make his descriptions vivid and his narration lively. Can you +apply some of his methods to a short description of your own? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Flower Festival +A Pageant +The May Fête +Dancing out of Doors +A Lawn Social +The Old Settlers' Picnic +The Russian Dancers +A Moonlight Picnic +Children's Games in the Yard +Some Japanese People that I have Seen +Japanese Students in our Schools +Japanese Furniture +An Oriental Store in our Town +My Idea of Japan +Japanese Pictures +A Street Carnival +An Old-fashioned Square Dance +The Revival of Folk-Dancing +The Girls' Drill +A Walk in the Village at Night +Why We have Ugly Things in our Houses +Do we have too much Furniture in our Houses? +What we can Learn from the Japanese + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=An Evening Walk in the Village=:--Imagine yourself taking a walk +through the village at nightfall. Tell of the time of day, the season, +and the weather. Make your reader feel the approach of darkness, and the +heat, or the coolness, or the chill of the air. What signs do you see +about you, of the close of day? Can you make the reader feel the +contrast of the lights and the surrounding darkness? As you walk along, +what sounds do you hear? What activities are going on? Can you catch any +glimpses, through the windows, of the family life inside the houses? Do +you see people eating or drinking? Do you see any children? Are the +scenes about you quiet and restful, or are they confused and irritating? +Make use of any incidents that you can to complete your description of +the village as you see it in your walk. Perhaps you will wish to close +your theme with your entering a house, or your advance into the dark +open country beyond the village. + +=My Idea of Japan=:--Suppose that you were suddenly transported to a +small town in Japan: What would be your first impression? Tell what you +would expect to see. Speak of the houses, the gardens, and the temples. +Tell about the shops, and booths, and the wares that are for sale. +Describe the dress and appearance of the Japanese men; of the women; the +children. Speak of the coolies, or working-people; the foreigners. +Perhaps you can imagine yourself taking a ride in a _jinrikisha_. Tell +of the amusing or extraordinary things that you see, and make use of +incidents and conversation. Bring out the contrasts between Japan and +your own country. + +=A Dance or Drill=:--Think of some drill or dance or complicated game +that you have seen, which lends itself to the kind of description in the +selection. In your work, try to emphasize the contrast between the +background and the moving figures; the effects of light and darkness; +the sound of music and voices; the sway and rhythm of the action. +Re-read parts of _The Dance of the Bon-odori_, to see what devices the +author has used in order to bring out effects of sound and rhythm. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan Lafcadio Hearn +Out of the East " " +Kokoro " " +Kwaidan " " +A Japanese Miscellany " " +Two Years in the French West Indies " " +Japanese Life in Town and Country G.W. Knox +Our Neighbors the Japanese J.K. Goodrich +When I Was Young Yoshio Markino +Miss John Bull " " +When I Was a Boy in Japan Sakae Shioya +Japanese Girls and Women Alice M. Bacon +A Japanese Interior " " +Japonica Sir Edwin Arnold +Japan W.E. Griffis +Human Bullets Tadayoshy Sukurai +The Story of Japan R. Van Bergen +A Boy in Old Japan " " +Letters from Japan Mrs. Hugh Frazer +Unbeaten Tracks in Japan Isabella Bird (Bishop) +The Lady of the Decoration Frances Little +Little Sister Snow " " +Japan in Pictures Douglas Sladen +Old and New Japan (good illustrations in color) Clive Holland +Nogi Stanley Washburn +Japan, the Eastern Wonderland D.C. Angus +Peeps at Many Lands: Japan John Finnemore +Japan Described by Great Writers Esther Singleton +The Flower of Old Japan [verse] Alfred Noyes +Dancing and Dancers of To-day Caroline and Chas. H. +Coffin +The Healthful Art of Dancing L.H. Gulick +The Festival Book J.E.C. Lincoln +Folk Dances Caroline Crawford +Lafcadio Hearn Nina H. Kennard +Lafcadio Hearn (Portrait) Edward Thomas +The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Elizabeth Bisland +The Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn " " +Lafcadio Hearn in Japan Yone Noguchi +Lafcadio Hearn (Portraits) Current Literature 42:50 + + + + +LETTERS + + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + + PONKAPOG, MASS., Dec. 13, 1875. + +DEAR HOWELLS,--We had so charming a visit at your house that I +have about made up my mind to reside with you permanently. I am tired of +writing. I would like to settle down in just such a comfortable home as +yours, with a man who can work regularly four or five hours a day, +thereby relieving one of all painful apprehensions in respect to clothes +and pocket-money. I am easy to get along with. I have few unreasonable +wants and never complain when they are constantly supplied. I think I +could depend on you. + + Ever yours, + T.B.A. + +P.S.--I should want to bring my two mothers, my two boys (I seem to have +everything in twos), my wife, and her sister. + + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO E.S. MORSE + + + DEAR MR. MORSE: + +It was very pleasant to me to get a letter from you the other day. +Perhaps I should have found it pleasanter if I had been able to decipher +it. I don't think that I mastered anything beyond the date (which I +knew) and the signature (at which I guessed). + +There's a singular and perpetual charm in a letter of yours--it never +grows old; it never loses its novelty. One can say to one's self every +morning: "There's that letter of Morse's. I haven't read it yet. I think +I'll take another shy at it to-day, and maybe I shall be able in the +course of a few days to make out what he means by those _t_'s that look +like _w_'s, and those _i_'s that haven't any eyebrows." + +Other letters are read, and thrown away, and forgotten; but yours are +kept forever--unread. One of them will last a reasonable man a lifetime. + + Admiringly yours, + T.B. ALDRICH. + + + + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TO JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + + + THE QUADRANGLE CLUB, + CHICAGO, September 30, '99. + +Your generous praise makes me rather shamefaced: you ought to keep it +for something that counts. At least other people ought: you would find a +bright ringing word, and the proportion of things would be kept. As for +me, I am doing my best to keep the proportion of things, in the midst of +no-standards and a dreary dingy fog-expanse of darkened counsel. Bah! +here I am whining in my third sentence, and the purpose of this note was +not to whine, but to thank you for heart new-taken. I take the friendly +words (for I need them cruelly) and forget the inadequate occasion of +them. I am looking forward with almost feverish pleasure to the new +year, when I shall be among friendships which time and absence and +half-estrangements have only made to shine with a more inward light; and +when, so accompanied, I can make shift to think and live a little. Do +not wait till then to say Welcome. + + W.V.M. + + + + +BRET HARTE TO HIS WIFE + + + LAWRENCE, KANSAS, + October 24, 1873. + + MY DEAR ANNA,-- + +I left Topeka--which sounds like a name Franky might have +invented--early yesterday morning, but did not reach Atchison, only +sixty miles distant, until seven o'clock at night--an hour before the +lecture. The engine as usual had broken down, and left me at four +o'clock fifteen miles from Atchison, on the edge of a bleak prairie with +only one house in sight. But I got a saddle-horse--there was no vehicle +to be had--and strapping my lecture and blanket to my back I gave my +valise to a little yellow boy--who looked like a dirty terra-cotta +figure--with orders to follow me on another horse, and so tore off +towards Atchison. I got there in time; the boy reached there two hours +after. + +I make no comment; you can imagine the half-sick, utterly disgusted man +who glared at that audience over his desk that night.... And yet it was +a good audience, thoroughly refined and appreciative, and very glad to +see me. I was very anxious about this lecture, for it was a venture of +my own, and I had been told that Atchison was a rough place--energetic +but coarse. I think I wrote you from St. Louis that I had found there +were only three actual engagements in Kansas, and that my list which +gave Kansas City twice was a mistake. So I decided to take Atchison. I +made a hundred dollars by the lecture, and it is yours, for yourself, +Nan, to buy "Minxes" with, if you want, for it is over and above the +amount Eliza and I footed up on my lecture list. I shall send it to you +as soon as the bulk of the pressing claims are settled. + +Everything thus far has gone well; besides my lecture of to-night I have +one more to close Kansas, and then I go on to St. Joseph. I've been +greatly touched with the very honest and sincere liking which these +Western people seem to have for me. They seem to have read everything I +have written--and appear to appreciate the best. Think of a rough fellow +in a bearskin coat and blue shirt repeating to me _Concepcion de +Arguello_! Their strange good taste and refinement under that rough +exterior--even their tact--are wonderful to me. They are "Kentucks" and +"Dick Bullens" with twice the refinement and tenderness of their +California brethren.... + +I've seen but one [woman] that interested me--an old negro wench. She +was talking and laughing outside my door the other evening, but her +laugh was so sweet and unctuous and musical--so full of breadth and +goodness that I went outside and talked to her while she was scrubbing +the stones. She laughed as a canary bird sings--because she couldn't +help it. It did me a world of good, for it was before the lecture, at +twilight, when I am very blue and low-toned. She had been a slave. + +I expected to have heard from you here. I've nothing from you or Eliza +since last Friday, when I got yours of the 12th. I shall direct this to +Eliza's care, as I do not even know where you are. + + Your affectionate + FRANK. + + + + +LAFCADIO HEARN TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN + + + [KUMAMOTO, JAPAN] + January 17, 1893. + + DEAR CHAMBERLAIN,-- + +I'm writing just because I feel lonesome; isn't that selfish? However, +if I can amuse you at all, you will forgive me. You have been away a +whole year,--so perhaps you would like to hear some impressions of mine +during that time. Here goes. + +The illusions are forever over; but the memory of many pleasant things +remains. I know much more about the Japanese than I did a year ago; and +still I am far from understanding them well. Even my own little wife is +somewhat mysterious still to me, though always in a lovable way. Of +course a man and woman know each other's hearts; but outside of personal +knowledge, there are race tendencies difficult to understand. Let me +tell one. In Oki we fell in love with a little Samurai boy, who was +having a hard time of it, and we took him with us. He is now like an +adopted son,--goes to school and all that. Well, I wished at first to +pet him a little, but I found that was not in accordance with custom, +and that even the boy did not understand it. At home, I therefore +scarcely spoke to him at all; he remained under the control of the women +of the house. They treated him kindly,--though I thought coldly. The +relationship I could not quite understand. He was never praised and +rarely scolded. A perfect code of etiquette was established between him +and all the other persons in the house, according to degree and rank. He +seemed extremely cold-mannered, and perhaps not even grateful, that was, +so far as I could see. Nothing seemed to move his young +placidity,--whether happy or unhappy his mien was exactly that of a +stone Jizo. One day he let fall a little cup and broke it. According to +custom, no one noticed the mistake, for fear of giving him pain. +Suddenly I saw tears streaming down his face. The muscles of the face +remained quite smilingly placid as usual, but even the will could not +control tears. They came freely. Then everybody laughed, and said kind +things to him, till he began to laugh too. Yet that delicate +sensitiveness no one like me could have guessed the existence of. + +But what followed surprised me more. As I said, he had been (in my idea) +distantly treated. One day he did not return from school for three hours +after the usual time. Then to my great surprise, the women began to +cry,--to cry passionately. I had never been able to imagine alarm for +the boy could have affected them so. And the servants ran over town in +real, not pretended, anxiety to find him. He had been taken to a +teacher's house for something relating to school matters. As soon as his +voice was heard at the door, everything was quiet, cold, and amiably +polite again. And I marvelled exceedingly. + +Sensitiveness exists in the Japanese to an extent never supposed by the +foreigners who treat them harshly at the open ports.... The Japanese +master is never brutal or cruel. How Japanese can serve a certain class +of foreigners at all, I can't understand.... + +This Orient knows not our deeper pains, nor can it even rise to our +larger joys; but it has its pains. Its life is not so sunny as might be +fancied from its happy aspect. Under the smile of its toiling millions +there is suffering bravely hidden and unselfishly borne; and a lower +intellectual range is counterbalanced by a childish sensitiveness to +make the suffering balance evenly in the eternal order of things. + +Therefore I love the people very much, more and more, the more I know +them.... + +And with this, I say good-night. + + Ever most truly, + LAFCADIO HEARN. + + + + +CHARLES ELIOT NORTON TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + + SHADY HILL, 2 May, 1902. + +"The Kentons" have been a great comfort to me. I have been in my +chamber, with a slight attack of illness, for two or three weeks, and I +received them one morning. I could not have had kinder or more +entertaining visitors, and I was sorry when, after two or three days, I +had to say Good-bye to them. They are very "natural" people, "just +Western." I am grateful to you for making me acquainted with them. + +"Just Western" is the acme of praise. I think I once told you what +pleasure it gave me as a compliment. Several years ago at the end of one +of our Christmas Eve receptions, a young fellow from the West, taking my +hand and bidding me Good-night, said with great cordiality, "Mr. Norton, +I've had a delightful time; it's been _just Western_"! + +"The Kentons" is really, my dear Howells, an admirable study of life, +and as it was read to me my chief pleasure in listening was in your +sympathetic, creative imagination, your insight, your humour, and all +your other gifts, which make your stories, I believe, the most faithful +representations of actual life that were ever written. Other stories +seem unreal after them, and so when we had finished "The Kentons," +nothing would do for entertainment but another of your books: so now we +are almost at the end of "Silas Lapham," which I find as good as I found +it fifteen or sixteen years ago. As Gray's idea of pleasure was to lie +on a sofa and have an endless succession of stories by Crébillon,--mine +is to have no end of Howells!... + + +NOTES + +Letter from William Vaughn Moody:-- + +=darkened counsel=:--See Job, 38:2. Moody seems to be referring here to +the uncertainty of his plans for the future. + + +Letter from Bret Harte:-- + +=Franky=:--Francis King Harte, Bret Harte's second son, who was eight +years old at this time. + +=Concepcion de Arguello=:--One of Bret Harte's longer poems. + +=Kentuck=:--A rough but kindly character in Harte's _The Luck of Roaring +Camp_. + +=Dick Bullen=:--The chief character in _How Santa Claus Came to +Simpson's Bar_. + +=Frank=:--Bret Harte's name was Francis Brett Hart(e), and his family +usually called him Frank. + + +Letter from Lafcadio Hearn:·-- + +=Chamberlain=:--Professor Chamberlain had lived for some years in Japan, +when Hearn, in 1890, wrote to him, asking assistance in securing a +position as teacher in the Japanese Government Schools. The friendship +between the two men continued until Hearn's death. + +=Samurai=:--Pronounced _sä' m[)oo] r[=i]_; a member of the lesser +nobility of Japan. + +=Jizo=:--A Japanese god, said to be the playmate of the ghosts of +children. Stone images of Jizo are common in Japan. (See page 19 of _The +Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn_.) + + +EXERCISES IN LETTER WRITING + +You are planning a camping trip with several of your friends; write to a +friend who lives in another town, asking him or her to join the camping +party. + +Write to a friend asking him, or her, to come to your house for dinner +and to go with you afterward to see the moving pictures. + +Write a letter to accompany a borrowed book, which you are returning. +Speak of the contents of the book, and the parts that you have +particularly enjoyed. Express your thanks for the use of the volume. + +Write a letter to an intimate friend, telling of the occurrences of the +last week. Do not hesitate to recount trifling events; but make your +letter as varied and lively and interesting as possible. + +Write to a friend about the new house or apartment that your family has +lately moved into. + +Write to a friend or a relative who is visiting in a large city, asking +him or her to purchase some especial article that you cannot get in your +home town. Explain exactly what you want and tell how much you are +willing to pay. Speak of enclosing the money, and do not fail to express +the gratitude that you will feel if your friend will make the purchase +for you. + +You have been invited to spend the week-end in a town not far from your +home. Write explaining why you cannot accept the invitation. Make your +letter personal and pleasant. + +Write to some member of your family explaining how you have altered your +room to make it more to your taste than it has been. If you have not +really changed the room, imagine that you have done so, and that it is +now exactly as you want it to be. + +You have heard of a family that is in great need. Write to one of your +friends, telling the circumstances and asking her to help you in +providing food and clothing for the children in the family. + +You have just heard some startling news about an old friend whom you +have not seen for some time. Write to another friend who you know will +be interested, and relate the news that you have heard. + +Write to one of your teachers explaining why you are late in handing in +a piece of work. + +Your uncle has made you a present of a sum of money. Thank him for the +money and tell him what you think you will do with it. + +A schoolmate is kept at home by illness. Write, offering your sympathy +and services, and telling the school news. + +You have had an argument with a friend on a subject of interest to you +both. Since seeing this friend, you have run across an article in a +magazine, which supports your view of the question. Write to your friend +and tell him about the substance of the article. + +Your mother has hurt her hand and cannot write; she has asked you to +write to a friend of hers about some business connected with the Woman's +Club. + +You have arrived at home after a week's visit with a friend. Write your +friend's mother, expressing the pleasure that the visit has given you. +Speak particularly of the incidents of the visit, and show a lively +appreciation of the kindness of your friends. + +A friend whom you have invited to visit you has written saying that she +(or he) is unable to accept your invitation. Write expressing your +regret. You might speak of the plans you had made in anticipation of the +visit; you might also make a more or less definite suggestion regarding +a later date for the arrival of your friend. + +You are trying to secure a position. Write to some one for whom you have +worked, or some one who knows you well, asking for a recommendation that +you can use in applying for a position. + +Write to your brother (or some other near relative), telling about a +trip that you have recently taken. + +Write to one of your friends who is away at school, telling of the +athletic situation in the high school you are attending. Assume that +your friend is acquainted with many of the students in the high school. + +You are sending some kodak films to be developed by a professional +photographer. Explain to him what you are sending and what you want +done. Speak of the price that he asks for his work, and the money that +you are enclosing. + +Write a letter applying for a position. If possible, tell how you have +heard of the vacancy. State your qualifications, especially the +education and training that you have had; if you have had any +experience, tell definitely what it has been. Mention the +recommendations that you are enclosing, or give references to several +persons who will write concerning your character and ability. Do not +urge your qualifications, or make any promises, but tell about yourself +as simply and impersonally as possible. Close your letter without any +elaborate expressions of "hoping" or "trusting" or "thanking." "Very +truly yours," or "Very respectfully yours," will be sufficient. + +You have secured the position for which you applied. Write expressing +your pleasure in obtaining the situation. Ask for information as to the +date on which you are to begin work. + +Write to a friend or a relative, telling about your new position: how +you secured it; what your work will be; what you hope will come of it. + +Write a brief respectful letter asking for money that is owed you. + +Write to a friend considerably older than yourself, asking for advice as +to the appropriate college or training school for you to enter when you +have finished the high school course. + + +BOOKS FOR READING AND STUDY + +Letters and Letter-writing Charity Dye +Success in Letter-writing Sherwin Cody +How to do Business by Letter " " +Charm and Courtesy in Letter-writing Frances B. Callaway +Studies for Letters " " " +The Gentlest Art E.V. Lucas +The Second Post " " " +The Friendly Craft F.D. Hanscom +Life and Letters of Miss Alcott E.D. Cheney (Ed.) +Vailima Letters R.L. Stevenson +Letters of William Vaughn Moody Daniel Mason (Ed.) +Letters from Colonial Children Eva March Tappan +Woman as Letter-writers A.M. Ingpen. +The Etiquette of Correspondence Helen E. Gavit + + +EXERCISES IN DRAMATIC COMPOSITION + +I. Write a conversation suggested by one of the following situations. +Wherever it seems desirable to do so, give, in parentheses, directions +for the action, and indicate the gestures and the facial expressions of +the speakers. + + 1. Tom has had trouble at school; he is questioned at home + about the matter. + + 2. Two girls discuss a party that has taken place the night + before. + + 3. A child and his mother are talking about Christmas. + + 4. Clayton Wells is running for the presidency of the Senior + class in the high school; he talks with some of his + schoolmates, and is talked about. + + 5. There has been a fire at the factory; some of the men talk + about its origin. + + 6. A girl borrows her sister's pearl pin and loses it. + + 7. Unexpected guests have arrived; while they are removing + their wraps in the hall, a conversation takes place in the + kitchen. + + 8. Anna wishes to go on a boating expedition, but her father + and mother object. + + 9. The crops in a certain district have failed; two young + farmers talk over the situation. + + 10. Two girls are getting dinner; their mother is away, and + they are obliged to plan and do everything themselves. + + 11. A boy has won a prize, and two or three other boys are + talking with him. + + 12. The prize-winning student has gone, and the other boys are + talking about him. + + 13. The furnace fire has gone out; various members of the + family express their annoyance, and the person who is to blame + defends himself. + + 14. Grandfather has lost his spectacles. + + 15. Laura has seen a beautiful hat in a shop window, and talks + with her mother about it. + + 16. Two men talk of the coming election of city officers. + + 17. A boy has been removed from the football team on account of + his low standings; members of the team discuss the situation. + + 18. Sylvia asks her younger brother to go on an errand for her; + he does not wish to go; the conversation becomes spirited. + + 19. Grandmother entertains another old lady at afternoon tea. + + 20. A working man is accused of stealing a dollar bill from the + cook in the house where he is temporarily employed. + + 21. Mary Sturgis talks with her mother about going away to + college. + + 22. A young man talks with his sister about woman's suffrage; + they become somewhat excited. + + 23. A middle-aged couple talk about adopting a child. + + 24. There is a strike at the mills; some of the employees + discuss it; the employers discuss it among themselves. + + 25. An aunt in the city has written asking Louise to visit her; + Louise talks with several members of her family about going. + + 26. Two boys talk about the ways in which they earn money, and + what they do with it. + + 27. Albert Gleason has had a run-away; his neighbors talk about + it. + + 28. Two brothers quarrel over a horse. + + 29. Ruth's new dress does not satisfy her. + + 30. The storekeeper discusses neighborhood news with some of + his customers. + + 31. Will has had a present of a five-dollar gold-piece; his + sisters tell him what he ought to do with it; his ideas on the + subject are not the same as theirs. + + 32. An old house, in which a well-to-do family have lived for + many years, is to be torn down; a group of neighbors talk about + the house and the family. + + 33. A young man talks with a business man about a position. + + 34. Harold buys a canoe; he converses with the boy who sells it + to him, and also with some of the members of his own family. + + 35. Two old men talk about the pranks they played when they + were boys. + + 36. Several young men talk about a recent baseball game. + + 37. Several young men talk about a coming League game. + + 38. Breakfast is late. + + 39. A mysterious stranger has appeared in the village; a group + of people talk about him. + + 40. Herbert Elliott takes out his father's automobile without + permission, and damages it seriously; he tries to explain. + + 41. Jerome Connor has just "made" the high school football + team. + + 42. Two boys plan a camping trip. + + 43. Several boys are camping, and one of the number does not + seem willing to do his share of the work. + + 44. Several young people consider what they are going to do + when they have finished school. + + 45. Two women talk about the spring fashions. + + +II. Choose some familiar fairy-tale or well known children's story, and +put it into the form of a little play for children. Find a story that is +rather short, and that has a good deal of dialogue in it. In writing the +play, try to make the conversation simple and lively. + + +III. In a story book for children, find a short story and put it into +dialogue form. It will be wise to select a story that already contains a +large proportion of conversation. + + +IV. From a magazine or a book of short stories (not for children), +select a very brief piece of narration, and put it into dramatic form. +After you have finished, write out directions for the setting of the +stage, if you have not already done so, and give your idea of what the +costuming ought to be. + + + + +MODERN BOOKS FOR HOME READING + +Not included in the lists of Collateral Readings + + +BOOKS OF FICTION + +Two Gentlemen of Kentucky James Lane Allen +Standish of Standish Jane G. Austin +D'ri and I Irving Bacheller +Eben Holden " " +The Halfback R.H. Barbour +For King or Country James Barnes +A Loyal Traitor " " +A Bow of Orange Ribbon Amelia E. Barr +Jan Vedder's Wife " " " +Remember the Alamo " " " +The Little Minister J.M. Barrie +The Little White Bird " " " +Sentimental Tommy " " " +Wee MacGregor J.J. Bell. +Looking Backward Edward Bellamy +Master Skylark John Bennett +A Princess of Thule William Black +Lorne Doone R.D. Blackmore +Mary Cary K.L. Bosher +Miss Gibbie Gault " " " +Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë +Villette " " +Meadow Grass Alice Brown +Tiverton Tales " " +The Story of a Ploughboy James Bryce +My Robin F.H. Burnett +The Secret Garden " " " +T. Tembarom " " " +The Jackknife Man Ellis Parker Butler +The Begum's Daughter E.L. Bynner +Bonaventure G.W. Cable +Dr. Sevier " " " +The Golden Rule Dollivers Margaret Cameron +The Lady of Fort St. John Mary Hartwell Catherwood +Lazarre " " " +Old Kaskaskia " " " +The Romance of Dollard " " " +The Story of Tonty " " " +The White Islander " " " +Richard Carvel Winston Churchill +A Connecticut Yankee in King + Arthur's Court Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) +Pudd'nhead Wilson " " " +The Prince and the Pauper " " " +Tom Sawyer " " " +John Halifax, Gentleman D.M. Craik (Miss Mulock) +The Red Badge of Courage Stephen Crane +Whilomville Stories " " +A Roman Singer F.M. Crawford +Saracinesca " " " +Zoroaster " " " +The Lilac Sunbonnet S.R. Crockett +The Stickit Minister " " " +Smith College Stories J.D. Daskam [Bacon] +Gallegher R.H. Davis +The Princess Aline " " " +Soldiers of Fortune " " " +Old Chester Tales Margaret Deland +The Story of a Child " " +Hugh Gwyeth B.M. Dix +Soldier Rigdale " " " +Rebecca Mary Annie Hamilton Donnell +The Very Small Person " " " +The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes A. Conan Doyle +Micah Clarke " " " +The Refugees " " " +Uncle Bernac " " " +The Black Tulip Alexander Dumas +The Three Musketeers " " +Doctor Luke of the Labrador Norman Duncan +The Story of Sonny Sahib Sara J. Duncan +The Hoosier Schoolboy Edward Eggleston +The Hoosier Schoolmaster " " +The Honorable Peter Stirling P.L. Ford +Janice Meredith " " +In the Valley Harold Frederic +A New England Nun M.E. Wilkins Freeman +The Portion of Labor " " " +Six Trees " " " +Friendship Village Zona Gale +Boy Life on the Prairie Hamlin Garland +Prairie Folks " " +Toby: The Story of a Dog Elizabeth Goldsmith +College Girls Abby Carter Goodloe +Glengarry School Days Charles W. Gordon (Ralph Connor) +The Man from Glengarry " " " +The Prospector " " " +The Sky Pilot " " " +The Man Without a Country E.E. Hale +Nights with Uncle Remus J.C. Harris +The Log of a Sea Angler C.F. Holder +Phroso Anthony Hope [Hawkins] +The Prisoner of Zenda " " " +Rupert of Hentzau " " " +One Summer B.W. Howard +The Flight of Pony Baker W.D. Howells +Tom Brown at Oxford Thomas Hughes +Tom Brown's School Days " " +The Lady of the Barge W.W. Jacobs +Odd Craft " " +Ramona H.H. Jackson +Little Citizens Myra Kelly +Wards of Liberty " " +Horseshoe Robinson J.P. Kennedy +The Brushwood Boy Rudyard Kipling +Captains Courageous " " +The Jungle Book " " +Kim " " +Puck of Pook's Hill " " +Tales of the Fish Patrol Jack London +The Slowcoach E.V. Lucas +Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush Ian Maclaren (John Watson) +A Doctor of the Old School " " " " +Peg o' my Heart J.H. Manners +Emmy Lou G.M. Martin +Tilly: A Mennonite Maid H.R. Martin +Jim Davis John Masefield +Four Feathers A.E.W. Mason +The Adventures of François S.W. Mitchell +Hugh Wynne " " +Anne of Avonlea L.M. Montgomery +Anne of Green Gables " " +The Chronicles of Avonlea " " +Down the Ravine Mary N. Murfree + (Charles Egbert Craddock) +In the Tennessee Mountains Mary N. Murfree +The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain " " " +The Prophet of the Great Smoky + Mountains " " " +The House of a Thousand Candles Meredith Nicholson +Mother Kathleen Norris +Peanut A.B. Paine +Judgments of the Sea Ralph D. Paine +The Man with the Iron Hand John C. Parish +Pierre and his People Gilbert Parker +Seats of the Mighty " " +When Valmond Came to Pontiac " " +A Madonna of the Tubs E.S. Phelps [Ward] +A Singular Life E.S. Phelps [Ward] +Freckles G.S. Porter +Ezekiel Lucy Pratt +Ezekiel Expands " " +November Joe Hesketh Prichard +Men of Iron Howard Pyle +The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood " " +The Splendid Spur A.T. Quiller-Couch +Lovey Mary Alice Hegan Rice +Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch " " " +Sandy " " " +The Feet of the Furtive C.G.D. Roberts +The Heart of an Ancient Wood C.G.D. Roberts +The Wreck of the Grosvenor W.C. Russell +Two Girls of Old New Jersey Agnes C. Sage +Little Jarvis Molly Elliot Seawell +A Virginia Cavalier " " " +The Quest of the Fish-Dog Skin J.W. Schultz +The Black Arrow Robert Louis Stevenson +David Balfour " " " +The Master of Ballantrae " " " +St. Ives " " " +The Fugitive Blacksmith C.D. Stewart +The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks + and Mrs. Aleshine Frank R. Stockton +The Dusantes " " " +The Lady or the Tiger " " " +The Merry Chanter " " " +Rudder Grange " " " +Napoleon Jackson Ruth McE. Stuart +Sonny " " " +Monsieur Beaucaire Booth Tarkington +Expiation Octave Thanet (Alice French) +Stories of a Western Town " " " " +The Golden Book of Venice F.L. Turnbull +W.A.G.'s Tale Margaret Turnbull +Ben Hur Lew Wallace +A Fair God " " +My Rag Picker Mary E. Waller +The Wood Carver of 'Lympus " " " +The Story of Ab Stanley Waterloo +Daddy Long-Legs Jean Webster +A Gentleman of France Stanley J. Weyman +Under the Red Robe " " " +The Blazed Trail Stewart Edward White +The Conjuror's House " " " +The Silent Places " " " +The Westerners " " " +A Certain Rich Man William Allen White +The Court of Boyville " " " +Stratagems and Spoils " " " +The Gayworthys A.D.T. Whitney +Mother Carey's Chickens K.D. Wiggin [Riggs] +Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm " " +The Chronicles of Rebecca " " +The Story of Waitstill Baxter " " +Princeton Stories J.L. Williams +Philosophy Four Owen Wister +The Virginian " " +Bootles' Baby John Strange Winter (H.E. Stannard) +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys Gulielma Zollinger (W.Z. Gladwin) + + +NON-FICTION BOOKS + +The Klondike Stampede E.T. Adney +The Land of Little Rain Mary Austin +Camps in the Rockies W.A. Baillie-Grohman +The Boys' Book of Inventions R.S. Baker +A Second Book of Inventions " " +My Book of Little Dogs F.T. Barton +The Lighter Side of Irish Life G.A. Birmingham (J.O. Hannay) +Wonderful Escapes by Americans W.S. Booth +The Training of Wild Animals Frank Bostock +Confederate Portraits Gamaliel Bradford +American Fights and Fighters Cyrus T. Brady +Commodore Paul Jones " " +The Conquest of the Southwest " " +The Every-Day Life of Abraham Lincoln F.F. Browne +The Boyhood and Youth of Napoleon Oscar Browning +The New North Agnes Cameron +The Boys' Book of Modern Marvels C.L.J. Clarke +The Boys' Book of Airships " " +Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc Samuel L. Clemens +The Wireless Man F.A. Collins +Old Boston Days and Ways M.C. Crawford +Romantic Days in Old Boston " " +Harriet Beecher Stowe M.F. Crowe +Wild Animals and the Camera W.P. Dando +Football P.H. Davis +Stories of Inventors Russell Doubleday +Navigating the Air Doubleday Page and Co. +Mr. Dooley's Opinions F.P. Dunne +Mr. Dooley's Philosophy " " +Edison: His Life and Inventions Dyer and Martin +Child Life in Colonial Days Alice Morse Earle +Colonial Days in Old New York " " " +Stage Coach and Tavern Days " " " +Two Centuries of Costume in America " " " +Old Indian Days Charles Eastman +The Life of the Fly J.H. Fabre +The Life of the Spider " " +The Wonders of the Heavens Camille Flammarion +Boys and Girls: A Book of Verse J.W. Foley +Following the Sun Flag John Fox, Jr. +Four Months Afoot in Spain Harry A. Franck +A Vagabond Journey around the World " " " +Zone Policeman 88 " " " +The Trail of the Gold Seeker Hamlin Garland +In Eastern Wonder Lands C.E. Gibson +The Hearth of Youth: Poems for Young People Jeannette Gilder (Ed.) +Heroes of the Elizabethan Ago Edward Gilliat +Camping on Western Trails E.R. Gregor +Camping in the Winter Woods " " +American Big Game G.B. Grinnell (Ed.) +Trail and Camp Fire Grinnell and Roosevelt (Ed.) +Life at West Point H.I. Hancock +Camp Kits and Camp Life C.S. Hanks +The Boys' Parkman L.S. Hasbrouck (Ed.) +Historic Adventures R.S. Holland +Camp Fires in the Canadian Rockies W.T. Hornaday +Our Vanishing Wild Life " " +Taxidermy and Zoölogical Collecting " " +Two Years in the Jungle " " +My Mark Twain W.D. Howells +A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador Mrs. Leonidas Hubbard +Animal Competitors Ernest Ingersoll +My Lady of the Chimney Corner Alexander Irvine +The Indians of the Painted Desert Region G.W. James +The Boys' Book of Explorations Tudor Jenks +Through the South Sea with Jack London Martin Johnson +A Wayfarer in China Elizabeth Kendall +The Tragedy of Pelee George Kennan +Recollections of a Drummer Boy H.M. Kieffer +The Story of the Trapper A.C. Laut +Animals of the Past F.A. Lucas +Marjorie Fleming L. Macbean (Ed.) +From Sail to Steam A.T. Mahan +Æegean Days and Other Sojourns J. Irving Manatt +The Story of a Piece of Coal E.A. Martin +The Friendly Stars Martha E. Martin +The Boys' Life of Edison W.H. Meadowcroft +Serving the Republic Nelson A. Miles +In Beaver World Enos A. Mills +Mosquito Life E.G. Mitchell +The Childhood of Animals P.C. Mitchell +The Youth of Washington S.W. Mitchell +Lewis Carroll Belle Moses +Charles Dickens " " +Louisa M. Alcott " " +The Country of Sir Walter Scott C.S. Olcott +Storytelling Poems F.J. Olcott (Ed.) +Mark Twain: A Biography A.B. Paine +The Man with the Iron Hand John C. Parish +Nearest the Pole Robert E. Peary +A Book of Famous Verse Agnes Repplier (Ed.) +Florence Nightingale Laura E. Richards +Children of the Tenements Jacob A. Riis +The Wilderness Hunter Theodore Roosevelt +American Big Game Hunting Roosevelt and Grinnell (Ed.) +Hunting in Many Lands " " " " +My Air Ships Alberto Santos-Dumont +Paul Jones Molly Elliott Seawell +With the Indians in the Rockies J.W. Schultz +Curiosities of the Sky Garrett P. Serviss +Where Rolls the Oregon Dallas Lore Sharp +Nature in a City Yard C.M. Skinner +The Wild White Woods Russell D. Smith +The Story of the New England Whalers J.R. Spears +Camping on the Great Lakes R.S. Spears +My Life with the Eskimos Vilhjalmar Stefansson +With Kitchener to Khartum G.W. Stevens +Across the Plains R.L. Stevenson +Letters of a Woman Homesteader Elinore P. Stewart +Hunting the Elephant in Africa C.H. Stigand +The Black Bear W.H. Wright +The Grizzly Bear " " +George Washington Woodrow Wilson +The Workers: The East W.A. Wyckoff +The Workers: The West " " + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] See Bleyer, W.G.: Introduction to _Prose Literature for Secondary +Schools._ + +[2] See also _American Magazine_, 63:339. + +[3] See _Scribner's Magazine_, 40:17. + +[4] See _Harper's Monthly Magazine_, 116:3. + +[5] In: _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, edited by J.B. Rittenhouse. + +[6] See page 41 for magazine reference. + +[7] See _Collier's Magazine_, 42:11. + +[8] Additional suggestions for dramatic work are given on page 316. + +[9] If a copy of _The Promised Land_ is available, some of the students +might look up material on this subject. + +[10] See references for _Moly_, on p. 84. + +[11] In Alden's _English Verse_. + +[12] In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, edited by J.B. Rittenhouse. + +[13] If this is thought too difficult, some of the exercises on pages +316-318 may be used. + +[14] Note: The teacher might read aloud a part of the _Ode in Time of +Hesitation_, by Moody. In its entirety it is almost too difficult for +the pupils to get much out of; but it has some vigorous things to say +about the war in the Philippines. + +[15] TO THE TEACHER: It will probably be better for the pupils to study +this poem in class than to begin it by themselves. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary +Schools, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PROSE AND POETRY *** + +***** This file should be named 17160-8.txt or 17160-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/6/17160/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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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: Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary Schools + Edited With Notes, Study Helps, And Reading Lists + +Author: Various + +Editor: Margaret Ashmun + +Release Date: November 26, 2005 [EBook #17160] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PROSE AND POETRY *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h1>MODERN PROSE AND POETRY FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS</h1> + +<h3>EDITED</h3> + +<h2>WITH NOTES, STUDY HELPS, AND READING LISTS</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>MARGARET ASHMUN, M.A.</h2> + +<h4><i>Formerly Instructor in English in the University of Wisconsin</i></h4> +<h4><i>Editor of Prose Literature for Secondary Schools</i></h4> + + +<p> +BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO<br /> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +The Riverside Press Cambridge<br /> +</p> + + +<p> +COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>All selections in this book are used by special permission of, and<br /> +arrangement with, the owners of the copyrights.</i><br /> +<br /> +The Riverside Press<br /> +CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS<br /> +U.S.A<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Transcribers Note: Minor typos have been corrected.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>It is pleasant to note, among teachers of literature in the high school, +a growing (or perhaps one should say an established) conviction that the +pupil's enjoyment of what he reads ought to be the chief consideration +in the work. From such enjoyment, it is conceded, come the knowledge and +the power that are the end of study. All profitable literature work in +the secondary grades must be based upon the unforced attention and +activity of the student.</p> + +<p>An inevitable phase of this liberal attitude is a readiness to promote +the study of modern authors. It is now the generally accepted view that +many pieces of recent literature are more suitable for young people's +reading than the old and conventionally approved classics. This is not +to say that the really readable classics should be discarded, since they +have their own place and their own value. Yet it is everywhere admitted +that modern literature should be given its opportunity to appeal to high +school students, and that at some stage in their course it should +receive its due share of recognition. The mere fact that modern writers +are, in point of material and style, less remote than the classic +authors from the immediate interests of the students is sufficient to +recommend them. Then, too, since young people are, in the nature of +things, constantly brought into contact with some form of modern +literature, they need to be provided with a standard of criticism and +choice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span>The present volume is an attempt to assemble, in a convenient manner, a +number of selections from recent literature, such as high school +students of average taste and ability may understand and enjoy. These +selections are not all equally difficult. Some need to be read rapidly +for their intrinsic interest; others deserve more analysis of form and +content; still others demand careful intensive study. This diversity of +method is almost a necessity in a full year's course in reading, in +which rigidity and monotony ought above all things to be avoided.</p> + +<p>Although convinced that the larger part of the reading work in the high +school years should be devoted to the study of prose, the editor has +here included what she believes to be a just proportion of poetry. The +poems have been chosen with a view to the fact that they are varied in +form and sentiment; and that they exhibit in no small degree the +tendencies of modern poetic thought, with its love of nature and its +humanitarian impulses.</p> + +<p>An attempt has been made to present examples of the most usual and +readable forms of prose composition—narration, the account of travel, +the personal essay, and serious exposition. The authors of these +selections possess without exception that distinction of style which +entitles them to a high rank in literature and makes them inspiring +models for the unskilled writer.</p> + +<p>A word may be said as to the intention of the study helps and lists of +readings. The object of this equipment is to conserve the energies of +the teacher and direct the activities of the student. It is by no means +expected that any one class will be able to make use of all the material +provided; yet it is hoped that a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span>considerable amount may prove +available to every group that has access to the text.</p> + +<p>The study questions serve to concentrate the reading of the students, in +order to prevent that aimless wandering of eye and mind, which with many +pupils passes for study. Doubtless something would in most instances be +gained if these questions were supplemented by specific directions from +the teacher.</p> + +<p>Lists of theme subjects accompany the selections, so that the work in +composition may be to a large extent correlated with that in +literature.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The plan of utilizing the newly stimulated interests of +the pupils for training in composition is not a new one; its value has +been proved. <i>Modern Prose and Poetry</i> aims to make the most of such +correlation, at the same time drawing upon the personal experience of +the students, to the elimination of all that is perfunctory and formal. +Typical outlines (suggestions for theme writing) are provided; these, +however, cannot serve in all cases, and the teacher must help the pupils +in planning their themes, or give them such training as will enable them +to make outlines for themselves.</p> + +<p>It will be noted that some suggestions are presented for the +dramatization of simple passages of narration, and for original +composition of dramatic fragments. In an age when the trend of popular +interest is unquestionably toward the drama, such suggestions need no +defense. The study of dramatic composition may be granted as much or as +little attention as the teacher thinks wise. In any event, it will +afford an opportunity for a discussion of the drama and will serve, in +an elementary way, to train the pupil's judgment as to the difference +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span>between good and bad plays. Especially can this end be accomplished if +some of the plays mentioned in the lists be read by the class or by +individual students.</p> + +<p>A few simple exercises in the writing of poetry have been inserted, in +order to give the pupils encouragement and assistance in trying their +skill in verse. It is not intended that this work shall be done for the +excellence of its results, but rather for the development of the pupil's +ingenuity and the increasing of his respect for the poet and the poetic +art.</p> + +<p>The collateral readings are appended for the use of those teachers who +wish to carry on a course of outside reading in connection with the +regular work of the class. These lists have been made somewhat extensive +and varied, in order that they may fit the tastes and opportunities of +many teachers and pupils. In some cases, the collateral work may be +presented by the teacher, to elaborate a subject in which the class has +become interested; or individual pupils may prepare themselves and speak +to the class about what they have read; or all the pupils may read for +pleasure alone, merely reporting the extent of their reading, for the +teacher's approval. The outside reading should, it is needless to say, +be treated as a privilege and not as a mechanical task. The +possibilities of this work will be increased if the teacher familiarizes +herself with the material in the collateral lists, so that she can adapt +the home readings to the tastes of the class and of specific pupils. The +miscellaneous lists given at the close of the book are intended to +supplement the lists accompanying the selections, and to offer some +assistance in the choice of books for a high school library.</p> + +<p>M.A.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">New York</span>, February, 1914.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a><b>CONTENTS</b></h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Day at Laguerre's</span></td><td align='left'><i>F. Hopkinson Smith</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#A_DAY_AT_LAGUERRES"><b>1</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Quite So</span></td><td align='left'><i>Thomas Bailey Aldrich</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_21"><b>21</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (In <i>Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Pan in Wall Street</span></td><td align='left'><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_42"><b>42</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Hand of Lincoln</span></td><td align='left'><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_48"><b>48</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Jean Valjean</span></td><td align='left'><i>Augusta Stevenson</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_52"><b>52</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (In <i>A Dramatic Reader</i>, Book Five)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Combat on the Sands</span></td><td align='left'><i>Mary Johnston</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_65"><b>65</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>To Have and to Hold</i>, Chapters XXI and XXII)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Grasshopper</span></td><td align='left'><i>Edith M. Thomas</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_80"><b>80</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Moly</span></td><td align='left'><i>Edith M. Thomas</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_83"><b>83</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Promised Land</span></td><td align='left'><i>Mary Antin</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_85"><b>85</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From Chapter IX of <i>The Promised Land</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Warble for Lilac-Time</span></td><td align='left'><i>Walt Whitman</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_113"><b>113</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer</span></td><td align='left'><i>Walt Whitman</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_115"><b>115</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night</span></td><td align='left'><i>Walt Whitman</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_116"><b>116</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Odysseus in Phaeacia</span></td> <td align='left'><i>Translated by George Herbert Palmer</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_120"><b>120</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Odysseus</span></td><td align='left'><i>George Cabot Lodge</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_139"><b>139</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Romance of Real Life</span></td><td align='left'><i>William Dean Howells</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_141"><b>141</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Wild Ride</span></td><td align='left'><i>Louise Imogen Guiney</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_161"><b>161</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Christmas in the Woods</span></td><td align='left'><i>Dallas Lore Sharp</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_164"><b>164</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (In <i>The Lay of the Land</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Gloucester Moors</span></td><td align='left'><i>William Vaughn Moody</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_179"><b>179</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Road-Hymn for the Start</span></td><td align='left'><i>William Vaughn Moody</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_184"><b>184</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">On A Soldier Fallen in the Phillipines</span></td><td align='left'><i>William Vaughn Moody</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_187"><b>187</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Coon Dog</span></td><td align='left'><i>Sarah Orne Jewett</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_189"><b>189</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (In <i>The Queen's Twin, and Other Stories</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln</span></td><td align='left'> <i>Richard Watson Gilder</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_210"><b>210</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Fire among the Giants</span></td><td align='left'><i>John Muir</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_212"><b>212</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>Our National Parks</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Waiting</span></td><td align='left'><i>John Burroughs</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_221"><b>221</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Pont du Gard</span></td><td align='left'><i>Henry James</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_223"><b>223</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (Chapter XXVI of <i>A Little Tour in France</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Youngest Son of his Father's House</span></td><td align='left'> <i>Anna Hempstead Branch</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_231"><b>231</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tennessee's Partner</span></td><td align='left'><i>Bret Harte</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_235"><b>235</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Course of American History</span></td><td align='left'><i>Woodrow Wilson</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_252"><b>252</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (In <i>Mere Literature</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">What I Know about Gardening</span></td><td align='left'><i>Charles Dudley Warner</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_268"><b>268</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>My Summer in a Garden</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Singing Man</span></td><td align='left'><i>Josephine Preston Peabody</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_280"><b>280</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Dance of the Bon-Odori</span></td><td align='left'><i>Lafcadio Hearn</i></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_291"><b>291</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan</i>, Volume I, Chapter VI)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Letters:</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas Bailey Aldrich to William Dean Howells</span></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_305"><b>305</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>The Life of Thomas Bailey Aldrich</i> by Ferris Greenslet)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas Bailey Aldrich to E.S. Morse</span></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_305"><b>305</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (By permission of Professor Morse)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Vaughn Moody to Josephine Preston Peabody</span></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_306"><b>306</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>Some Letters of William Vaughn Moody</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Bret Harte to his Wife</span></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_307"><b>307</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>The Life of Bret Harte</i> by Henry C. Merwin)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lafcadio Hearn to Basil Hall Chamberlain</span></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_309"><b>309</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Charles Eliot Norton to William Dean Howells</span></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_311"><b>311</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (From <i>Letters of Charles Eliot Norton</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Exercises in Dramatic Composition</span></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_316"><b>316</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Modern Books for Home Reading</span></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_319"><b>319</b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MODERN_PROSE_AND_POETRY_FOR_SECONDARY_SCHOOLS" id="MODERN_PROSE_AND_POETRY_FOR_SECONDARY_SCHOOLS"></a>MODERN PROSE AND POETRY FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_DAY_AT_LAGUERRES" id="A_DAY_AT_LAGUERRES"></a>A DAY AT LAGUERRE'S</h2> + +<h3>F. HOPKINSON SMITH</h3> + + +<p>It is the most delightful of French inns, in the quaintest of French +settlements. As you rush by in one of the innumerable trains that pass +it daily, you may catch glimpses of tall trees trailing their branches +in the still stream,—hardly a dozen yards wide,—of flocks of white +ducks paddling together, and of queer punts drawn up on the shelving +shore or tied to soggy, patched-up landing-stairs.</p> + +<p>If the sun shines, you can see, now and then, between the trees, a +figure kneeling at the water's edge, bending over a pile of clothes, +washing,—her head bound with a red handkerchief.</p> + +<p>If you are quick, the miniature river will open just before you round +the curve, disclosing in the distance groups of willows, and a rickety +foot-bridge perched up on poles to keep it dry. All this you see in a +flash.</p> + +<p>But you must stop at the old-fashioned station, within ten minutes of +the Harlem River, cross the road, skirt an old garden bound with a fence +and bursting with flowers, and so pass on through a bare field to the +water's edge, before you catch sight of the cosy little houses lining +the banks, with garden fences <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>cutting into the water, the arbors +covered with tangled vines, and the boats crossing back and forth.</p> + +<p>I have a love for the out-of-the-way places of the earth when they +bristle all over with the quaint and the old and the odd, and are mouldy +with the picturesque. But here is an in-the-way place, all sunshine and +shimmer, with never a fringe of mould upon it, and yet you lose your +heart at a glance. It is as charming in its boat life as an old Holland +canal; it is as delightful in its shore life as the Seine; and it is as +picturesque and entrancing in its sylvan beauty as the most exquisite of +English streams.</p> + +<p>The thousands of workaday souls who pass this spot daily in their whirl +out and in the great city may catch all these glimpses of shade and +sunlight over the edges of their journals, and any one of them living +near the city's centre, with a stout pair of legs in his knickerbockers +and the breath of the morning in his heart, can reach it afoot any day +before breakfast; and yet not one in a hundred knows that this ideal +nook exists.</p> + +<p>Even this small percentage would be apt to tell of the delights of +Devonshire and of the charm of the upper Thames, with its tall rushes +and low-thatched houses and quaint bridges, as if the picturesque ended +there; forgetting that right here at home there wanders many a stream +with its breast all silver that the trees courtesy to as it sings +through meadows waist-high in lush grass,—as exquisite a picture as can +be found this beautiful land over.</p> + +<p>So, this being an old tramping-ground of mine, I have left the station +with its noise and dust behind me this lovely morning in June, have +stopped long enough to twist a bunch of sweet peas through the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>garden +fence, and am standing on the bank waiting for some sign of life at +Madame Laguerre's. I discover that there is no boat on my side of the +stream. But that is of no moment. On the other side, within a biscuit's +toss, so narrow is it, there are two boats; and on the landing-wharf, +which is only a few planks wide, supporting a tumble-down flight of +steps leading to a vine-covered terrace above, rest the oars.</p> + +<p>I lay my traps down on the bank and begin at the top of my voice:—</p> + +<p>"Madame Laguerre! Madame Laguerre! Send Lucette with the boat."</p> + +<p>For a long time there is no response. A young girl drawing water a short +distance below, hearing my cries, says she will come; and some children +above, who know me, begin paddling over. I decline them all. Experience +tells me it is better to wait for madame.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes she pushes aside the leaves, peers through, and calls +out:—</p> + +<p>"Ah! it is that horrible painter. Go away! I have nothing for you. You +are hungry again that you come?"</p> + +<p>"Very, madame. Where is Lucette?"</p> + +<p>"Lucette! Lucette! It is always Lucette. Lu-c-e-t-t-e!" This in a shrill +key. "It is the painter. Come quick."</p> + +<p>I have known Lucette for years, even when she was a barefooted little +tangle-hair, peeping at me with her great brown eyes from beneath her +ragged straw hat. She wears high-heeled slippers now, and sometimes on +Sundays dainty silk stockings, and her hair is braided down her back, +little French Marguérite that she is, and her hat is never ragged any +more, nor her hair <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>tangled. Her eyes, though, are still the same +velvety, half-drooping eyes, always opening and shutting and never +still.</p> + +<p>As she springs into the boat and pulls towards me I note how round and +trim she is, and before we have landed at Madame Laguerre's feet I have +counted up Lucette's birthdays,—those that I know myself,—and find to +my surprise that she must be eighteen. We have always been the best of +friends, Lucette and I, ever since she looked over my shoulder years ago +and watched me dot in the outlines of her boat, with her dog Mustif +sitting demurely in the bow.</p> + +<p>Madame, her mother, begins again:—</p> + +<p>"Do you know that it is Saturday that you come again to bother? Now it +will be a <i>filet</i>, of course, with mushrooms and tomato salad; and there +are no mushrooms, and no tomatoes, and nothing. You are horrible. Then, +when I get it ready, you say you will come at three. 'Yes, madame; at +three,'—mimicking me,—'sure, very sure.' But it is four, five, +o'clock—and then everything is burned up waiting. Ah! I know you."</p> + +<p>This goes on always, and has for years. Presently she softens, for she +is the most tender-hearted of women, and would do anything in the world +to please me.</p> + +<p>"But, then, you will be tired, and of course you must have something. I +remember now there is a chicken. How will the chicken do? Oh, the +chicken it is lovely, <i>charmant</i>. And some pease—fresh. Monsieur picked +them himself this morning. And some Roquefort, with an olive. Ah! You +leave it to me; but at three—no later—not one minute. <i>Sacré! Vous +êtes le diable!</i>"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>As we walk under the arbor and by the great trees, towards the cottage, +Lucette following with the oars, I inquire after monsieur, and find that +he is in the city, and very well and very busy, and will return at +sundown. He has a shop of his own in the upper part where he makes +<i>passe-partouts</i>. Here, at his home, madame maintains a simple +restaurant for tramps like me.</p> + +<p>These delightful people are old friends of mine, François Laguerre and +his wife and their only child Lucette. They have lived here for nearly a +quarter of a century. He is a straight, silver-haired old Frenchman of +sixty, who left Paris, between two suns, nearly forty years ago, with a +gendarme close at his heels, a red cockade under his coat, and an +intense hatred in his heart for that "little nobody," Napoleon III.</p> + +<p>If you met him on the boulevard you would look for the decoration on his +lapel, remarking to yourself, "Some retired officer on half pay." If you +met him at the railway station opposite, you would say, "A French +professor returning to his school." Both of these surmises are partly +wrong, and both partly right. Monsieur Laguerre has had a history. One +can see by the deep lines in his forehead and by the firm set of his +eyes and mouth that it has been an eventful one.</p> + +<p>His wife is a few years his junior, short and stout, and thoroughly +French down to the very toes of her felt slippers. She is devoted to +François and Lucette, the best of cooks, and, in spite of her scoldings, +good-nature itself. As soon as she hears me calling, there arise before +her the visions of many delightful dinners prepared for me by her own +hand and ready to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>minute—all spoiled by my belated sketches. So +she begins to scold before I am out of the boat or in it, for that +matter.</p> + +<p>Across the fence next to Laguerre's lives a <i>confrère</i>, a brother exile, +Monsieur Marmosette, who also has a shop in the city, where he carves +fine ivories. Monsieur Marmosette has only one son. He too is named +François, after his father's old friend. Farther down on both sides of +the narrow stream front the cottages of other friends, all Frenchmen; +and near the propped-up bridge an Italian who knew Garibaldi burrows in +a low, slanting cabin, which is covered with vines. I remember a dish of +<i>spaghetti</i> under those vines, and a flask of Chianti from its cellar, +all cobwebs and plaited straw, that left a taste of Venice in my mouth +for days.</p> + +<p>As there is only the great bridge above, which helps the country road +across the little stream, and the little foot-bridge below, and as there +is no path or road,—all the houses fronting the water,—the Bronx here +is really the only highway, and so everybody must needs keep a boat. +This is why the stream is crowded in the warm afternoons with all sorts +of water craft loaded with whole families, even to the babies, taking +the air, or crossing from bank to bank in their daily pursuits.</p> + +<p>There is a quality which one never sees in Nature until she has been +rough-handled by man and has outlived the usage. It is the picturesque. +In the deep recesses of the primeval forest, along the mountain-slope, +and away up the tumbling brook, Nature may be majestic, beautiful, and +even sublime; but she is never picturesque. This quality comes only +after the axe and the saw have let the sunlight into the dense <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>tangle +and have scattered the falling timber, or the round of the water-wheel +has divided the rush of the brook. It is so here. Some hundred years +ago, along this quiet, silvery stream were encamped the troops of the +struggling colonies, and, later, the great estates of the survivors +stretched on each side for miles. The willows that now fringe these +banks were saplings then; and they and the great butternuts were only +spared because their arching limbs shaded the cattle knee-deep along the +shelving banks.</p> + +<p>Then came the long interval that succeeds that deadly conversion of the +once sweet farming lands, redolent with clover, into that barren +waste—suburban property. The conflict that had lasted since the days +when the pioneer's axe first rang through the stillness of the forest +was nearly over; Nature saw her chance, took courage, and began that +regeneration which is exclusively her own. The weeds ran riot; tall +grasses shot up into the sunlight, concealing the once well-trimmed +banks; and great tangles of underbrush and alders made lusty efforts to +hide the traces of man's unceasing cruelty. Lastly came this little +group of poor people from the Seine and the Marne and lent a helping +hand, bringing with them something of their old life at home,—their +boats, rude landings, patched-up water-stairs, fences, arbors, and +vine-covered cottages,—unconsciously completing the picture and adding +the one thing needful—a human touch. So Nature, having outlived the +wrongs of a hundred years, has here with busy fingers so woven a web of +weed, moss, trailing vine, and low-branching tree that there is seen a +newer and more entrancing quality in her beauty, which, for want of a +better term, we call the picturesque.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>But madame is calling that the big boat must be bailed out; that if I +am ever coming back to dinner it is absolutely necessary that I should +go away. This boat is not of extraordinary size. It is called the big +boat from the fact that it has one more seat than the one in which +Lucette rowed me over; and not being much in use except on Sunday, is +generally half full of water. Lucette insists on doing the bailing. She +has very often performed this service, and I have always considered it +as included in the curious scrawl of a bill which madame gravely +presents at the end of each of my days here, beginning in small printed +type with "François Laguerre, Restaurant Français," and ending with +"Coffee 10 cents."</p> + +<p>But this time I resist, remarking that she will hurt her hands and soil +her shoes, and that it is all right as it is.</p> + +<p>To this François the younger, who is leaning over the fence, agrees, +telling Lucette to wait until he gets a pail.</p> + +<p>Lucette catches his eye, colors a little, and says she will fetch it.</p> + +<p>There is a break in the palings through which they both disappear, but I +am half-way out on the stream, with my traps and umbrella on the seat in +front and my coat and waistcoat tucked under the bow, before they +return.</p> + +<p>For half a mile down-stream there is barely a current. Then comes a +break of a dozen yards just below the perched-up bridge, and the stream +divides, one part rushing like a mill-race, and the other spreading +itself softly around the roots of leaning willows, oozing through beds +of water-plants, and creeping under masses of wild grapes and +underbrush. Below this is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>a broad pasture fringed with another and +larger growth of willows. Here the weeds are breast-high, and in early +autumn they burst into purple asters, and white immortelles, and +goldenrod, and flaming sumac.</p> + +<p>If a painter had a lifetime to spare, and loved this sort of +material,—the willows, hillsides, and winding stream,—he would grow +old and weary before he could paint it all; and yet no two of his +compositions need be alike. I have tied my boat under these same willows +for ten years back, and I have not yet exhausted one corner of this +neglected pasture.</p> + +<p>There may be those who go a-fishing and enjoy it. The arranging and +selecting of flies, the joining of rods, the prospective comfort in high +water-boots, the creel with the leather strap,—every crease in it a +reminder of some day without care or fret,—all this may bring the flush +to the cheek and the eager kindling of the eye, and a certain sort of +rest and happiness may come with it; but—they have never gone +a-sketching! Hauled up on the wet bank in the long grass is your boat, +with the frayed end of the painter tied around some willow that offers a +helping root. Within a stone's throw, under a great branching of gnarled +trees, is a nook where the curious sun, peeping at you through the +interlaced leaves, will stencil Japanese shadows on your white umbrella. +Then the trap is unstrapped, the stool opened, the easel put up, and you +set your palette. The critical eye with which you look over your +brush-case and the care with which you try each feather point upon your +thumb-nail are but an index of your enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Now you are ready. You loosen your cravat, hang your coat to some rustic +peg in the creviced bark of the tree behind you, seize a bit of charcoal +from your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>bag, sweep your eye around, and dash in a few guiding +strokes. Above is a turquoise sky filled with soft white clouds; behind +you the great trunks of the many-branched willows; and away off, under +the hot sun, the yellow-green of the wasted pasture, dotted with patches +of rock and weeds, and hemmed in by the low hills that slope to the +curving stream.</p> + +<p>It is high noon. There is a stillness in the air that impresses you, +broken only by the low murmur of the brook behind and the ceaseless song +of the grasshopper among the weeds in front. A tired bumblebee hums +past, rolls lazily over a clover blossom at your feet, and has his +midday luncheon. Under the maples near the river's bend stands a group +of horses, their heads touching. In the brook below are the patient +cattle, with patches of sunlight gilding and bronzing their backs and +sides. Every now and then a breath of cool air starts out from some +shaded retreat, plays around your forehead, and passes on. All nature +rests. It is her noontime.</p> + +<p>But you work on: an enthusiasm has taken possession of you; the paints +mix too slowly; you use your thumb, smearing and blending with a bit of +rag—anything for the effect. One moment you are glued to your seat, +your eye riveted on your canvas, the next, you are up and backing away, +taking it in as a whole, then pouncing down upon it quickly, belaboring +it with your brush. Soon the trees take shape; the sky forms become +definite; the meadow lies flat and loses itself in the fringe of +willows.</p> + +<p>When all of this begins to grow upon your once blank canvas, and some +lucky pat matches the exact tone of blue-gray haze or shimmer of leaf, +or some accidental blending of color delights you with its truth, a +tingling <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>goes down your backbone, and a rush surges through your veins +that stirs you as nothing else in your whole life will ever do. The +reaction comes the next day when, in the cold light of your studio, you +see how far short you have come and how crude and false is your best +touch compared with the glory of the landscape in your mind and heart. +But the thrill that it gave you will linger forever.</p> + +<p>But I hear a voice behind me calling out:—</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, mamma says that dinner will be ready in half an hour. Please +do not be late."</p> + +<p>It is Lucette. She and François have come down in the other boat—the +one with the little seat. They have moved so noiselessly that I have not +even heard them. The sketch is nearly finished; and so, remembering the +good madame, and the Roquefort, and the olives, and the many times I +have kept her waiting, I wash my brushes at once, throw my traps into +the boat, and pull back through the winding turn, François taking the +mill-race, and in the swiftest part springing to the bank and towing +Lucette, who sits in the stern, her white skirts tucked around her +dainty feet.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacré!</i> He is here. <i>C'est merveilleux!</i> Why did you come?"</p> + +<p>"Because you sent for me, madame, and I am hungry."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i> He is hungry, and no chicken!"</p> + +<p>It is true. The chicken was served that morning to another tramp for +breakfast, and madame had forgotten all about it, and had ransacked the +settlement for its mate. She was too honest a cook to chase another into +the frying-pan.</p> + +<p>But there was a <i>filet</i> with mushrooms, and a most <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>surprising salad of +chicory fresh from the garden, and the pease were certain, and the +Roquefort and the olives beyond question. All this she tells me as I +walk past the table covered with a snow-white cloth and spread under the +grape-vines overlooking the stream, with the trees standing against the +sky, their long shadows wrinkling down into the water.</p> + +<p>I enter the summer kitchen built out into the garden, which also covers +the old well, let down the bucket, and then, taking the clean crash +towel from its hook, place the basin on the bench in the sunlight, and +plunge my head into the cool water. Madame regards me curiously, her +arms akimbo, re-hangs the towel, and asks:—</p> + +<p>"Well, what about the wine? The same?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I will get it myself."</p> + +<p>The cellar is underneath the larger house. Outside is an old-fashioned, +sloping double door. These doors are always open, and a cool smell of +damp straw flavored with vinegar greets you from a leaky keg as you +descend into its recesses. On the hard earthen floor rest eight or ten +great casks. The walls are lined with bottles large and small, loaded on +shelves to which little white cards are tacked giving the vintage and +brand. In one corner, under the small window, you will find dozens of +boxes of French delicacies—truffles, pease, mushrooms, pâté de foie +gras, mustard, and the like, and behind them rows of olive oil and +olives. I carefully draw out a bottle from the row on the last shelf +nearest the corner, mount the steps, and place it on the table. Madame +examines the cork, and puts down the bottle, remarking sententiously:—</p> + +<p>"Château Lamonte, '62! Monsieur has told you."</p> + +<p>There may be ways of dining more delicious than <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>out in the open air +under the vines in the cool of the afternoon, with Lucette, in her +whitest of aprons, flitting about, and madame garnishing the dishes each +in turn, and there may be better bottles of honest red wine to be found +up and down this world of care than "Château Lamonte, '62," but I have +not yet discovered them.</p> + +<p>Lucette serves the coffee in a little cup, and leaves the Roquefort and +the cigarettes on the table just as the sun is sinking behind the hill +skirting the railroad. While I am blowing rings through the grape leaves +over my head a quick noise is heard across the stream. Lucette runs past +me through the garden, picking up her oars as she goes.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oui, mon père.</i> I am coming."</p> + +<p>It is monsieur from his day's work in the city.</p> + +<p>"Who is here?" I hear him say as he mounts the terrace steps. "Oh, the +painter—good!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, <i>mon ami</i>. So you must see the willows once more. Have you not +tired of them yet?" Then, seating himself, "I hope madame has taken good +care of you. What, the '62? Ah, I remember I told you."</p> + +<p>When it is quite dark he joins me under the leaves, bringing a second +bottle a little better corked he thinks, and the talk drifts into his +early life.</p> + +<p>"What year was that, monsieur?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"In 1849. I was a young fellow just grown. I had learned my trade in +Rheims, and I had come down to Paris to make my bread. Two years later +came the little affair of December 2. That 'nobody,' Louis, had +dissolved the National Assembly and the Council of State, and had issued +his address to the army. Paris was in a ferment. By the help of his +soldiers and police he had silenced every voice in Paris except his own. +He had suppressed all the journals, and locked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>up everybody who had +opposed him. Victor Hugo was in exile, Louis Blanc in London, +Changarnier and Cavaignac in prison. At the moment I was working in a +little shop near the Porte St. Martin decorating lacquerwork. We workmen +all belonged to a secret society which met nightly in a back room over a +wine-shop near the Rue Royale. We had but one thought—how to upset the +little devil at the Élysée. Among my comrades was a big fellow from my +own city, one Cambier. He was the leader. On the ground floor of the +shop was built a huge oven where the lacquer was baked. At night this +was made hot with charcoal and allowed to cool off in the morning ready +for the finished work of the previous day. It was Cambier's duty to +attend to this oven.</p> + +<p>"One night just after all but he and two others had left the shop a +strange man was discovered in a closet where the men kept their working +clothes. He was seized, brought to the light, and instantly recognized +as a member of the secret police.</p> + +<p>"At daylight the next morning I was aroused from my bed, and, looking +up, saw Chapot, an inspector of police, standing over me. He had known +me from a boy, and was a friend of my father's.</p> + +<p>"'François, there is trouble at the shop. A police agent has been +murdered. His body was found in the oven. Cambier is under arrest. I +know what you have been doing, but I also know that in this you have had +no hand. Here are one hundred francs. Leave Paris in an hour.'</p> + +<p>"I put the money in my pocket, tied my clothes in a bundle, and that +night was on my way to Havre, and the next week set sail for here."</p> + +<p>"And what became of Cambier?" I asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>"I have never heard from that day to this, so I think they must have +snuffed him out."</p> + +<p>Then he drifted into his early life here—the weary tramping of the +streets day after day, the half-starving result, the language and people +unknown. Suddenly, somewhere in the lower part of the city, he espied a +card tacked outside of a window bearing this inscription, "Decorator +wanted." A man inside was painting one of the old-fashioned iron +tea-trays common in those days. Monsieur took off his hat, pointed to +the card, then to himself, seized the brush, and before the man could +protest had covered the bottom with morning-glories so pink and fresh +that his troubles ended on the spot. The first week he earned six +dollars; but then this was to be paid at the end of it. For these six +days he subsisted on one meal a day. This he ate at a restaurant where +at night he washed dishes and blacked the head waiter's boots. When +Saturday came, and the money was counted out in his hand, he thrust it +into his pocket, left the shop, and sat down on a doorstep outside to +think.</p> + +<p>"And, <i>mon ami</i>, what did I do first?"</p> + +<p>"Got something to eat?"</p> + +<p>"Never. I paid for a bath, had my hair cut and my face shaved, bought a +shirt and collar, and then went back to the restaurant where I had +washed dishes the night before, and the head waiter <i>served me</i>. After +that it was easy; the next week it was ten dollars; then in a few years +I had a place of my own; then came madame and Lucette—and here we are."</p> + +<p>The twilight had faded into a velvet blue, sprinkled with stars. The +lantern which madame had hung against the arbor shed a yellow light, +throwing into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>clear relief the sharply cut features of monsieur. Up and +down the silent stream drifted here and there a phantom boat, the gleam +of its light following like a firefly. From some came no sound but the +muffled plash of the oars. From others floated stray bits of song and +laughter. Far up the stream I heard the distant whistle of the down +train.</p> + +<p>"It is mine, monsieur. Will you cross with me, and bring back the boat?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur unhooked the lantern, and I followed through the garden and +down the terrace steps.</p> + +<p>At the water's edge was a bench holding two figures.</p> + +<p>Monsieur turned his lantern, and the light fell upon the face of young +François.</p> + +<p>When the bow grated on the opposite bank I shook his hand, and said, in +parting, pointing to the lovers,—</p> + +<p>"The same old story, Monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and always new. You must come to the church."</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Harlem River</b>:—Note that this river is in New York City, not in France +as one might suppose from the name of the selection.</p> + +<p><b>Devonshire</b>:—A very attractive county of southwestern England.</p> + +<p><b>filet</b>:—A thick slice of meat or fish.</p> + +<p><b>charmant</b>:—The French word for <i>charming</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Roquefort</b>:—A kind of cheese.</p> + +<p><b>Sacré! Vous êtes le diable</b>:—Curses! You are the very deuce.</p> + +<p><b>passe-partouts</b>:—Engraved ornamental borders for pictures.</p> + +<p><b>gendarme</b>:—A policeman of France.</p> + +<p><b>Napoleon III</b>:—Emperor of the French, 1852-1870. He was elected +president of the Republic in 1848; he seized full power <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>in 1851; in +1852, he was proclaimed emperor. He was a nephew of the great Napoleon.</p> + +<p><b>confrère</b>:—A close associate.</p> + +<p><b>Garibaldi</b>:—Giuseppe Garibaldi, an Italian patriot (1807-1882).</p> + +<p><b>Chianti</b>:—A kind of Italian wine.</p> + +<p><b>Bronx</b>:—A small river in the northern part of New York City.</p> + +<p><b>Restaurant Français</b>:—French restaurant.</p> + +<p><b>the painter</b>:—A rope at the bow of a boat.</p> + +<p><b>C'est merveilleux</b>:—It's wonderful.</p> + +<p><b>Mon Dieu</b>:—Good heavens!</p> + +<p><b>pâté de fois gras</b>:—A delicacy made of fat goose livers.</p> + +<p><b>Château Lamonte, '62</b>:—A kind of wine; the date refers to the year in +which it was bottled.</p> + +<p><b>Oui, mon père</b>:—Yes, father.</p> + +<p><b>mon ami</b>:—My friend.</p> + +<p><b>the little affair of December 2</b>:—On December 2, 1851, Louis Napoleon +overawed the French legislature and assumed absolute power. Just a year +later he had himself proclaimed Emperor.</p> + +<p><b>Louis</b>:—Napoleon III.</p> + +<p><b>Victor Hugo</b>:—French poet and novelist (1802-1885).</p> + +<p><b>Louis Blanc</b>:—French author and politician (1812-1882).</p> + +<p><b>Changarnier</b>:—Pronounced <i>shan gär nyā'</i>; Nicholas Changarnier, a +French general (1793-1877).</p> + +<p><b>Cavaignac</b>:—Pronounced <i>ka vay nyak'</i>; Louis Eugene Cavaignac, a +French general (1803-1857). He ran for the Presidency against Louis +Napoleon.</p> + +<p><b>Porte St. Martin</b>:—The beginning of the Boulevard St. Martin, in +Paris.</p> + +<p><b>Rue Royale</b>:—<i>Rue</i> is the French word for <i>street</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Élysée</b>:—A palace in Paris used as a residence by Napoleon III.</p> + +<p><b>one hundred francs</b>:—About twenty dollars.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>What does the title suggest to you? At what point do you change your +idea as to the location of Laguerre's? Do you know of any picturesque +places that are somewhat like the one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>described here? Could you +describe one of them for the class? Why do people usually not appreciate +the scenery near at hand? What do you think of the plan of "seeing +America first"? What is meant here by "my traps"? Why is it better to +wait for Madame? Why does Madame talk so crossly? What sort of person is +she? See if you can tell accurately, from what follows in later pages, +why Monsieur left Paris so hastily. How does the author give you an idea +of François Laguerre's appearance? Why does the author stop to give us +the two paragraphs beginning, "There is a quality," and "Then came a +long interval"? How does he get back to his subject? Why does he not let +Lucette bail the boat? Who does bail it at last? Why? Do you think that +every artist enjoys his work as the writer seems to enjoy his? How does +he make you feel the pleasure of it? Why is there more enjoyment in +eating out of doors than in eating in the house? Why does the author +sprinkle little French phrases through the piece? Is it a good plan to +use foreign phrases in this way? What kind of man is Monsieur Laguerre? +Review his story carefully. Why was the police agent murdered? Who +killed him? Why has Monsieur Laguerre never found out what became of +Cambier?</p> + +<p>This selection deals with a number of different subjects: Why does it +not seem "choppy"? How does the author manage to link the different +parts together? How would you describe this piece to some one who had +not read it? Mr. Smith is an artist who paints in water-colors: do you +see how his painting influences his writing?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + + +<p>Madame Laguerre<br /> +Old-fashioned Garden<br /> +The Ferry<br /> +Sketching<br /> +An Old Pasture<br /> +The Stream<br /> +Good Places to Sketch<br /> +Learning to Paint<br /> +An Old Man with a History<br /> +An Incident in French History<br /> +Getting Dinner under Difficulties<br /> +A Scene in the Kitchen<br /> +Washing at the Pump<br /> +The Flight of the Suspect<br /> +Crossing the Ocean<br /> +Penniless<br /> +The Foreigner<br /> +Looking for Work<br /> +A Dinner out of Doors<br /> +The French Family at Home<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span><br /> +The Cellar<br /> +Some Pictures that I Like<br /> +A Restaurant<br /> +A Country Inn<br /> +What my Foreign Neighbors Eat<br /> +Landscapes<br /> +The Artist</p> + + + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>The Stream</b>:—Plan a description of some stream that you know well. +Imagine yourself taking a trip up the stream in a boat. Tell something +of the weather and the time of day. Speak briefly of the boat and its +occupants. Describe the first picturesque spot: the trees and flowers; +the buildings, if there are any; the reflections in the water; the +people that you see. Go on from point to point, describing the +particularly interesting places. Do not try to do too much. Vary your +account by telling of the boats you meet. Perhaps there will be some +brief dialogues that you can report, or some little adventures that you +can relate. Close your theme by telling of your arrival at your +destination, or of your turning about to go back down the stream.</p> + +<p><b>An Old Man with a History</b>:—Perhaps you can take this from real life; +or perhaps you know some interesting old man whose early adventures you +can imagine. Tell briefly how you happened to know the old man. Describe +him. Speak of his manners, his way of speaking; his character as it +appeared when you knew him. How did you learn his story? Imagine him +relating it. Where was he when he told it? How did he act? Was he +willing to tell the story, or did he have to be persuaded? Tell the +story simply and directly, in his words, breaking it now and then by a +comment or a question from the listener (or listeners). It might be well +to explain occasionally how the old man seemed to feel, what expressions +his face assumed, and what gestures he made. Go on thus to the end of +the story. Is it necessary for you to make any remarks at the last, +after the man has finished?</p> + +<p><b>A Country Inn</b>:—See the outline for a similar subject on page <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>A Day at Laguerre's and Other Days</td><td align='left'>F. Hopkinson Smith</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Gondola Days</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Under Dog</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Caleb West, Master Diver</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tom Grogan</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Other Fellow</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Colonel Carter of Cartersville</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Colonel Carter's Christmas</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Fortunes of Oliver Horn</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Forty Minutes Late</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>At Close Range</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A White Umbrella in Mexico</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Gentleman Vagabond</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (Note especially in this, <i>Along the Bronx</i>.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fisherman's Luck</td><td align='left'>Henry van Dyke</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Lazy Idle Brook (in <i>Fisherman's Luck</i>)</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Rivers</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Friendly Road</td><td align='left'>David Grayson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Adventures in Contentment</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>For information concerning Mr. Smith, consult:—</p> + +<p> +A History of Southern Literature, p. 375., Carl Holliday<br /> +American Authors and their Homes, pp. 187-194 F.W. Halsey<br /> +</p> + +<p>Bookman, 17:16 (Portrait); 24:9, September, 1906 (Portrait); 28:9, +September, 1908 (Portrait). Arena, 38:678, December, 1907. Outlook, +93:689, November 27, 1909. Bookbuyer, 25:17-20, August, 1902.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="QUITE_SO" id="QUITE_SO"></a>QUITE SO</h2> + +<h3>THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH</h3> + +<h4>(In <i>Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories</i>)</h4> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>Of course that was not his name. Even in the State of Maine, where it is +still a custom to maim a child for life by christening him Arioch or +Shadrach or Ephraim, nobody would dream of calling a boy "Quite So." It +was merely a nickname which we gave him in camp; but it stuck to him +with such bur-like tenacity, and is so inseparable from my memory of +him, that I do not think I could write definitely of John Bladburn if I +were to call him anything but "Quite So."</p> + +<p>It was one night shortly after the first battle of Bull Run. The Army of +the Potomac, shattered, stunned, and forlorn, was back in its old +quarters behind the earth-works. The melancholy line of ambulances +bearing our wounded to Washington was not done creeping over Long +Bridge; the blue smocks and the gray still lay in windrows on the field +of Manassas; and the gloom that weighed down our hearts was like the fog +that stretched along the bosom of the Potomac, and infolded the valley +of the Shenandoah. A drizzling rain had set in at twilight, and, growing +bolder with the darkness, was beating a dismal tattoo on the tent,—the +tent of Mess 6, Company A, —th Regiment, N.Y. Volunteers. Our mess, +consisting originally of eight men, was reduced to four. Little Billy, +as one of the boys grimly remarked, had concluded to remain at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +Manassas; Corporal Steele we had to leave at Fairfax Court-House, shot +through the hip; Hunter and Suydam we had said good-by to that +afternoon. "Tell Johnny Reb," says Hunter, lifting up the leather +sidepiece of the ambulance, "that I'll be back again as soon as I get a +new leg." But Suydam said nothing; he only unclosed his eyes languidly +and smiled farewell to us.</p> + +<p>The four of us who were left alive and unhurt that shameful July day sat +gloomily smoking our brier-wood pipes, thinking our thoughts, and +listening to the rain pattering against the canvas. That, and the +occasional whine of a hungry cur, foraging on the outskirts of the camp +for a stray bone, alone broke the silence, save when a vicious drop of +rain detached itself meditatively from the ridge-pole of the tent, and +fell upon the wick of our tallow candle, making it "cuss," as Ned Strong +described it. The candle was in the midst of one of its most profane +fits when Blakely, knocking the ashes from his pipe and addressing no +one in particular, but giving breath, unconsciously as it were, to the +result of his cogitations, observed that "it was considerable of a +fizzle."</p> + +<p>"The 'on to Richmond' business?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what they'll do about it over yonder," said Curtis, pointing +over his right shoulder. By "over yonder" he meant the North in general +and Massachusetts especially. Curtis was a Boston boy, and his sense of +locality was so strong that, during all his wanderings in Virginia, I do +not believe there was a moment, day or night, when he could not have +made a bee-line for Faneuil Hall.</p> + +<p>"Do about it?" cried Strong. "They'll make <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>about two hundred thousand +blue flannel trousers and send them along, each pair with a man in +it,—all the short men in the long trousers, and all the tall men in the +short ones," he added, ruefully contemplating his own leg-gear, which +scarcely reached to his ankles.</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Blakely. "Just now, when I was tackling the commissary +for an extra candle, I saw a crowd of new fellows drawing blankets."</p> + +<p>"I say there, drop that!" cried Strong. "All right, sir, didn't know it +was you," he added hastily, seeing it was Lieutenant Haines who had +thrown back the flap of the tent, and let in a gust of wind and rain +that threatened the most serious bronchial consequences to our +discontented tallow dip.</p> + +<p>"You're to bunk in here," said the lieutenant, speaking to some one +outside. The some one stepped in, and Haines vanished in the darkness.</p> + +<p>When Strong had succeeded in restoring the candle to consciousness, the +light fell upon a tall, shy-looking man of about thirty-five, with long, +hay-colored beard and mustache, upon which the rain-drops stood in +clusters, like the night-dew on patches of cobweb in a meadow. It was an +honest face, with unworldly sort of blue eyes, that looked out from +under the broad visor of the infantry cap. With a deferential glance +towards us, the new-comer unstrapped his knapsack, spread his blanket +over it, and sat down unobtrusively.</p> + +<p>"Rather damp night out," remarked Blakely, whose strong hand was +supposed to be conversation.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," replied the stranger, not curtly, but pleasantly, and with +an air as if he had said all there was to be said about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come from the North recently?" inquired Blakely, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"From any place in particular?"</p> + +<p>"Maine."</p> + +<p>"People considerably stirred up down there?" continued Blakely, +determined not to give up.</p> + +<p>"Quite so."</p> + +<p>Blakely threw a puzzled look over the tent, and seeing Ned Strong on the +broad grin, frowned severely. Strong instantly assumed an abstracted +air, and began humming softly,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I wish I was in Dixie."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"The State of Maine," observed Blakely, with a certain defiance of +manner not at all necessary in discussing a geographical question, "is a +pleasant State."</p> + +<p>"In summer," suggested the stranger.</p> + +<p>"In summer, I mean," returned Blakely with animation, thinking he had +broken the ice. "Cold as blazes in winter, though,—isn't it?"</p> + +<p>The new recruit merely nodded.</p> + +<p>Blakely eyed the man homicidally for a moment, and then, smiling one of +those smiles of simulated gayety which the novelists inform us are more +tragic than tears, turned upon him with withering irony.</p> + +<p>"Trust you left the old folks pretty comfortable?"</p> + +<p>"Dead."</p> + +<p>"The old folks dead!"</p> + +<p>"Quite so."</p> + +<p>Blakely made a sudden dive for his blanket, tucked it around him with +painful precision, and was heard no more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>Just then the bugle sounded "lights out,"—bugle answering bugle in +far-off camps. When our not elaborate night-toilets were complete, +Strong threw somebody else's old boot at the candle with infallible aim, +and darkness took possession of the tent. Ned, who lay on my left, +presently reached over to me, and whispered, "I say, our friend 'quite +so' is a garrulous old boy! He'll talk himself to death some of these +odd times, if he isn't careful. How he <i>did</i> run on!"</p> + +<p>The next morning, when I opened my eyes, the new member of Mess 6 was +sitting on his knapsack, combing his blond beard with a horn comb. He +nodded pleasantly to me, and to each of the boys as they woke up, one by +one. Blakely did not appear disposed to renew the animated conversation +of the previous night; but while he was gone to make a requisition for +what was in pure sarcasm called coffee, Curtis ventured to ask the man +his name.</p> + +<p>"Bladburn, John," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"That's rather an unwieldy name for everyday use," put in Strong. "If it +wouldn't hurt your feelings, I'd like to call you Quite So,—for short. +Don't say no, if you don't like it. Is it agreeable?"</p> + +<p>Bladburn gave a little laugh, all to himself, seemingly, and was about +to say, "Quite so," when he caught at the words, blushed like a girl, +and nodded a sunny assent to Strong. From that day until the end, the +sobriquet clung to him.</p> + +<p>The disaster at Bull Run was followed, as the reader knows, by a long +period of masterly inactivity, so far as the Army of the Potomac was +concerned. McDowell, a good soldier but unlucky, retired to Arlington +Heights, and McClellan, who had distinguished <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>himself in Western +Virginia, took command of the forces in front of Washington, and bent +his energies to reorganizing the demoralized troops. It was a dreary +time to the people of the North, who looked fatuously from week to week +for "the fall of Richmond"; and it was a dreary time to the denizens of +that vast city of tents and forts which stretched in a semicircle before +the beleaguered Capitol,—so tedious and soul-wearing a time that the +hardships of forced marches and the horrors of battle became desirable +things to them.</p> + +<p>Roll-call morning and evening, guard-duty, dress-parades, an occasional +reconnaissance, dominoes, wrestling-matches, and such rude games as +could be carried on in camp made up the sum of our lives. The arrival of +the mail with letters and papers from home was the event of the day. We +noticed that Bladburn neither wrote nor received any letters. When the +rest of the boys were scribbling away for dear life, with drumheads and +knapsacks and cracker-boxes for writing-desks, he would sit serenely +smoking his pipe, but looking out on us through rings of smoke with a +face expressive of the tenderest interest.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Quite So," Strong would say, "the mail-bag closes in half an +hour. Ain't you going to write?"</p> + +<p>"I believe not to-day," Bladburn would reply, as if he had written +yesterday, or would write to-morrow: but he never wrote.</p> + +<p>He had become a great favorite with us, and with all the officers of the +regiment. He talked less than any man I ever knew, but there was nothing +sinister or sullen in his reticence. It was sunshine,—warmth and +brightness, but no voice. Unassuming and modest <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>to the verge of +shyness, he impressed every one as a man of singular pluck and nerve.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said Curtis to me one day, "that that fellow Quite So is +clear grit, and when we come to close quarters with our Palmetto +brethren over yonder, he'll do something devilish?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Well, nothing quite explainable; the exasperating coolness of the man, +as much as anything. This morning the boys were teasing Muffin Fan" [a +small mulatto girl who used to bring muffins into camp three times a +week,—at the peril of her life!] "and Jemmy Blunt of Company K—you +know him—was rather rough on the girl, when Quite So, who had been +reading under a tree, shut one finger in his book, walked over to where +the boys were skylarking, and with the smile of a juvenile angel on his +face lifted Jemmy out of that and set him down gently in front of his +own tent. There Blunt sat speechless, staring at Quite So, who was back +again under the tree, pegging away at his little Latin grammar."</p> + +<p>That Latin grammar! He always had it about him, reading it or turning +over its dog's-eared pages at odd intervals and in out-of-the-way +places. Half a dozen times a day he would draw it out from the bosom of +his blouse, which had taken the shape of the book just over the left +breast, look at it as if to assure himself it was all right, and then +put the thing back. At night the volume lay beneath his pillow. The +first thing in the morning, before he was well awake, his hand would go +groping instinctively under his knapsack in search of it.</p> + +<p>A devastating curiosity seized upon us boys concerning that Latin +grammar, for we had discovered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>the nature of the book. Strong wanted to +steal it one night, but concluded not to. "In the first place," +reflected Strong, "I haven't the heart to do it, and in the next place I +haven't the moral courage. Quite So would placidly break every bone in +my body." And I believe Strong was not far out of the way.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I was vexed with myself for allowing this tall, simple-hearted +country fellow to puzzle me so much. And yet, was he a simple-hearted +country fellow? City bred he certainly was not; but his manner, in spite +of his awkwardness, had an indescribable air of refinement. Now and +then, too, he dropped a word or a phrase that showed his familiarity +with unexpected lines of reading. "The other day," said Curtis, with the +slightest elevation of eyebrow, "he had the cheek to correct my Latin +for me." In short, Quite So was a daily problem to the members of Mess +6. Whenever he was absent, and Blakely and Curtis and Strong and I got +together in the tent, we discussed him, evolving various theories to +explain why he never wrote to anybody and why nobody ever wrote to him. +Had the man committed some terrible crime, and fled to the army to hide +his guilt? Blakely suggested that he must have murdered "the old folks." +What did he mean by eternally conning that tattered Latin grammar? And +was his name Bladburn, anyhow? Even his imperturbable amiability became +suspicious. And then his frightful reticence! If he was the victim of +any deep grief or crushing calamity, why didn't he seem unhappy? What +business had he to be cheerful?</p> + +<p>"It's my opinion," said Strong, "that he's a rival Wandering Jew; the +original Jacobs, you know, was a dark fellow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>Blakely inferred from something Bladburn had said, or something he had +not said,—which was more likely,—that he had been a schoolmaster at +some period of his life.</p> + +<p>"Schoolmaster be hanged!" was Strong's comment. "Can you fancy a +schoolmaster going about conjugating baby verbs out of a dratted little +spelling-book? No, Quite So has evidently been a—a—Blest if I can +imagine <i>what</i> he's been!"</p> + +<p>Whatever John Bladburn had been, he was a lonely man. Whenever I want a +type of perfect human isolation, I shall think of him, as he was in +those days, moving remote, self-contained, and alone in the midst of two +hundred thousand men.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>The Indian summer, with its infinite beauty and tenderness, came like a +reproach that year to Virginia. The foliage, touched here and there with +prismatic tints, drooped motionless in the golden haze. The delicate +Virginia creeper was almost minded to put forth its scarlet buds again. +No wonder the lovely phantom—this dusky Southern sister of the pale +Northern June—lingered not long with us, but, filling the once peaceful +glens and valleys with her pathos, stole away rebukefully before the +savage enginery of man.</p> + +<p>The preparations that had been going on for months in arsenals and +foundries at the North were nearly completed. For weeks past the air had +been filled with rumors of an advance; but the rumor of to-day refuted +the rumor of yesterday, and the Grand Army did not move. Heintzelman's +corps was constantly folding its tents, like the Arabs, and as silently +stealing away; but somehow it was always in the same place the next +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>morning. One day, at length, orders came down for our brigade to move.</p> + +<p>"We're going to Richmond, boys!" shouted Strong, thrusting his head in +at the tent; and we all cheered and waved our caps like mad. You see, +Big Bethel and Bull Run and Ball's Bluff (the Bloody B's, as we used to +call them,) hadn't taught us any better sense.</p> + +<p>Rising abruptly from the plateau, to the left of our encampment, was a +tall hill covered with a stunted growth of red-oak, persimmon, and +chestnut. The night before we struck tents I climbed up to the crest to +take a parting look at a spectacle which custom had not been able to rob +of its enchantment. There, at my feet, and extending miles and miles +away, lay the camps of the Grand Army, with its camp-fires reflected +luridly against the sky. Thousands of lights were twinkling in every +direction, some nestling in the valley, some like fire-flies beating +their wings and palpitating among the trees, and others stretching in +parallel lines and curves, like the street-lamps of a city. Somewhere, +far off, a band was playing, at intervals it seemed; and now and then, +nearer to, a silvery strain from a bugle shot sharply up through the +night, and seemed to lose itself like a rocket among the stars,—the +patient, untroubled stars. Suddenly a hand was laid upon my arm.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to say a word to you," said Bladburn.</p> + +<p>With a little start of surprise, I made room for him on the fallen tree +where I was seated.</p> + +<p>"I mayn't get another chance," he said. "You and the boys have been very +kind to me, kinder than I deserve; but sometimes I've fancied that my +not saying anything about myself had given you the idea that all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>was +not right in my past. I want to say that I came down to Virginia with a +clean record."</p> + +<p>"We never really doubted it, Bladburn."</p> + +<p>"If I didn't write home," he continued, "it was because I hadn't any +home, neither kith nor kin. When I said the old folks were dead, I said +it. Am I boring you? If I thought I was—"</p> + +<p>"No, Bladburn. I have often wanted you to talk to me about yourself, not +from idle curiosity, I trust, but because I liked you that rainy night +when you came to camp, and have gone on liking you ever since. This +isn't too much to say, when Heaven only knows how soon I may be past +saying it or you listening to it."</p> + +<p>"That's it," said Bladburn, hurriedly, "that's why I want to talk with +you. I've a fancy that I shan't come out of our first battle."</p> + +<p>The words gave me a queer start, for I had been trying several days to +throw off a similar presentiment concerning him,—a foolish presentiment +that grew out of a dream.</p> + +<p>"In case anything of that kind turns up," he continued, "I'd like you to +have my Latin grammar here,—you've seen me reading it. You might stick +it away in a bookcase, for the sake of old times. It goes against me to +think of it falling into rough hands or being kicked about camp and +trampled under foot."</p> + +<p>He was drumming softly with his fingers on the volume in the bosom of +his blouse.</p> + +<p>"I didn't intend to speak of this to a living soul," he went on, +motioning me not to answer him; "but something took hold of me to-night +and made me follow you up here. Perhaps, if I told you all, you would be +the more willing to look after the little book in case it goes ill with +me. When the war broke out I was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>teaching school down in Maine, in the +same village where my father was schoolmaster before me. The old man +when he died left me quite alone. I lived pretty much by myself, having +no interests outside of the district school, which seemed in a manner my +personal property. Eight years ago last spring a new pupil was brought +to the school, a slight slip of a girl, with a sad kind of face and +quiet ways. Perhaps it was because she wasn't very strong, and perhaps +because she wasn't used over well by those who had charge of her, or +perhaps it was because my life was lonely, that my heart warmed to the +child. It all seems like a dream now, since that April morning when +little Mary stood in front of my desk with her pretty eyes looking down +bashfully and her soft hair falling over her face. One day I look up, +and six years have gone by,—as they go by in dreams,—and among the +scholars is a tall girl of sixteen, with serious, womanly eyes which I +cannot trust myself to look upon. The old life has come to an end. The +child has become a woman and can teach the master now. So help me +Heaven, I didn't know that I loved her until that day!</p> + +<p>"Long after the children had gone home I sat in the schoolroom with my +face resting on my hands. There was her desk, the afternoon shadows +falling across it. It never looked empty and cheerless before. I went +and stood by the low chair, as I had stood hundreds of times. On the +desk was a pile of books, ready to be taken away, and among the rest a +small Latin grammar which we had studied together. What little despairs +and triumphs and happy hours were associated with it! I took it up +curiously, as if it were some gentle dead thing, and turned over the +pages, and could hardly see them. Turning the pages, idly so, I came <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>to +a leaf on which something was written with ink, in the familiar girlish +hand. It was only the words 'Dear John,' through which she had drawn two +hasty pencil lines—I wish she hadn't drawn those lines!" added +Bladburn, under his breath.</p> + +<p>He was silent for a minute or two, looking off towards the camps, where +the lights were fading out one by one.</p> + +<p>"I had no right to go and love Mary. I was twice her age, an awkward, +unsocial man, that would have blighted her youth. I was as wrong as +wrong can be. But I never meant to tell her. I locked the grammar in my +desk and the secret in my heart for a year. I couldn't bear to meet her +in the village, and kept away from every place where she was likely to +be. Then she came to me, and sat down at my feet penitently, just as she +used to do when she was a child, and asked what she had done to anger +me; and then, Heaven forgive me! I told her all, and asked her if she +could say with her lips the words she had written, and she nestled in my +arms all a-trembling like a bird, and said them over and over again.</p> + +<p>"When Mary's family heard of our engagement, there was trouble. They +looked higher for Mary than a middle-aged schoolmaster. No blame to +them. They forbade me the house, her uncles; but we met in the village +and at the neighbors' houses, and I was happy, knowing she loved me. +Matters were in this state when the war came on. I had a strong call to +look after the old flag, and I hung my head that day when the company +raised in our village marched by the schoolhouse to the railroad +station; but I couldn't tear myself away. About this time the minister's +son, who had been away to college, came to the village. He met Mary here +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>and there, and they became great friends. He was a likely fellow, near +her own age, and it was natural they should like one another. Sometimes +I winced at seeing him made free of the home from which I was shut out; +then I would open the grammar at the leaf where 'Dear John' was written +up in the corner, and my trouble was gone. Mary was sorrowful and pale +these days, and I think her people were worrying her.</p> + +<p>"It was one evening two or three days before we got the news of Bull +Run. I had gone down to the burying-ground to trim the spruce hedge set +round the old man's lot, and was just stepping into the enclosure, when +I heard voices from the opposite side. One was Mary's, and the other I +knew to be young Marston's, the minister's son. I didn't mean to listen, +but what Mary was saying struck me dumb. <i>We must never meet again</i>, she +was saying in a wild way. <i>We must say good-by here, forever,—good-by, +good-by!</i> And I could hear her sobbing. Then, presently, she said, +hurriedly, <i>No, no; my hand, not my lips</i>! Then it seemed he kissed her +hands, and the two parted, one going towards the parsonage, and the +other out by the gate near where I stood.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how long I stood there, but the night-dews had wet me to +the bone when I stole out of the graveyard and across the road to the +schoolhouse. I unlocked the door, and took the Latin grammar from the +desk and hid it in my bosom. There was not a sound or a light anywhere +as I walked out of the village. And now," said Bladburn, rising suddenly +from the tree-trunk, "if the little book ever falls in your way, won't +you see that it comes to no harm, for my sake, and for the sake of the +little woman who was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>true to me and didn't love me? Wherever she is +to-night, God bless her!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As we descended to camp with our arms resting on each other's shoulder, +the watch-fires were burning low in the valleys and along the hillsides, +and as far as the eye could reach, the silent tents lay bleaching in the +moonlight.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>We imagined that the throwing forward of our brigade was the initial +movement of a general advance of the army: but that, as the reader will +remember, did not take place until the following March. The Confederates +had fallen back to Centreville without firing a shot, and the National +troops were in possession of Lewinsville, Vienna, and Fairfax +Court-House. Our new position was nearly identical with that which we +had occupied on the night previous to the battle of Bull Run,—on the +old turnpike road to Manassas, where the enemy was supposed to be in +great force. With a field-glass we could see the Rebel pickets moving in +a belt of woodland on our right, and morning and evening we heard the +spiteful roll of their snare-drums.</p> + +<p>Those pickets soon became a nuisance to us. Hardly a night passed but +they fired upon our outposts, so far with no harmful result; but after a +while it grew to be a serious matter. The Rebels would crawl out on +all-fours from the wood into a field covered with underbrush, and lie +there in the dark for hours, waiting for a shot. Then our men took to +the rifle-pits,—pits ten or twelve feet long by four or five feet deep, +with the loose earth banked up a few inches high on the exposed sides. +All the pits bore names, more or less felicitous, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>by which they were +known to their transient tenants. One was called "The Pepper-Box," +another "Uncle Sam's Well," another "The Reb-Trap," and another, I am +constrained to say, was named after a not to be mentioned tropical +locality. Though this rude sort of nomenclature predominated, there was +no lack of softer titles, such as "Fortress Matilda" and "Castle Mary," +and one had, though unintentionally, a literary flavor to it, "Blair's +Grave," which was not popularly considered as reflecting unpleasantly on +Nat Blair, who had assisted in making the excavation.</p> + +<p>Some of the regiment had discovered a field of late corn in the +neighborhood, and used to boil a few ears every day, while it lasted, +for the boys detailed on the night-picket. The corn-cobs were always +scrupulously preserved and mounted on the parapets of the pits. Whenever +a Rebel shot carried away one of these <i>barbette</i> guns, there was +swearing in that particular trench. Strong, who was very sensitive to +this kind of disaster, was complaining bitterly one morning, because he +had lost three "pieces" the night before.</p> + +<p>"There's Quite So, now," said Strong, "when a Minie-ball comes <i>ping</i>! +and knocks one of his guns to flinders, he merely smiles, and doesn't at +all see the degradation of the thing."</p> + +<p>Poor Bladburn! As I watched him day by day going about his duties, in +his shy, cheery way, with a smile for every one and not an extra word +for anybody, it was hard to believe he was the same man who, that night +before we broke camp by the Potomac, had poured out to me the story of +his love and sorrow in words that burned in my memory.</p> + +<p>While Strong was speaking, Blakely lifted aside the flap of the tent and +looked in on us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Boys, Quite So was hurt last night," he said, with a white tremor to +his lip.</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Shot on picket."</p> + +<p>"Why, he was in the pit next to mine," cried Strong.</p> + +<p>"Badly hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Badly hurt."</p> + +<p>I knew he was; I need not have asked the question. He never meant to go +back to New England!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Bladburn was lying on the stretcher in the hospital-tent. The surgeon +had knelt down by him, and was carefully cutting away the bosom of his +blouse. The Latin grammar, stained and torn, slipped, and fell to the +floor. Bladburn gave me a quick glance. I picked up the book, and as I +placed it in his hand, the icy fingers closed softly over mine. He was +sinking fast. In a few minutes the surgeon finished his examination. +When he rose to his feet there were tears on the weather-beaten cheeks. +He was a rough outside, but a tender heart.</p> + +<p>"My poor lad," he blurted out, "it's no use. If you've anything to say, +say it now, for you've nearly done with this world."</p> + +<p>Then Bladburn lifted his eyes slowly to the surgeon, and the old smile +flitted over his face as he murmured,—</p> + +<p>"Quite so."</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>the first battle of Bull Run</b>:—Fought July 21, 1861; known in the +South as Manassas.</p> + +<p><b>Long Bridge</b>:—A bridge over which the Union soldiers crossed in +fleeing to Washington after the battle of Bull Run.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Shenandoah</b>:—A river and a valley in Virginia—the scene of many +events in the Civil War.</p> + +<p><b>Fairfax Court House</b>:—Near Manassas Junction.</p> + +<p><b>On to Richmond</b>:—In 1861 the newspapers of the North were violently +demanding an attack on Richmond.</p> + +<p><b>Faneuil Hall</b>:—An historic hall in Boston, in which important meetings +were held before the Revolution.</p> + +<p><b>McDowell</b>:—Irving McDowell, who commanded the Union troops at Bull +Run.</p> + +<p><b>McClellan</b>:—George B. McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac.</p> + +<p><b>Wandering Jew</b>:—A legendary person said to have been condemned to +wander over the earth, undying, till the Day of Judgment. The legend is +probably founded on a passage in the Bible—John 21:20-23.</p> + +<p><b>folding its tents</b>:—A quotation from <i>The Day is Done</i>, by Longfellow. +The lines are:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the night shall be filled with music,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the cares, that infest the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as silently steal away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><b>Big Bethel</b>:—The Union troops were defeated here on June 10, 1861.</p> + +<p><b>Ball's Bluff</b>:—A place on the Potomac where the Union soldiers were +beaten, October 21, 1861.</p> + +<p><b>Centreville</b>:—A small town, the Union base in the first Battle of Bull +Run.</p> + +<p><b>Lewinsville</b>:—A small town, north of Centreville.</p> + +<p><b>Vienna</b>:—A village in the Bull Run district.</p> + +<p><b>Blair's Grave</b>:—Robert Blair, a Scotch writer, published (1743) a poem +in blank verse called "The Grave."</p> + +<p><b>barbette guns</b>:—Guns elevated to fire over the top of a turret or +parapet.</p> + +<p><b>minie-ball</b>:—A conical ball plugged with iron, named after its +inventor, Captain Minié, of France.</p> + + +<h3>QUESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Read the piece through without stopping, so that you can get the story. +Then go back to the beginning and study with the help of the following +questions:—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>Compare the first sentence with the first sentence of <i>Tennessee's +Partner</i>. What do you think of the method? What is the use of the first +paragraph in <i>Quite So</i>? Why the long paragraph giving the setting? Is +this a good method in writing a story? What had become of "Little +Billy"? Who was "Johnny Reb"? What do you think of bringing in humorous +touches when one is dealing with things so serious as war and battles? +What does "Drop that!" refer to? Why does Strong change his tone? Note +what details the author has selected in order to give a clear picture of +"Quite So" in a few words. How does the conversation reveal the +stranger's character? What is shown by the fact that "Quite So" does not +write any letters? What is the purpose of the episode of "Muffin Fan"? +What devices does the author use, in order to bring out the mystery and +the loneliness of "Quite So"? Note how the author emphasizes the passage +of time. Why does Bladburn finally tell his story? How does it reveal +his character? Was Mary right in what she did? Why are some sentences in +the text printed in italics? Was Bladburn right in leaving his home +village without explanation? Why did he do so? What do you get from the +sentence, "He never meant to go back to New England"? What is the +impression made by the last sentence? Do you like the story?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +A Mysterious Person<br /> +The New Girl at School<br /> +The Schoolmaster's Romance<br /> +A Sudden Departure<br /> +A Camp Scene<br /> +The G.A.R. on Memorial Day<br /> +The Militia in our Town<br /> +An Old Soldier<br /> +A Story of the Civil War<br /> +Some Relics of the Civil War<br /> +Watching the Cadets Drill<br /> +My Uncle's Experiences in the War<br /> +A Sham Battle<br /> +A Visit to an Old Battlefield<br /> +On Picket Duty<br /> +A Daughter of the Confederacy<br /> +"Stonewall" Jackson<br /> +Modern Ways of Preventing War<br /> +The Soldiers' Home<br /> +An Escape from a Military Prison<br /> +The Women's Relief Corps<br /> +Women in the Civil War<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>An Old Soldier</b>:—Tell how you happen to know this old soldier. Where +does he live? Do you see him often? What is he doing when you see him? +Describe him as vividly as you can:—his general appearance; his +clothes; his way of walking. Speak particularly of his face and its +expression. If possible, let us hear him talk. Perhaps you can tell some +of his war stories—in his own words.</p> + +<p><b>A Mysterious Person</b>:—Imagine a mysterious person appearing in a +little town where everybody knows everybody else. Tell how he (or she) +arrives. How does he look? What does he do? Explain clearly why he is +particularly hard to account for. What do people say about him? Try to +make each person's remarks fit his individual character. How do people +try to find out about the stranger? Does he notice their curiosity? Do +they ask him questions? If so, give some bits of their conversations +with him. You might go on and make a story of some length out of this. +Show whether the stranger really has any reason for concealing his +identity. Does he get into any trouble? Does an accident reveal who he +is and why he is in the town? Does some one find out by spying upon him? +Or does he tell all about himself, when the right time comes?</p> + +<p>Perhaps you can put the story into the form of a series of brief +conversations about the stranger or with him.</p> + +<p><b>An Incident of the Civil War</b>:—Select some historical incident, or one +that you have heard from an old soldier, and tell it simply and vividly +in your own words.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of a Bad Boy</td><td align='left'>Thomas Bailey Aldrich</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Marjorie Daw and Other People</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Stillwater Tragedy</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Prudence Palfrey</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>From Ponkapog to Pesth</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Queen of Sheba</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Sea Turn and Other Matters</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>For Bravery on the Field of Battle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (in <i>Two Bites at a Cherry</i>)</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Return of a Private</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (in <i>Main-Travelled Roads</i>)</td><td align='left'>Hamlin Garland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>On the Eve of the Fourth</td><td align='left'>Harold Frederic</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Marse Chan</td><td align='left'>Thomas Nelson Page</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Meh Lady</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Burial of the Guns</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Red Rock</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Long Roll</td><td align='left'>Mary Johnston</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Cease Firing</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Crisis</td><td align='left'>Winston Churchill</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Where the Battle was Fought</td><td align='left'>Mary N. Murfree</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come</td><td align='left'>John Fox, Jr.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hospital Sketches</td><td align='left'>Louisa M. Alcott</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Blockaded Family</td><td align='left'>P.A. Hague</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>He Knew Lincoln<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></td><td align='left'>Ida Tarbell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Perfect Tribute<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></td><td align='left'>M.R.S. Andrews</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Toy Shop<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></td><td align='left'>M.S. Gerry</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Bailey Aldrich</td><td align='left'>Ferris Greenslet</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Park Street Papers, pp. 143-70</td><td align='left'>Bliss Perry</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Writers of To-day, pp. 104-23</td><td align='left'>H.C. Vedder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Authors and their Homes, pp. 89-98</td><td align='left'>F.W. Halsey</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Authors at Home, pp. 3-16</td><td align='left'>J.L. and J.B. Gilder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Literary Pilgrimages in New England, pp. 89-97</td><td align='left'>E.M. Bacon</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas Bailey Aldrich (poem)</td><td align='left'>Henry van Dyke</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p>For biographies and criticisms of Thomas B. Aldrich, see also: Outlook, +86:922, August 24, 1907; 84:735, November 24, 1906; 85:737, March 30, +1907. Bookman, 24:317, December, 1906 (Portrait); also 25:218 +(Portrait). Current Literature, 42:49, January, 1907 (Portrait). +Chautauquan, 65:168, January, 1912.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PAN_IN_WALL_STREET" id="PAN_IN_WALL_STREET"></a>PAN IN WALL STREET</h2> + +<h3>A.D. 1867</h3> + +<h3>EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just where the Treasury's marble front<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To throng for trade and last quotations;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, hour by hour, the rates of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outrival, in the ears of people,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Trinity's undaunted steeple,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even there I heard a strange, wild strain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sound high above the modern clamor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the cries of greed and gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The curbstone war, the auction's hammer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swift, on Music's misty ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It led, from all this strife for millions.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ancient, sweet-do-nothing days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among the kirtle-robed Sicilians.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as it stilled the multitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet more joyous rose, and shriller,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw the minstrel where he stood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At ease against a Doric pillar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One hand a droning organ played,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The other held a Pan's-pipe (fashioned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like those of old) to lips that made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The reeds give out that strain impassioned.<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas Pan himself had wandered here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A-strolling through this sordid city,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And piping to the civic ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The prelude of some pastoral ditty!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The demigod had crossed the seas,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From haunts of shepherd, nymph, and satyr,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Syracusan times,—to these<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far shores and twenty centuries later.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A ragged cap was on his head;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But—hidden thus—there was no doubting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, all with crispy locks o'erspread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His gnarlèd horns were somewhere sprouting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His club-feet, cased in rusty shoes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were crossed, as on some frieze you see them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trousers, patched of divers hues,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Concealed his crooked shanks beneath them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He filled the quivering reeds with sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er his mouth their changes shifted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his goat's-eyes looked around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where'er the passing current drifted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon, as on Trinacrian hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The nymphs and herdsmen ran to hear him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even now the tradesmen from their tills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With clerks and porters, crowded near him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bulls and bears together drew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Jauncey Court and New Street Alley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As erst, if pastorals be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came beasts from every wooded valley;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And random passers stayed to list,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A boxer Ægon, rough and merry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Broadway Daphnis, on his tryst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Nais at the Brooklyn Ferry.<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A one-eyed Cyclops halted long<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In tattered cloak of army pattern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Galatea joined the throng,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A blowsy apple-vending slattern;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While old Silenus staggered out<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From some new-fangled lunch-house handy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bade the piper, with a shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To strike up Yankee Doodle Dandy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A newsboy and a peanut-girl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like little Fauns began to caper;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hair was all in tangled curl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her tawny legs were bare and taper;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still the gathering larger grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gave its pence and crowded nigher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While aye the shepherd-minstrel blew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His pipe, and struck the gamut higher.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O heart of Nature, beating still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With throbs her vernal passion taught her,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even here, as on the vine-clad hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or by the Arethusan water!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New forms may fold the speech, new lands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arise within these ocean-portals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Music waves eternal wands,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enchantress of the souls of mortals!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So thought I,—but among us trod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A man in blue, with legal baton,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scoffed the vagrant demigod,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pushed him from the step I sat on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubting I mused upon the cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Great Pan is dead!"—and all the people<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went on their ways:—and clear and high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The quarter sounded from the steeple.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Wall Street</b>:—An old street in New York faced by the Stock Exchange +and the offices of the wealthiest bankers and brokers.</p> + +<p><b>the Treasury</b>:—The Sub-Treasury Building.</p> + +<p><b>last quotations</b>:—The latest information on stock values given out +before the Stock Exchange closes.</p> + +<p><b>Trinity</b>:—The famous old church that stands at the head of Wall +Street.</p> + +<p><b>curbstone war</b>:—The clamorous quoting, auctioning, and bidding of +stock out on the street curb, where the "curb brokers"—brokers who do +not have seats on the Stock Exchange—do business.</p> + +<p><b>sweet-do-nothing</b>:—A translation of an Italian expression, <i>dolce far +niente</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Sicilians</b>:—Theocritus (3rd century before Christ), the Greek pastoral +poet, wrote of the happy life of the shepherds and shepherdesses in +Sicily.</p> + +<p><b>Doric pillar</b>:—A heavy marble pillar, such as was used in the +architecture of the Dorians in Greece.</p> + +<p><b>Pan's pipe</b>:—Pan was the Greek god of shepherds, and patron of fishing +and hunting. He is represented as having the head and body of a man, +with the legs, horns, and tail of a goat. It was said that he invented +the shepherd's pipe or flute, which he made from reeds plucked on the +bank of a stream.</p> + +<p><b>pastoral ditty</b>:—A poem about shepherds and the happy outdoor life. +The word pastoral comes from the Latin <i>pastor</i>, shepherd.</p> + +<p><b>Syracusan times</b>:—Syracuse was an important city in Sicily. See the +note on Sicilians, above.</p> + +<p><b>Trinacrian hills</b>:—Trinacria is an old name for Sicily.</p> + +<p><b>bulls and bears</b>:—A bull, on the Stock Exchange, is one who operates +in expectation of a rise in stocks; a bear is a person who sells stocks +in expectation of a fall in the market.</p> + +<p><b>Jauncey Court</b>:—The Jauncey family were prominent in the early New +York days. This court was probably named after them.</p> + +<p><b>Ægon</b>:—Usually spelled Ægaeon; another name for Briareus, a monster +with a hundred arms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Daphnis</b>:—In Greek myth, a shepherd who loved music.</p> + +<p><b>Nais</b>:—In Greek myth, a happy young girl, a nymph.</p> + +<p><b>Cyclops</b>:—One of a race of giants having but one eye—in the middle of +the forehead. These giants helped Vulcan at his forge under Aetna.</p> + +<p><b>Galatea</b>:—A sea-nymph beloved by the Cyclops Polyphemus.</p> + +<p><b>Silenus</b>:—The foster-father and companion of Bacchus, god of wine. In +pictures and sculpture Silenus is usually represented as intoxicated.</p> + +<p><b>Fauns</b>:—Fabled beings, half goat and half man.</p> + +<p><b>Arethusan water</b>:—Arethusa, in Greek myth, was a wood-nymph, who was +pursued by the river Alpheus. She was changed into a fountain, and ran +under the sea to Sicily, where she rose near the city of Syracuse. +Shelley has a poem on Arethusa.</p> + +<p><b>baton</b>:—A rod or wand; here, of course, a policeman's club.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>The author sees an organ-grinder playing his gay tunes in Wall Street, +New York, among the buildings where enormous financial transactions are +carried on. He (the author) imagines this wandering minstrel to be Pan +himself, assuming a modern form. Read the notes carefully for what is +said about Pan. Notice, in the poem, how skillfully the author brings +out the contrast between the easy-going days of ancient Greece and the +busy, rushing times of modern America. Of what value is the word +<i>serenely</i> in the first stanza? What is the "curbstone war"? Do you +think the old-fashioned Pan's pipe is common now? Could a man play an +organ and a pipe at the same time? Why is the city spoken of as +"sordid"? What is the "civic ear"? In the description of the player, how +is the idea of his being Pan emphasized? How was it that the bulls and +bears drew together? In plain words who were the people whom the author +describes under Greek names? Show how aptly the mythological characters +are fitted to modern persons. Read carefully what is said about the +power of music, in the stanza beginning "O heart of Nature." Who was the +man in blue? Why did he interfere? Why is the organ-grinder called a +"vagrant demigod"? What was it that the author doubted? What is meant +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>here by "Great Pan is dead"? Does the author mean more than the mere +words seem to express? Do you think that people are any happier in these +commercial times than they were in ancient Greece? After you have +studied the poem and mastered all the references, read the poem through, +thinking of its meaning and its lively measure.</p> + +<p>Read Mrs. Browning's poem, <i>A Musical Instrument</i>, which is about Pan +and his pipe of reeds.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Nooks and Corners of Old New York</td><td align='left'>Charles Hemstreet</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In Old New York</td><td align='left'>Thomas A. Janvier</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Greatest Street in the World: Broadway</td><td align='left'>Stephen Jenkins</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The God of Music (poem)</td><td align='left'>Edith M. Thomas</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Musical Instrument</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Classic Myths (See Index)</td><td align='left'>C.M. Gayley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Age of Fable</td><td align='left'>Thomas Bulfinch</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Butterfly in Wall Street</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (in <i>Madrigals and Catches</i>)</td><td align='left'>Frank D. Sherman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Come Pan, and Pipe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (in <i>Madrigals and Catches</i>)</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pan Learns Music (poem)</td><td align='left'>Henry van Dyke</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Peeps at Great Cities: New York</td><td align='left'>Hildegarde Hawthorne</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Vignettes of Manhattan</td><td align='left'>Brander Matthews</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>New York Society</td><td align='left'>Ralph Pulitzer</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In the Cities (poem)</td><td align='left'>R.W. Gilder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Up at a Villa—Down in the City</td><td align='left'>Robert Browning</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Faun in Wall Street<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>(poem)</td><td align='left'>John Myers O'Hara</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_HAND_OF_LINCOLN" id="THE_HAND_OF_LINCOLN"></a>THE HAND OF LINCOLN</h2> + +<h3>EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look on this cast, and know the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bore a nation in its hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this mute witness understand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What Lincoln was,—how large of mould<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The man who sped the woodman's team,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deepest sunk the ploughman's share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pushed the laden raft astream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of fate before him unaware.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This was the hand that knew to swing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The axe—since thus would Freedom train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her son—and made the forest ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drove the wedge, and toiled amain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Firm hand, that loftier office took,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A conscious leader's will obeyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when men sought his word and look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With steadfast might the gathering swayed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No courtier's, toying with a sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chief's, uplifted to the Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all the kings of earth were mute!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hand of Anak, sinewed strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fingers that on greatness clutch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, lo! the marks their lines along<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of one who strove and suffered much.<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For here in knotted cord and vein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I trace the varying chart of years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know the troubled heart, the strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The weight of Atlas—and the tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again I see the patient brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That palm erewhile was wont to press;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made smooth with hope and tenderness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For something of a formless grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This moulded outline plays about;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pitying flame, beyond our trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathes like a spirit, in and out,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The love that cast an aureole<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Round one who, longer to endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Called mirth to ease his ceaseless dole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet kept his nobler purpose sure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo, as I gaze, the statured man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Built up from yon large hand, appears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A type that Nature wills to plan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But once in all a people's years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What better than this voiceless cast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell of such a one as he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since through its living semblance passed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thought that bade a race be free!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>this cast</b>:—A cast of Lincoln's hand was made by Leonard W. Volk, in +1860, on the Sunday following the nomination of Lincoln for the +Presidency. The original, in bronze, can be seen <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>at the National Museum +in Washington. Various copies have been made in plaster. An anecdote +concerning one of these is told on page 107 of William Dean Howells's +<i>Literary Friends and Acquaintances</i>; facing page 106 of the same book +there is an interesting picture. In the <i>Critic</i>, volume 44, page 510, +there is an article by Isabel Moore, entitled <i>Hands that have Done +Things</i>; a picture of Lincoln's hand, in plaster, is given in the course +of this article.</p> + +<p><b>Anak</b>:—The sons of Anak are spoken of in the Bible as a race of +giants. See Numbers, 13:33; Deuteronomy, 9:2.</p> + +<p><b>Atlas</b>:—In Greek story, the giant who held the world on his shoulders.</p> + +<p><b>the thought</b>:—The Emancipation Proclamation.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Read the poem through from beginning to end. Then go back to the first +and study it more carefully. Notice that there is no pause at the end of +the first stanza. In the ninth line, mentally put in <i>how</i> after <i>know</i>. +Explain what is said about Freedom's training her son. <i>Loftier office</i>: +Loftier than what? Note that <i>might</i> is a noun. Mentally insert <i>hand</i> +after <i>courtier's</i>. Can you tell from the hand of a person whether he +has suffered or not? What does the author mean here by "the weight of +Atlas"? What is a "formless grace"? Is the expression appropriate here? +What characteristic of Lincoln is referred to in the line beginning +"Called mirth"? Are great men so rare as the author seems to think? Why +is the cast a good means of telling of "such a one as he"? Look +carefully at one of Lincoln's portraits, and then read this poem aloud +to yourself.</p> + +<p>Compare this poem with the sonnet <i>On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln</i>, +page 210.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Abraham Lincoln: A Short Life</td><td align='left'>John G. Nicolay</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boys' Life of Lincoln</td><td align='left'>Helen Nicolay</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Personal Traits of Abraham Lincoln</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lincoln the Lawyer</td><td align='left'>F.T. Hill</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Passages from the Speeches and Letters of Abraham Lincoln</td><td align='left'>R.W. Gilder (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lincoln's Own Stories</td><td align='left'>Anthony Gross</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lincoln</td><td align='left'>Norman Hapgood</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Abraham Lincoln, the Boy and the Man</td><td align='left'>James Morgan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Father Abraham</td><td align='left'>Ida Tarbell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>He Knew Lincoln<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Life of Abraham Lincoln</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Abraham Lincoln</td><td align='left'>Robert G. Ingersoll</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Abraham Lincoln</td><td align='left'>Noah Brooks</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Abraham Lincoln for Boys and Girls</td><td align='left'>C.W. Moores</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Graysons</td><td align='left'>Edward Eggleston</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Perfect Tribute<a name="FNanchor_6_6a" id="FNanchor_6_6a"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></td><td align='left'>M.R.S. Andrews</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Toy Shop<a name="FNanchor_6_6b" id="FNanchor_6_6b"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></td><td align='left'>M.S. Gerry</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>We Talked of Lincoln (poem)<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></td><td align='left'>E.W. Thomson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lincoln and the Sleeping Sentinel</td><td align='left'>L.E. Chittenden</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>O Captain, my Captain!</td><td align='left'>Walt Whitman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>When Lilacs last in the Dooryard Bloomed</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Poems</td><td align='left'>E.C. Stedman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>An American Anthology</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Authors and their Homes, pp. 157-172</td><td align='left'>F.W. Halsey</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Authors at Home, pp. 273-291</td><td align='left'>J.L. and J.B. Gilder</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<p>For portraits of E.C. Stedman, see Bookman, 34:592; Current Literature, +42:49.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JEAN_VALJEAN" id="JEAN_VALJEAN"></a>JEAN VALJEAN</h2> + +<h3>AUGUSTA STEVENSON</h3> + +<h4>(Dramatized from Victor Hugo's <i>Les Misérables</i>)</h4> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><span class="smcap">Scene II</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Time</span>: <i>Evening.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Place</span>: <i>Village of D——; dining room of the Bishop's house.</i></p> + +<p>[<i>The room is poorly furnished, but orderly. A door at the back opens on +the street. At one side, a window overlooks the garden; at the other, +curtains hang before an alcove.</i> <span class="smcap">Mademoiselle</span>, <i>the Bishop's</i> +<span class="smcap">Sister</span>, <i>a sweet-faced lady, sits by the fire, knitting.</i> +<span class="smcap">Madame</span>, <i>his</i> <span class="smcap">Housekeeper</span>, <i>is laying the table for +supper.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Has the Bishop returned from the service?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Yes, Mademoiselle. He is in his room, reading. Shall I +call him?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> No, do not disturb him—he will come in good time—when +supper is ready.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Dear me—I forgot to get bread when I went out to-day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Go to the baker's, then; we will wait.</p> + +<p>[<i>Exit Madame. Pause.</i>]</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Bishop</span>. <i>He is an old man, gentle and kindly.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> I hope I have not kept you waiting, sister.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> No, brother, Madame has just gone out for bread. She +forgot it this morning.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop</span> (<i>having seated himself by the fire</i>). The wind blows +cold from the mountains to-night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> (<i>nodding</i>). All day it has been growing colder.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> 'Twill bring great suffering to the poor.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Who suffer too much already.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> I would I could help them more than I do!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> You give all you have, my brother. You keep nothing for +yourself—you have only bare necessities.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Well, I have sent in a bill for carriage hire in making +pastoral visits.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Carriage hire! I did not know you ever rode. Now I am +glad to hear that. A bishop should go in state sometimes. I venture to +say your bill is small.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Three thousand francs.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Three thousand francs! Why, I cannot believe it!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Here is the bill.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> (<i>reading bill</i>). What is this!</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Expenses of Carriage</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>For furnishing soup to hospital</td><td align='left'>1500 francs</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>For charitable society of D——</td><td align='left'>500 "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>For foundlings</td><td align='left'>500 "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>For orphans</td><td align='left'>500 "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>——</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Total</td><td align='left'>3000 francs</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>So! that is your carriage hire! Ha, ha! I might have known it!</p> + +<p>[<i>They laugh together.</i>]</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Madame</span>, <i>excited, with bread.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Such news as I have heard! The whole town is talking +about it! We should have locks put on our doors at once!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> What is it, Madame? What have you heard?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> They say there is a suspicious vagabond in the town. +The inn-keeper refused to take him in. They say he is a released convict +who once committed an awful crime.</p> + +<p>[<i>The Bishop is looking into the fire, paying no attention to Madame.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Do you hear what Madame is saying, brother?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Only a little. Are we in danger, Madame?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> There is a convict in town, your Reverence!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Do you fear we shall be robbed?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> I do, indeed!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Of what?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> There are the six silver plates and the silver +soup-ladle and the two silver candlesticks.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> All of which we could do without.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Do without!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> 'Twould be a great loss, brother. We could not treat a +guest as is our wont.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Ah, there you have me, sister. I love to see the silver +laid out for every guest who comes here. And I like the candles lighted, +too; it makes a brighter welcome.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> A bishop's house should show some state.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Aye—to every stranger! Henceforth, I should like every +one of our six plates on the table whenever we have a guest here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> All of them?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> For one guest?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Yes—we have no right to hide treasures. Each guest +shall enjoy all that we have.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Then 'tis time we should look to the locks on the +doors, if we would keep our silver. I'll go for the locksmith now—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Stay! This house shall not be locked against any man! +Would you have me lock out my brothers?</p> + +<p>[<i>A loud knock is heard at street door.</i>]</p> + +<p>Come in!</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Jean Valjean</span>, <i>with his knapsack and cudgel. The women +are frightened.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean</span> (<i>roughly</i>). See here! My name is Jean Valjean. I am a +convict from the galleys. I was set free four days ago, and I am looking +for work. I hoped to find a lodging here, but no one will have me. It +was the same way yesterday and the day before. To-night a good woman +told me to knock at your door. I have knocked. Is this an inn?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Madame, put on another plate.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> Stop! You do not understand, I think. Here is my +passport—see what it says: "Jean Valjean, discharged convict, has been +nineteen years in the galleys; five years for theft; fourteen years for +having attempted to escape. He is a very dangerous man." There! you know +it all. I ask only for straw in your stable.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Madame, you will put white sheets on the bed in the +alcove.</p> + +<p>[<i>Exit Madame. The Bishop turns to Jean.</i>]</p> + +<p>We shall dine presently. Sit here by the fire, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> What! You will keep me? You call me "sir"! Oh! I am going +to dine! I am to have a bed with sheets like the rest of the world—a +bed! It is nineteen years since I have slept in a bed! I will pay +anything you ask. You are a fine man. You are an innkeeper, are you not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> I am a priest who lives here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> A priest! Ah, yes—I ask your pardon—I didn't notice +your cap and gown.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Be seated near the fire, sir.</p> + +<p>[<i>Jean deposits his knapsack, repeating to himself with delight.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> He calls me <i>sir</i>—<i>sir</i>. (<i>Aloud.</i>) You will require me +to pay, will you not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> No, keep your money. How much have you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> One hundred and nine francs.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> How long did it take you to earn it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> Nineteen years.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop</span> (<i>sadly</i>). Nineteen years—the best part of your life!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> Aye, the best part—I am now forty-six. A beast of burden +would have earned more.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> This lamp gives a very bad light, sister.</p> + +<p>[<i>Mlle. gets the two silver candlesticks from the mantel, lights them, +and places them on the table.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> Ah, but you are good! You don't despise me. You light +your candles for me,—you treat me as a guest,—and I've told you where +I come from, who I am!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> This house does not demand of him who enters whether he +has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer—you are hungry—you +are welcome.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> I cannot understand it—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> This house is home to the man who needs a refuge. So, +sir, this is your house now more than it is mine. Whatever is here is +yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me, +I knew it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> What! You knew my name!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Yes, your name is—Brother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> Stop! I cannot bear it—you are so good—</p> + +<p>[<i>He buries his face in his hands.</i>]</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Madame</span> <i>with dishes for the table; she continues +passing in and out, preparing supper.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> You have suffered much, sir—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean</span> (<i>nodding</i>). The red shirt, the ball on the ankle, a plank +to sleep on, heat, cold, toil, the whip, the double chain for nothing, +the cell for one word—even when sick in bed, still the chain! Dogs, +dogs are happier! Nineteen years! and now the yellow passport!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Yes, you have suffered.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean</span> (<i>with violence</i>). I hate this world of laws and courts! I +hate the men who rule it! For nineteen years my soul has had only +thoughts of hate. For nineteen years I've planned revenge. Do you hear? +Revenge—revenge!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> It is not strange that you should feel so. And if you +continue to harbor those thoughts, you are only deserving of pity. But +listen, my brother; if, in spite of all you have passed through, your +thoughts could be of peace and love, you would be better than any one of +us.</p> + +<p>[<i>Pause. Jean reflects.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean</span> (<i>speaking violently</i>). No, no! I do not belong to your +world of men. I am apart—a different creature from you all. The galleys +made me different. I'll have nothing to do with any of you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> The supper, your Reverence.</p> + +<p>[<i>The Bishop glances at the table</i>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> It strikes me there is something missing from this +table.</p> + +<p>[<i>Madame hesitates.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Madame, do you not understand?</p> + +<p>[<i>Madame steps to a cupboard, gets the remaining silver plates, and +places them on the table.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop</span> (<i>gayly, turning to Jean</i>). To table then, my friend! To +table!</p> + +<p>[<i>Jean remains for a moment, standing doggedly apart; then he steps over +to the chair awaiting him, jerks it back, and sinks into it, without +looking up.</i>]</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Scene III</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Time</span>: <i>Daybreak the next morning.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Place</span>: <i>The Bishop's dining room.</i></p> + +<p>[<i>The room is dark, except for a faint light that comes in through +window curtains.</i> <span class="smcap">Jean Valjean</span> <i>creeps in from the alcove. He +carries his knapsack and cudgel in one hand; in the other, his shoes. He +opens the window overlooking the garden; the room becomes lighter. Jean +steps to the mantel and lifts a silver candlestick.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean</span> (<i>whispering</i>). Two hundred francs—double what I have +earned in nineteen years!</p> + +<p>[<i>He puts it in his knapsack; takes up the other candlestick; shudders, +and sets it down again.</i>]</p> + +<p>No, no, he is good—he called me "sir"—</p> + +<p>[<i>He stands still, staring before him, his hand still gripping the +candlestick. Suddenly he straightens up; speaks bitterly.</i>]</p> + +<p>Why not? 'Tis easy to give a bed and food! Why doesn't he keep men from +the galleys? Nineteen years for a loaf of bread!</p> + +<p>[<i>Pauses a moment, then resolutely puts both candlesticks into his bag; +steps to the cupboard and takes out the silver plates and the ladle, and +slips them into the bag.</i>]</p> + +<p>All solid—I should gain at least one thousand francs. 'Tis due me—due +me for all these years!</p> + +<p>[<i>Closes the bag. Pause.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>No, not the candles—I owe him that much—</p> + +<p>[<i>He puts the candlesticks on mantel; takes up cudgel, knapsack, and +shoes; jumps out window and disappears. Pause.</i>]</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Madame</span>. <i>She shivers; discovers the open window.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Why is that window open? I closed it last night myself. +Oh! Could it be possible?</p> + +<p>[<i>Crosses and looks at open cupboard.</i>]</p> + +<p>It is gone!</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Bishop</span> <i>from his room.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Good morning, Madame!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Your Reverence! The silver is gone! Where is that man?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> In the alcove sleeping, I suppose.</p> + +<p>[<i>Madame runs to curtains of alcove and looks in. Enter</i> +<span class="smcap">Mademoiselle</span>. <i>Madame turns.</i>]</p> + +<p>He is gone!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Gone?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Aye, gone—gone! He has stolen our silver, the +beautiful plates and the ladle! I'll inform the police at once!</p> + +<p>[<i>Starts off. The Bishop stops her.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Wait!—Let me ask you this—was that silver ours?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Why—why not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Because it has always belonged to the poor. I have +withheld it wrongfully.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mlle.</span> Its loss makes no difference to Madame or me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Oh, no! But what is your Reverence to eat from now?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Are there no pewter plates?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Pewter has an odor.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Iron ones, then.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame.</span> Iron has a taste.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Well, then, wooden plates.</p> + +<p>[<i>A knock is heard at street door.</i>]</p> + +<p>Come in.</p> + +<p>[<i>Enter an</i> <span class="smcap">Officer</span> <i>and two</i> <span class="smcap">Soldiers</span>, <i>dragging in</i> +<span class="smcap">Jean Valjean</span>.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Officer.</span> Your Reverence, we found your silver on this man.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Why not? I gave it to him. I am glad to see you again, +Jean. Why did you not take the candlesticks, too?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean</span> (<i>trembling</i>). Your Reverence—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> I told you everything in this house was yours, my +brother.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Officer.</span> Ah, then what he said was true. But, of course, we did +not believe him. We saw him creeping from your garden—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> It is all right, I assure you. This man is a friend of +mine.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Officer.</span> Then we can let him go?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Certainly.</p> + +<p>[<i>Soldiers step back.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean</span> (<i>trembling</i>). I am free?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Officer.</span> Yes! You can go. Do you not understand?</p> + +<p>[<i>Steps back.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop</span> (<i>to Jean</i>). My friend, before you go away—here are +your candlesticks (<i>going to the mantel and bringing the candlesticks</i>); +take them.</p> + +<p>[<i>Jean takes the candlesticks, seeming not to know what he is doing.</i>]</p> + +<p>By the way, my friend, when you come again you need not come through the +garden. The front door is closed only with a latch, day or night. (<i>To +the Officer and Soldiers.</i>) Gentlemen, you may withdraw.</p> + +<p>[<i>Exit Officer and Soldiers.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean</span> (<i>recoiling and holding out the candlesticks</i>). +No—no—I—I—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop.</span> Say no more; I understand. You felt that they were all +owing to you from a world that had used you ill. Keep them, my friend, +keep them. I would I had more to give you. It is small recompense for +nineteen years.</p> + +<p>[<i>Jean stands bewildered, looking down at the candlesticks in his +hands.</i>]</p> + +<p>They will add something to your hundred francs. But do not forget, never +forget, that you have promised to use the money in becoming an honest +man.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jean.</span> I—promised—?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bishop</span> (<i>not heeding</i>). Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer +belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you: I +withdraw it from thoughts of hatred and revenge—I give it to peace and +hope and God.</p> + +<p>[<i>Jean stands as if stunned, staring at the Bishop, then turns and walks +unsteadily from the room.</i>]</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Jean Valjean, as a young man, was sent to the galleys for stealing a +loaf of bread to feed his sister's hungry children. From time to time, +when he tried to escape, his sentence was increased, so that he spent +nineteen years as a convict. Scene I of Miss Stevenson's dramatization +shows Jean Valjean being turned away from the inn because he has been in +prison.</p> + +<p>What does the stage setting tell of the Bishop and his sister? Notice, +as you read, why each of the items in the stage setting is mentioned. +Why is Madame made to leave the room—how does her absence help the +action of the play? What is the purpose of the conversation about the +weather? About the carriage hire? Why is the Bishop not more excited at +Madame's news? What is gained by the talk about the silver? Notice the +dramatic <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>value of the Bishop's speech beginning "Stay!" Why does Jean +Valjean speak so roughly when he enters? Why does he not try to conceal +the fact that he is a convict? Why does not the Bishop reply directly to +Jean Valjean's question? What would be the action of Mademoiselle and +Madame while Jean is speaking? What is Madame's action as she goes out? +What is gained by the conversation between Jean and the Bishop? Why does +the Bishop not reproach Jean for saying he will have revenge? Why is the +silver mentioned so many times?</p> + +<p>While you are reading the first part of Scene III, think how it should +be played. Note how much the stage directions add to the clearness of +the scene. How long should the pause be, before Madame enters? What is +gained by the calmness of the Bishop? How can he say that the silver was +not his? What does the Bishop mean when he says, "I gave it to him"? +What are Mademoiselle and Madame doing while the conversation with the +officers and Jean Valjean is going on? Is it a good plan to let them +drop so completely out of the conversation? Why does the Bishop say that +Jean has promised? Why does the scene close without Jean's replying to +the Bishop? How do you think the Bishop's kindness has affected Jean +Valjean's attitude toward life?</p> + +<p>Note how the action and the conversation increase in intensity as the +play proceeds: Is this a good method? Notice the use of contrast in +speech and action. Note how the chief characters are emphasized. Can you +discover the quality called "restraint," in this fragment of a play? How +is it gained, and what is its value?</p> + + +<h3>EXERCISES<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h3> + +<p>Select a short passage from some book that you like, and try to put it +into dramatic form, using this selection as a kind of model. Do not +attempt too much at once, but think out carefully the setting, the stage +directions, and the dialogue for a brief fragment of a play.</p> + +<p>Make a series of dramatic scenes from the same book, so that a connected +story is worked out.</p> + +<p>Read a part of some modern drama, such as <i>The Piper</i>, or <i>The Blue +Bird</i>, or one of Mr. Howells's little farces, and notice <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>how it makes +use of setting and stage directions; how the conversation is broken up; +how the situation is brought out in the dialogue; how each person is +made to speak in his own character.</p> + +<p>After you have done the reading suggested above, make another attempt at +dramatizing a scene from a book, and see what improvement you can make +upon the sort of thing you did at first.</p> + +<p>It might be interesting for two or three persons to work on a bit of +dramatization together, and then give the fragment of a play in simple +fashion before the class. Or the whole class may work on the play, and +then select some of their number to perform it.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>A Dramatic Reader: Book Five</td><td align='left'>Augusta Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Plays for the Home</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jean Valjean (translated and abridged from Victor Hugo's <i>Les Misérables</i>)</td><td align='left'>S.E. Wiltse (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Little Men Play (adapted from Louisa Alcott's <i>Little Men</i>)</td><td align='left'>E.L. Gould</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Little Women Play</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The St. Nicholas Book of Plays</td><td align='left'>Century Company</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Silver Thread and Other Folk Plays</td><td align='left'>Constance Mackay</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Patriotic Plays and Pageants</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fairy Tale Plays and How to Act Them</td><td align='left'>Mrs. Hugh Bell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Festival Plays</td><td align='left'>Marguerite Merington</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Short Plays from Dickens</td><td align='left'>H.B. Browne</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Piper</td><td align='left'>Josephine Preston Peabody</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Blue Bird</td><td align='left'>Maurice Maeterlinck</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Riders to the Sea</td><td align='left'>J.M. Synge</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>She Stoops to Conquer</td><td align='left'>Oliver Goldsmith</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Rivals</td><td align='left'>Richard Brinsley Sheridan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Prince Otto</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Canterbury Pilgrims</td><td align='left'>Percy Mackaye</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Elevator</td><td align='left'>William Dean Howells</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Mouse Trap</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Sleeping Car</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Register</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of Waterloo</td><td align='left'>Henry Irving</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Children's Theatre</td><td align='left'>A. Minnie Herts</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Art of Play-writing</td><td align='left'>Alfred Hennequin</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_COMBAT_ON_THE_SANDS" id="A_COMBAT_ON_THE_SANDS"></a>A COMBAT ON THE SANDS</h2> + +<h3>MARY JOHNSTON</h3> + +<h4>(From <i>To Have and to Hold</i>, Chapters XXI and XXII)</h4> + + +<p>A few minutes later saw me almost upon the party gathered about the +grave. The grave had received that which it was to hold until the crack +of doom, and was now being rapidly filled with sand. The crew of +deep-dyed villains worked or stood or sat in silence, but all looked at +the grave, and saw me not. As the last handful of sand made it level +with the beach, I walked into their midst, and found myself face to face +with the three candidates for the now vacant captaincy.</p> + +<p>"Give you good-day, gentlemen," I cried. "Is it your captain that you +bury or one of your crew, or is it only pezos and pieces of eight?</p> + +<p>"The sun shining on so much bare steel hurts my eyes," I said. "Put up, +gentlemen, put up! Cannot one rover attend the funeral of another +without all this crowding and display of cutlery? If you will take the +trouble to look around you, you will see that I have brought to the +obsequies only myself."</p> + +<p>One by one cutlass and sword were lowered, and those who had drawn them, +falling somewhat back, spat and swore and laughed. The man in black and +silver only smiled gently and sadly. "Did you drop from the blue?" he +asked. "Or did you come up from the sea?"</p> + +<p>"I came out of it," I said. "My ship went down in the storm yesterday. +Your little cockboat yonder was more fortunate." I waved my hand toward +that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>ship of three hundred tons, then twirled my mustaches and stood at +gaze.</p> + +<p>"Was your ship so large, then?" demanded Paradise, while a murmur of +admiration, larded with oaths, ran around the circle.</p> + +<p>"She was a very great galleon," I replied, with a sigh for the good ship +that was gone.</p> + +<p>A moment's silence, during which they all looked at me. "A galleon," +then said Paradise softly.</p> + +<p>"They that sailed her yesterday are to-day at the bottom of the sea," I +continued. "Alackaday! so are one hundred thousand pezos of gold, three +thousand bars of silver, ten frails of pearls, jewels uncounted, cloth +of gold and cloth of silver. She was a very rich prize."</p> + +<p>The circle sucked in their breath. "All at the bottom of the sea?" +queried Red Gil, with gloating eyes fixed upon the smiling water. "Not +one pezo left, not one little, little pearl?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head and heaved a prodigious sigh. "The treasure is gone," I +said, "and the men with whom I took it are gone. I am a captain with +neither ship nor crew. I take you, my friends, for a ship and crew +without a captain. The inference is obvious."</p> + +<p>The ring gaped with wonder, then strange oaths arose. Red Gil broke into +a bellow of angry laughter, while the Spaniard glared like a catamount +about to spring. "So you would be our captain?" said Paradise, picking +up another shell, and poising it upon a hand as fine and small as a +woman's.</p> + +<p>"Faith, you might go farther and fare worse," I answered, and began to +hum a tune. When I had finished it, "I am Kirby," I said, and waited to +see if that shot should go wide or through the hull.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>For two minutes the dash of the surf and the cries of the wheeling sea +fowl made the only sound in that part of the world; then from those +half-clad rapscallions arose a shout of "Kirby!"—a shout in which the +three leaders did not join. That one who looked a gentleman rose from +the sand and made me a low bow. "Well met, noble captain," he cried in +those his honey tones. "You will doubtless remember me who was with you +that time at Maracaibo when you sunk the galleasses. Five years have +passed since then, and yet I see you ten years younger and three inches +taller."</p> + +<p>"I touched once at the Lucayas, and found the spring de Leon sought," I +said. "Sure the waters have a marvelous effect, and if they give not +eternal youth at least renew that which we have lost."</p> + +<p>"Truly a potent aqua vitæ," he remarked, still with thoughtful +melancholy. "I see that it hath changed your eyes from black to gray."</p> + +<p>"It hath that peculiar virtue," I said, "that it can make black seem +white."</p> + +<p>The man with the woman's mantle drawn about him now thrust himself from +the rear to the front rank. "That's not Kirby!" he bawled. "He's no more +Kirby than I am Kirby! Didn't I sail with Kirby from the Summer Isles to +Cartagena and back again? He's a cheat, and I am a-going to cut his +heart out!" He was making at me with a long knife, when I whipped out my +rapier.</p> + +<p>"Am I not Kirby, you dog?" I cried, and ran him through the shoulder.</p> + +<p>He dropped, and his fellows surged forward with a yell. "Yet a little +patience, my masters!" said Paradise in a raised voice and with genuine +amusement in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>his eyes. "It is true that that Kirby with whom I and our +friend there on the ground sailed was somewhat short and as swart as a +raven, besides having a cut across his face that had taken away part of +his lip and the top of his ear, and that this gentleman who announces +himself as Kirby hath none of Kirby's marks. But we are fair and +generous and open to conviction"—</p> + +<p>"He'll have to convince my cutlass!" roared Red Gil.</p> + +<p>I turned upon him. "If I do convince it, what then?" I demanded. "If I +convince your sword, you of Spain, and yours, Sir Black and Silver?"</p> + +<p>The Spaniard stared. "I was the best sword in Lima," he said stiffly. "I +and my Toledo will not change our minds."</p> + +<p>"Let him try to convince Paradise; he's got no reputation as a +swordsman!" cried out the grave-digger with the broken head.</p> + +<p>A roar of laughter followed this suggestion, and I gathered from it and +from the oaths and allusions to this or that time and place that +Paradise was not without reputation.</p> + +<p>I turned to him. "If I fight you three, one by one, and win, am I +Kirby?"</p> + +<p>He regarded the shell with which he was toying with a thoughtful smile, +held it up that the light might strike through its rose and pearl, then +crushed it to dust between his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Ay," he said with an oath. "If you win against the cutlass of Red Gil, +the best blade of Lima, and the sword of Paradise, you may call yourself +the devil an you please, and we will all subscribe to it."</p> + +<p>I lifted my hand. "I am to have fair play?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>As one man that crew of desperate villains swore that the odds should be +only three to one. By this the whole matter had presented itself to them +as an entertainment more diverting than bullfight or bear-baiting. They +that follow the sea, whether honest men or black-hearted knaves, have in +their composition a certain childlikeness that makes them easily turned, +easily led, and easily pleased. The wind of their passion shifts quickly +from point to point, one moment blowing a hurricane, the next sinking to +a happy-go-lucky summer breeze. I have seen a little thing convert a +crew on the point of mutiny into a set of rollicking, good-natured souls +who—until the wind veered again—would not hurt a fly. So with these. +They spread themselves into a circle, squatting or kneeling or standing +upon the white sand in the bright sunshine, their sinewy hands that +should have been ingrained red clasped over their knees, or, arms +akimbo, resting upon their hips, on their scoundrel faces a broad smile, +and in their eyes that had looked on nameless horrors a pleasurable +expectation as of spectators in a playhouse awaiting the entrance of the +players.</p> + +<p>"There is really no good reason why we should gratify your whim," said +Paradise, still amused. "But it will serve to pass the time. We will +fight you, one by one."</p> + +<p>"And if I win?"</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Then, on the honor of a gentleman, you are Kirby and our +captain. If you lose, we will leave you where you stand for the gulls to +bury."</p> + +<p>"A bargain," I said, and drew my sword.</p> + +<p>"I first!" roared Red Gil. "God's wounds! there will need no second!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>As he spoke he swung his cutlass and made an arc of blue flame. The +weapon became in his hands a flail, terrible to look upon, making +lightnings and whistling in the air, but in reality not so deadly as it +seemed. The fury of his onslaught would have beaten down the guard of +any mere swordsman, but that I was not. A man, knowing his weakness and +insufficiency in many and many a thing, may yet know his strength in one +or two and his modesty take no hurt. I was ever master of my sword, and +it did the thing I would have it do. Moreover, as I fought I saw her as +I had last seen her, standing against the bank of sand, her dark hair, +half braided, drawn over her bosom and hanging to her knees. Her eyes +haunted me, and my lips yet felt the touch of her hand. I fought +well,—how well the lapsing of oaths and laughter into breathless +silence bore witness.</p> + +<p>The ruffian against whom I was pitted began to draw his breath in gasps. +He was a scoundrel not fit to die, less fit to live, unworthy of a +gentleman's steel. I presently ran him through with as little +compunction and as great a desire to be quit of a dirty job as if he had +been a mad dog. He fell, and a little later, while I was engaged with +the Spaniard, his soul went to that hell which had long gaped for it. To +those his companions his death was as slight a thing as would theirs +have been to him. In the eyes of the two remaining would-be leaders he +was a stumbling-block removed, and to the squatting, open-mouthed +commonalty his taking off weighed not a feather against the solid +entertainment I was affording them. I was now a better man than Red +Gil,—that was all.</p> + +<p>The Spaniard was a more formidable antagonist. The best blade of Lima +was by no means to be despised:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> but Lima is a small place, and its +blades can be numbered. The sword that for three years had been counted +the best in all the Low Countries was its better. But I fought fasting +and for the second time that morning, so maybe the odds were not so +great. I wounded him slightly, and presently succeeded in disarming him. +"Am I Kirby?" I demanded, with my point at his breast.</p> + +<p>"Kirby, of course, señor," he answered with a sour smile, his eyes upon +the gleaming blade.</p> + +<p>I lowered my point and we bowed to each other, after which he sat down +upon the sand and applied himself to stanching the bleeding from his +wound. The pirate ring gave him no attention, but stared at me instead. +I was now a better man than the Spaniard.</p> + +<p>The man in black and silver rose and removed his doublet, folding it +very carefully, inside out, that the sand might not injure the velvet, +then drew his rapier, looked at it lovingly, made it bend until point +and hilt well-nigh met, and faced me with a bow.</p> + +<p>"You have fought twice, and must be weary," he said. "Will you not take +breath before we engage, or will your long rest afterward suffice you?"</p> + +<p>"I will rest aboard my ship," I made reply. "And as I am in a hurry to +be gone we won't delay."</p> + +<p>Our blades had no sooner crossed than I knew that in this last encounter +I should need every whit of my skill, all my wit, audacity, and +strength. I had met my equal, and he came to it fresh and I jaded. I +clenched my teeth and prayed with all my heart; I set her face before +me, and thought if I should fail her to what ghastly fate she might +come, and I fought as I had never fought before. The sound of the surf +became a roar in my ears, the sunshine an intolerable <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>blaze of light; +the blue above and around seemed suddenly beneath my feet as well. We +were fighting high in the air, and had fought thus for ages. I knew that +he made no thrust I did not parry, no feint I could not interpret. I +knew that my eye was more quick to see, my brain to conceive, and my +hand to execute than ever before; but it was as though I held that +knowledge of some other, and I myself was far away, at Weyanoke, in the +minister's garden, in the haunted wood, anywhere save on that barren +islet. I heard him swear under his breath, and in the face I had set +before me the eyes brightened. As if she had loved me I fought for her +with all my powers of body and mind. He swore again, and my heart +laughed within me. The sea now roared less loudly, and I felt the good +earth beneath my feet. Slowly but surely I wore him out. His breath came +short, the sweat stood upon his forehead, and still I deferred my +attack. He made the thrust of a boy of fifteen, and I smiled as I put it +by.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you end it?" he breathed. "Finish and be hanged to you!"</p> + +<p>For answer I sent his sword flying over the nearest hillock of sand. "Am +I Kirby?" I said. He fell back against the heaped-up sand and leaned +there, panting, with his hand to his side. "Kirby or devil," he replied. +"Have it your own way."</p> + +<p>I turned to the now highly excited rabble. "Shove the boats off, half a +dozen of you!" I ordered. "Some of you others take up that carrion there +and throw it into the sea. The gold upon it is for your pains. You there +with the wounded shoulder you have no great hurt. I'll salve it with ten +pieces of eight from the captain's own share, the next prize we take."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>A shout of acclamation arose that scared the sea fowl. They who so short +a time before had been ready to tear me limb from limb now with the +greatest apparent delight hailed me as captain. How soon they might +revert to their former mood was a question that I found not worth while +to propound to myself.</p> + +<p>By this the man in black and silver had recovered his breath and his +equanimity. "Have you no commission with which to honor me, noble +captain?" he asked in gently reproachful tones. "Have you forgot how +often you were wont to employ me in those sweet days when your eyes were +black?"</p> + +<p>"By no means, Master Paradise," I said courteously. "I desire your +company and that of the gentleman from Lima. You will go with me to +bring up the rest of my party. The three gentlemen of the broken head, +the bushy ruff, which I protest is vastly becoming, and the wounded +shoulder will escort us."</p> + +<p>"The rest of your party?" said Paradise softly.</p> + +<p>"Ay," I answered nonchalantly. "They are down the beach and around the +point warming themselves by a fire which this piled-up sand hides from +you. Despite the sunshine it is a biting air. Let us be going! This +island wearies me, and I am anxious to be on board ship and away."</p> + +<p>"So small an escort scarce befits so great a captain," he said. "We will +all attend you." One and all started forward.</p> + +<p>I called to mind and gave utterance to all the oaths I had heard in the +wars. "I entertain you for my subordinate whom I command, and not who +commands me!" I cried, when my memory failed me. "As for you, you dogs, +who would question your captain and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>his doings, stay where you are, if +you would not be lessoned in earnest!"</p> + +<p>Sheer audacity is at times the surest steed a man can bestride. Now at +least it did me good service. With oaths and grunts of admiration the +pirates stayed where they were, and went about their business of +launching the boats and stripping the body of Red Gil, while the man in +black and silver, the Spaniard, the two gravediggers, the knave with the +wounded shoulder, and myself walked briskly up the beach.</p> + +<p>With these five at my heels I strode up to the dying fire and to those +who had sprung to their feet at our approach. "Sparrow," I said easily, +"luck being with us as usual, I have fallen in with a party of rovers. I +have told them who I am,—that Kirby, to wit, whom an injurious world +calls the blackest pirate unhanged,—and I have recounted to them how +the great galleon which I took some months ago went down yesterday with +all on board, you and I with these others being the sole survivors. By +dint of a little persuasion they have elected me their captain, and we +will go on board directly and set sail for the Indies, a hunting ground +which we never should have left. You need not look so blank; you shall +be my mate and right hand still." I turned to the five who formed my +escort. "This, gentlemen, is my mate, Jeremy Sparrow by name, who hath a +taste for divinity that in no wise interferes with his taste for a +galleon or a guarda costa. This man, Diccon Demon by name, was of my +crew. The gentleman without a sword is my prisoner, taken by me from the +last ship I sunk. How he, an Englishman, came to be upon a Spanish bark +I have not found leisure to inquire. The lady is my prisoner, also."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure by rights she should be gaoler and hold all men's hearts in ward," +said Paradise, with a low bow to my unfortunate captive.</p> + +<p>While he spoke a most remarkable transformation was going on. The +minister's grave, rugged, and deeply lined face smoothed itself and shed +ten years at least; in the eyes that I had seen wet with noble tears a +laughing devil now lurked, while his strong mouth became a loose-lipped, +devil-may-care one. His head with its aureole of bushy, grizzled hair +set itself jauntily upon one side, and from it and from his face and his +whole great frame breathed a wicked jollity quite indescribable.</p> + +<p>"Odsbodikins, captain!" he cried. "Kirby's luck!—'twill pass into a +saw! Adzooks! and so you're captain once more, and I'm mate once more, +and we've a ship once more, and we're off once more</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To sail the Spanish Main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give the Spaniard pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Heave ho, bully boy, heave ho!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>By 'r lakin! I'm too dry to sing. It will take all the wine of Xeres in +the next galleon to unparch my tongue!"</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>the grave</b>:—This refers to the latter part of chapter 21 of <i>To Have +and to Hold</i>; the hero, Ralph Percy, who has been shipwrecked with his +companions, discovers a group of pirates burying their dead captain.</p> + +<p><b>pezos and pieces of eight</b>:—<i>peso</i> is the Spanish word for dollar; +<i>pieces of eight</i> are dollars also, each dollar containing eight +<i>reals</i>.</p> + +<p><b>the man in black and silver</b>:—Paradise, an Englishman.</p> + +<p><b>frails</b>:—Baskets made of rushes.</p> + +<p><b>Kirby</b>:—A renowned pirate mentioned in chapter 21.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Maracaibo</b>:—The city or the gulf of that name in Venezuela.</p> + +<p><b>galleasses</b>:—Heavy, low-built vessels having sails as well as oars.</p> + +<p><b>Lucayas</b>:—An old name for the Bahama Islands.</p> + +<p><b>de Leon</b>:—Ponce de Leon discovered Florida in 1513; he searched long +for a fountain which would restore youth.</p> + +<p><b>aqua vitæ</b>:—Latin for <i>water of life</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Summer Isles</b>:—Another name for the Bermuda Islands.</p> + +<p><b>Cartagena</b>:—A city in Spain.</p> + +<p><b>Lima</b>:—A city in Peru.</p> + +<p><b>Toledo</b>:—A "Toledo blade"—a sword of the very finest temper, made in +Toledo, Spain.</p> + +<p><b>the Low Countries</b>:—Holland and Belgium.</p> + +<p><b>señor</b>:—The Spanish word for <i>sir</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Weyanoke</b>:—The home of the hero, near Jamestown, Virginia.</p> + +<p><b>Sparrow</b>:—A minister, one of the hero's companions; see chapter 3 of +<i>To Have and to Hold</i>.</p> + +<p><b>guarda costa</b>:—Coast guard.</p> + +<p><b>Diccon</b>:—Ralph Percy's servant.</p> + +<p><b>the gentleman without a sword</b>:—Lord Carnal, an enemy of Percy.</p> + +<p><b>the lady</b>:—She is really Percy's wife.</p> + +<p><b>Odsbodikins</b>; <b>Adzooks</b>:—Oaths much used two centuries ago.</p> + +<p><b>By 'r lakin</b>:—By our ladykin (little lady); an oath by the Virgin +Mary.</p> + +<p><b>Xeres</b>:—The Spanish town after which sherry wine is named.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>This selection is easily understood. Ralph Percy, his wife, and several +others (see notes) are cast on a desert shore after the sinking of their +boat. Percy leaves his companions for a time and falls among pirates; he +pretends to be a "sea-rover" himself. Why does he allude to the pirate +ship as a "cockboat"? Why are the pirates impressed by his remarks? Why +does Percy emphasize the riches of the sunken ship? Is what he says +true? (See chapter 19 of <i>To Have and to Hold</i>.) If not, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>is he +justified in telling a falsehood? Is he really Kirby? Is he fortunate in +his assertion that he is? How does he explain his lack of resemblance to +Kirby? What kind of person is the hero? Why does he wish to become the +leader of the pirates? Is it possible that the pirate crew should change +their attitude so suddenly? Is it a good plan in a story to make a hero +tell of his own successes? Characterize the man in black and silver. How +does the author make us feel the action and peril of the struggle? How +does she make us feel the long duration of the fight with Paradise? Do +you like the hero's behavior with the defeated pirates? Why is he so +careful to repeat to the minister what he has told the pirates? Why does +the minister appear to change his character?</p> + +<p>Can you make this piece into a little play?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +The Real Pirates<br /> +Spanish Gold<br /> +A Fight for Life<br /> +A Famous Duel<br /> +Buried Treasure<br /> +Playing Pirates<br /> +Sea Stories that I Like<br /> +Captain Kidd<br /> +Ponce de Leon<br /> +The Search for Gold<br /> +Story-book Heroes<br /> +Along the Sea Shore<br /> +A Barren Island<br /> +The Rivals<br /> +Land Pirates<br /> +The Pirates in <i>Peter Pan</i><br /> +A Struggle for Leadership<br /> +Our High School Play<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p>Try to make a fragment of a play out of this selection. In this process, +all the class may work together under the direction of the teacher, or +each pupil may make his own attempt to dramatize the piece.</p> + +<p>In writing the drama, tell first what the setting is. In doing so, you +had better look up some modern play and see how the setting is explained +to the reader or the actors. Now show the pirates at work, and give a +few lines of their conversation; then have the hero come upon the scene. +Indicate the speech of each person, and put in all necessary stage +directions. Perhaps you will want to add more dialogue than there is +here. Some of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>onlookers may have something to say. Perhaps you will +wish to leave something out. It might be well, while the fighting is +going on, to bring in remarks from the combatants and the other pirates. +You might look up the duel scene in <i>Hamlet</i> for this point. You can end +your play with the departure of the group; or you can write a second +scene, in which the hero's companions appear, including the lady. +Considerable dialogue could be invented here, and a new episode added—a +quarrel, a plan for organization, or a merry-making.</p> + +<p>When your play is finished, you may possibly wish to have it acted +before the class. A few turbans, sashes, and weapons will be sufficient +to give an air of piracy to the group of players. Some grim black +mustaches would complete the effect.</p> + +<p><b>A Pirate Story</b>:—Tell an old-fashioned "yarn" of adventure, in which a +modest hero relates his own experiences. Give your imagination a good +deal of liberty. Do not waste much time in getting started, but plunge +very soon into the actual story. Let your hero tell how he fell among +the pirates. Then go on with the conversation that ensued—the threats, +the boasting, and the bravado. Make the hero report his struggles, or +the tricks that he resorted to in order to outwit the sea-rovers. +Perhaps he failed at first and got into still greater dangers. Follow +out his adventures to the moment of his escape. Make your descriptions +short and vivid; put in as much direct conversation as possible; keep +the action brisk and spirited. Try to write a lively tale that would +interest a group of younger boys.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>To Have and to Hold</td><td align='left'>Mary Johnston</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Prisoners of Hope</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Long Roll</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Cease Firing</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Audrey</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Virginians</td><td align='left'>W.M. Thackeray</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>White Aprons</td><td align='left'>Maude Wilder Goodwin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Gold Bug</td><td align='left'>Edgar Allan Poe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Treasure Island</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kidnapped</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ebb Tide</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Buccaneers and Pirates of our Coast</td><td align='left'>Frank R. Stockton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kate Bonnett</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Drake</td><td align='left'>Julian Corbett</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Drake and his Yeomen</td><td align='left'>James Barnes</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Drake, the Sea-king of Devon</td><td align='left'>G.M. Towle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Raleigh</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Red Rover</td><td align='left'>J.F. Cooper</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Pirate</td><td align='left'>Walter Scott</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Robinson Crusoe</td><td align='left'>Daniel Defoe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Years before the Mast</td><td align='left'>R.H. Dana</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tales of a Traveller (Part IV)</td><td align='left'>Washington Irving</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nonsense Novels (chapter 8)</td><td align='left'>Stephen Leacock</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Duel (in <i>The Master of Ballantrae</i>, chapter 4)</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lost Galleon (poem)</td><td align='left'>Bret Harte</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stolen Treasure</td><td align='left'>Howard Pyle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jack Ballister's Fortunes</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Buried Treasure</td><td align='left'>R.B. Paine</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Last Buccaneer (poem)</td><td align='left'>Charles Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Book of the Ocean</td><td align='left'>Ernest Ingersoll</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ocean Life in the Old Sailing-Ship Days</td><td align='left'>J.D. Whidden</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p>For Portraits of Miss Johnston, see Bookman, 20:402; 28:193.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_GRASSHOPPER" id="THE_GRASSHOPPER"></a>THE GRASSHOPPER</h2> + +<h3>EDITH M. THOMAS</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shuttle of the sunburnt grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fifer in the dun cuirass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fifing shrilly in the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrilly still at eve unworn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now to rear, now in the van,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gayest of the elfin clan:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I watch their rustling flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can never guess aright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where their lodging-places are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid some daisy's golden star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or beneath a roofing leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in fringes of a sheaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tenanted as soon as bound!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud thy reveille doth sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the earth is laid asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her dreams are passing deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On mid-August afternoons;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through all the harvest moons,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nights brimmed up with honeyed peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gainsaying doth not cease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the frost comes, thou art dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We along the stubble tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On blue, frozen morns, and note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No least murmur is afloat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wondrous still our fields are then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fifer of the elfin men!<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Why is the grasshopper called a "shuttle"? What does the word <i>still</i> +mean here? Who are the "elfin clan"? By whom is the sheaf tenanted? What +is a <i>reveille</i>? Does the grasshopper chirp at night? Why is its cry +called "gainsaying"?</p> + +<p>See how simple the meter (measure) is in this little poem. Ask your +teacher to explain how it is represented by these characters:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">ˉ˘ˉ˘ˉ˘ˉ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ˉ˘ˉ˘ˉ˘ˉ<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Note which signs indicate the accented syllables. See whether or not the +accent comes at the end of the line. The rhyme-scheme is called a +<i>couplet</i>, because of the way in which two lines are linked together. +This kind of rhyme is represented by <i>aa</i>, <i>bb</i>, <i>cc</i>, etc.</p> + + +<h3>EXERCISES</h3> + +<p>Find some other poem that has the same meter and rhyme that this one +has. Try to write a short poem of five or six couplets, using this meter +and rhyme. You do not need to choose a highly poetic subject: Try +something very simple.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you can "get a start" from one of the lines given below:—</p> + +<p> +1. Glowing, darting dragon-fly.<br /> +2. Voyager on dusty wings (A Moth).<br /> +3. Buzzing through the fragrant air (A Bee).<br /> +4. Trembling lurker in the gloom (A Mouse).<br /> +5. Gay red-throated epicure (A humming-bird).<br /> +6. Stealthy vagrant of the night (An Owl).<br /> +7. Flashing through your crystal room (A Gold-fish).<br /> +8. Fairyland is all awake.<br /> +9. Once when all the woods were green.<br /> +10. In the forest is a pool.<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>On the Grasshopper and Cricket</td><td align='left'>John Keats</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>To the Grasshopper and the Cricket</td><td align='left'>Leigh Hunt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Brother of the Ground</td><td align='left'>Edwin Markham</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Humble Bee</td><td align='left'>R.W. Emerson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Cricket</td><td align='left'>Percy Mackaye</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Katydid</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Glow Worm (in <i>Little Folk Lyrics</i>)</td><td align='left'>F.D. Sherman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bees " " " "</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MOLY" id="MOLY"></a>MOLY</h2> + +<h3>EDITH M. THOMAS</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">The root is hard to loose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hold of earth by mortals, but Gods' power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can all things do. 'Tis black, but bears a flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As white as milk. (Chapman's Homer.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Traveller, pluck a stem of moly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If thou touch at Circe's isle,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hermes' moly, growing solely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To undo enchanter's wile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she proffers thee her chalice,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wine and spices mixed with malice,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she smites thee with her staff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To transform thee, do thou laugh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe thou art if thou but bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The least leaf of moly rare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close it grows beside her portal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springing from a stock immortal,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, and often has the Witch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sought to tear it from its niche;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to thwart her cruel will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wise God renews it still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though it grows in soil perverse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven hath been its jealous nurse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a flower of snowy mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs from root and sheathing dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kingly safeguard, only herb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That can brutish passion curb!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some do think its name should be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shield-heart, White Integrity.<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Traveller, pluck a stem of moly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If thou touch at Circe's isle,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hermes' moly, growing solely<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To undo enchanter's wile!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Chapman's Homer</b>:—George Chapman (1559?-1634) was an English poet. He +translated Homer from the Greek into English verse.</p> + +<p><b>moly</b>:—An herb with a black root and a white flower, which Hermes gave +to Odysseus in order to help him withstand the spell of the witch Circe.</p> + +<p><b>Circe</b>:—A witch who charmed her victims with a drink that she prepared +for them, and then changed them into the animals they in character most +resembled.</p> + +<p><b>Hermes</b>:—The messenger of the other Greek gods; he was crafty and +eloquent.</p> + +<p><b>The wise God</b>:—Hermes, or Mercury.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Before you try to study this poem carefully, find out something of the +story of Ulysses and Circe: when you have this information, the poem +will become clear. Notice how the author applies the old Greek tale to +the experiences of everyday life. This would be a good poem to memorize.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>On First Looking into Chapman's Homer</td><td align='left'>John Keats</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Strayed Reveller</td><td align='left'>Matthew Arnold</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wine of Circe</td><td align='left'>Dante Gabriel Rossetti</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tanglewood Tales (Circe's Palace)</td><td align='left'>Nathaniel Hawthorne</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Greek Story and Song, pp. 214-225</td><td align='left'>A.J. Church</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Odyssey, pp. 151-164 (School Ed.)</td><td align='left'>G.H. Palmer (Trans.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Classic Myths, chapter 24</td><td align='left'>C.M. Gayley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Age of Fable, p. 295</td><td align='left'>Thomas Bulfinch</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Prayer of the Swine to Circe</td><td align='left'>Austin Dobson</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<h3>PICTURES</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wine of Circe</td><td align='left'>Sir Edward Burne-Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Circe and the Companions of Ulysses</td><td align='left'>Briton Rivière</td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_PROMISED_LAND" id="THE_PROMISED_LAND"></a>THE PROMISED LAND</h2> + +<h3>MARY ANTIN</h3> + +<h4>(From Chapter IX of <i>The Promised Land</i>)</h4> + + +<p>During his three years of probation, my father had made a number of +false starts in business. His history for that period is the history of +thousands who come to America, like him, with pockets empty, hands +untrained to the use of tools, minds cramped by centuries of repression +in their native land. Dozens of these men pass under your eyes every +day, my American friend, too absorbed in their honest affairs to notice +the looks of suspicion which you cast at them, the repugnance with which +you shrink from their touch. You see them shuffle from door to door with +a basket of spools and buttons, or bending over the sizzling irons in a +basement tailor shop, or rummaging in your ash can, or moving a pushcart +from curb to curb, at the command of the burly policeman. "The Jew +peddler!" you say, and dismiss him from your premises and from your +thoughts, never dreaming that the sordid drama of his days may have a +moral that concerns you. What if the creature with the untidy beard +carries in his bosom his citizenship papers? What if the cross-legged +tailor is supporting a boy in college who is one day going to mend your +state constitution for you? What if the ragpicker's daughters are +hastening over the ocean to teach your children in the public schools? +Think, every time you pass the greasy alien on the street, that he was +born thousands of years before the oldest native American; and he may +have something <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>to communicate to you, when you two shall have learned a +common language. Remember that his very physiognomy is a cipher the key +to which it behooves you to search for most diligently.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>By the time we joined my father, he had surveyed many avenues of +approach toward the coveted citadel of fortune. One of these, heretofore +untried, he now proposed to essay, armed with new courage, and cheered +on by the presence of his family. In partnership with an energetic +little man who had an English chapter in his history, he prepared to set +up a refreshment booth on Crescent Beach. But while he was completing +arrangements at the beach, we remained in town, where we enjoyed the +educational advantages of a thickly populated neighborhood; namely, Wall +Street, in the West End of Boston.</p> + +<p>Anybody who knows Boston knows that the West and North Ends are the +wrong ends of that city. They form the tenement district, or, in the +newer phrase, the slums of Boston. Anybody who is acquainted with the +slums of any American metropolis knows that that is the quarter where +poor immigrants foregather, to live, for the most part, as unkempt, +half-washed, toiling, unaspiring foreigners; pitiful in the eyes of +social missionaries, the despair of boards of health, the hope of ward +politicians, the touchstone of American democracy. The well-versed +metropolitan knows the slums as a sort of house of detention for poor +aliens, where they live on probation till they can show a certificate of +good citizenship.</p> + +<p>He may know all this and yet not guess how Wall Street, in the West End, +appears in the eyes of a little immigrant from Polotzk. What would the +sophisticated <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>sight-seer say about Union Place, off Wall Street, where +my new home waited for me? He would say that it is no place at all, but +a short box of an alley. Two rows of three-story tenements are its +sides, a stingy strip of sky is its lid, a littered pavement is the +floor, and a narrow mouth its exit.</p> + +<p>But I saw a very different picture on my introduction to Union Place. I +saw two imposing rows of brick buildings, loftier than any dwelling I +had ever lived in. Brick was even on the ground for me to tread on, +instead of common earth or boards. Many friendly windows stood open, +filled with uncovered heads of women and children. I thought the people +were interested in us, which was very neighborly. I looked up to the +topmost row of windows, and my eyes were filled with the May blue of an +American sky!</p> + +<p>In our days of affluence in Russia we had been accustomed to upholstered +parlors, embroidered linen, silver spoons and candlesticks, goblets of +gold, kitchen shelves shining with copper and brass. We had feather-beds +heaped halfway to the ceiling; we had clothes presses dusky with velvet +and silk and fine woolen. The three small rooms into which my father now +ushered us, up one flight of stairs, contained only the necessary beds, +with lean mattresses; a few wooden chairs; a table or two; a mysterious +iron structure, which later turned out to be a stove; a couple of +unornamental kerosene lamps; and a scanty array of cooking-utensils and +crockery. And yet we were all impressed with our new home and its +furniture. It was not only because we had just passed through our seven +lean years, cooking in earthern vessels, eating black bread on holidays +and wearing cotton; it was chiefly because these wooden chairs and tin +pans were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> American chairs and pans that they shone glorious in our +eyes. And if there was anything lacking for comfort or decoration we +expected it to be presently supplied—at least, we children did. Perhaps +my mother alone, of us newcomers, appreciated the shabbiness of the +little apartment, and realized that for her there was as yet no laying +down of the burden of poverty.</p> + +<p>Our initiation into American ways began with the first step on the new +soil. My father found occasion to instruct or correct us even on the way +from the pier to Wall Street, which journey we made crowded together in +a rickety cab. He told us not to lean out of the windows, not to point, +and explained the word "greenhorn." We did not want to be "greenhorns," +and gave the strictest attention to my father's instructions. I do not +know when my parents found opportunity to review together the history of +Polotzk in the three years past, for we children had no patience with +the subject; my mother's narrative was constantly interrupted by +irrelevant questions, interjections, and explanations.</p> + +<p>The first meal was an object lesson of much variety. My father produced +several kinds of food, ready to eat, without any cooking, from little +tin cans that had printing all over them. He attempted to introduce us +to a queer, slippery kind of fruit, which he called "banana," but had to +give it up for the time being. After the meal, he had better luck with a +curious piece of furniture on runners, which he called "rocking-chair." +There were five of us newcomers, and we found five different ways of +getting into the American machine of perpetual motion, and as many ways +of getting out of it. One born and bred to the use of a rocking-chair +cannot imagine how ludicrous people <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>can make themselves when attempting +to use it for the first time. We laughed immoderately over our various +experiments with the novelty, which was a wholesome way of letting off +steam after the unusual excitement of the day.</p> + +<p>In our flat we did not think of such a thing as storing the coal in the +bathtub. There was no bathtub. So in the evening of the first day my +father conducted us to the public baths. As we moved along in a little +procession, I was delighted with the illumination of the streets. So +many lamps, and they burned until morning, my father said, and so people +did not need to carry lanterns. In America, then, everything was free, +as we had heard in Russia. Light was free; the streets were as bright as +a synagogue on a holy day. Music was free; we had been serenaded, to our +gaping delight, by a brass band of many pieces, soon after our +installation on Union Place.</p> + +<p>Education was free. That subject my father had written about repeatedly, +as comprising his chief hope for us children, the essence of American +opportunity, the treasure that no thief could touch, not even misfortune +or poverty. It was the one thing that he was able to promise us when he +sent for us; surer, safer than bread or shelter. On our second day I was +thrilled with the realization of what this freedom of education meant. A +little girl from across the alley came and offered to conduct us to +school. My father was out, but we five between us had a few words of +English by this time. We knew the word school. We understood. This +child, who had never seen us till yesterday, who could not pronounce our +names, who was not much better dressed than we, was able to offer us the +freedom of the schools of Boston! No application made, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>no questions +asked, no examinations, rulings, exclusions; no machinations, no fees. +The doors stood open for every one of us. The smallest child could show +us the way.</p> + +<p>This incident impressed me more than anything I had heard in advance of +the freedom of education in America. It was a concrete proof—almost the +thing itself. One had to experience it to understand it.</p> + +<p>It was a great disappointment to be told by my father that we were not +to enter upon our school career at once. It was too near the end of the +term, he said, and we were going to move to Crescent Beach in a week or +so. We had to wait until the opening of the schools in September. What a +loss of precious time—from May till September!</p> + +<p>Not that the time was really lost. Even the interval on Union Place was +crowded with lessons and experiences. We had to visit the stores and be +dressed from head to foot in American clothing; we had to learn the +mysteries of the iron stove, the washboard, and the speaking-tube; we +had to learn to trade with the fruit peddler through the window, and not +to be afraid of the policeman; and, above all, we had to learn English.</p> + +<p>The kind people who assisted us in these important matters form a group +by themselves in the gallery of my friends. If I had never seen them +from those early days till now, I should still have remembered them with +gratitude. When I enumerate the long list of American teachers, I must +begin with those who came to us on Wall Street and taught us our first +steps. To my mother, in her perplexity over the cookstove, the woman who +showed her how to make the fire was an angel of deliverance. A fairy +godmother to us children <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>was she who led us to a wonderful country +called "uptown," where in a dazzlingly beautiful palace called a +"department store," we exchanged our hateful homemade European costumes, +which pointed us out as "greenhorns" to the children on the street, for +real American machine-made garments, and issued forth glorified in each +other's eyes.</p> + +<p>With our despised immigrant clothing we shed also our impossible Hebrew +names. A committee of our friends, several years ahead of us in American +experience, put their heads together and concocted American names for us +all. Those of our real names that had no pleasing American equivalents +they ruthlessly discarded, content if they retained the initials. My +mother, possessing a name that was not easily translatable, was punished +with the undignified nickname of Annie. Fetchke, Joseph, and Deborah +issued as Frieda, Joseph, and Dora, respectively. As for poor me, I was +simply cheated. The name they gave me was hardly new. My Hebrew name +being Maryashe in full, Mashke for short, Russianized into Marya +(<i>Mar-ya</i>) my friends said that it would hold good in English as <i>Mary</i>; +which was very disappointing, as I longed to possess a strange-sounding +American name like the others.</p> + +<p>I am forgetting the consolation I had, in this matter of names, from the +use of my surname, which I have had no occasion to mention until now. I +found on my arrival that my father was "Mr. Antin" on the slightest +provocation, and not, as in Polotzk, on state occasions alone. And so I +was "Mary Antin," and I felt very important to answer to such a +dignified title. It was just like America that even plain people should +wear their surnames on week days.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>As a family we were so diligent under instruction, so adaptable, and so +clever in hiding our deficiencies, that when we made the journey to +Crescent Beach, in the wake of our small wagon-load of household goods, +my father had very little occasion to admonish us on the way, and I am +sure he was not ashamed of us. So much we had achieved toward our +Americanization during the two weeks since our landing.</p> + +<p>Crescent Beach is a name that is printed in very small type on the maps +of the environs of Boston, but a life-size strip of sand curves from +Winthrop to Lynn; and that is historic ground in the annals of my +family. The place is now a popular resort for holiday crowds, and is +famous under the name of Revere Beach. When the reunited Antins made +their stand there, however, there were no boulevards, no stately +bath-houses, no hotels, no gaudy amusement places, no illuminations, no +showmen, no tawdry rabble. There was only the bright clean sweep of +sand, the summer sea, and the summer sky. At high tide the whole +Atlantic rushed in, tossing the seaweeds in his mane; at low tide he +rushed out, growling and gnashing his granite teeth. Between tides a +baby might play on the beach, digging with pebbles and shells, till it +lay asleep on the sand. The whole sun shone by day, troops of stars by +night, and the great moon in its season.</p> + +<p>Into this grand cycle of the seaside day I came to live and learn and +play. A few people came with me, as I have already intimated; but the +main thing was that <i>I</i> came to live on the edge of the sea—I, who had +spent my life inland, believing that the great waters of the world were +spread out before me in the Dvina. My idea of the human world had grown +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>enormously during the long journey; my idea of the earth had expanded +with every day at sea, my idea of the world outside the earth now budded +and swelled during my prolonged experience of the wide and unobstructed +heavens.</p> + +<p>Not that I got any inkling of the conception of a multiple world. I had +had no lessons in cosmogony, and I had no spontaneous revelation of the +true position of the earth in the universe. For me, as for my fathers, +the sun set and rose, and I did not feel the earth rushing through +space. But I lay stretched out in the sun, my eyes level with the sea, +till I seemed to be absorbed bodily by the very materials of the world +around me; till I could not feel my hand as separate from the warm sand +in which it was buried. Or I crouched on the beach at full moon, +wondering, wondering, between the two splendors of the sky and the sea. +Or I ran out to meet the incoming storm, my face full in the wind, my +being a-tingle with an awesome delight to the tips of my fog-matted +locks flying behind; and stood clinging to some stake or upturned boat, +shaken by the roar and rumble of the waves. So clinging, I pretended +that I was in danger, and was deliciously frightened; I held on with +both hands, and shook my head, exulting in the tumult around me, equally +ready to laugh or sob. Or else I sat, on the stillest days, with my back +to the sea, not looking at all, but just listening to the rustle of the +waves on the sand; not thinking at all, but just breathing with the sea.</p> + +<p>Thus courting the influence of sea and sky and variable weather, I was +bound to have dreams, hints, imaginings. It was no more than this, +perhaps: that the world as I knew it was not large enough to contain +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>all that I saw and felt; that the thoughts that flashed through my +mind, not half understood, unrelated to my utterable thoughts, concerned +something for which I had as yet no name. Every imaginative growing +child has these flashes of intuition, especially one that becomes +intimate with some one aspect of nature. With me it was the growing +time, that idle summer by the sea, and I grew all the faster because I +had been so cramped before. My mind, too, had so recently been worked +upon by the impressive experience of a change of country that I was more +than commonly alive to impressions, which are the seeds of ideas.</p> + +<p>Let no one suppose that I spent my time entirely, or even chiefly, in +inspired solitude. By far the best part of my day was spent in +play—frank, hearty, boisterous play, such as comes natural to American +children. In Polotzk I had already begun to be considered too old for +play, excepting set games or organized frolics. Here I found myself +included with children who still played, and I willingly returned to +childhood. There were plenty of playfellows. My father's energetic +little partner had a little wife and a large family. He kept them in the +little cottage next to ours; and that the shanty survived the tumultuous +presence of that brood is a wonder to me to-day. The young Wilners +included an assortment of boys, girls, and twins, of every possible +variety of age, size, disposition, and sex. They swarmed in and out of +the cottage all day long, wearing the door-sill hollow, and trampling +the ground to powder. They swung out of windows like monkeys, slid up +the roof like flies, and shot out of trees like fowls. Even a small +person like me couldn't go anywhere without being run over by a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> Wilner; +and I could never tell which Wilner it was because none of them ever +stood still long enough to be identified; and also because I suspected +that they were in the habit of interchanging conspicuous articles of +clothing, which was very confusing.</p> + +<p>You would suppose that the little mother must have been utterly lost, +bewildered, trodden down in this horde of urchins; but you are mistaken. +Mrs. Wilner was a positively majestic little person. She ruled her brood +with the utmost coolness and strictness. She had even the biggest boy +under her thumb, frequently under her palm. If they enjoyed the wildest +freedom outdoors, indoors the young Wilners lived by the clock. And so +at five o'clock in the evening, on seven days in the week, my father's +partner's children could be seen in two long rows around the supper +table. You could tell them apart on this occasion, because they all had +their faces washed. And this is the time to count them: there are twelve +little Wilners at table.</p> + +<p>I managed to retain my identity in this multitude somehow, and while I +was very much impressed with their numbers, I even dared to pick and +choose my friends among the Wilners. One or two of the smaller boys I +liked best of all, for a game of hide-and-seek or a frolic on the beach. +We played in the water like ducks, never taking the trouble to get dry. +One day I waded out with one of the boys, to see which of us dared go +farthest. The tide was extremely low, and we had not wet our knees when +we began to look back to see if familiar objects were still in sight. I +thought we had been wading for hours, and still the water was so shallow +and quiet. My companion was marching straight ahead, so I did the same. +Suddenly a swell lifted us almost off our feet, and we clutched at each +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>other simultaneously. There was a lesser swell, and little waves began +to run, and a sigh went up from the sea. The tide was turning—perhaps a +storm was on the way—and we were miles, dreadful miles from dry land.</p> + +<p>Boy and girl turned without a word, four determined bare legs ploughing +through the water, four scared eyes straining toward the land. Through +an eternity of toil and fear they kept dumbly on, death at their heels, +pride still in their hearts. At last they reach high-water mark—six +hours before full tide.</p> + +<p>Each has seen the other afraid, and each rejoices in the knowledge. But +only the boy is sure of his tongue.</p> + +<p>"You was scared, warn't you?" he taunts.</p> + +<p>The girl understands so much, and is able to reply:</p> + +<p>"You can schwimmen, I not."</p> + +<p>"Betcher life I can schwimmen," the other mocks.</p> + +<p>And the girl walks off, angry and hurt.</p> + +<p>"An' I can walk on my hands," the tormentor calls after her. "Say, you +greenhorn, why don'tcher look?"</p> + +<p>The girl keeps straight on, vowing that she would never walk with that +rude boy again, neither by land nor sea, not even though the waters +should part at his bidding.</p> + +<p>I am forgetting the more serious business which had brought us to +Crescent Beach. While we children disported ourselves like mermaids and +mermen in the surf, our respective fathers dispensed cold lemonade, hot +peanuts, and pink popcorn, and piled up our respective fortunes, nickel +by nickel, penny by penny. I was very proud of my connection with the +public life of the beach. I admired greatly our shining soda fountain, +the rows of sparkling glasses, the pyramids of oranges, the sausage +chains, the neat white counter, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>and the bright array of tin spoons. It +seemed to me that none of the other refreshment stands on the +beach—there were a few—were half so attractive as ours. I thought my +father looked very well in a long white apron and shirt sleeves. He +dished out ice cream with enthusiasm, so I supposed he was getting rich. +It never occurred to me to compare his present occupation with the +position for which he had been originally destined; or if I thought +about it, I was just as well content, for by this time I had by heart my +father's saying, "America is not Polotzk." All occupations were +respectable, all men were equal, in America.</p> + +<p>If I admired the soda fountain and the sausage chains, I almost +worshipped the partner, Mr. Wilner. I was content to stand for an hour +at a time watching him make potato chips. In his cook's cap and apron, +with a ladle in his hand and a smile on his face, he moved about with +the greatest agility, whisking his raw materials out of nowhere, dipping +into his bubbling kettle with a flourish, and bringing forth the +finished product with a caper. Such potato chips were not to be had +anywhere else on Crescent Beach. Thin as tissue paper, crisp as dry +snow, and salt as the sea—such thirst-producing, lemonade-selling, +nickel-bringing potato chips only Mr. Wilner could make. On holidays, +when dozens of family parties came out by every train from town, he +could hardly keep up with the demand for his potato chips. And with a +waiting crowd around him our partner was at his best. He was as voluble +as he was skilful, and as witty as he was voluble; at least so I guessed +from the laughter that frequently drowned his voice. I could not +understand his jokes, but if I could get near enough to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>watch his lips +and his smile and his merry eyes, I was happy. That any one could talk +so fast, and in English, was marvel enough, but that this prodigy should +belong to <i>our</i> establishment was a fact to thrill me. I had never seen +anything like Mr. Wilner, except a wedding jester; but then he spoke +common Yiddish. So proud was I of the talent and good taste displayed at +our stand that if my father beckoned to me in the crowd and sent me on +an errand, I hoped the people noticed that I, too, was connected with +the establishment.</p> + +<p>And all this splendor and glory and distinction came to a sudden end. +There was some trouble about a license—some fee or fine—there was a +storm in the night that damaged the soda fountain and other +fixtures—there was talk and consultation between the houses of Antin +and Wilner—and the promising partnership was dissolved. No more would +the merry partner gather the crowd on the beach; no more would the +twelve young Wilners gambol like mermen and mermaids in the surf. And +the less numerous tribe of Antin must also say farewell to the jolly +seaside life; for men in such humble business as my father's carry their +families, along with their other earthly goods, wherever they go, after +the manner of the gypsies. We had driven a feeble stake into the sand. +The jealous Atlantic, in conspiracy with the Sunday law, had torn it +out. We must seek our luck elsewhere.</p> + +<p>In Polotzk we had supposed that "America" was practically synonymous +with "Boston." When we landed in Boston, the horizon was pushed back, +and we annexed Crescent Beach. And now, espying other lands of promise, +we took possession of the province of Chelsea, in the name of our +necessity.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>In Chelsea, as in Boston, we made our stand in the wrong end of the +town. Arlington Street was inhabited by poor Jews, poor Negroes, and a +sprinkling of poor Irish. The side streets leading from it were occupied +by more poor Jews and Negroes. It was a proper locality for a man +without capital to do business. My father rented a tenement with a store +in the basement. He put in a few barrels of flour and of sugar, a few +boxes of crackers, a few gallons of kerosene, an assortment of soap of +the "save the coupon" brands; in the cellar a few barrels of potatoes, +and a pyramid of kindling-wood; in the showcase, an alluring display of +penny candy. He put out his sign, with a gilt-lettered warning of +"Strictly Cash," and proceeded to give credit indiscriminately. That was +the regular way to do business on Arlington Street. My father, in his +three years' apprenticeship, had learned the tricks of many trades. He +knew when and how to "bluff." The legend of "Strictly Cash" was a +protection against notoriously irresponsible customers; while none of +the "good" customers, who had a record for paying regularly on Saturday, +hesitated to enter the store with empty purses.</p> + +<p>If my father knew the tricks of the trade, my mother could be counted on +to throw all her talent and tact into the business. Of course she had no +English yet, but as she could perform the acts of weighing, measuring, +and mental computation of fractions mechanically, she was able to give +her whole attention to the dark mysteries of the language, as +intercourse with her customers gave her opportunity. In this she made +such rapid progress that she soon lost all sense of disadvantage, and +conducted herself behind the counter very much as if she were back in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>her old store in Polotzk. It was far more cozy than Polotzk—at least, +so it seemed to me; for behind the store was the kitchen, where, in the +intervals of slack trade, she did her cooking and washing. Arlington +Street customers were used to waiting while the storekeeper salted the +soup or rescued a loaf from the oven.</p> + +<p>Once more Fortune favored my family with a thin little smile, and my +father, in reply to a friendly inquiry, would say, "One makes a living," +with a shrug of the shoulders that added "but nothing to boast of." It +was characteristic of my attitude toward bread-and-butter matters that +this contented me, and I felt free to devote myself to the conquest of +my new world. Looking back to those critical first years, I see myself +always behaving like a child let loose in a garden to play and dig and +chase the butterflies. Occasionally, indeed, I was stung by the wasp of +family trouble; but I knew a healing ointment—my faith in America. My +father had come to America to make a living. America, which was free and +fair and kind, must presently yield him what he sought. I had come to +America to see a new world, and I followed my own ends with the utmost +assiduity; only, as I ran out to explore, I would look back to see if my +house were in order behind me—if my family still kept its head above +water.</p> + +<p>In after years, when I passed as an American among Americans, if I was +suddenly made aware of the past that lay forgotten,—if a letter from +Russia, or a paragraph in the newspaper, or a conversation overheard in +the street-car, suddenly reminded me of what I might have been,—I +thought it miracle enough that I, Mashke, the granddaughter of Raphael +the Russian, born to a humble destiny, should be at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>home in an American +metropolis, be free to fashion my own life, and should dream my dreams +in English phrases. But in the beginning my admiration was spent on more +concrete embodiments of the splendors of America; such as fine houses, +gay shops, electric engines and apparatus, public buildings, +illuminations, and parades. My early letters to my Russian friends were +filled with boastful descriptions of these glories of my new country. No +native citizen of Chelsea took such pride and delight in its +institutions as I did. It required no fife and drum corps, no Fourth of +July procession, to set me tingling with patriotism. Even the common +agents and instruments of municipal life, such as the letter carrier and +the fire engines, I regarded with a measure of respect. I know what I +thought of people who said that Chelsea was a very small, dull, +unaspiring town, with no discernible excuse for a separate name or +existence.</p> + +<p>The apex of my civic pride and personal contentment was reached on the +bright September morning when I entered the public school. That day I +must always remember, even if I live to be so old that I cannot tell my +name. To most people their first day at school is a memorable occasion. +In my case the importance of the day was a hundred times magnified, on +account of the years I had waited, the road I had come, and the +conscious ambitions I entertained.</p> + +<p>I am wearily aware that I am speaking in extreme figures, in +superlatives. I wish I knew some other way to render the mental life of +the immigrant child of reasoning age. I may have been ever so much an +exception in acuteness of observation, powers of comparison, and +abnormal self-consciousness; none the less were my thoughts and conduct +typical of the attitude <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>of the intelligent immigrant child toward +American institutions. And what the child thinks and feels is a +reflection of the hopes, desires, purposes of the parent who brought him +overseas, no matter how precocious and independent the child may be. +Your immigrant inspectors will tell you what poverty the foreigner +brings in his baggage, what want in his pockets. Let the overgrown boy +of twelve, reverently drawing his letters in the baby class, testify to +the noble dreams and high ideals that may be hidden beneath the greasy +caftan of the immigrant. Speaking for the Jews, at least, I know I am +safe in inviting such an investigation.</p> + +<p>Who were my companions on my first day at school? Whose hand was in +mine, as I stood, overcome with awe, by the teacher's desk, and +whispered my name as my father prompted? Was it Frieda's steady, capable +hand? Was it her loyal heart that throbbed, beat for beat with mine, as +it had done through all our childish adventures? Frieda's heart did +throb that day, but not with my emotions. My heart pulsed with joy and +pride and ambition; in her heart longing fought with abnegation. For I +was led to the schoolroom, with its sunshine and its singing and the +teacher's cheery smile; while she was led to the workshop, with its foul +air, care-lined faces, and the foreman's stern command. Our going to +school was the fulfilment of my father's best promises to us, and +Frieda's share in it was to fashion and fit the calico frocks in which +the baby sister and I made our first appearance in a public schoolroom.</p> + +<p>I remember to this day the gray pattern of the calico, so affectionately +did I regard it as it hung upon the wall—my consecration robe awaiting +the beatific day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> And Frieda, I am sure, remembers it, too, so +longingly did she regard it as the crisp, starchy breadths of it slid +between her fingers. But whatever were her longings, she said nothing of +them; she bent over the sewing-machine humming an Old-World melody. In +every straight, smooth seam, perhaps, she tucked away some lingering +impulse of childhood; but she matched the scrolls and flowers with the +utmost care. If a sudden shock of rebellion made her straighten up for +an instant, the next instant she was bending to adjust a ruffle to the +best advantage. And when the momentous day arrived, and the little +sister and I stood up to be arrayed, it was Frieda herself who patted +and smoothed my stiff new calico; who made me turn round and round, to +see that I was perfect; who stooped to pull out a disfiguring +basting-thread. If there was anything in her heart besides sisterly love +and pride and good-will, as we parted that morning, it was a sense of +loss and a woman's acquiescence in her fate; for we had been close +friends, and now our ways would lie apart. Longing she felt, but no +envy. She did not grudge me what she was denied. Until that morning we +had been children together, but now, at the fiat of her destiny she +became a woman, with all a woman's cares; whilst I, so little younger +than she, was bidden to dance at the May festival of untroubled +childhood.</p> + +<p>I wish, for my comfort, that I could say that I had some notion of the +difference in our lots, some sense of the injustice to her, of the +indulgence to me. I wish I could even say that I gave serious thought to +the matter. There had always been a distinction between us rather out of +proportion to the difference in our years. Her good health and domestic +instincts had made it natural for her to become my mother's right <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>hand, +in the years preceding the emigration, when there were no more servants +or dependents. Then there was the family tradition that Mary was the +quicker, the brighter of the two, and that hers could be no common lot. +Frieda was relied upon for help, and her sister for glory. And when I +failed as a milliner's apprentice, while Frieda made excellent progress +at the dressmaker's, our fates, indeed, were sealed. It was understood, +even before we reached Boston, that she would go to work and I to +school. In view of the family prejudices, it was the inevitable course. +No injustice was intended. My father sent us hand in hand to school, +before he had ever thought of America. If, in America, he had been able +to support his family unaided, it would have been the culmination of his +best hopes to see all his children at school, with equal advantages at +home. But when he had done his best, and was still unable to provide +even bread and shelter for us all, he was compelled to make us children +self-supporting as fast as it was practicable. There was no choosing +possible; Frieda was the oldest, the strongest, the best prepared, and +the only one who was of legal age to be put to work.</p> + +<p>My father has nothing to answer for. He divided the world between his +children in accordance with the laws of the country and the compulsion +of his circumstances. I have no need of defending him. It is myself that +I would like to defend, and I cannot. I remember that I accepted the +arrangements made for my sister and me without much reflection, and +everything that was planned for my advantage I took as a matter of +course. I was no heartless monster, but a decidedly self-centered child. +If my sister had seemed unhappy it would have troubled me; but I am +ashamed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>to recall that I did not consider how little it was that +contented her. I was so preoccupied with my own happiness that I did not +half perceive the splendid devotion of her attitude towards me, the +sweetness of her joy in my good luck. She not only stood by approvingly +when I was helped to everything; she cheerfully waited on me herself. +And I took everything from her hand as if it were my due.</p> + +<p>The two of us stood a moment in the doorway of the tenement house on +Arlington Street, that wonderful September morning when I first went to +school. It was I that ran away, on winged feet of joy and expectation; +it was she whose feet were bound in the tread-mill of daily toil. And I +was so blind that I did not see that the glory lay on her, and not on +me.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Father himself conducted us to school. He would not have delegated that +mission to the President of the United States. He had awaited the day +with impatience equal to mine, and the visions he saw as he hurried us +over the sun-flecked pavements transcended all my dreams. Almost his +first act on landing on American soil, three years before, had been his +application for naturalization. He had taken the remaining steps in the +process with eager promptness, and at the earliest moment allowed by the +law, he became a citizen of the United States. It is true that he had +left home in search of bread for his hungry family, but he went blessing +the necessity that drove him to America. The boasted freedom of the New +World meant to him far more than the right to reside, travel, and work +wherever he pleased; it meant the freedom to speak his thoughts, to +throw off the shackles of superstition, to test his own fate, unhindered +by political or religious <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>tyranny. He was only a young man when he +landed—thirty-two; and most of his life he had been held in +leading-strings. He was hungry for his untasted manhood.</p> + +<p>Three years passed in sordid struggle and disappointment. He was not +prepared to make a living even in America, where the day laborer eats +wheat instead of rye. Apparently the American flag could not protect him +against the pursuing Nemesis of his limitations; he must expiate the +sins of his fathers who slept across the seas. He had been endowed at +birth with a poor constitution, a nervous, restless temperament, and an +abundance of hindering prejudices. In his boyhood his body was starved, +that his mind might be stuffed with useless learning. In his youth this +dearly gotten learning was sold, and the price was the bread and salt +which he had not been trained to earn for himself. Under the wedding +canopy he was bound for life to a girl whose features were still strange +to him; and he was bidden to multiply himself, that sacred learning +might be perpetuated in his sons, to the glory of the God of his +fathers. All this while he had been led about as a creature without a +will, a chattel, an instrument. In his maturity he awoke, and found +himself poor in health, poor in purse, poor in useful knowledge, and +hampered on all sides. At the first nod of opportunity he broke away +from his prison, and strove to atone for his wasted youth by a life of +useful labor; while at the same time he sought to lighten the gloom of +his narrow scholarship by freely partaking of modern ideas. But his +utmost endeavor still left him far from his goal. In business nothing +prospered with him. Some fault of hand or mind or temperament led him to +failure where other men found success. Wherever <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>the blame for his +disabilities be placed, he reaped their bitter fruit. "Give me bread!" +he cried to America. "What will you do to earn it?" the challenge came +back. And he found that he was master of no art, of no trade; that even +his precious learning was of no avail, because he had only the most +antiquated methods of communicating it.</p> + +<p>So in his primary quest he had failed. There was left him the +compensation of intellectual freedom. That he sought to realize in every +possible way. He had very little opportunity to prosecute his education, +which, in truth, had never been begun. His struggle for a bare living +left him no time to take advantage of the public evening school; but he +lost nothing of what was to be learned through reading, through +attendance at public meetings, through exercising the rights of +citizenship. Even here he was hindered by a natural inability to acquire +the English language. In time, indeed, he learned to read, to follow a +conversation or lecture; but he never learned to write correctly, and +his pronunciation remains extremely foreign to this day.</p> + +<p>If education, culture, the higher life were shining things to be +worshipped from afar, he had still a means left whereby he could draw +one step nearer to them. He could send his children to school, to learn +all those things that he knew by fame to be desirable. The common +school, at least, perhaps high school; for one or two, perhaps even +college! His children should be students, should fill his house with +books and intellectual company; and thus he would walk by proxy in the +Elysian Fields of liberal learning. As for the children themselves, he +knew no surer way to their advancement and happiness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>So it was with a heart full of longing and hope that my father led us +to school on that first day. He took long strides in his eagerness, the +rest of us running and hopping to keep up.</p> + +<p>At last the four of us stood around the teacher's desk; and my father, +in his impossible English, gave us over in her charge, with some broken +word of his hopes for us that his swelling heart could no longer +contain. I venture to say that Miss Nixon was struck by something +uncommon in the group we made, something outside of Semitic features and +the abashed manner of the alien. My little sister was as pretty as a +doll, with her clear pink-and-white face, short golden curls, and eyes +like blue violets when you caught them looking up. My brother might have +been a girl, too, with his cherubic contours of face, rich red color, +glossy black hair, and fine eyebrows. Whatever secret fears were in his +heart, remembering his former teachers, who had taught with the rod, he +stood up straight and uncringing before the American teacher, his cap +respectfully doffed. Next to him stood a starved-looking girl with eyes +ready to pop out, and short dark curls that would not have made much of +a wig for a Jewish bride.</p> + +<p>All three children carried themselves rather better than the common run +of "green" pupils that were brought to Miss Nixon. But the figure that +challenged attention to the group was the tall, straight father, with +his earnest face and fine forehead, nervous hands eloquent in gesture, +and a voice full of feeling. This foreigner, who brought his children to +school as if it were an act of consecration, who regarded the teacher of +the primer class with reverence, who spoke of visions, like a man +inspired, in a common schoolroom, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>was not like other aliens, who +brought their children in dull obedience to the law; was not like the +native fathers, who brought their unmanageable boys, glad to be relieved +of their care. I think Miss Nixon guessed what my father's best English +could not convey. I think she divined that by the simple act of +delivering our school certificates to her he took possession of America.</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>The Promised Land</b>:—The land of freedom and peace which the Jews have +hoped to attain. See Exodus, 3:8; 6:8; Genesis, 12:5-7; Deuteronomy, +8:7-10; Hebrews, 11:9.</p> + +<p><b>his three years of probation</b>:—Mary Antin's father had spent three +years in America before sending back to Russia for his family.</p> + +<p><b>Polotzk</b>:—Pronounced Pō'lotsk; a town in Russia on the Dwina River.</p> + +<p><b>seven lean years</b>:—A reference to the famine in Egypt predicted by +Joseph, Pharaoh's Hebrew favorite. See Genesis, 40.</p> + +<p><b>Dvina</b>:—The Düna or Dwina River, in Russia.</p> + +<p><b>originally destined</b>:—Mr. Antin's parents had intended him to be a +scholar and teacher.</p> + +<p><b>Yiddish</b>:—From the German word <i>jüdisch</i>, meaning Jewish; a mixed +language made up of German, Hebrew, and Russian words. It is generally +spoken by Jews.</p> + +<p><b>Chelsea</b>:—A suburb of Boston.</p> + +<p><b>Nemesis</b>:—In Greek mythology, a goddess of vengeance or punishment for +sins and errors.</p> + +<p><b>the sins of his fathers</b>:—See Exodus, 20:5; Numbers, 14:18; +Deuteronomy, 5:9.</p> + +<p><b>Elysian fields</b>:—In Greek thought, the home of the happy dead.</p> + +<p><b>Semitic</b>:—Jewish; from the name of Shem, the son of Noah.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>This selection gives the experience of a Jewish girl who came from +Polotzk, Russia, to Boston. Read rather slowly, with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>help of these +questions: What is meant by "centuries of repression"? Is there no such +repression in America? How is it true that the Jew peddler "was born +thousands of years before the oldest native American"? What are the +educational advantages of a thickly populated neighborhood? What is your +idea of the slums? Why did the children expect every comfort to be +supplied? How much is really free in America? Is education free? How +does one secure an education in Russia? How are American machine-made +garments superior to those made by hand in Russia? Was it a good thing +to change the children's names? What effect does the sea have upon those +who live near it? What effect has a great change of environment on a +growing young person? What kind of person was Mrs. Wilner? What does Mr. +Antin mean when he says, "America is not Polotzk"? Are all men equal in +America? Read carefully the description of Mr. Wilner: How does the +author make it vivid and lively? Why was Mary Antin's first day in +school so important to her? Was it fair that Frieda should not go to +school? Should an older child be sacrificed for a younger? Should a slow +child always give way to a bright one? What do you think of the way in +which Mary accepted the situation when Frieda had to go to work? Read +carefully what Mary says about it. Is it easy to make a living in +America? Why did Mr. Antin not succeed in business? What is meant by +"the compensation of intellectual freedom"? What did Mr. Antin gain from +his life in America? What sort of man was he? In reading the selection, +what idea do you get of the Russian immigrant? Of what America means to +the poor foreigner?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +The Foreigners in our Town<br /> +The "Greenhorn"<br /> +The Immigrant Family<br /> +The Peddler<br /> +Ellis Island<br /> +What America Means to the Foreigner<br /> +The Statue of Liberty<br /> +A Russian Woman<br /> +The New Girl at School<br /> +The Basement Store<br /> +A Large Family<br /> +Learning to Speak a New Language<br /> +What the Public School can Do<br /> +A Russian Brass Shop<br /> +The Factory Girl<br /> +My Childish Sports<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +The Refreshment Stand<br /> +On the Sea Shore<br /> +The Popcorn Man<br /> +A Home in the Tenements<br /> +Earning a Living<br /> +More about Mary Antin<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a><br /> +How Children Amuse Themselves<br /> +A Fragment of My Autobiography<br /> +An Autobiography that I Have Read<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>The Immigrant Family</b>:—Have you ever seen a family that have just +arrived in America from a foreign land? Tell where you saw them. How +many persons were there? What were they doing? Describe each person, +noting especially anything odd or picturesque in looks, dress, or +behavior. Were they carrying anything? What expressions did they have on +their faces? Did they seem pleased with their new surroundings? Was +anyone trying to help them? Could they speak English? If possible, +report a few fragments of their conversation. Did you have a chance to +find out what they thought of America? Do you know what has become of +them, and how they are getting along?</p> + +<p><b>A Fragment of my Autobiography</b>:—Did you, as a child, move into a +strange town, or make a visit in a place entirely new to you? Tell +rather briefly why you went and what preparations were made. Then give +an account of your arrival. What was the first thing that impressed you? +What did you do or say? What did the grown people say? Was there +anything unusual about the food, or the furniture, or the dress of the +people? Go on and relate your experiences, telling any incidents that +you remember. Try to make your reader share the bewilderment and +excitement you felt. Did anyone laugh at you, or make fun of you, or +hurt your feelings? Were you glad or sorry that you had come? Finish +your story by telling of your departure from the place, or of your +gradually getting used to your new surroundings.</p> + +<p>Try to recall some other experiences of your childhood. Write them out +quite fully, giving space to your feelings as well as to the events. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>The Promised Land</td><td align='left'>Mary Antin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>They Who Knock at Our Gates</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lie</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (Atlantic Monthly, August, 1913)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Children of the Tenements</td><td align='left'>Jacob A. Riis</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Making of an American</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>On the Trail of the Immigrant</td><td align='left'>E.A. Steiner</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Against the Current</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Immigrant Tide</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Man Farthest Down</td><td align='left'>Booker T. Washington</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Up from Slavery</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Woman who Toils</td><td align='left'>Marie and Mrs. John Van Vorst</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Long Day</td><td align='left'>Anonymous</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old Homes of New Americans</td><td align='left'>F.E. Clark</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Autobiography</td><td align='left'>S.S. McClure</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Autobiography</td><td align='left'>Theodore Roosevelt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Buckeye Boyhood</td><td align='left'>W.H. Venable</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Tuscan Childhood</td><td align='left'>Lisa Cipriani</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>An Indian Boyhood</td><td align='left'>Charles Eastman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>When I Was Young</td><td align='left'>Yoshio Markino</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>When I Was a Boy in Japan</td><td align='left'>Sakae Shioya</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of my Childhood</td><td align='left'>Clara Barton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of my Boyhood and Youth</td><td align='left'>John Muir</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Biography of a Prairie Girl</td><td align='left'>Eleanor Gates</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Autobiography of a Tomboy</td><td align='left'>Jeanette Gilder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The One I Knew Best of All</td><td align='left'>Frances Hodgson Burnett</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of my Life</td><td align='left'>Helen Keller</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of a Child</td><td align='left'>Pierre Loti</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A New England Girlhood</td><td align='left'>Lucy Larcom</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Autobiography</td><td align='left'>Joseph Jefferson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dream Days</td><td align='left'>Kenneth Grahame</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Golden Age</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Would-be-Goods</td><td align='left'>E. Nesbit</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In the Morning Glow</td><td align='left'>Roy Rolfe Gilson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Chapters from a Life</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth Stuart Phelps-Ward</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<p>Mary Antin: Outlook, 102:482, November 2, 1912; 104:473, June 28, 1913 +(Portrait). Bookman, 35:419-421, June 1912.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WARBLE_FOR_LILAC-TIME" id="WARBLE_FOR_LILAC-TIME"></a>WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME</h2> + +<h3>WALT WHITMAN</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Warble me now for joy of lilac-time (returning in reminiscence),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sort me, O tongue and lips for Nature's sake, souvenirs of earliest summer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gather the welcome signs (as children with pebbles or stringing shells),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put in April and May, the hylas croaking in the ponds, the elastic air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue-bird and darting swallow, nor forget the high-hole flashing his golden wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shimmer of waters with fish in them, the cerulean above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that is jocund and sparkling, the brooks running,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maple woods, the crisp February days, and the sugar-making,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The robin where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With musical clear call at sunrise and again at sunset,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the nest of his mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The melted snow of March, the willow sending forth its yellow-green sprouts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in it and from it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, soul, unloosen'd—the restlessness after I know not what;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, let us lag here no longer, let us be up and away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O if one could but fly like a bird!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O to escape, to sail forth as in a ship!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To glide with thee, O soul, o'er all, in all, as a ship o'er the waters;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathering these hints, the preludes, the blue sky, the grass, the morning drops of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark-green heart-shaped leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wood-violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grace the bush I love—to sing with the birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A warble for joy of lilac-time, returning in reminiscence.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>What is the meaning of "sort me"? Why jumble all these signs of summer +together? Does one naturally think in an orderly way when recalling the +details of spring or summer? Can you think of any important points that +the author has left out? Is <i>samples</i> a poetic word? What is meant by +the line "not for themselves alone," etc.? Note the sound-words in the +poem: What is their value here? Read the lines slowly to yourself, or +have some one read them aloud, and see how many of them suggest little +pictures. Note the punctuation: Do you approve? Is this your idea of +poetry? What is poetry? Would this be better if it were in the full form +of verse? Can you see why the critics have disagreed over Whitman's +poetry?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WHEN_I_HEARD_THE_LEARND_ASTRONOMER" id="WHEN_I_HEARD_THE_LEARND_ASTRONOMER"></a>WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER</h2> + +<h3>WALT WHITMAN</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I heard the learn'd astronomer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide and measure them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Why did the listener become tired of the lecturer who spoke with much +applause? What did he learn from the stars when he was alone out of +doors? Does he not think the study of astronomy worth while? What would +be his feeling toward other scientific studies? What do you get out of +this poem? What do you think of the way in which it is written?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VIGIL_STRANGE_I_KEPT_ON_THE_FIELD_ONE_NIGHT" id="VIGIL_STRANGE_I_KEPT_ON_THE_FIELD_ONE_NIGHT"></a>VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT</h2> + +<h3>WALT WHITMAN</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shall never forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reach'd up as you lay on the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body, son of responding kisses (never again on earth responding),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night-wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battle-field spreading,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my chin in my hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade—not a tear, not a word,<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<span class="i0">Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was your death,</span> +<span class="i0">I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, I think we shall surely meet again,)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appear'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folded the blanket well, tucked it carefully over head and carefully under feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ending my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vigil for boy of responding kisses (never again on earth responding),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day brighten'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And buried him where he fell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>What is a vigil? Was Whitman ever in battle? Does he mean himself +speaking? Was the boy really his son? Is the man's calmness a sign that +he does not care? Why does he call the vigil "wondrous" and "sweet"? +What does he think about the next life? Read the poem over slowly and +thoughtfully to yourself, or aloud to some one: How does it make you +feel?</p> + +<p>Can you see any reason for calling Whitman a great poet?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> Has he +broadened your idea of what poetry may be? Read, if possible, in John +Burroughs's book on Whitman, pages 48-53.</p> + + +<h3>EXERCISES</h3> + +<p>Re-read the <i>Warble for Lilac-Time</i>. Can you write of the signs of fall, +in somewhat the same way? Choose the most beautiful and the most +important characteristics that you can think of. Try to use color-words +and sound-words so that they make your composition vivid and musical. +Compare the <i>Warble for Lilac-Time</i> with the first lines of Chaucer's +<i>Prologue</i> to the <i>Canterbury Tales</i>. With Lowell's <i>How Spring Came in +New England</i>.</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +A Walk in the Woods<br /> +A Spring Day<br /> +Sugar-Making<br /> +My Flower Garden<br /> +The Garden in Lilac Time<br /> +The Orchard in Spring<br /> +On a Farm in Early Summer<br /> +A Walk on a Summer Night<br /> +Waiting for Morning<br /> +The Stars<br /> +Walt Whitman and his Poetry<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Poems by Whitman suitable for class reading:—</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> On the Beach at Night</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Bivouac on a Mountain Side</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> To a Locomotive in Winter</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> A Farm Picture</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> The Runner</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> I Hear It was Charged against Me</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> A Sight in Camp</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Song of the Broad-Axe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> A Child said <i>What is the grass?</i> (from <i>A Song of Myself</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Rolling Earth (Selections from Whitman)</td><td align='left'>W.R. Browne (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Life of Walt Whitman</td><td align='left'>H.B. Binns</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Walt Whitman</td><td align='left'>John Burroughs</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Visit to Walt Whitman (Portraits)</td><td align='left'>John Johnston</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Walt Whitman the Man (Portraits)</td><td align='left'>Thomas Donaldson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Walt Whitman</td><td align='left'>G.R. Carpenter</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Walt Whitman (Portraits)</td><td align='left'>I.H. Platt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Whitman</td><td align='left'>Bliss Perry</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Early May in New England (poem)</td><td align='left'>Percy Mackaye</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Knee-deep in June</td><td align='left'>J.W. Riley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Spring</td><td align='left'>Henry Timrod</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Spring Song</td><td align='left'>Bliss Carman</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ODYSSEUS_IN_PHAEACIA" id="ODYSSEUS_IN_PHAEACIA"></a>ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA</h2> + +<h3>TRANSLATED BY GEORGE HERBERT PALMER</h3> + + +<p>Thus long-tried royal Odysseus slumbered here, heavy with sleep and +toil; but Athene went to the land and town of the Phaeacians. This +people once in ancient times lived in the open highlands, near that rude +folk the Cyclops, who often plundered them, being in strength more +powerful than they. Moving them thence, godlike Nausithoüs, their +leader, established them at Scheria, far from toiling men. He ran a wall +around the town, built houses there, made temples for the gods, and laid +out farms; but Nausithoüs had met his doom and gone to the house of +Hades, and Alcinoüs now was reigning, trained in wisdom by the gods. To +this man's dwelling came the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, planning a safe +return for brave Odysseus. She hastened to a chamber, richly wrought, in +which a maid was sleeping, of form and beauty like the immortals, +Nausicaä, daughter of generous Alcinoüs. Near by two damsels, dowered +with beauty by the Graces, slept by the threshold, one on either hand. +The shining doors were shut; but Athene, like a breath of air, moved to +the maid's couch, stood by her head, and thus addressed her,—taking the +likeness of the daughter of Dymas, the famous seaman, a maiden just +Nausicaä's age, dear to her heart. Taking her guise, thus spoke +clear-eyed Athene:—</p> + +<p>"Nausicaä, how did your mother bear a child so heedless? Your gay +clothes lie uncared for, though the wedding time is near, when you must +wear fine <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>clothes yourself and furnish them to those that may attend +you. From things like these a good repute arises, and father and honored +mother are made glad. Then let us go a-washing at the dawn of day, and I +will go to help, that you may soon be ready; for really not much longer +will you be a maid. Already you have for suitors the chief ones of the +land throughout Phaeacia, where you too were born. Come, then, beg your +good father early in the morning to harness the mules and cart, so as to +carry the men's clothes, gowns, and bright-hued rugs. Yes, and for you +yourself it is more decent so than setting forth on foot; the pools are +far from the town."</p> + +<p>Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, off to Olympus, where they +say the dwelling of the gods stands fast forever. Never with winds is it +disturbed, nor by the rain made wet, nor does the snow come near; but +everywhere the upper air spreads cloudless, and a bright radiance plays +over all; and there the blessed gods are happy all their days. Thither +now came the clear-eyed one, when she had spoken with the maid.</p> + +<p>Soon bright-throned morning came, and waked fair-robed Nausicaä. She +marveled at the dream, and hastened through the house to tell it to her +parents, her dear father and her mother. She found them still in-doors: +her mother sat by the hearth among the waiting-women, spinning +sea-purple yarn; she met her father at the door, just going forth to +join the famous princes at the council, to which the high Phaeacians +summoned him. So standing close beside him, she said to her dear +father:—</p> + +<p>"Papa dear, could you not have the wagon harnessed for me,—the high +one, with good wheels,—to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>take my nice clothes to the river to be +washed, which now are lying dirty? Surely for you yourself it is but +proper, when you are with the first men holding councils, that you +should wear clean clothing. Five good sons too are here at home,—two +married, and three merry young men still,—and they are always wanting +to go to the dance wearing fresh clothes. And this is all a trouble on +my mind."</p> + +<p>Such were her words, for she was shy of naming the glad marriage to her +father; but he understood it all, and answered thus:</p> + +<p>"I do not grudge the mules, my child, nor anything beside. Go! Quickly +shall the servants harness the wagon for you, the high one, with good +wheels, fitted with rack above."</p> + +<p>Saying this, he called to the servants, who gave heed. Out in the court +they made the easy mule-cart ready; they brought the mules and yoked +them to the wagon. The maid took from her room her pretty clothing, and +stowed it in the polished wagon; her mother put in a chest food the maid +liked, of every kind, put dainties in, and poured some wine into a +goat-skin bottle,—the maid, meanwhile, had got into the wagon,—and +gave her in a golden flask some liquid oil, that she might bathe and +anoint herself, she and the waiting-women. Nausicaä took the whip and +the bright reins, and cracked the whip to start. There was a clatter of +the mules, and steadily they pulled, drawing the clothing and the +maid,—yet not alone; beside her went the waiting-women too.</p> + +<p>When now they came to the fair river's current, where the pools were +always full,—for in abundance clear water bubbles from beneath to +cleanse the foulest stains,—they turned the mules loose from the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>wagon, and let them stray along the eddying stream, to crop the honeyed +pasturage. Then from the wagon they took the clothing in their arms, +carried it into the dark water, and stamped it in the pits with rivalry +in speed. And after they had washed and cleansed it of all stains, they +spread it carefully along the shore, just where the waves washed up the +pebbles on the beach. Then bathing and anointing with the oil, they +presently took dinner on the river bank and waited for the clothes to +dry in the sunshine. And when they were refreshed with food, the maids +and she, they then began to play at ball, throwing their wimples off. +White-armed Nausicaä led their sport; and as the huntress Artemis goes +down a mountain, down long Taÿgetus or Erymanthus, exulting in the boars +and the swift deer, while round her sport the woodland nymphs, daughters +of ægis-bearing Zeus, and glad is Leto's heart, for all the rest her +child o'ertops by head and brow, and easily marked is she, though all +are fair; so did this virgin pure excel her women.</p> + +<p>But when Nausicaä thought to turn toward home once more, to yoke the +mules and fold up the clean clothes, then a new plan the goddess formed, +clear-eyed Athene; for she would have Odysseus wake and see the +bright-eyed maid, who might to the Phaeacian city show the way. Just +then the princess tossed the ball to one of her women, and missing her +it fell in the deep eddy. Thereat they screamed aloud. Royal Odysseus +woke, and sitting up debated in his mind and heart:—</p> + +<p>"Alas! To what men's land am I come now? Lawless and savage are they, +with no regard for right, or are they kind to strangers and reverent +toward the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>gods? It was as if there came to me the delicate voice of +maids—nymphs, it may be, who haunt the craggy peaks of hills, the +springs of streams and grassy marshes; or am I now, perhaps, near men of +human speech? Suppose I make a trial for myself, and see."</p> + +<p>So saying, royal Odysseus crept from the thicket, but with his strong +hand broke a spray of leaves from the close wood, to be a covering round +his body for his nakedness. He set off like a lion that is bred among +the hills and trusts its strength; onward it goes, beaten with rain and +wind; its two eyes glare; and now in search of oxen or of sheep it +moves, or tracking the wild deer; its belly bids it make trial of the +flocks, even by entering the guarded folds; so was Odysseus about to +meet those fair-haired maids, for need constrained him. To them he +seemed a loathsome sight, befouled with brine. They hurried off, one +here, one there, over the stretching sands. Only the daughter of +Alcinoüs stayed, for in her breast Athene had put courage and from her +limbs took fear. Steadfast she stood to meet him. And now Odysseus +doubted whether to make his suit by clasping the knees of the +bright-eyed maid, or where he stood, aloof, in winning words to make +that suit, and try if she would show the town and give him clothing. +Reflecting thus, it seemed the better way to make his suit in winning +words, aloof; for fear if he should clasp her knees, the maid might be +offended. Forthwith he spoke, a winning and shrewd speech:—</p> + +<p>"I am your suppliant, princess. Are you some god or mortal? If one of +the gods who hold the open sky, to Artemis, daughter of mighty Zeus, in +beauty, height, and bearing I find you likest. But if you are a mortal, +living on the earth, most happy are your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>father and your honored +mother, most happy your brothers also. Surely their hearts ever grow +warm with pleasure over you, when watching such a blossom moving in the +dance. And then exceeding happy he, beyond all others, who shall with +gifts prevail and lead you home. For I never before saw such a being +with these eyes—no man, no woman. I am amazed to see. At Delos once, by +Apollo's altar, something like you I noticed, a young palm shoot +springing up; for thither too I came, and a great troop was with me, +upon a journey where I was to meet with bitter trials. And just as when +I looked on that I marveled long within, since never before sprang such +a stalk from earth; so, lady, I admire and marvel now at you, and +greatly fear to touch your knees. Yet grievous woe is on me. Yesterday, +after twenty days, I escaped from the wine-dark sea, and all that time +the waves and boisterous winds bore me away from the island of Ogygia. +Now some god cast me here, that probably here also I may meet with +trouble; for I do not think trouble will cease, but much the gods will +first accomplish. Then, princess, have compassion, for it is you to whom +through many grievous toils I first am come; none else I know of all who +own this city and this land. Show me the town, and give me a rag to +throw around me, if you had perhaps on coming here some wrapper for your +linen. And may the gods grant all that in your thoughts you long for: +husband and home and true accord may they bestow; for a better and +higher gift than this there cannot be, when with accordant aims man and +wife have a home. Great grief it is to foes and joy to friends; but they +themselves best know its meaning."</p> + +<p>Then answered him white-armed Nausicaä: "Stranger, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>because you do not +seem a common, senseless person,—and Olympian Zeus himself distributes +fortune to mankind and gives to high and low even as he wills to each; +and this he gave to you, and you must bear it therefore,—now you have +reached our city and our land, you shall not lack for clothes nor +anything besides which it is fit a hard-pressed suppliant should find. I +will point out the town and tell its people's name. The Phaeacians own +this city and this land, and I am the daughter of generous Alcinoüs, on +whom the might and power of the Phaeacians rests."</p> + +<p>She spoke, and called her fair-haired waiting-women: "My women, stay! +Why do you run because you saw a man? You surely do not think him +evil-minded, The man is not alive, and never will be born, who can come +and offer harm to the Phaeacian land: for we are very dear to the +immortals; and then we live apart, far on the surging sea, no other +tribe of men has dealings with us. But this poor man has come here +having lost his way, and we should give him aid; for in the charge of +Zeus all strangers and beggars stand, and a small gift is welcome. Then +give, my women, to the stranger food and drink, and let him bathe in the +river where there is shelter from the breeze."</p> + +<p>She spoke; the others stopped and called to one another, and down they +brought Odysseus to the place of shelter, even as Nausicaä, daughter of +generous Alcinoüs, had ordered. They placed a robe and tunic there for +clothing, they gave him in the golden flask the liquid oil, and bade him +bathe in the stream's currents.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The women went away.... And now, with water from the stream, royal +Odysseus washed his skin clean <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>of the salt which clung about his back +and his broad shoulders, and wiped from his head the foam brought by the +barren sea; and when he had thoroughly bathed and oiled himself and had +put on the clothing which the chaste maiden gave, Athene, the daughter +of Zeus, made him taller than before and stouter to behold, and she made +the curling locks to fall around his head as on the hyacinth flower. As +when a man lays gold on silver,—some skillful man whom Hephaestus and +Pallas Athene have trained in every art, and he fashions graceful work; +so did she cast a grace upon his head and shoulders. He walked apart +along the shore, and there sat down, beaming with grace and beauty. The +maid observed; then to her fair-haired waiting-women said:—</p> + +<p>"Hearken, my white-armed women, while I speak. Not without purpose on +the part of all the gods that hold Olympus is this man's meeting with +the godlike Phaeacians. A while ago, he really seemed to me ill-looking, +but now he is like the gods who hold the open sky. Ah, might a man like +this be called my husband, having his home here, and content to stay! +But give, my women, to the stranger food and drink."</p> + +<p>She spoke, and very willingly they heeded and obeyed, and set beside +Odysseus food and drink. Then long-tried Odysseus eagerly drank and ate, +for he had long been fasting.</p> + +<p>And now to other matters white-armed Nausicaä turned her thoughts. She +folded the clothes and laid them in the beautiful wagon, she yoked the +stout-hoofed mules, mounted herself, and calling to Odysseus thus she +spoke and said:—</p> + +<p>"Arise now, stranger, and hasten to the town, that I may set you on the +road to my wise father's house, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>where you shall see, I promise you, the +best of all Phaeacia. Only do this,—you seem to me not to lack +understanding: while we are passing through the fields and farms, here +with my women, behind the mules and cart, walk rapidly along, and I will +lead the way. But as we near the town,—round which is a lofty rampart, +a beautiful harbor on each side and a narrow road between,—there curved +ships line the way; for every man has his own mooring-place. Beyond is +the assembly near the beautiful grounds of Poseidon, constructed out of +blocks of stone deeply imbedded. Further along, they make the black +ships' tackling, cables and canvas, and shape out the oars; for the +Phaeacians do not care for bow and quiver, only for masts and oars of +ships and the trim ships themselves, with which it is their joy to cross +the foaming sea. Now the rude talk of such as these I would avoid, that +no one afterwards may give me blame. For very forward persons are about +the place, and some coarse man might say, if he should meet us: 'What +tall and handsome stranger is following Nausicaä? Where did she find +him? A husband he will be, her very own. Some castaway, perhaps, she +rescued from his vessel, some foreigner; for we have no neighbors here. +Or at her prayer some long-entreated god has come straight down from +heaven, and he will keep her his forever. So much the better, if she has +gone herself and found a husband elsewhere! The people of our own land +here, Phaeacians, she disdains, though she has many high-born suitors.' +So they will talk, and for me it would prove a scandal. I should myself +censure a girl who acted so, who, heedless of friends, while father and +mother were alive, mingled with men before her public wedding. And, +stranger, listen now to what I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>say, that you may soon obtain assistance +and safe conduct from my father. Near our road you will see a stately +grove of poplar trees, belonging to Athene; in it a fountain flows, and +round it is a meadow. That is my father's park, his fruitful vineyard, +as far from the town as one can call. There sit and wait a while, until +we come to the town and reach my father's palace. But when you think we +have already reached the palace, enter the city of the Phaeacians, and +ask for the palace of my father, generous Alcinoüs. Easily is it known; +a child, though young, could show the way; for the Phaeacians do not +build their houses like the dwelling of Alcinoüs their prince. But when +his house and court receive you, pass quickly through the hall until you +find my mother. She sits in the firelight by the hearth, spinning +sea-purple yarn, a marvel to behold, and resting against a pillar. Her +handmaids sit behind her. Here too my father's seat rests on the +self-same pillar, and here he sits and sips his wine like an immortal. +Passing him by, stretch out your hands to our mother's knees, if you +would see the day of your return in gladness and with speed, although +you come from far. If she regards you kindly in her heart, then there is +hope that you may see your friends and reach your stately house and +native land."</p> + +<p>Saying this, with her bright whip she struck the mules, and fast they +left the river's streams; and well they trotted, well they plied their +feet, and skillfully she reined them that those on foot might +follow,—the waiting-women and Odysseus,—and moderately she used the +lash. The sun was setting when they reached the famous grove, Athene's +sacred ground where royal Odysseus sat him down. And thereupon he prayed +to the daughter of mighty Zeus:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>"Hearken, thou child of ægis-bearing Zeus, unwearied one! O hear me +now, although before thou didst not hear me, when I was wrecked, what +time the great Land-shaker wrecked me. Grant that I come among the +Phaeacians welcomed and pitied by them."</p> + +<p>So spoke he in his prayer, and Pallas Athene heard, but did not yet +appear to him in open presence; for she regarded still her father's +brother, who stoutly strove with godlike Odysseus until he reached his +land.</p> + +<p>Here, then, long-tried royal Odysseus made his prayer; but to the town +the strong mules bore the maid. And when she reached her father's famous +palace, she stopped before the door-way, and round her stood her +brothers, men like immortals, who from the cart unyoked the mules and +carried the clothing in. The maid went to her chamber, where a fire was +kindled for her by an old Apeirean woman, the chamber-servant +Eurymedousa, whom long ago curved ships brought from Apeira; her they +had chosen from the rest to be the gift of honor for Alcinoüs, because +he was the lord of all Phaeacians, and people listened to his voice as +if he were a god. She was the nurse of white-armed Nausicaä at the +palace, and she it was who kindled her the fire and in her room prepared +her supper.</p> + +<p>And now Odysseus rose to go to the city; but Athene kindly drew thick +clouds around Odysseus, for fear some bold Phaeacian meeting him might +trouble him with talk and ask him who he was. And just as he was +entering the pleasant town, the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, came to meet +him, disguised as a young girl who bore a water-jar. She paused as she +drew near, and royal Odysseus asked:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>"My child, could you not guide me to the house of one Alcinoüs, who is +ruler of this people? For I am a toil-worn stranger come from far, out +of a distant land. Therefore I know not one among the men who own this +city and this land."</p> + +<p>Then said to him the goddess, clear-eyed Athene: "Yes, good old +stranger, I will show the house for which you ask, for it stands near my +gentle father's. But follow in silence: I will lead the way. Cast not a +glance at any man and ask no questions, for our people do not well +endure a stranger, nor courteously receive a man who comes from +elsewhere. Yet they themselves trust in swift ships and traverse the +great deep, for the Earth-shaker permits them. Swift are their ships as +wing or thought."</p> + +<p>Saying this, Pallas Athene led the way in haste, and he walked after in +the footsteps of the goddess. So the Phaeacians, famed for shipping, did +not observe him walking through the town among them, because Athene, the +fair-haired powerful goddess, did not allow it, but in the kindness of +her heart drew a marvelous mist around him. And now Odysseus admired the +harbors, the trim ships, the meeting-places of the lords themselves, and +the long walls that were so high, fitted with palisades, a marvel to +behold. Then as they neared the famous palace of the king, the goddess, +clear-eyed Athene, thus began:—</p> + +<p>"Here, good old stranger, is the house you bade me show. You will see +heaven-descended kings sitting at table here. But enter, and have no +misgivings in your heart; for the courageous man in all affairs better +attains his end, come he from where he may. First you shall find the +Queen within the hall. Arete is her name.... Alcinoüs took Arete for his +wife, and he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>has honored her as no one else on earth is honored among +the women who to-day keep houses for their husbands. Thus has she had a +heartfelt honor, and she has it still, from her own children, from +Alcinoüs himself, and from the people also, who gaze on her as on a god +and greet her with welcomes when she walks about the town. For of sound +judgment, woman as she is, she has no lack; and those whom she regards, +though men, find troubles clear away. If she regards you kindly in her +heart, then there is hope that you may see your friends and reach your +high-roofed house and native land."</p> + +<p>Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, over the barren sea. She +turned from pleasant Scheria, and came to Marathon and wide-wayed Athens +and entered there the strong house of Erechtheus. Meanwhile Odysseus +neared the lordly palace of Alcinoüs, and his heart was deeply stirred +so that he paused before he crossed the brazen threshold; for a sheen as +of the sun or moon played through the high-roofed house of generous +Alcinoüs. On either hand ran walls of bronze from threshold to recess, +and round about the ceiling was a cornice of dark metal. Doors made of +gold closed in the solid building. The door-posts were of silver and +stood on a bronze threshold, silver the lintel overhead, and gold the +handle. On the two sides were gold and silver dogs; these had Hephaestus +wrought with subtle craft to guard the house of generous Alcinoüs, +creatures immortal, young forever. Within were seats planted against the +wall on this side and on that, from threshold to recess, in long array; +and over these were strewn light fine-spun robes, the work of women. +Here the Phaeacian leaders used to sit, drinking and eating, holding +constant cheer. And <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>golden youths on massive pedestals stood and held +flaming torches in their hands to light by night the palace for the +feasters.</p> + +<p>In the King's house are fifty serving maids, some grinding at the mill +the yellow corn, some plying looms or twisting yarn, who as they sit are +like the leaves of a tall poplar; and from the close-spun linen drops +the liquid oil. And as Phaeacian men are skilled beyond all others in +speeding a swift ship along the sea, so are their women practiced at the +loom; for Athene has given them in large measure skill in fair works and +noble minds.</p> + +<p>Without the court and close beside its gate is a large garden, covering +four acres; around it runs a hedge on either side. Here grow tall +thrifty trees—pears, pomegranates, apples with shining fruit, sweet +figs and thrifty olives. On them fruit never fails; it is not gone in +winter or in summer, but lasts throughout the year; for constantly the +west wind's breath brings some to bud and mellows others. Pear ripens +upon pear, apple on apple, cluster on cluster, fig on fig. Here too the +teeming vineyard has been planted, one part of which, the drying place, +lying on level ground, is heating in the sun; elsewhere men gather +grapes; and elsewhere still they tread them. In front, the grapes are +green and shed their flower, but a second row are now just turning dark. +And here trim garden-beds, along the outer line, spring up in every kind +and all the year are gay. Near by, two fountains rise, one scattering +its streams throughout the garden, one bounding by another course +beneath the courtyard gate toward the high house; from this the +towns-folk draw their water. Such at the palace of Alcinoüs were the +gods' splendid gifts.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>Here long-tried royal Odysseus stood and gazed. Then after he had gazed +his heart's fill on all, he quickly crossed the threshold and came +within the house.</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Phaeacia</b>:—The land of the Phaeacians, on the Island of Scheria, or +Corcyra, the modern Corfu.</p> + +<p><b>Athene</b>:—Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, skill, and science. She was +interested in war, and protected warlike heroes.</p> + +<p><b>Cyclops</b>:—One of a race of uncouth giants, each of whom had but a +single eye, which was in the middle of the forehead.</p> + +<p><b>Nausithoüs</b>:—The king of the Phaeacians at the time they entered +Scheria.</p> + +<p><b>Hades</b>:—The realm of souls; not necessarily a place of punishment.</p> + +<p><b>Artemis</b>:—Another name for Diana, goddess of the moon.</p> + +<p><b>Taÿgetus and Erymanthus</b>:—Mountains in Greece.</p> + +<p><b>Leto</b>:—The mother of Artemis.</p> + +<p><b>Delos</b>:—An island in the Aegean Sea.</p> + +<p><b>Ogygia</b>:—The island of the goddess Calypso, who held Odysseus captive +for seven years.</p> + +<p><b>Hephaestus</b>:—Another name for Vulcan, the god of the under-world. He +was a skilled worker in metal.</p> + +<p><b>Poseidon</b>:—Neptune, god of the ocean.</p> + +<p><b>Land-shaker</b>:—Neptune.</p> + +<p><b>Marathon</b>:—A plain eighteen miles from Athens. It was here that the +Greeks defeated the Persians in 490 <span class="smcap">b.c.</span></p> + +<p><b>Erectheus</b>:—The mythical founder of Attica; he was half man and half +serpent.</p> + + +<p><b>THE PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES IN THIS SELECTION</b></p> + +<p>[Transcriber's note: [+x) denotes a letter that has a dot above a macron above it.]</p> +<p> +Al cin' o us (ăl sïn' [+o] <i>ŭ</i>s)<br /> +Ap ei' ra (åp ī' r<i>a</i>)<br /> +Ap ei re' an (ăp ī rē' <i>ă</i>n)<br /> +A re' te (å rē' tē)<br /> +Ar' te mis (är' t[+e] mĭs)<br /> +A the' ne (å thē' nē)<br /> +Ca lyp' so (k<i>a</i> lĭp' sō)<br /> +Cir' ce (sûr' sē)<br /> +Cy' clops (sī' clŏps)<br /> +De' los (dē' lŏs)<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +Dy' mas (dī' m<i>å</i>s)<br /> +E rech' theus ([+e] rĕk' thūs)<br /> +E ry man' thus (ār ĭ măn' th<i>ū</i>s)<br /> +Eu rym e dou' sa (ū rĭm [+e] d[=oo]' s<i>å</i>)<br /> +He phaes' tus (h[+e] fās' t<i>ŭ</i>s)<br /> +Le' to (lē' tō)<br /> +Mar' a thon (măr' å thŏn)<br /> +Nau sic' a ä (nô sĭk' [+a] <i>å</i>)<br /> +Nau sith' o us (nô sĭth' [+o] <i>ŭ</i>s)<br /> +O dys' seus ([+o] dĭs' ūs)<br /> +O gyg' i a ([+o] jĭj' <i>å</i>)<br /> +Phae a' cia (f[+e] ā' sh<i>å</i>)<br /> +Po sei' don (p[+o] sī' d<i>ŏ</i>n)<br /> +Scher' i a (skē' rĭ <i>å</i>)<br /> +Ta ÿg' e tus (tā ĭj' [+e] t<i>ŭ</i>s)<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Odysseus (Ulysses) has been cast ashore after a long battle with the +sea, following his attempt to escape on a raft from Calypso's island. He +has been saved by the intervention of the goddess Athene, who often +protects distressed heroes. When Book VI opens, he is sleeping in a +secluded nook under an olive tree. (For Odysseus's adventures on the +sea, consult Book V of the <i>Odyssey</i>.) Is Athene's visit to Nausicaä an +unusual sort of thing in Greek story? Does it appear that it was +customary for princesses to do their own washing? Note here that <i>I</i> +refers to the daughter of Dymas, since Athene is not speaking in her own +character. From Nausicaä's conversation with her father and her +preparations for departure, what can you judge of Greek family life? How +does the author make us see vividly the activities of Nausicaä and her +maids? Does the out-door scene appear true to life? <i>This virgin pure</i> +refers to Nausicaä, who is being compared to Artemis (Diana), the +goddess of the hunt. What plan has Athene for assisting Odysseus? From +the hero's speech, what can you tell of his character? Can you find out +what adjectives are usually applied to Odysseus in the <i>Iliad</i> and the +<i>Odyssey</i>? Why does he here call Nausicaä "Princess"? What effect is his +speech likely to have? What can you tell of Nausicaä from her reply? +Give her reasons for not taking Odysseus with her to the town. Does she +fail in hospitality? What do her reasons show of the life of Greek +women? What do you judge of the prosperity of the Phaeacians? Why does +Nausicaä tell Odysseus to seek the favor of her mother? <i>Her father's +brother</i> means Neptune (the Sea)—brother of Zeus, Athene's father; +Neptune is enraged at Odysseus and wishes to destroy him. <i>Here then</i>: +At this point Book VII begins. From what is said of Arete, what can you +tell of the influence of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> Greek women? How does the author make you +feel the richness of Alcinoüs's palace? How does it differ from modern +houses? <i>Corn</i> means grain, not Indian corn, which, of course, had not +yet been brought from the New World. Note the vivid description of the +garden. How do you think Odysseus is received at the house of Alcinoüs? +You can find out by reading the rest of Book VII of the <i>Odyssey</i>.</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +One of Ulysses's Adventures<br /> +An Escape from the Sea<br /> +A Picnic on the Shore<br /> +The Character of Nausicaä<br /> +My Idea of a Princess<br /> +The Life of a Greek Woman<br /> +A Group of Girls<br /> +The Character of Odysseus<br /> +Shipwrecked<br /> +A Beautiful Building<br /> +Along the Shore<br /> +Among Strangers<br /> +A Garden<br /> +A Story from the Odyssey<br /> +Odysseus at the House of Alcinoüs<br /> +The Lady of the House<br /> +The Greek Warrior<br /> +The Stranger<br /> +Why I Wish to Study Greek<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>A Story from the Odyssey</b>:—Read, in a translation of the <i>Odyssey</i>, a +story of Odysseus, and tell it in your own words. The following stories +are appropriate: The Departure from Calypso's Island, Book V; The +Cyclops Polyphemus, Book IX; The Palace of Circe, Book X; The Land of +the Dead, Book XI; Scylla and Charybdis, Book XII; The Swineherd, Book +XIV; The Trial of the Bow, Book XXI; The Slaughter of the Suitors, Book +XXII.</p> + +<p>After you have chosen a story, read it through several times, to fix the +details in your mind. Lay the book aside, and write the story simply, +but as vividly as possible.</p> + +<p><b>The Stranger</b>:—Explain the circumstances under which the stranger +appears. Are people startled at seeing him (or her)? Describe him. Is he +bewildered? Does he ask directions? Does he ask help? Quote his words +directly. How are his remarks received? Are people afraid of him? or do +they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>make sport of him? or do they receive him kindly? Who aids him? +Tell what he does and what becomes of him. Quote what is said of him +after he is gone.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you will like to tell the story of Ulysses's arrival among the +Phaeacians, giving it a modern setting, and using modern names.</p> + +<p><b>Odysseus at the House of Alcinoüs</b>:—Without reading Book VII of the +<i>Odyssey</i>, write what you imagine to be the conversation between +Alcinoüs (or Arete) and Odysseus, when the shipwrecked hero enters the +palace.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>The Odyssey</td><td align='left'>George Herbert Palmer (Trans.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Odyssey of Homer (prose translation)</td><td align='left'>Butcher and Lang</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Iliad of Homer</td><td align='left'>Lang, Leaf, and Myers</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Odyssey (translation in verse)</td><td align='left'>William Cullen Bryant</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Odyssey for Boys and Girls</td><td align='left'>A.J. Church</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the Odyssey</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Greek Song and Story</td><td align='left'>" " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Adventures of Odysseus</td><td align='left'>Marvin, Mayor, and Stawell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tanglewood Tales</td><td align='left'>Nathaniel Hawthorne</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Home Life of the Ancient Greeks</td><td align='left'>H. Blümner (trans, by A. Zimmerman)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Classic Myths (chapter 27)</td><td align='left'>C.M. Gayley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Age of Fable (chapters 22 and 23)</td><td align='left'>Thomas Bulfinch</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the Greek People</td><td align='left'>Eva March Tappan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Greece and the Aegean Isles</td><td align='left'>Philip S. Marden</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Greek Lands and Letters</td><td align='left'>F.G. and A.C.E. Allinson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old Greek Folk Stories</td><td align='left'>J.P. Peabody</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Men of Old Greece</td><td align='left'>Jennie Hall</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lotos-eaters</td><td align='left'>Alfred Tennyson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ulysses</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Strayed Reveller</td><td align='left'>Matthew Arnold</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Song of Phaeacia</td><td align='left'>Andrew Lang</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Voyagers (in <i>The Fields of Dawn</i>)</td><td align='left'>Lloyd Mifflin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Alice Freeman Palmer</td><td align='left'>George Herbert Palmer</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> +<p>See the references for <i>Moly</i> on p. <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, and for Odysseus on p. <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ODYSSEUS" id="ODYSSEUS"></a>ODYSSEUS</h2> + +<h3>GEORGE CABOT LODGE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He strove with Gods and men in equal mood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of great endurance: Not alone his hands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wrought in wild seas and labored in strange lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not alone his patient strength withstood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clashing cliffs and Circe's perilous sands:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eager of some imperishable good<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He drave new pathways thro' the trackless flood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Foreguarded, fearless, free from Fate's commands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How shall our faith discern the truth he sought?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We too must watch and wander till our eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turned skyward from the topmost tower of thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply shall find the star that marked his goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The watch-fire of transcendent liberties<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lighting the endless spaces of the soul.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Read the poem through. How did Ulysses strive with gods and men? Why can +it be said that he did not labor alone? Look up the story of Circe and +her palace.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> What was the imperishable good that Ulysses sought? What +does his experience have to do with our lives? What sort of freedom does +the author speak of in the last few lines?</p> + +<p>This verse-form is called the sonnet. How many lines has it? Make out a +scheme of the rhymes: <i>a b b a</i>, etc. Notice the change of thought at +the ninth line. Do all sonnets show this change? +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<h3>EXERCISES</h3> + +<p>Read several other sonnets; for instance, the poem <i>On the Life-Mask of +Abraham Lincoln</i>, on page <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, or <i>On First Looking into Chapman's +Homer</i>, by John Keats, or <i>The Grasshopper and the Cricket</i>, by Leigh +Hunt.</p> + +<p>Notice how these other sonnets are constructed. Why are they considered +good?</p> + +<p>If possible, read part of what is said about the sonnet in <i>English +Verse</i>, by R.M. Alden or in <i>Forms of English Poetry</i>, by C.F. Johnson, +or in <i>Melodies of English Verse</i>, by Lewis Kennedy Morse; notice some +of the examples given.</p> + +<p>Look in the good magazines for examples of the sonnet.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>To the Grasshopper and the Cricket</td><td align='left'>Leigh Hunt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Fish Answers (or, The Fish to the Man)<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></td><td align='left'>Leigh Hunt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>On the Grasshopper and Cricket</td><td align='left'>John Keats</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>On First Looking into Chapman's Homer</td><td align='left'>John Keats</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ozymandias</td><td align='left'>P.B. Shelley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Sonnet</td><td align='left'>R.W. Gilder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Odyssey (sonnet)</td><td align='left'>Andrew Lang</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wine of Circe (sonnet)</td><td align='left'>Dante Gabriel Rossetti</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Automobile<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> (sonnet)</td><td align='left'>Percy Mackaye</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Sonnet</td><td align='left'>William Wordsworth</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + + +<p>See also references for the <i>Odyssey</i>, p. <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, and for <i>Moly</i>, p. <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_ROMANCE_OF_REAL_LIFE" id="A_ROMANCE_OF_REAL_LIFE"></a>A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE</h2> + +<h3>WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS</h3> + +<h4>(In <i>Suburban Sketches</i>)</h4> + + +<p>It was long past the twilight hour, which has been already mentioned as +so oppressive in suburban places, and it was even too late for visitors, +when a resident, whom I shall briefly describe as a contributor to the +magazines, was startled by a ring at his door. As any thoughtful person +would have done upon the like occasion, he ran over his acquaintance in +his mind, speculating whether it were such or such a one, and dismissing +the whole list of improbabilities, before he laid down the book he was +reading and answered the bell. When at last he did this, he was rewarded +by the apparition of an utter stranger on his threshold,—a gaunt figure +of forlorn and curious smartness towering far above him, that jerked him +a nod of the head, and asked if Mr. Hapford lived there. The face which +the lamplight revealed was remarkable for a harsh two days' growth of +beard, and a single bloodshot eye; yet it was not otherwise a sinister +countenance, and there was something in the strange presence that +appealed and touched. The contributor, revolving the facts vaguely in +his mind, was not sure, after all, that it was not the man's clothes +rather than his expression that softened him toward the rugged visage: +they were so tragically cheap; and the misery of helpless needle-women, +and the poverty and ignorance of the purchaser, were so apparent in +their shabby newness, of which they appeared still conscious enough to +have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>led the way to the very window, in the Semitic quarter of the +city, where they had lain ticketed, "This nobby suit for $15."</p> + +<p>But the stranger's manner put both his face and his clothes out of mind, +and claimed a deeper interest when, being answered that the person for +whom he asked did not live there, he set his bristling lips hard +together, and sighed heavily.</p> + +<p>"They told me," he said, in a hopeless way, "that he lived on this +street, and I've been to every other house. I'm very anxious to find +him, Cap'n,"—the contributor, of course, had no claim to the title with +which he was thus decorated,—"for I've a daughter living with him, and +I want to see her; I've just got home from a two years' voyage, +and"—there was a struggle of the Adam's-apple in the man's gaunt +throat—"I find she's about all there is left of my family."</p> + +<p>How complex is every human motive! This contributor had been lately +thinking, whenever he turned the pages of some foolish traveller,—some +empty prattler of Southern or Eastern lands, where all sensation was +long ago exhausted, and the oxygen has perished from every sentiment, so +has it been breathed and breathed again,—that nowadays the wise +adventurer sat down beside his own register and waited for incidents to +seek him out. It seemed to him that the cultivation of a patient and +receptive spirit was the sole condition needed to insure the occurrence +of all manner of surprising facts within the range of one's own personal +knowledge; that not only the Greeks were at our doors, but the fairies +and the genii, and all the people of romance, who had but to be +hospitably treated in order to develop the deepest interest of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>fiction, +and to become the characters of plots so ingenious that the most cunning +invention were poor beside them. I myself am not so confident of this, +and would rather trust Mr. Charles Reade, say, for my amusement than any +chance combination of events. But I should be afraid to say how much his +pride in the character of the stranger's sorrows, as proof of the +correctness of his theory, prevailed with the contributor to ask him to +come in and sit down; though I hope that some abstract impulse of +humanity, some compassionate and unselfish care for the man's +misfortunes as misfortunes, was not wholly wanting. Indeed, the helpless +simplicity with which he had confided his case might have touched a +harder heart. "Thank you," said the poor fellow, after a moment's +hesitation. "I believe I will come in. I've been on foot all day, and +after such a long voyage it makes a man dreadfully sore to walk about so +much. Perhaps you can think of a Mr. Hapford living somewhere in the +neighborhood."</p> + +<p>He sat down, and, after a pondering silence, in which he had remained +with his head fallen upon his breast, "My name is Jonathan Tinker," he +said, with the unaffected air which had already impressed the +contributor, and as if he felt that some form of introduction was +necessary, "and the girl that I want to find is Julia Tinker." Then he +added, resuming the eventful personal history which the listener +exulted, while he regretted, to hear: "You see, I shipped first to +Liverpool, and there I heard from my family; and then I shipped again +for Hong-Kong, and after that I never heard a word: I seemed to miss the +letters everywhere. This morning, at four o'clock, I left my ship as +soon as she had hauled into the dock, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>hurried up home. The house +was shut, and not a soul in it; and I didn't know what to do, and I sat +down on the doorstep to wait till the neighbors woke up, to ask them +what had become of my family. And the first one come out he told me my +wife had been dead a year and a half, and the baby I'd never seen, with +her; and one of my boys was dead; and he didn't know where the rest of +the children was, but he'd heard two of the little ones was with a +family in the city."</p> + +<p>The man mentioned these things with the half-apologetical air observable +in a certain kind of Americans when some accident obliges them to +confess the infirmity of the natural feelings. They do not ask your +sympathy, and you offer it quite at your own risk, with a chance of +having it thrown back upon your hands. The contributor assumed the risk +so far as to say, "Pretty rough!" when the stranger paused; and perhaps +these homely words were best suited to reach the homely heart. The man's +quivering lips closed hard again, a kind of spasm passed over his dark +face, and then two very small drops of brine shone upon his weather-worn +cheeks. This demonstration, into which he had been surprised, seemed to +stand for the passion of tears into which the emotional races fall at +such times. He opened his lips with a kind of dry click, and went on:—</p> + +<p>"I hunted about the whole forenoon in the city, and at last I found the +children. I'd been gone so long they didn't know me, and somehow I +thought the people they were with weren't over-glad I'd turned up. +Finally the oldest child told me that Julia was living with a Mr. +Hapford on this street, and I started out here to-night to look her up. +If I can find <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>her, I'm all right. I can get the family together, then, +and start new."</p> + +<p>"It seems rather odd," mused the listener aloud, "that the neighbors let +them break up so, and that they should all scatter as they did."</p> + +<p>"Well, it ain't so curious as it seems, Cap'n. There was money for them +at the owners', all the time; I'd left part of my wages when I sailed; +but they didn't know how to get at it, and what could a parcel of +children do? Julia's a good girl, and when I find her I'm all right."</p> + +<p>The writer could only repeat that there was no Mr. Hapford living on +that street, and never had been, so far as he knew. Yet there might be +such a person in the neighborhood: and they would go out together and +ask at some of the houses about. But the stranger must first take a +glass of wine; for he looked used up.</p> + +<p>The sailor awkwardly but civilly enough protested that he did not want +to give so much trouble, but took the glass, and, as he put it to his +lips, said formally, as if it were a toast or a kind of grace, "I hope I +may have the opportunity of returning the compliment." The contributor +thanked him; though, as he thought of all the circumstances of the case, +and considered the cost at which the stranger had come to enjoy his +politeness, he felt little eagerness to secure the return of the +compliment at the same price, and added, with the consequence of another +set phrase, "Not at all." But the thought had made him the more anxious +to befriend the luckless soul fortune had cast in his way; and so the +two sallied out together, and rang doorbells wherever lights were still +seen burning in the windows, and asked the astonished <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>people who +answered their summons whether any Mr. Hapford were known to live in the +neighborhood.</p> + +<p>And although the search for this gentleman proved vain, the contributor +could not feel that an expedition which set familiar objects in such +novel lights was altogether a failure. He entered so intimately into the +cares and anxieties of his protégé that at times he felt himself in some +inexplicable sort a shipmate of Jonathan Tinker, and almost personally a +partner of his calamities. The estrangement of all things which takes +place, within doors and without, about midnight may have helped to cast +this doubt upon his identity;—he seemed to be visiting now for the +first time the streets and neighborhoods nearest his own, and his feet +stumbled over the accustomed walks. In his quality of houseless +wanderer, and—so far as appeared to others—possibly worthless +vagabond, he also got a new and instructive effect upon the faces which, +in his real character, he knew so well by their looks of neighborly +greeting; and it is his belief that the first hospitable prompting of +the human heart is to shut the door in the eyes of homeless strangers +who present themselves after eleven o'clock. By that time the servants +are all abed, and the gentleman of the house answers the bell, and looks +out with a loath and bewildered face, which gradually changes to one of +suspicion, and of wonder as to what those fellows can possibly want of +<i>him</i>, till at last the prevailing expression is one of contrite desire +to atone for the first reluctance by any sort of service. The +contributor professes to have observed these changing phases in the +visages of those whom he that night called from their dreams, or +arrested in the act of going to bed; and he drew the conclusion—very +proper for his imaginable <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>connection with the garroting and other +adventurous brotherhoods—that the most flattering moment for knocking +on the head people who answer a late ring at night is either in their +first selfish bewilderment, or their final self-abandonment to their +better impulses. It does not seem to have occurred to him that he would +himself have been a much more favorable subject for the predatory arts +than any of his neighbors, if his shipmate, the unknown companion of his +researches for Mr. Hapford, had been at all so minded. But the faith of +the gaunt giant upon which he reposed was good, and the contributor +continued to wander about with him in perfect safety. Not a soul among +those they asked had ever heard of a Mr. Hapford,—far less of a Julia +Tinker living with him. But they all listened to the contributor's +explanation with interest and eventual sympathy; and in truth,—briefly +told, with a word now and then thrown in by Jonathan Tinker, who kept at +the bottom of the steps, showing like a gloomy spectre in the night, or, +in his grotesque length and gauntness, like the other's shadow cast +there by the lamplight,—it was a story which could hardly fail to +awaken pity.</p> + +<p>At last, after ringing several bells where there were no lights, in the +mere wantonness of good-will, and going away before they could be +answered (it would be entertaining to know what dreams they caused the +sleepers within), there seemed to be nothing for it but to give up the +search till morning, and go to the main street and wait for the last +horse-car to the city.</p> + +<p>There, seated upon the curbstone, Jonathan Tinker, being plied with a +few leading questions, told in hints and scraps the story of his hard +life, which was at present that of a second mate, and had been that of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>a cabin-boy and of a seaman before the mast. The second mate's place he +held to be the hardest aboard ship. You got only a few dollars more than +the men, and you did not rank with the officers; you took your meals +alone, and in everything you belonged by yourself. The men did not +respect you, and sometimes the captain abused you awfully before the +passengers. The hardest captain that Jonathan Tinker ever sailed with +was Captain Gooding of the Cape. It had got to be so that no man could +ship second mate under Captain Gooding; and Jonathan Tinker was with him +only one voyage. When he had been home awhile, he saw an advertisement +for a second mate, and he went round to the owners'. They had kept it +secret who the captain was; but there was Captain Gooding in the owners' +office. "Why, here's the man, now, that I want for a second mate," said +he, when Jonathan Tinker entered; "he knows me."—"Captain Gooding, I +know you 'most too well to want to sail under you," answered Jonathan. +"I might go if I hadn't been with you one voyage too many already."</p> + +<p>"And then the men!" said Jonathan, "the men coming aboard drunk, and +having to be pounded sober! And the hardest of the fight falls on the +second mate! Why, there isn't an inch of me that hasn't been cut over or +smashed into a jell. I've had three ribs broken; I've got a scar from a +knife on my cheek; and I've been stabbed bad enough, half a dozen times, +to lay me up."</p> + +<p>Here he gave a sort of desperate laugh, as if the notion of so much +misery and such various mutilation were too grotesque not to be amusing. +"Well, what can you do?" he went on. "If you don't strike, the men think +you're afraid of them; and so you have to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>begin hard and go on hard. I +always tell a man, 'Now, my man, I always begin with a man the way I +mean to keep on. You do your duty and you're all right. But if you +don't'—Well, the men ain't Americans any more,—Dutch, Spaniards, +Chinese, Portuguee, and it ain't like abusing a white man."</p> + +<p>Jonathan Tinker was plainly part of the horrible tyranny which we all +know exists on shipboard; and his listener respected him the more that, +though he had heart enough to be ashamed of it, he was too honest not to +own it.</p> + +<p>Why did he still follow the sea? Because he did not know what else to +do. When he was younger, he used to love it, but now he hated it. Yet +there was not a prettier life in the world if you got to be captain. He +used to hope for that once, but not now; though he <i>thought</i> he could +navigate a ship. Only let him get his family together again, and he +would—yes, he would—try to do something ashore.</p> + +<p>No car had yet come in sight, and so the contributor suggested that they +should walk to the car-office, and look in the "Directory," which is +kept there, for the name of Hapford, in search of whom it had already +been arranged that they should renew their acquaintance on the morrow. +Jonathan Tinker, when they had reached the office, heard with +constitutional phlegm that the name of the Hapford for whom he inquired +was not in the "Directory." "Never mind," said the other; "come round to +my house in the morning. We'll find him yet." So they parted with a +shake of the hand, the second mate saying that he believed he should go +down to the vessel and sleep aboard,—if he could sleep,—and murmuring +at the last moment the hope of returning the compliment, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>while the +other walked homeward, weary as to the flesh, but, in spite of his +sympathy for Jonathan Tinker, very elate in spirit. The truth is,—and +however disgraceful to human nature, let the truth still be told,—he +had recurred to his primal satisfaction in the man as calamity capable +of being used for such and such literary ends, and, while he pitied him, +rejoiced in him as an episode of real life quite as striking and +complete as anything in fiction. It was literature made to his hand. +Nothing could be better, he mused; and once more he passed the details +of the story in review, and beheld all those pictures which the poor +fellow's artless words had so vividly conjured up: he saw him leaping +ashore in the gray summer dawn as soon as the ship hauled into the dock, +and making his way, with his vague sea-legs unaccustomed to the +pavements, up through the silent and empty city streets; he imagined the +tumult of fear and hope which the sight of the man's home must have +caused in him, and the benumbing shock of finding it blind and deaf to +all his appeals; he saw him sitting down upon what had been his own +threshold, and waiting in a sort of bewildered patience till the +neighbors should be awake, while the noises of the streets gradually +arose, and the wheels began to rattle over the stones, and the milk-man +and the ice-man came and went, and the waiting figure began to be stared +at, and to challenge the curiosity of the passing policeman; he fancied +the opening of the neighbor's door, and the slow, cold understanding of +the case; the manner, whatever it was, in which the sailor was told that +one year before his wife had died, with her babe, and that his children +were scattered, none knew where. As the contributor dwelt pityingly upon +these <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>things, but at the same time estimated their aesthetic value one +by one, he drew near the head of his street, and found himself a few +paces behind a boy slouching onward through the night, to whom he called +out, adventurously, and with no real hope of information,—</p> + +<p>"Do you happen to know anybody on this street by the name of Hapford?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, not in this town," said the boy; but he added that there was a +street of the same name in a neighboring suburb, and that there was a +Hapford living on it.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" thought the contributor, "this is more like literature than +ever"; and he hardly knew whether to be more provoked at his own +stupidity in not thinking of a street of the same name in the next +village, or delighted at the element of fatality which the fact +introduced into the story; for Tinker, according to his own account, +must have landed from the cars a few rods from the very door he was +seeking, and so walked farther and farther from it every moment. He +thought the case so curious, that he laid it briefly before the boy, +who, however he might have been inwardly affected, was sufficiently true +to the national traditions not to make the smallest conceivable outward +sign of concern in it.</p> + +<p>At home, however, the contributor related his adventures and the story +of Tinker's life, adding the fact that he had just found out where Mr. +Hapford lived. "It was the only touch wanting," said he; "the whole +thing is now perfect."</p> + +<p>"It's <i>too</i> perfect," was answered from a sad enthusiasm. "Don't speak +of it! I can't take it in."</p> + +<p>"But the question is," said the contributor, penitently taking himself +to task for forgetting the hero <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>of these excellent misfortunes in his +delight at their perfection, "how am I to sleep to-night, thinking of +that poor soul's suspense and uncertainty? Never mind,—I'll be up +early, and run over and make sure that it is Tinker's Hapford, before he +gets out here, and have a pleasant surprise for him. Would it not be a +justifiable <i>coup de théâtre</i> to fetch his daughter here, and let her +answer his ring at the door when he comes in the morning?"</p> + +<p>This plan was discouraged. "No, no; let them meet in their own way. Just +take him to Hapford's house and leave him."</p> + +<p>"Very well. But he's too good a character to lose sight of. He's got to +come back here and tell us what he intends to do."</p> + +<p>The birds, next morning, not having had the second mate on their minds +either as an unhappy man or a most fortunate episode, but having slept +long and soundly, were singing in a very sprightly way in the wayside +trees; and the sweetness of their notes made the contributor's heart +light as he climbed the hill and rang at Mr. Hapford's door.</p> + +<p>The door was opened by a young girl of fifteen or sixteen, whom he knew +at a glance for the second mate's daughter, but of whom, for form's +sake, he asked if there were a girl named Julia Tinker living there.</p> + +<p>"My name's Julia Tinker," answered the maid, who had rather a +disappointing face.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the contributor, "your father's got back from his Hong-Kong +voyage."</p> + +<p>"Hong-Kong voyage?" echoed the girl, with a stare of helpless inquiry, +but no other visible emotion.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He had never heard of your mother's death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> He came home yesterday +morning, and was looking for you all day."</p> + +<p>Julia Tinker remained open-mouthed but mute; and the other was puzzled +at the want of feeling shown, which he could not account for even as a +national trait. "Perhaps there's some mistake," he said.</p> + +<p>"There must be," answered Julia: "my father hasn't been to sea for a +good many years. <i>My</i> father," she added, with a diffidence +indescribably mingled with a sense of distinction,—"<i>my</i> father 's in +State's Prison. What kind of looking man was this?"</p> + +<p>The contributor mechanically described him.</p> + +<p>Julia Tinker broke into a loud, hoarse laugh. "Yes, it's him, sure +enough." And then, as if the joke were too good to keep: "Mis' Hapford, +Mis' Hapford, father's got out. Do come here!" she called into a back +room.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Hapford appeared, Julia fell back, and, having deftly caught a +fly on the doorpost, occupied herself in plucking it to pieces, while +she listened to the conversation of the others.</p> + +<p>"It's all true enough," said Mrs. Hapford, when the writer had recounted +the moving story of Jonathan Tinker, "so far as the death of his wife +and baby goes. But he hasn't been to sea for a good many years, and he +must have just come out of State's Prison, where he was put for bigamy. +There's always two sides to a story, you know; but they say it broke his +first wife's heart, and she died. His friends don't want him to find his +children, and this girl especially."</p> + +<p>"He's found his children in the city," said the contributor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>gloomily, +being at a loss what to do or say, in view of the wreck of his romance.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's found 'em, has he?" cried Julia, with heightened amusement. +"Then he'll have me next, if I don't pack and go."</p> + +<p>"I'm very, very sorry," said the contributor, secretly resolved never to +do another good deed, no matter how temptingly the opportunity presented +itself. "But you may depend he won't find out from <i>me</i> where you are. +Of course I had no earthly reason for supposing his story was not true."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said kind-hearted Mrs. Hapford, mingling a drop of honey +with the gall in the contributor's soul, "you only did your duty."</p> + +<p>And indeed, as he turned away, he did not feel altogether without +compensation. However Jonathan Tinker had fallen in his esteem as a man, +he had even risen as literature. The episode which had appeared so +perfect in its pathetic phases did not seem less finished as a farce; +and this person, to whom all things of every-day life presented +themselves in periods more or less rounded, and capable of use as facts +or illustrations, could not but rejoice in these new incidents, as +dramatically fashioned as the rest. It occurred to him that, wrought +into a story, even better use might be made of the facts now than +before, for they had developed questions of character and of human +nature which could not fail to interest. The more he pondered upon his +acquaintance with Jonathan Tinker, the more fascinating the erring +mariner became, in his complex truth and falsehood, his delicately +blended shades of artifice and naïveté. He must, it was felt, have +believed to a certain point in his own inventions: nay, starting with +that groundwork of truth,—the fact <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>that his wife was really dead, and +that he had not seen his family for two years,—why should he not place +implicit faith in all the fictions reared upon it? It was probable that +he felt a real sorrow for her loss, and that he found a fantastic +consolation in depicting the circumstances of her death so that they +should look like his inevitable misfortunes rather than his faults. He +might well have repented his offence during those two years of prison; +and why should he not now cast their dreariness and shame out of his +memory, and replace them with the freedom and adventure of a two years' +voyage to China,—so probable, in all respects, that the fact should +appear an impossible nightmare? In the experiences of his life he had +abundant material to furnish forth the facts of such a voyage, and in +the weariness and lassitude that should follow a day's walking equally +after a two years' voyage and two years' imprisonment, he had as much +physical proof in favor of one hypothesis as the other. It was doubtless +true, also, as he said, that he had gone to his house at dawn, and sat +down on the threshold of his ruined home; and perhaps he felt the desire +he had expressed to see his daughter, with a purpose of beginning life +anew; and it may have cost him a veritable pang when he found that his +little ones did not know him. All the sentiments of the situation were +such as might persuade a lively fancy of the truth of its own +inventions; and as he heard these continually repeated by the +contributor in their search for Mr. Hapford, they must have acquired an +objective force and repute scarcely to be resisted. At the same time, +there were touches of nature throughout Jonathan Tinker's narrative +which could not fail to take the faith of another. The contributor, in +reviewing it, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>thought it particularly charming that his mariner had not +overdrawn himself, or attempted to paint his character otherwise than as +it probably was; that he had shown his ideas and practices of life to be +those of a second mate, nor more nor less, without the gloss of regret +or the pretences to refinement that might be pleasing to the supposed +philanthropist with whom he had fallen in. Captain Gooding was of course +a true portrait; and there was nothing in Jonathan Tinker's statement of +the relations of a second mate to his superiors and his inferiors which +did not agree perfectly with what the contributor had just read in "Two +Years before the Mast,"—a book which had possibly cast its glamour upon +the adventure. He admired also the just and perfectly characteristic air +of grief in the bereaved husband and father,—those occasional escapes +from the sense of loss into a brief hilarity and forgetfulness, and +those relapses into the hovering gloom, which every one has observed in +this poor, crazy human nature when oppressed by sorrow, and which it +would have been hard to simulate. But, above all, he exulted in that +supreme stroke of the imagination given by the second mate when, at +parting, he said he believed he would go down and sleep on board the +vessel. In view of this, the State's Prison theory almost appeared a +malign and foolish scandal.</p> + +<p>Yet even if this theory were correct, was the second mate wholly +answerable for beginning his life again with the imposture he had +practised? The contributor had either so fallen in love with the +literary advantages of his forlorn deceiver that he would see no moral +obliquity in him, or he had touched a subtler verity at last in +pondering the affair. It seemed now no longer a farce, but had a pathos +which, though <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>very different from that of its first aspect, was hardly +less tragical. Knowing with what coldness, or at the best, uncandor, he +(representing Society in its attitude toward convicted Error) would have +met the fact had it been owned to him at first, he had not virtue enough +to condemn the illusory stranger, who must have been helpless to make at +once evident any repentance he felt or good purpose he cherished. Was it +not one of the saddest consequences of the man's past,—a dark necessity +of misdoing,—that, even with the best will in the world to retrieve +himself, his first endeavor must involve a wrong? Might he not, indeed, +be considered a martyr, in some sort, to his own admirable impulses? I +can see clearly enough where the contributor was astray in this +reasoning, but I can also understand how one accustomed to value +realities only as they resembled fables should be won with such pensive +sophistry; and I can certainly sympathize with his feeling that the +mariner's failure to reappear according to appointment added its final +and most agreeable charm to the whole affair, and completed the mystery +from which the man emerged and which swallowed him up again.</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Mr. Charles Reade</b>:—An English novelist (1814-1884).</p> + +<p><b>protégé</b> (French):—A person under the care of another. The form given +here is masculine; the feminine is <i>protégée</i>.</p> + +<p><b>coup de théâtre</b>:—(French) A very striking scene, such as might appear +on the stage.</p> + +<p><b>Two Years before the Mast</b>:—A sea story written by R.H. Dana, about +1840.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>What is a romance? The phrase <i>already mentioned</i> refers to earlier +parts of the book <i>Suburban Sketches</i>, from which this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>story is taken. +What effect does the author gain by the ring at the door-bell? How does +he give you a quick and vivid idea of the visitor? What significance do +the man's clothes have in the story? By means of what devices does the +author interest you in the stranger? Do adventures really happen in +everyday life? Why does the author speak of one's own "register"? Mr. +Howells has written a number of novels in which he pictures ordinary +people, and shows the romance of commonplace events. Why does the +listener "exult"? How does the man's story affect you? What is gained by +having it told in his own words? Is Jonathan Tinker's toast a happy one? +What does the contributor mean by saying that he would have been a good +subject for "the predatory arts"? <i>The last horse-car</i>: To Boston; the +scene is probably laid in Cambridge where Mr. Howells lived for some +years. In what way does the sailor's language emphasize the pathetic +quality of his story? How was the man "literature made to the author's +hand"? What are the "national traditions" mentioned in connection with +the boy? Why was the story regarded as "too perfect" when it was related +at home? In what way was Julia Tinker's face "disappointing"? How does +the author feel when he hears the facts in the case? Why does he resolve +never to do a good deed again? The author gives two reasons why Jonathan +Tinker did not tell the truth: what seems to you the real reason? +Characterize Tinker in your own words. Is the ending of the selection +satisfactory? Did you think that Tinker would come back? Can you make a +little drama of this story?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +An Old Sailor<br /> +People who do not Tell the Truth<br /> +The Forsaken House<br /> +Asking Directions<br /> +A Tramp<br /> +The Lost Address<br /> +An Evening at Home<br /> +A Sketch of Julia Tinker<br /> +The Surprise<br /> +A Long-lost Relative<br /> +What Becomes of the Ex-Convicts?<br /> +The Jail<br /> +A Stranger in Town<br /> +A Late Visitor<br /> +What I Think of Jonathan Tinker<br /> +The Disadvantages of a Lively Imagination<br /> +Unwelcome<br /> +If Jonathan Tinker had Told the Truth<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +The Lie<br /> +A Call at a Stranger's House<br /> +An Unfortunate Man<br /> +A Walk in Dark Streets<br /> +The Sea Captain<br /> +Watching the Sailors<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>A Late Visitor</b>:—Try to write this in the form of a dialogue or little +play. The host is reading or conversing in the family sitting-room, when +the doorbell rings. There is a conversation at the door, and then the +caller is brought in. Perhaps the stranger has some evil design. Perhaps +he (or she) is lost, or in great need. Perhaps he turns out to be in +some way connected with the family. Think out the plan of the dialogue +pretty thoroughly before you begin to write. It is possible that you +will want to add a second act in which the results of the first are +shown. Plan your stage directions with the help of some other drama, as, +for instance, that given on page <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</p> + +<p><b>The Lie</b>:<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a>—This also may be written in the form of a slight +dramatic composition. There might be a few brief scenes, according to +the following plan:—</p> + +<p> +Scene 1: The lie is told.<br /> +Scene 2: It makes trouble.<br /> +Scene 3: It is found out.<br /> +Scene 4: Complications are untangled, and the lie is atoned for.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Perhaps this scene can be combined with the preceding.)</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><b>A Long-lost Relative</b>:—This may be taken from a real or an imaginary +circumstance. Tell of the first news that the relative is coming. Where +has he (or she) been during the past years? Speak of the period before +the relative arrives: the conjectures as to his appearance; the +preparations made; the conversation regarding him. Tell of his arrival. +Is his appearance such as has been expected? Describe him rather fully. +What does he say and do? Does he make himself agreeable? Are his ideas +in any way peculiar? Do the neighbors like him? Give some of the +incidents of his visit. Tell about his departure. Are the family glad or +sorry to have him go? What is said about him after he has gone? What has +been heard of him since? +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Suburban Sketches</td><td align='left'>William Dean Howells</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Boy's Town</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Rise of Silas Lapham</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Minister's Charge</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Their Wedding Journey</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lady of the Aroostook</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Venetian Life</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Italian Journeys</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Mouse Trap (a play)</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Evening Dress (a play)</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Register (a play)</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Elevator (a play)</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Unexpected Guests (a play)</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Albany Depot (a play)</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Literary Friends and Acquaintances</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Their California Uncle</td><td align='left'>Bret Harte</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Lodging for the Night</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kidnapped</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ebb Tide</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Enoch Arden</td><td align='left'>Alfred Tennyson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rip Van Winkle</td><td align='left'>Washington Irving</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wakefield</td><td align='left'>Nathaniel Hawthorne</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Years before the Mast</td><td align='left'>R.H. Dana</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Out of Gloucester</td><td align='left'>J.B. Connolly</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jean Valjean (from <i>Les Misérables</i>)</td><td align='left'>Victor Hugo (Ed. S.E. Wiltse)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Historic Towns of New England (Cambridge)</td><td align='left'>L.P. Powell (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old Cambridge</td><td align='left'>T.W. Higginson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Authors at Home, pp. 193-211</td><td align='left'>J.L. and J.B. Gilder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Authors and their Homes, pp. 99-110</td><td align='left'>F.W. Halsey</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Writers of To-day, pp. 43-68</td><td align='left'>H.C. Vedder</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>Bookman, 17:342 (Portrait); 35:114, April, 1912; Current Literature, +42:49, January, 1907 (Portrait).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_WILD_RIDE" id="THE_WILD_RIDE"></a>THE WILD RIDE</h2> + +<h3>LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weather-worn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The trail is through dolour and dread, over crags and morasses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thought's self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sun-beam:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty:<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> +<span class="i0">We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.</i>)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>We spur to a land of no name, out-racing the storm-wind;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>This poem is somewhat like the <i>Road-Hymn for the Start</i>, on page <a href="#Page_184">184</a>. +It is about those people who go forward eagerly into the work of the +world, without fearing, and without shrinking from difficulties. Read it +through completely, trying to get its meaning. Regard the lines in +italic as a kind of chorus, and study the meaning of the other stanzas +first. Who are the galloping legions? A <i>stirrup-cup</i> was a draught of +wine, taken just before a rider began his journey; it was usually drunk +to some one's health. Is <i>dolour</i> a common word? Is it good here? Try to +put into your own words the ideas in the "land of no name," and "the +infinite dark," remembering what is said above about the general meaning +of the poem. What picture and what idea do you get from "like sparks +from the anvil"? Now go back to the lines in italic, and look for their +meaning.</p> + +<p>What do you notice about the length of the words in this poem? Why has +the author used this kind of words? Notice carefully how the sound and +the sense are made harmonious. Look for the rhyme. How does the poem +differ from most short poems?</p> + +<p>Bead the verses aloud, trying to make your reading suggest "the hoofs of +invisible horses."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + + +<p><b>OTHER POEMS TO READ</b></p> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>A Troop of the Guard</td><td align='left'>Hermann Hagedorn</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix</td><td align='left'>Robert Browning</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Through the Metidja to Abd-el-Kadr</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Reveille</td><td align='left'>Bret Harte</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Song of the Road</td><td align='left'>Richard Watson Gilder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The House and the Road</td><td align='left'>J.P. Peabody</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Mystic</td><td align='left'>Cale Young Rice</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (In <i>The Little Book of Modern Verse</i>, Ed. by J.B. Rittenhouse.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Winter Ride</td><td align='left'>Amy Lowell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (In <i>The Little Book of Modern Verse</i>.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Ride</td><td align='left'>Clinton Scollard</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (In <i>Songs of Sunrise Lands</i>.)</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHRISTMAS_IN_THE_WOODS" id="CHRISTMAS_IN_THE_WOODS"></a>CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS</h2> + +<h3>DALLAS LORE SHARP</h3> + +<h4>(In <i>The Lay of the Land</i>)</h4> + + +<p>On the night before this particular Christmas every creature of the +woods that could stir was up and stirring; for over the old snow was +falling swiftly, silently, a soft, fresh covering that might mean a +hungry Christmas unless the dinner were had before morning.</p> + +<p>But when the morning dawned, a cheery Christmas sun broke across the +great gum swamp, lighting the snowy boles and soft-piled limbs of the +giant trees with indescribable glory, and pouring, a golden flood, into +the deep spongy bottoms below. It would be a perfect Christmas in the +woods, clear, mild, stirless, with silent footing for me, and everywhere +the telltale snow.</p> + +<p>And everywhere the Christmas spirit, too. As I paused among the pointed +cedars of the pasture, looking down into the cripple at the head of the +swamp, a clear wild whistle rang in the thicket, followed by a flash +through the alders like a tongue of fire, as a cardinal grosbeak shot +down to the tangle of greenbrier and magnolia under the slope. It was a +fleck of flaming summer. As warm as summer, too, the staghorn sumac +burned on the crest of the ridge against the group of holly +trees,—trees as fresh as April, and all aglow with berries. The woods +were decorated for the holy day. The gentleness of the soft new snow +touched everything; cheer and good-will lighted the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>unclouded sky and +warmed the thick depths of the evergreens, and blazed in the +crimson-berried bushes of the ilex and alder. The Christmas woods were +glad.</p> + +<p>Nor was the gladness all show, mere decoration. There was real cheer in +abundance; for I was back in the old home woods, back along the +Cohansey, back where you can pick persimmons off the trees at Christmas. +There are persons who say the Lord might have made a better berry than +the strawberry, but He didn't. Perhaps He didn't make the strawberry at +all. But He did make the Cohansey Creek persimmon, and He made it as +good as He could. Nowhere else under the sun can you find such +persimmons as these along the creek, such richness of flavor, such +gummy, candied quality, woodsy, wild, crude,—especially the fruit of +two particular trees on the west bank, near Lupton's Pond. But they +never come to this perfection, never quite lose their pucker, until +midwinter,—as if they had been intended for the Christmas table of the +woods.</p> + +<p>It had been nearly twenty years since I crossed this pasture of the +cedars on my way to the persimmon trees. The cows had been crossing +every year, yet not a single new crook had they worn in the old paths. +But I was half afraid as I came to the fence where I could look down +upon the pond and over to the persimmon trees. Not one of the Luptons, +who owned pasture and pond and trees, had ever been a boy, so far as I +could remember, or had ever eaten of those persimmons. Would they have +left the trees through all these years?</p> + +<p>I pushed through the hedge of cedars and stopped for an instant, +confused. The very pond was gone! and the trees! No, there was the +pond,—but how <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>small the patch of water! and the two persimmon trees? +The bush and undergrowth had grown these twenty years. Which way—Ah, +there they stand, only their leafless tops showing; but see the hard +angular limbs, how closely globed with fruit! how softly etched upon the +sky!</p> + +<p>I hurried around to the trees and climbed the one with the two broken +branches, up, clear up to the top, into the thick of the persimmons.</p> + +<p>Did I say it had been twenty years? That could not be. Twenty years +would have made me a man, and this sweet, real taste in my mouth only a +<i>boy</i> could know. But there was college, and marriage, a Massachusetts +farm, four boys of my own, and—no matter! it could not have been +<i>years</i>—twenty years—since. It was only yesterday that I last climbed +this tree and ate the rich rimy fruit frosted with a Christmas snow.</p> + +<p>And yet, could it have been yesterday? It was storming, and I clung here +in the swirling snow and heard the wild ducks go over in their hurry +toward the bay. Yesterday, and all this change in the vast treetop +world, this huddled pond, those narrowed meadows, that shrunken creek! I +should have eaten the persimmons and climbed straight down, not stopped +to gaze out upon the pond, and away over the dark ditches to the creek. +But reaching out quickly I gathered another handful,—and all was +yesterday again.</p> + +<p>I filled both pockets of my coat and climbed down. I kept those +persimmons and am tasting them to-night. Lupton's Pond may fill to a +puddle, the meadows may shrivel, the creek dry up and disappear, and old +Time may even try his wiles on me. But I shall foil him to the end; for +I am carrying still in my pocket some of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>yesterday's +persimmons,—persimmons that ripened in the rime of a winter when I was +a boy.</p> + +<p>High and alone in a bare persimmon tree for one's dinner hardly sounds +like a merry Christmas. But I was not alone. I had noted the fresh +tracks beneath the tree before I climbed up, and now I saw that the snow +had been partly brushed from several of the large limbs as the 'possum +had moved about in the tree for his Christmas dinner. We were guests at +the same festive board, and both of us at Nature's invitation. It +mattered not that the 'possum had eaten and gone this hour or more. Such +is good form in the woods. He was expecting me, so he came early, out of +modesty; and, that I too might be entirely at my ease, he departed +early, leaving his greetings for me in the snow.</p> + +<p>Thus I was not alone; here was good company and plenty of it. I never +lack a companion in the woods when I can pick up a trail. The 'possum +and I ate together. And this was just the fellowship I needed, this +sharing the persimmons with the 'possum. I had broken bread, not with +the 'possum only, but with all the out-of-doors. I was now fit to enter +the woods, for I was filled with good-will and persimmons, as full as +the 'possum; and putting myself under his gentle guidance, I got down +upon the ground, took up his clumsy trail, and descended toward the +swamp. Such an entry is one of the particular joys of the winter. To go +in with a fox, a mink, or a 'possum through the door of the woods is to +find yourself at home. Any one can get inside the out-of-doors, as the +grocery boy or the census man gets inside our houses. You can bolt in at +any time on business. A trail, however, is Nature's invitation. There +may be other, better beaten paths <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>for mere feet. But go softly with the +'possum, and at the threshold you are met by the spirit of the wood, you +are made the guest of the open, silent, secret out-of-doors.</p> + +<p>I went down with the 'possum. He had traveled home in leisurely fashion +and without fear, as his tracks plainly showed. He was full of +persimmons. A good happy world this, where such fare could be had for +the picking! What need to hurry home, except one were in danger of +falling asleep by the way? So I thought, too, as I followed his winding +path; and if I was tracking him to his den, it was only to wake him for +a moment with the compliments of the season. But it was not even a +momentary disturbance; for when I finally found him in his hollow gum, +he was sound asleep, and only half realized that some one was poking him +gently in the ribs and wishing him a merry Christmas.</p> + +<p>The 'possum had led me to the center of the empty, hollow swamp, where +the great-boled gums lifted their branches like a timbered, unshingled +roof between me and the wide sky. Far away through the spaces of the +rafters I saw a pair of wheeling buzzards and, under them, in lesser +circles, a broad-winged hawk. Here, at the feet of the tall, clean +trees, looking up through the leafless limbs, I had something of a +measure for the flight of the birds. The majesty and the mystery of the +distant buoyant wings were singularly impressive.</p> + +<p>I have seen the turkey-buzzard sailing the skies on the bitterest winter +days. To-day, however, could hardly be called winter. Indeed, nothing +yet had felt the pinch of the cold. There was no hunger yet in the +swamp, though this new snow had scared the raccoons out, and their +half-human tracks along the margin <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>of the swamp stream showed that, if +not hungry, they at least feared that they might be.</p> + +<p>For a coon hates snow. He will invariably sleep off the first light +snowfalls, and even in the late winter he will not venture forth in +fresh snow unless driven by hunger or some other dire need. Perhaps, +like a cat or a hen, he dislikes the wetting of his feet. Or it may be +that the soft snow makes bad hunting—for him. The truth is, T believe, +that such a snow makes too good hunting for the dogs and the gunner. The +new snow tells too clear a story. His home is no inaccessible den among +the ledges; only a hollow in some ancient oak or tupelo. Once within, he +is safe from the dogs; but the long fierce fight for life taught him +generations ago that the nest-tree is a fatal trap when behind the dogs +come the axe and the gun. So he has grown wary and enduring. He waits +until the snow grows crusty, when, without sign, and almost without +scent, he can slip forth among the long shadows and prowl to the edge of +dawn.</p> + +<p>Skirting the stream out toward the higher back woods, I chanced to spy a +bunch of snow in one of the great sour gums, that I thought was an old +nest. A second look showed me tiny green leaves, then white berries, +then mistletoe.</p> + +<p>It was not a surprise, for I had found it here before,—a long, long +time before. It was back in my school-boy days, back beyond those twenty +years, that I first stood here under the mistletoe and had my first +romance. There was no chandelier, no pretty girl, in that romance,—only +a boy, the mistletoe, the giant trees, and the somber, silent swamp. +Then there was his discovery, the thrill of deep delight, and the wonder +of his knowledge of the strange unnatural plant!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> All plants had been +plants to him until, one day, he read the life of the mistletoe. But +that was English mistletoe; so the boy's wonder world of plant life was +still as far away as Mars, when, rambling alone through the swamp along +the creek, he stopped under a big curious bunch of green, high up in one +of the gums, and—made his first discovery.</p> + +<p>So the boy climbed up again this Christmas Day at the peril of his +precious neck, and brought down a bit of that old romance.</p> + +<p>I followed the stream along through the swamp to the open meadows, and +then on under the steep wooded hillside that ran up to the higher land +of corn and melon fields. Here at the foot of the slope the winter sun +lay warm, and here in the sheltered briery border I came upon the +Christmas birds.</p> + +<p>There was a great variety of them, feeding and preening and chirping in +the vines. The tangle was a-twitter with their quiet, cheery talk. Such +a medley of notes you could not hear at any other season outside a city +bird store. How far the different species understood one another I +should like to know, and whether the hum of voices meant sociability to +them, as it certainly meant to me. Doubtless the first cause of their +flocking here was the sheltered warmth and the great numbers of +berry-laden bushes, for there was no lack either of abundance or variety +on the Christmas table.</p> + +<p>In sight from where I stood hung bunches of withering chicken or frost +grapes, plump clusters of blue-black berries of the greenbrier, and +limbs of the smooth winterberry bending with their flaming fruit. There +were bushes of crimson ilex, too, trees of fruiting dogwood and holly, +cedars in berry, dwarf sumac <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>and seedy sedges, while patches on the +wood slopes uncovered by the sun were spread with trailing partridge +berry and the coral-fruited wintergreen. I had eaten part of my dinner +with the 'possum; I picked a quantity of these wintergreen berries, and +continued my meal with the birds. And they also had enough and to spare.</p> + +<p>Among the birds in the tangle was a large flock of northern fox +sparrows, whose vigorous and continuous scratching in the bared spots +made a most lively and cheery commotion. Many of them were splashing +about in tiny pools of snow-water, melted partly by the sun and partly +by the warmth of their bodies as they bathed. One would hop to a +softening bit of snow at the base of a tussock keel over and begin to +flop, soon sending up a shower of sparkling drops from his rather chilly +tub. A winter snow-water bath seemed a necessity, a luxury indeed; for +they all indulged, splashing with the same purpose and zest that they +put into their scratching among the leaves.</p> + +<p>A much bigger splashing drew me quietly through the bushes to find a +marsh hawk giving himself a Christmas souse. The scratching, washing, +and talking of the birds; the masses of green in the cedars, holly, and +laurels; the glowing colors of the berries against the snow; the blue of +the sky, and the golden warmth of the light made Christmas in the heart +of the noon that the very swamp seemed to feel.</p> + +<p>Three months later there was to be scant picking here, for this was the +beginning of the severest winter I ever knew. From this very ridge, in +February, I had reports of berries gone, of birds starving, of whole +coveys of quail frozen dead in the snow; but neither the birds nor I +dreamed to-day of any such hunger and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>death. A flock of robins whirled +into the cedars above me; a pair of cardinals whistled back and forth; +tree sparrows, juncos, nuthatches, chickadees, and cedar-birds cheeped +among the trees and bushes; and from the farm lands at the top of the +slope rang the calls of meadowlarks.</p> + +<p>Halfway up the hill I stopped under a blackjack oak where, in the thin +snow, there were signs of something like a Christmas revel. The ground +was sprinkled with acorn shells and trampled over with feet of several +kinds and sizes,—quail, jay, and partridge feet; rabbit, squirrel, and +mice feet, all over the snow as the feast of acorns had gone on. +Hundreds of the acorns were lying about, gnawed away at the cup end, +where the shell was thinnest, many of them further broken and cleaned +out by the birds.</p> + +<p>As I sat studying the signs in the snow, my eye caught a tiny trail +leading out from the others straight away toward a broken pile of cord +wood. The tracks were planted one after the other, so directly in line +as to seem like the prints of a single foot. "That's a weasel's trail," +I said, "the death's-head at this feast," and followed it slowly to the +wood. A shiver crept over me as I felt, even sooner than I saw, a pair +of small sinister eyes fixed upon mine. The evil pointed head, heavy but +alert, and with a suggestion of fierce strength out of all relation to +the slender body, was watching me from between the sticks of cordwood. +And so he had been watching the mice and birds and rabbits feasting +under the tree!</p> + +<p>I packed a ball of snow round and hard, slipped forward upon my knees, +and hurled it. "Spat!" it struck the end of a stick within an inch of +the ugly head, filling the crevice with snow. Instantly the head +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>appeared at another crack, and another ball struck viciously beside it. +Now it was back where it first appeared, and did not flinch for the +next, or the next ball. The third went true, striking with a "chug" and +packing the crack. But the black, hating eyes were still watching me a +foot lower down.</p> + +<p>It is not all peace and good-will in the Christmas woods. But there is +more of peace and good-will than of any other spirit. The weasels are +few. More friendly and timid eyes were watching me than bold and +murderous. It was foolish to want to kill—even the weasel. For one's +woods are what one makes them; and so I let the man with the gun, who +chanced along, think that I had turned boy again, and was snowballing +the woodpile, just for the fun of trying to hit the end of the biggest +stick.</p> + +<p>I was glad he had come. As he strode off with his stained bag, I felt +kindlier toward the weasel. There were worse in the woods than +he,—worse, because all of their killing was pastime. The weasel must +kill to live, and if he gloated over the kill, why, what fault of his? +But the other weasel, the one with the blood-stained bag, he killed for +the love of killing. I was glad he was gone.</p> + +<p>The crows were winging over toward their great roost in the pines when I +turned toward the town. They, too, had had good picking along the creek +flats and ditches of the meadows. Their powerful wing-beats and constant +play told of full crops and no fear for the night, already softly gray +across the white silent fields. The air was crisper; the snow began to +crackle under foot; the twigs creaked and rattled as I brushed along; a +brown beech leaf wavered down and skated with a thin scratch over the +crust; and pure as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>the snow-wrapped crystal world, and sweet as the +soft gray twilight, came the call of a quail.</p> + +<p>The voices, colors, odors, and forms of summer were gone. The very face +of things had changed; all had been reduced, made plain, simple, single, +pure! There was less for the senses, but how much keener now their joy! +The wide landscape, the frosty air, the tinkle of tiny icicles, and, out +of the quiet of the falling twilight, the voice of the quail!</p> + +<p>There is no day but is beautiful in the woods; and none more beautiful +than one like this Christmas Day,—warm and still and wrapped, to the +round red berries of the holly, in the magic of the snow.</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>cripple</b>:—A dense thicket in swampy land.</p> + +<p><b>good-will</b>:—See the Bible, Luke 2:13, 14.</p> + +<p><b>Cohansey</b>:—A creek in southern New Jersey.</p> + + +<h3>QUESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Read the selection through once without stopping. Afterward, go through +it with these questions:—</p> + +<p>Why might the snow mean a "hungry Christmas"? Note the color words in +paragraph three: Of what value are they? Why does the pond seem small to +the visitor? Does the author mean anything more than persimmons in the +last part of the paragraph beginning "I filled both pockets"? What sort +of man do you think he is? What is the meaning of "broken bread"? What +is meant by entering the woods "at Nature's invitation"? What do you +understand by "the long fierce fight for life"? What was it that the +coon learned "generations ago"? What does the author mean here? Do you +know anything of the Darwinian theory of life? What has it to do with +what is said here about the coon? How does the author make you feel the +variety and liveliness of the bird life which he observes? What shows +his keenness of sight? What do you know about weasels? Is it, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>true that +"one's woods are what one makes them"? Do you think the author judges +the hunter too harshly? How does the author make you feel the charm of +the late afternoon? Go through the selection and see how many different +subjects are discussed! How is the unity of the piece preserved? Notice +the pictures in the piece. What feeling prevails in the selection? How +can you tell whether the author really loves nature? Could you write a +sketch somewhat like this, telling what you saw during a walk in the +woods?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +A Walk in the Winter Woods<br /> +An Outdoor Christmas Tree<br /> +A Lumber Camp at Christmas<br /> +The Winter Birds<br /> +Tracking a Rabbit<br /> +Hunting Deer in Winter<br /> +A Winter Landscape<br /> +Home Decorations from the Winter Fields<br /> +Wild Apples<br /> +Fishing through the Ice<br /> +A Winter Camp<br /> +A Strange Christmas<br /> +Playing Santa Claus<br /> +A Snow Picnic<br /> +Making Christmas Gifts<br /> +Feeding the Birds<br /> +The Christmas Guest<br /> +Turkey and Plum Pudding<br /> +The Children's Christmas Party<br /> +Christmas on the Farm<br /> +The Christmas Tree at the Schoolhouse<br /> +What he Found in his Stocking<br /> +Bringing Home the Christmas Tree<br /> +Christmas in the South<br /> +Christmas away from Home<br /> +A "Sensible" Christmas<br /> +Christmas at our House<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>A Walk in the Winter Woods</b>:—Tell of a real or imaginary stroll in the +woods when the snow is on the ground. If possible, plan the theme some +time before you write, and obtain your material through actual and +recent observation. In everything you say, be careful and accurate. You +might speak first of the time of day at which your walk was taken; the +weather; the condition of the snow. Speak of the trees: the kinds; how +they looked. Were any of the trees weighted with snow? Describe the +bushes, and the berries and grasses; use color words, if possible, as +Mr. Sharp does. What sounds did you hear in the woods? Did you see any +tracks of animals? If <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>so, tell about these tracks, and show what they +indicated. Describe the animals that you saw, and tell what they were +doing. What did you gather regarding the way in which the animals live +in winter? Speak in the same way of the birds. Re-read what Mr. Sharp +says about the birds he saw, and try to make your own account clear and +full of action. Did you see any signs of human inhabitants or visitors? +If so, tell about them. Did you find anything to eat in the woods? Speak +briefly of your return home. Had the weather changed since your entering +the woods? Was there any alteration in the landscape? How did you feel +after your walk?</p> + +<p><b>The Winter Birds</b>:—For several days before writing this theme, prepare +material for it by observation and reading. Watch the birds, and see +what they are doing and how they live. Use a field glass if you can get +one, and take careful notes on what you see. Make especial use of any +interesting incidents that come under your observation.</p> + +<p>When you write, take up each kind of bird separately, and tell what you +have found out about its winter life: how it looks; where you have seen +it; what it was doing. Speak also of its food and shelter; the perils it +endures; its intelligence; anecdotes about it. Make your theme simple +and lively, as if you were talking to some one about the birds. Try to +use good color words and sound words, and expressions that give a vivid +idea of the activities and behavior of the birds.</p> + +<p>When you have finished, lay the theme aside for a time; then read it +again and see how you can touch it up to make it clearer and more +straightforward.</p> + +<p><b>Christmas at our House</b>:—Write as if you were telling of some +particular occasion, although you may perhaps be combining the events of +several Christmas days. Tell of the preparations for Christmas: the +planning; the cooking; the whispering of secrets. Make as much use of +conversation as possible, and do not hesitate to use even very small +details and little anecdotes. Perhaps you will wish to tell of the +hanging of the stockings on Christmas Eve; if there are children in the +family, tell what they did and said. Write as vividly as possible of +Christmas morning, and the finding of the gifts; try to bring out the +confusion and the happiness of opening the parcels and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>displaying the +presents. Quote some of the remarks directly, and speak of particularly +pleasing or absurd gifts. Go on and tell of the sports and pleasures of +the day. Speak of the guests, describing some of them, and telling what +they said and did. Try to bring out contrasts here. Put as much emphasis +as you wish upon the dinner, and the quantities of good things consumed. +Try to quote the remarks of some of the people at the table. If your +theme has become rather long, you might close it by a brief account of +the dispersing of the family after dinner. You might, however, complete +your account of the day by telling of the evening, with its enjoyments +and its weariness.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Wild Life Near Home</td><td align='left'>D.L. Sharp</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Watcher in the Woods</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lay of the Land</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Winter</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Face of the Fields</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Fall of the Year</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Roof and Meadow</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wild Life in the Rockies</td><td align='left'>Enos A. Mills</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kindred of the Wild</td><td align='left'>C.G.D. Roberts</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Watchers of the Trail</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Haunters of the Silences</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Ways of Wood Folk</td><td align='left'>W.J. Long</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Eye Spy</td><td align='left'>W.H. Gibson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sharp Eyes</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Birds in the Bush</td><td align='left'>Bradford Torrey</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Everyday Birds</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nature's Invitation</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bird Stories from Burroughs (selections)</td><td align='left'>John Burroughs</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Winter Sunshine</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pepacton</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Riverby</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wake-Robin</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Signs and Seasons</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar</td><td align='left'>Bret Harte</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Santa Claus's Partner</td><td align='left'>T.N. Page</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The First Christmas Tree</td><td align='left'>Henry Van Dyke</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Other Wise Man</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Old Peabody Pew</td><td align='left'>K.D. Wiggin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Miss Santa Claus of the Pullman</td><td align='left'>Annie F. Johnson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Christmas</td><td align='left'>Zona Gale</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Christmas Mystery</td><td align='left'>W.J. Locke</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Christmas Eve on Lonesome</td><td align='left'>John Fox, Jr.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>By the Christmas Fire</td><td align='left'>S.M. Crothers</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Colonel Carter's Christmas</td><td align='left'>F.H. Smith</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Christmas Jenny (in <i>A New England Nun</i>)</td><td align='left'>Mary E. Wilkins</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Christmas Sermon</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boy who Brought Christmas</td><td align='left'>Alice Morgan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Christmas Stories</td><td align='left'>Charles Dickens</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Christmas Guest</td><td align='left'>Selma Lagerlöf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Legend of the Christmas Rose</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GLOUCESTER_MOORS" id="GLOUCESTER_MOORS"></a>GLOUCESTER MOORS</h2> + +<h3>WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A mile behind is Gloucester town<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the fishing fleets put in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mile ahead the land dips down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the woods and farms begin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, where the moors stretch free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the high blue afternoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the marching sun and talking sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the racing winds that wheel and flee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the flying heels of June.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue is the quaker-maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild geranium holds its dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long in the boulder's shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wax-red hangs the cup<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the huckleberry boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In barberry bells the grey moths sup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where the choke-cherry lifts high up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet bowls for their carouse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Over the shelf of the sandy cove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beach-peas blossom late.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By copse and cliff the swallows rove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each calling to his mate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seaward the sea-gulls go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the land birds all are here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That green-gold flash was a vireo,<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> +<span class="i0">And yonder flame where the marsh-flags grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was a scarlet tanager.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This earth is not the steadfast place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We landsmen build upon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From deep to deep she varies pace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while she comes is gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath my feet I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her smooth bulk heave and dip;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With velvet plunge and soft upreel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She swings and steadies to her keel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a gallant, gallant ship.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These summer clouds she sets for sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun is her masthead light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tows the moon like a pinnace frail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where her phospher wake churns bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now hid, now looming clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the face of the dangerous blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star fleets tack and wheel and veer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on, but on does the old earth steer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if her port she knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God, dear God! Does she know her port,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though she goes so far about?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or blind astray, does she make her sport<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To brazen and chance it out?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I watched where her captains passed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She were better captainless.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men in the cabin, before the mast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some were reckless and some aghast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some sat gorged at mess.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By her battered hatch I leaned and caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds from the noisome hold,—<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<span class="i0">Cursing and sighing of souls distraught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cries too sad to be told.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I strove to go down and see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they said, "Thou art not of us!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turned to those on the deck with me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cried, "Give help!" But they said, "Let be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our ship sails faster thus."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue is the quaker-maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The alder clump where the brook comes through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breeds cresses in its shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be out of the moiling street<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its swelter and its sin!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has given to me this sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And given my brother dust to eat?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when will his wage come in?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scattering wide or blown in ranks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yellow and white and brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boats and boats from the fishing banks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come home to Gloucester town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is cash to purse and spend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are wives to be embraced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearts to borrow and hearts to lend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hearts to take and keep to the end,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O little sails, make haste!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou, vast outbound ship of souls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What harbor town for thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shapes, when thy arriving tolls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall crowd the banks to see?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall all the happy shipmates then<br /></span><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> +<span class="i0">Stand singing brotherly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or shall a haggard ruthless few<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warp her over and bring her to,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the many broken souls of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fester down in the slaver's pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nothing to say or do?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Gloucester town</b>: Gloucester is a seaport town in Massachusetts, the +chief seat of the cod and mackerel fisheries of the coast.</p> + +<p><b>Jill-o'er-the-ground</b>: Ground ivy; usually written +<i>Gill-over-the-ground</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Quaker-maid</b>: Quaker ladies; small blue flowers growing low on the +ground.</p> + +<p><b>wax-red</b>: The huckleberry blossom is red and waxy.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Read the poem slowly through to yourself, getting what you can out of +it, without trying too hard. Note that after the third stanza the earth +is compared to a ship. After you have read the poem through, go back and +study it with the help of the following questions and suggestions:—</p> + +<p>The author is out on the moors not far from the sea: What details does +he select to make you feel the beauty of the afternoon? What words in +the first stanza suggest movement and freedom? Why does the author stop +to tell about the flowers, when he has so many important things to say? +Note a change of tone at the beginning of the fourth stanza. What +suggests to the author that the earth is like a ship? Why does he say +that it is not a steadfast place? How does the fifth stanza remind you +of <i>The Ancient Mariner</i>? Why does the author speak so passionately at +the beginning of the sixth stanza? Here he wonders whether there is +really any plan in the universe, or whether things all go by chance. Who +are the captains of whom he speaks? What different types of people are +represented in the last two lines of stanza six? What is the "noisome +hold"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> of the Earth ship? Who are those cursing and sighing? Who are +<i>they</i> in the line, "But they said, 'Thou art not of us!'"? Who are +<i>they</i> in the next line but one? Why does the author turn back to the +flowers in the next few lines? What is omitted from the line beginning +"To be out"? Explain the last three lines of stanza eight. How do the +ships of Gloucester differ from the ship <i>Earth</i>? What is the "arriving" +spoken of in the last stanza? What two possibilities does the author +suggest as to the fate of the ship? Why does he end his poem with a +question? What is the purpose of the poem? Why is it considered good? +What do you think was the author's feeling about the way the poor and +helpless are treated? Read the poem through aloud, thinking what each +line means.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ROAD-HYMN_FOR_THE_START" id="ROAD-HYMN_FOR_THE_START"></a>ROAD-HYMN FOR THE START</h2> + +<h3>WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Leave the early bells at chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leave the kindled hearth to blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the trellised panes where children linger out the waking-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the forms of sons and fathers trudging through the misty ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the sounds of mothers taking up their sweet laborious days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Pass them by! even while our soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yearns to them with keen distress.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto them a part is given; we will strive to see the whole.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear shall be the banquet table where their singing spirits press;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dearer be our sacred hunger, and our pilgrim loneliness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">We have felt the ancient swaying<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the earth before the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the darkened marge of midnight heard sidereal rivers playing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rash it was to bathe our souls there, but we plunged and all was done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is lives and lives behind us—lo, our journey is begun!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Careless where our face is set,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Let us take the open way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What we are no tongue has told us: Errand-goers who forget?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soldiers heedless of their harry? Pilgrim people gone astray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have heard a voice cry "Wander!" That was all we heard it say.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ask no more: 'tis much, 'tis much!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down the road the day-star calls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touched with change in the wide heavens, like a leaf the frost winds touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flames the failing moon a moment, ere it shrivels white and falls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hid aloft, a wild throat holdeth sweet and sweeter intervals.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Leave him still to ease in song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half his little heart's unrest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speech is his, but we may journey toward the life for which we long.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, who gives the bird its anguish, maketh nothing manifest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But upon our lifted foreheads pours the boon of endless quest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Do not be alarmed if you find this a little hard to understand. It is +expressed in rather figurative language, and one has to study it to get +its meaning. The poem is about those people who look forward constantly +to something better, and feel that they must always be pressing forward +at any cost. Who is represented as speaking? What sort of life are the +travelers leaving behind them? Why do they feel a keen distress? What is +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> "whole" that they are striving to see? What is their "sacred +hunger"? Why is it "dearer" than the feasting of those who stay at home? +Notice how the third stanza reminds one of <i><a href="#GLOUCESTER_MOORS"><b>Gloucester Moors</b></a></i>. Look up the word <i>sidereal</i>: Can you tell what +it means here? "Lives and lives behind us" means <i>a long time ago</i>; you +will perhaps have to ask your teacher for its deeper meaning. Do the +travelers know where they are going? Why do they set forth? Note the +description of the dawn in the fifth stanza. What is the boon of +"endless quest"? Why is it spoken of as a gift (boon)? Compare the last +line of this poem with the last line of <i>The Wild Ride</i>, on page <a href="#Page_161">161</a>. +Perhaps you will be interested to compare the <i>Road-Hymn</i> with Whitman's +<i>The Song of the Open Road</i>.</p> + +<p>Do the meter and verse-form seem appropriate here? Is anything gained by +the difference in the length of the lines?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ON_A_SOLDIER_FALLEN_IN_THE_PHILIPPINES" id="ON_A_SOLDIER_FALLEN_IN_THE_PHILIPPINES"></a>ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILIPPINES</h2> + +<h3>WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Streets of the roaring town,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hush for him, hush, be still!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He comes, who was stricken down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doing the word of our will.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hush! Let him have his state,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give him his soldier's crown.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grists of trade can wait<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their grinding at the mill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he cannot wait for his honor, now the trumpet has been blown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wreathe pride now for his granite brow, lay love on his breast of stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Toll! Let the great bells toll<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the clashing air is dim.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did we wrong this parted soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We will make it up to him.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Toll! Let him never guess<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What work we set him to.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laurel, laurel, yes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He did what we bade him do.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praise, and never a whispered hint but the fight he fought was good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never a word that the blood on his sword was his country's own heart's-blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A flag for the soldier's bier<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Who dies that his land may live;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, banners, banners here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That he doubt not nor misgive!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That he heed not from the tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The evil days draw near<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the nation, robed in gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its faithless past shall strive.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him never dream that his bullet's scream went wide of its island mark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home to the heart of his darling land where she stumbled and sinned in the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>What is "his state," in line five? How has the soldier been "wronged"? +Does the author think that the fight in the Philippines has not been +"good"? Why? What does he mean by the last line of stanza two? What +"evil days" are those mentioned in stanza three? Have they come yet? +What "faithless past" is meant? Do you think that the United States has +treated the Philippines unfairly?<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Gloucester Moors and Other Poems</td><td align='left'>William Vaughn Mood</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Poems and Plays of William Vaughn</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Moody (2 vols. Biographical introduction) </td><td align='left'>John M. Manley (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Letters of William Vaughn Moody</td><td align='left'>Daniel Mason (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Out of Gloucester</td><td align='left'>J.B. Connolly</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>For biography, criticism, and portraits of William Vaughn Moody, +consult: Atlantic Monthly, 98:326, September, 1906; World's Work, 13: +8258, December, 1906 (Portrait); Century, 73:431 (Portrait); Reader, +10:173; Bookman, 32:253 (Portrait.)</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_COON_DOG" id="THE_COON_DOG"></a>THE COON DOG</h2> + +<h3>SARAH ORNE JEWETT</h3> + +<h4>(In <i>The Queen's Twin and Other Stories</i>)</h4> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>In the early dusk of a warm September evening the bats were flitting to +and fro, as if it were still summer, under the great elm that +overshadowed Isaac Brown's house, on the Dipford road. Isaac Brown +himself, and his old friend and neighbor John York, were leaning against +the fence.</p> + +<p>"Frost keeps off late, don't it?" said John York. "I laughed when I +first heard about the circus comin'; I thought 'twas so unusual late in +the season. Turned out well, however. Everybody I noticed was returnin' +with a palm-leaf fan. Guess they found 'em useful under the tent; 'twas +a master hot day. I saw old lady Price with her hands full o' those free +advertising fans, as if she was layin' in a stock against next summer. +Well, I expect she'll live to enjoy 'em."</p> + +<p>"I was right here where I'm standin' now, and I see her as she was goin' +by this mornin'," said Isaac Brown, laughing, and settling himself +comfortably against the fence as if they had chanced upon a welcome +subject of conversation. "I hailed her, same's I gener'lly do. 'Where +are you bound to-day, ma'am?' says I.</p> + +<p>"'I'm goin' over as fur as Dipford Centre,' says she. 'I'm goin' to see +my poor dear 'Liza Jane. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>want to 'suage her grief; her husband, Mr. +'Bijah Topliff, has passed away.'</p> + +<p>"'So much the better,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'No; I never l'arnt about it till yisterday,' says she;' an' she looked +up at me real kind of pleasant, and begun to laugh.</p> + +<p>"'I hear he's left property,' says she, tryin' to pull her face down +solemn. I give her the fifty cents she wanted to borrow to make up her +car-fare and other expenses, an' she stepped off like a girl down tow'ds +the depot.</p> + +<p>"This afternoon, as you know, I'd promised the boys that I'd take 'em +over to see the menagerie, and nothin' wouldn't do none of us any good +but we must see the circus too; an' when we'd just got posted on one o' +the best high seats, mother she nudged me, and I looked right down front +two, three rows, an' if there wa'n't Mis' Price, spectacles an' all, +with her head right up in the air, havin' the best time you ever see. I +laughed right out. She hadn't taken no time to see 'Liza Jane; she +wa'n't 'suagin' no grief for nobody till she'd seen the circus. 'There,' +says I, 'I do like to have anybody keep their young feelin's!'"</p> + +<p>"Mis' Price come over to see our folks before breakfast," said John +York. "Wife said she was inquirin' about the circus, but she wanted to +know first if they couldn't oblige her with a few trinkets o' mournin', +seein' as how she'd got to pay a mournin' visit. Wife thought't was a +bosom-pin, or somethin' like that, but turned out she wanted the skirt +of a dress; 'most anything would do, she said."</p> + +<p>"I thought she looked extra well startin' off," said Isaac, with an +indulgent smile. "The Lord provides <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>very handsome for such, I do +declare! She ain't had no visible means o' support these ten or fifteen +years back, but she don't freeze up in winter no more than we do."</p> + +<p>"Nor dry up in summer," interrupted his friend; "I never did see such an +able hand to talk."</p> + +<p>"She's good company, and she's obliging an' useful when the women folks +have their extra work progressin'," continued Isaac Brown kindly. +"'Tain't much for a well-off neighborhood like this to support that old +chirpin' cricket. My mother used to say she kind of helped the work +along by 'livenin' of it. Here she comes now; must have taken the last +train, after she had supper with 'Lizy Jane. You stay still; we're goin' +to hear all about it."</p> + +<p>The small, thin figure of Mrs. Price had to be hailed twice before she +could be stopped.</p> + +<p>"I wish you a good evenin', neighbors," she said. "I have been to the +house of mournin'."</p> + +<p>"Find 'Liza Jane in, after the circus?" asked Isaac Brown, with equal +seriousness. "Excellent show, wasn't it, for so late in the season?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, beautiful; it was beautiful, I declare," answered the pleased +spectator readily. "Why, I didn't see you, nor Mis' Brown. Yes; I felt +it best to refresh my mind an' wear a cheerful countenance. When I see +'Liza Jane I was able to divert her mind consid'able. She was glad I +went. I told her I'd made an effort, knowin' 'twas so she had to lose +the a'ternoon. 'Bijah left property, if he did die away from home on a +foreign shore."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean that 'Bijah Topliff's left anything!" exclaimed John +York with interest, while Isaac Brown put both hands deep into his +pockets, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>and leaned back in a still more satisfactory position against +the gatepost.</p> + +<p>"He enjoyed poor health," answered Mrs. Price, after a moment of +deliberation, as if she must take time to think. "'Bijah never was one +that scattereth, nor yet increaseth. 'Liza Jane's got some memories o' +the past that's a good deal better than others; but he died somewheres +out in Connecticut, or so she heard, and he's left a very val'able coon +dog,—one he set a great deal by. 'Liza Jane said, last time he was to +home, he priced that dog at fifty dollars. 'There, now, 'Liza Jane,' +says I, right to her, when she told me, 'if I could git fifty dollars +for that dog, I certain' would. Perhaps some o' the circus folks would +like to buy him; they've taken in a stream o' money this day.' But 'Liza +Jane ain't never inclined to listen to advice. 'Tis a dreadful +poor-spirited-lookin' creatur'. I don't want no right o' dower in him, +myself."</p> + +<p>"A good coon dog's worth somethin', certain," said John York handsomely.</p> + +<p>"If he <i>is</i> a good coon dog," added Isaac Brown. "I wouldn't have parted +with old Rover, here, for a good deal of money when he was right in his +best days; but a dog like him's like one of the family. Stop an' have +some supper, won't ye, Mis' Price?"—as the thin old creature was +flitting off again. At that same moment this kind invitation was +repeated from the door of the house; and Mrs. Price turned in, +unprotesting and always sociably inclined, at the open gate.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>It was a month later, and a whole autumn's length colder, when the two +men were coming home from a long tramp through the woods. They had been +making <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>a solemn inspection of a wood-lot that they owned together, and +had now visited their landmarks and outer boundaries, and settled the +great question of cutting or not cutting some large pines. When it was +well decided that a few years' growth would be no disadvantage to the +timber, they had eaten an excellent cold luncheon and rested from their +labors.</p> + +<p>"I don't feel a day older'n ever I did when I get out in the woods this +way," announced John York, who was a prim, dusty-looking little man, a +prudent person, who had been selectman of the town at least a dozen +times.</p> + +<p>"No more do I," agreed his companion, who was large and jovial and +open-handed, more like a lucky sea-captain than a farmer. After pounding +a slender walnut-tree with a heavy stone, he had succeeded in getting +down a pocketful of late-hanging nuts which had escaped the squirrels, +and was now snapping them back, one by one, to a venturesome chipmunk +among some little frost-bitten beeches. Isaac Brown had a wonderfully +pleasant way of getting on with all sorts of animals, even men. After a +while they rose and went their way, these two companions, stopping here +and there to look at a possible woodchuck's hole, or to strike a few +hopeful blows at a hollow tree with the light axe which Isaac had +carried to blaze new marks on some of the line-trees on the farther edge +of their possessions. Sometimes they stopped to admire the size of an +old hemlock, or to talk about thinning out the young pines. At last they +were not very far from the entrance to the great tract of woodland. The +yellow sunshine came slanting in much brighter against the tall trunks, +spotting them with golden light high among the still branches.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>Presently they came to a great ledge, frost-split and cracked into +mysterious crevices.</p> + +<p>"Here's where we used to get all the coons," said John York. "I haven't +seen a coon this great while, spite o' your courage knocking on the +trees up back here. You know that night we got the four fat ones? We +started 'em somewheres near here, so the dog could get after 'em when +they come out at night to go foragin'."</p> + +<p>"Hold on, John;" and Mr. Isaac Brown got up from the log where he had +just sat down to rest, and went to the ledge, and looked carefully all +about. When he came back he was much excited, and beckoned his friend +away, speaking in a stage whisper.</p> + +<p>"I guess you'll see a coon before you're much older," he proclaimed. +"I've thought it looked lately as if there'd been one about my place, +and there's plenty o' signs here, right in their old haunts. Couple o' +hens' heads an' a lot o' feathers"—</p> + +<p>"Might be a fox," interrupted John York.</p> + +<p>"Might be a coon," answered Mr. Isaac Brown. "I'm goin' to have him, +too. I've been lookin' at every old hollow tree I passed, but I never +thought o' this place. We'll come right off to-morrow night, I guess, +John, an' see if we can't get him. 'Tis an extra handy place for 'em to +den; in old times the folks always called it a good place; they've been +so sca'ce o' these late years that I've thought little about 'em. +Nothin' I ever liked so well as a coon-hunt. Gorry! he must be a big old +fellow, by his tracks! See here, in this smooth dirt; just like a baby's +footmark."</p> + +<p>"Trouble is, we lack a good dog," said John York anxiously, after he had +made an eager inspection. "I don't know where in the world to get one, +either.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> There ain't no such a dog about as your Rover, but you've let +him get spoilt; these days I don't see him leave the yard. You ought to +keep the women folks from overfeedin' of him so. He ought to've lasted a +good spell longer. He's no use for huntin' now, that's certain."</p> + +<p>Isaac accepted the rebuke meekly. John York was a calm man, but he now +grew very fierce under such a provocation. Nobody likes to be hindered +in a coon-hunt.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rover's too old, anyway," explained the affectionate master +regretfully. "I've been wishing all this afternoon I'd brought him; but +I didn't think anything about him as we came away, I've got so used to +seeing him layin' about the yard. 'Twould have been a real treat for old +Rover, if he could have kept up. Used to be at my heels the whole time. +He couldn't follow us, anyway, up here."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if he could," insisted John, with a humorous glance +at his old friend, who was much too heavy and huge of girth for quick +transit over rough ground. John York himself had grown lighter as he had +grown older.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you one thing we could do," he hastened to suggest. "There's +that dog of 'Bijah Topliff's. Don't you know the old lady told us, that +day she went over to Dipford, how high he was valued? Most o' 'Bijah's +important business was done in the fall, goin' out by night, gunning +with fellows from the mills. He was just the kind of a worthless +do-nothing that's sure to have an extra knowin' smart dog. I expect +'Liza Jane's got him now. Perhaps we could get him by to-morrow night. +Let one o' my boys go over!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>"Why, 'Liza Jane's come, bag an' baggage, to spend the winter with her +mother," exclaimed Isaac Brown, springing to his feet like a boy. "I've +had it in mind to tell you two or three times this afternoon, and then +something else has flown it out of my head. I let my John Henry take the +long-tailed wagon an' go down to the depot this mornin' to fetch her an' +her goods up. The old lady come in early, while we were to breakfast, +and to hear her lofty talk you'd thought 't would taken a couple o' +four-horse teams to move her. I told John Henry he might take that wagon +and fetch up what light stuff he could, and see how much else there was, +an' then I'd make further arrangements. She said 'Liza Jane'd see me +well satisfied, an' rode off, pleased to death. I see 'em returnin' +about eight, after the train was in. They'd got 'Liza Jane with 'em, +smaller'n ever; and there was a trunk tied up with a rope, and a small +roll o' beddin' and braided mats, and a quilted rockin'-chair. The old +lady was holdin' on tight to a bird-cage with nothin' in it. Yes; an' I +see the dog, too, in behind. He appeared kind of timid. He's a yaller +dog, but he ain't stump-tailed. They hauled up out front o' the house, +and mother an' I went right out; Mis' Price always expects to have +notice taken. She was in great sperits. Said 'Liza Jane concluded to +sell off most of her stuff rather 'n have the care of it. She'd told the +folks that Mis' Topliff had a beautiful sofa and a lot o' nice chairs, +and two framed pictures that would fix up the house complete, and +invited us all to come over and see 'em. There, she seemed just as +pleased returnin' with the bird-cage. Disappointments don't appear to +trouble her no more than a butterfly. I kind of like the old creator'; I +don't mean to see her want."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>"They'll let us have the dog," said John York. "I don't know but I'll +give a quarter for him, and we'll let 'em have a good piece o' the +coon."</p> + +<p>"You really comin' 'way up here by night, coon-huntin'?" asked Isaac +Brown, looking reproachfully at his more agile comrade.</p> + +<p>"I be," answered John York.</p> + +<p>"I was dre'tful afraid you was only talking, and might back out," +returned the cheerful heavy-weight, with a chuckle. "Now we've got +things all fixed, I feel more like it than ever. I tell you there's just +boy enough left inside of me. I'll clean up my old gun to-morrow +mornin', and you look right after your'n. I dare say the boys have took +good care of 'em for us, but they don't know what we do about huntin', +and we'll bring 'em all along and show 'em a little fun."</p> + +<p>"All right," said John York, as soberly as if they were going to look +after a piece of business for the town; and they gathered up the axe and +other light possessions, and started toward home.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>The two friends, whether by accident or design, came out of the woods +some distance from their own houses, but very near to the low-storied +little gray dwelling of Mrs. Price. They crossed the pasture, and +climbed over the toppling fence at the foot of her small sandy piece of +land, and knocked at the door. There was a light already in the kitchen. +Mrs. Price and Eliza Jane Topliff appeared at once, eagerly hospitable.</p> + +<p>"Anybody sick?" asked Mrs. Price, with instant sympathy. "Nothin' +happened, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said both the men.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>"We came to talk about hiring your dog to-morrow night," explained +Isaac Brown, feeling for the moment amused at his eager errand. "We got +on track of a coon just now, up in the woods, and we thought we'd give +our boys a little treat. You shall have fifty cents, an' welcome, and a +good piece o' the coon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Square Brown; we can let you have the dog as well as not," +interrupted Mrs. Price, delighted to grant a favor. "Poor departed +'Bijah, he set everything by him as a coon dog. He always said a dog's +capital was all in his reputation."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to be dreadful careful an' not lose him," urged Mrs. +Topliff "Yes, sir; he's a proper coon dog as ever walked the earth, but +he's terrible weak-minded about followin' 'most anybody. 'Bijah used to +travel off twelve or fourteen miles after him to git him back, when he +wa'n't able. Somebody'd speak to him decent, or fling a whip-lash as +they drove by, an' off he'd canter on three legs right after the wagon. +But 'Bijah said he wouldn't trade him for no coon dog he ever was +acquainted with. Trouble is, coons is awful sca'ce."</p> + +<p>"I guess he ain't out o' practice," said John York amiably; "I guess +he'll know when he strikes the coon. Come, Isaac, we must be gittin' +along tow'ds home. I feel like eatin' a good supper. You tie him up +to-morrow afternoon, so we shall be sure to have him," he turned to say +to Mrs. Price, who stood smiling at the door.</p> + +<p>"Land sakes, dear, he won't git away; you'll find him right there +betwixt the wood-box and the stove, where he is now. Hold the light, +'Liza Jane; they can't see their way out to the road. I'll fetch him +over <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>to ye in good season," she called out, by way of farewell; "'twill +save ye third of a mile extra walk. No, 'Liza Jane; you'll let me do it, +if you please. I've got a mother's heart. The gentlemen will excuse us +for showin' feelin'. You're all the child I've got, an' your prosperity +is the same as mine."</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>The great night of the coon-hunt was frosty and still, with only a dim +light from the new moon. John York and his boys, and Isaac Brown, whose +excitement was very great, set forth across the fields toward the dark +woods. The men seemed younger and gayer than the boys. There was a burst +of laughter when John Henry Brown and his little brother appeared with +the coon dog of the late Mr. Abijah Topliff, which had promptly run away +home again after Mrs. Price had coaxed him over in the afternoon. The +captors had tied a string round his neck, at which they pulled +vigorously from time to time to urge him forward. Perhaps he found the +night too cold; at any rate, he stopped short in the frozen furrows +every few minutes, lifting one foot and whining a little. Half a dozen +times he came near to tripping up Mr. Isaac Brown and making him fall at +full length.</p> + +<p>"Poor Tiger! poor Tiger!" said the good-natured sportsman, when somebody +said that the dog didn't act as if he were much used to being out by +night. "He'll be all right when he once gets track of the coon." But +when they were fairly in the woods, Tiger's distress was perfectly +genuine. The long rays of light from the old-fashioned lanterns of +pierced tin went wheeling round and round, making a tall ghost of every +tree, and strange shadows went darting in and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>out behind the pines. The +woods were like an interminable pillared room where the darkness made a +high ceiling. The clean frosty smell of the open fields was changed for +a warmer air, damp with the heavy odor of moss and fallen leaves. There +was something wild and delicious in the forest in that hour of night. +The men and boys tramped on silently in single file, as if they followed +the flickering light instead of carrying it. The dog fell back by +instinct, as did his companions, into the easy familiarity of forest +life. He ran beside them, and watched eagerly as they chose a safe place +to leave a coat or two and a basket. He seemed to be an affectionate +dog, now that he had made acquaintance with his masters.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me he don't exactly know what he's about," said one of the +York boys scornfully; "we must have struck that coon's track somewhere, +comin' in."</p> + +<p>"We'll get through talkin' an' heap up a little somethin' for a fire, if +you'll turn to and help," said his father. "I've always noticed that +nobody can give so much good advice about a piece o' work as a new hand. +When you've treed as many coons as your Uncle Brown an' me, you won't +feel so certain. Isaac, you be the one to take the dog up round the +ledge, there. He'll scent the coon quick enough then. We'll tend to this +part o' the business."</p> + +<p>"You may come too, John Henry," said the indulgent father, and they set +off together silently with the coon dog. He followed well enough now; +his tail and ears were drooping even more than usual, but he whimpered +along as bravely as he could, much excited, at John Henry's heels, like +one of those great soldiers who are all unnerved until the battle is +well begun.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>A minute later the father and son came hurrying back, breathless, and +stumbling over roots and bushes. The fire was already lighted, and +sending a great glow higher and higher among the trees.</p> + +<p>"He's off! He's struck a track! He was off like a major!" wheezed Mr. +Isaac Brown.</p> + +<p>"Which way'd he go?" asked everybody.</p> + +<p>"Right out toward the fields. Like's not the old fellow was just +starting after more of our fowls. I'm glad we come early,—he can't have +got far yet. We can't do nothin' but wait now, boys. I'll set right down +here."</p> + +<p>"Soon as the coon trees, you'll hear the dog sing, now I tell you!" said +John York, with great enthusiasm. "That night your father an' me got +those four busters we've told you about, they come right back here to +the ledge. I don't know but they will now. 'Twas a dreadful cold night, +I know. We didn't get home till past three o'clock in the mornin', +either. You remember, don't you, Isaac?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said Isaac. "How old Rover worked that night! Couldn't see out +of his eyes, nor hardly wag his clever old tail, for two days; thorns in +both his fore paws, and the last coon took a piece right out of his off +shoulder."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you let Rover come to-night, father?" asked the younger boy. +"I think he knew somethin' was up. He was jumpin' round at a great rate +when I come out of the yard."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know but he might make trouble for the other dog," answered +Isaac, after a moment's silence. He felt almost disloyal to the faithful +creature, and had been missing him all the way. "Sh! there's a bark!" +And they all stopped to listen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>The fire was leaping higher; they all sat near it, listening and +talking by turns. There is apt to be a good deal of waiting in a +coon-hunt.</p> + +<p>"If Rover was young as he used to be, I'd resk him to tree any coon that +ever run," said the regretful master. "This smart creature o' Topliff's +can't beat him, I know. The poor old fellow's eyesight seems to be +going. Two—three times he's run out at me right in broad day, an' +barked when I come up the yard toward the house, and I did pity him +dreadfully; he was so 'shamed when he found out what he'd done. Rover's +a dog that's got an awful lot o' pride. He went right off out behind the +long barn the last time, and wouldn't come in for nobody when they +called him to supper till I went out myself and made it up with him. No; +he can't see very well now, Rover can't."</p> + +<p>"He's heavy, too; he's got too unwieldy to tackle a smart coon, I +expect, even if he could do the tall runnin'" said John York, with +sympathy. "They have to get a master grip with their teeth through a +coon's thick pelt this time o' year. No; the young folks get all the +good chances after a while;" and he looked round indulgently at the +chubby faces of his boys, who fed the fire, and rejoiced in being +promoted to the society of their elders on equal terms. "Ain't it time +we heard from the dog?" And they all listened, while the fire snapped +and the sap whistled in some green sticks.</p> + +<p>"I hear him," said John Henry suddenly; and faint and far away there +came the sound of a desperate bark. There is a bark that means attack, +and there is a bark that means only foolish excitement.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>"They ain't far off!" said Isaac. "My gracious, he's right after him! I +don't know's I expected that poor-looking dog to be so smart. You can't +tell by their looks. Quick as he scented the game up here in the rocks, +off he put. Perhaps it ain't any matter if they ain't stump-tailed, +long's they're yaller dogs. He didn't look heavy enough to me. I tell +you, he means business. Hear that bark!"</p> + +<p>"They all bark alike after a coon." John York was as excited as anybody. +"Git the guns laid out to hand, boys; I told you we'd ought to follow!" +he commanded. "If it's the old fellow that belongs here, he may put in +any minute." But there was again a long silence and state of suspense; +the chase had turned another way. There were faint distant yaps. The +fire burned low and fell together with a shower of sparks. The smaller +boys began to grow chilly and sleepy, when there was a thud and rustle +and snapping of twigs close at hand, then the gasp of a breathless dog. +Two dim shapes rushed by; a shower of bark fell, and a dog began to sing +at the foot of the great twisted pine not fifty feet away.</p> + +<p>"Hooray for Tiger!" yelled the boys; but the dog's voice filled all the +woods. It might have echoed to the mountain-tops. There was the old +coon; they could all see him half-way up the tree, flat to the great +limb. They heaped the fire with dry branches till it flared high. Now +they lost him in a shadow as he twisted about the tree. John York fired, +and Isaac Brown fired, and the boys took a turn at the guns, while John +Henry started to climb a neighboring oak; but at last it was Isaac who +brought the coon to ground with a lucky shot, and the dog stopped his +deafening bark and frantic leaping in the underbrush, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>and after an +astonishing moment of silence crept out, a proud victor, to his prouder +master's feet.</p> + +<p>"Goodness alive, who's this? Good for you, old handsome! Why, I'll be +hanged if it ain't old Rover, boys; <i>it's old Rover</i>!" But Isaac could +not speak another word. They all crowded round the wistful, clumsy old +dog, whose eyes shone bright, though his breath was all gone. Each man +patted him, and praised him and said they ought to have mistrusted all +the time that it could be nobody but he. It was some minutes before +Isaac Brown could trust himself to do anything but pat the sleek old +head that was always ready to his hand.</p> + +<p>"He must have overheard us talkin'; I guess he'd have come if he'd +dropped dead half-way," proclaimed John Henry, like a prince of the +reigning house; and Rover wagged his tail as if in honest assent, as he +lay at his master's side. They sat together, while the fire was +brightened again to make a good light for the coon-hunt supper; and +Rover had a good half of everything that found its way into his master's +hand. It was toward midnight when the triumphal procession set forth +toward home, with the two lanterns, across the fields.</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>The next morning was bright and warm after the hard frost of the night +before. Old Rover was asleep on the doorstep in the sun, and his master +stood in the yard, and saw neighbor Price come along the road in her +best array, with a gay holiday air.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," she said eagerly, "you wa'n't out very late last night, was +you? I got up myself to let Tiger in. He come home, all beat out, about +a quarter past nine. I expect you hadn't no kind o' trouble gittin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> the +coon. The boys was tellin' me he weighed 'most thirty pounds."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no kind o' trouble," said Isaac, keeping the great secret +gallantly. "You got the things I sent over this mornin'?"</p> + +<p>"Bless your heart, yes! I'd a sight rather have all that good pork an' +potatoes than any o' your wild meat," said Mrs. Price, smiling with +prosperity. "You see, now, 'Liza Jane she's given in. She didn't re'lly +know but 'twas all talk of 'Bijah 'bout that dog's bein' wuth fifty +dollars. She says she can't cope with a huntin' dog same's he could, an' +she's given me the money you an' John York sent over this mornin'; an' I +didn't know but what you'd lend me another half a dollar, so I could +both go to Dipford Centre an' return, an' see if I couldn't make a sale +o' Tiger right over there where they all know about him. It's right in +the coon season; now's my time, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, gettin' a little late," said Isaac, shaking with laughter as he +took the desired sum of money out of his pocket. "He seems to be a +clever dog round the house."</p> + +<p>"I don't know's I want to harbor him all winter," answered the +excursionist frankly, striking into a good traveling gait as she started +off toward the railroad station.</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Dipford</b>:—The New England town in which the scenes of some of Miss +Jewett's stories are laid.</p> + +<p><b>master hot</b>:—In the New England dialect, <i>master</i> is used in the sense +of <i>very</i> or <i>extremely</i>.</p> + +<p><b>bosom-pin</b>:—Mourning pins of jet or black enamel were much worn in +times past.</p> + +<p><b>'suage</b>:—Assuage, meaning to soften or decrease.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span><b>selectman</b>:—One of a board chosen in New England towns to transact +the business of the community.</p> + +<p><b>scattereth nor yet increaseth</b>:—See Proverbs, 11:24.</p> + +<p><b>right o' dower</b>:—The right to claim a part of a deceased husband's +property.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>The action takes place in a country district in New England. Judging by +the remarks about the fans, what kind of person do you suppose Old Lady +Price to be? Is there any particular meaning in the word <i>to-day</i>? How +is 'Liza Jane related to Mrs. Price? What was the character of Mr. +'Bijah Topliff? Does the old lady feel grieved at his death? What does +Isaac mean by <i>such</i>, in the last line, page <a href="#Page_190">190</a>? How does the old lady +live? What is shown of her character when she is called "a chirpin' old +cricket"? Does she feel ashamed of having gone to the circus? How does +she explain her going? What can you tell of 'Bijah from what is said of +'Liza's "memories"? Would the circus people have cared to buy the dog? +Notice how the author makes you feel the pleasantness of the walk in the +woods. Do you know where coons have their dens? How does Isaac show his +affection for old Rover? Is it true that "worthless do-nothings" usually +have "smart" dogs? Why does the author stop to tell all about 'Liza +Jane's arrival? What light is thrown on the old lady's character by +Isaac's words beginning, "Disappointments don't appear to trouble her"? +Are the men very anxious to "give the boys a treat"? Why does the old +lady call Mr. York "dear"? What is meant by the last five lines of Part +III? What sort of dog is Tiger? What is meant by "soon as the coon +trees"? How does the author tell you of old Rover's defects? What person +would you like to have shoot the coon at last? Why could Isaac Brown not +"trust himself to speak"? Do you think old Rover "overheard them +talking," as John Henry suggests? How does the author let you into the +secret of Tiger's behavior? Why does Isaac not tell the old lady which +dog treed the coon? What does he mean by saying that Tiger is "a clever +dog round the house"? Do you think that Mrs. Price succeeded in getting +fifty dollars for the dog? Why does the author not tell whether she does +or not? Try to put into your own words a summing up of the old lady's +character. Tell what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>you think of the two old men. Do you like the use +of dialect in this story? Would it have been better if the people had +all spoken good English? Why, or why not?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +Hunting for Squirrels<br /> +An Intelligent Dog<br /> +A Night in the Woods<br /> +An Old Man<br /> +Tracking Rabbits<br /> +Borrowers<br /> +The Circus<br /> +Old Lady Price<br /> +A Group of Odd Characters<br /> +Raccoons<br /> +Opossums<br /> +The Tree-dwellers<br /> +Around the Fire<br /> +How to Make a Camp Fire<br /> +The Picnic Lunch<br /> +An Interesting Old Lady<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p>Try to write a theme in which uneducated people talk as they do in real +life; as far as possible, fit every person's speech to his character. +Below are given some suggestions for this work:</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Wicks borrows Mrs. Hall's flat-irons.<br /> +Two or three country children quarrel over a hen's nest.<br /> +The family get ready to go to the Sunday School picnic.<br /> +Sammie tells his parents that he has been whipped at school.<br /> +Two old men talk about the crops.<br /> +One of the pigs gets out of the pen.<br /> +Two boys go hunting.<br /> +The farmer has just come back from town.<br /> +Mrs. Robbins describes the moving-picture show.<br /> +</p> + +<p><b>An Intelligent Dog</b>:—Tell who owns the dog, and how much you have had +opportunity to observe him. Describe him as vividly as possible. Give +some incidents that show his intelligence.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you can make a story out of this, giving the largest amount of +space to an event in which the dog accomplished some notable thing, as +protecting property, bringing help in time of danger, or saving his +master's life. In this case, try to tell some of the story by means of +conversation, as Miss Jewett does.</p> + +<p><b>An Interesting Old Lady</b>:—Tell where you saw the old lady; or, if you +know her well, explain the nature of your acquaintance <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>with her. +Describe her rather fully, telling how she looks and what she wears. How +does she walk and talk? What is her chief occupation? If possible, quote +some of her remarks in her own words. Tell some incidents in which she +figures. Try to bring out her most interesting qualities, so that the +reader can see them for himself.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Dogs and Men</td><td align='left'>H.C. Merwin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stickeen: The Story of</td><td align='left'>John Muir</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Another Dog (in <i>A Gentleman Vagabond</i>)</td><td align='left'>F.H. Smith</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Sporting Dog</td><td align='left'>Joseph A. Graham</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dogtown</td><td align='left'>Mabel Osgood Wright</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bob, Son of Battle</td><td align='left'>Alfred Ollivant</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Boy I Knew and Four Dogs</td><td align='left'>Laurence Hutton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Boy I Knew and Some More Dogs</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Dog of Flanders</td><td align='left'>Louise de la Ramée</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Call of the Wild</td><td align='left'>Jack London</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>White Fang</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Dogs in the Northland</td><td align='left'>E.R. Young</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dogs of all Nations</td><td align='left'>C.J. Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Leo (poem)</td><td align='left'>R.W. Gilder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Greyfriar's Bobby</td><td align='left'>Eleanor Atkinson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Biography of a Silver Fox</td><td align='left'>E.S. Thompson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Our Friend the Dog (trans.)</td><td align='left'>Maurice Maeterlinck</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Following the Deer</td><td align='left'>W.J. Long</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Trail of the Sand-hill Stag</td><td align='left'>Ernest Thompson Seton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lives of the Hunted</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wilderness Hunter</td><td align='left'>Theodore Roosevelt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Watcher in the Woods</td><td align='left'>Dallas Lore Sharp</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wild Life near Home</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Watchers of the Trails</td><td align='left'>C.G.D. Roberts</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kindred of the Wild</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little People of the Sycamore</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Haunters of the Silences</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Squirrels and other Fur-bearers</td><td align='left'>John Burroughs</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Woodland Intimates</td><td align='left'>E. Bignell</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + + +<p><b>Stories of old people:—</b></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Aged Folk (in <i>Letters from my Mill</i>)</td><td align='left'>Alphonse Daudet</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Green Island (chapter 8 of <i>The Country of the Pointed Firs</i>)</td><td align='left'>Sarah Orne Jewett</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Aunt Cynthy Dallett</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Failure of David Berry</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Church Mouse</td><td align='left'>Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A White Heron and Other Stories</td><td align='left'>Sarah Orne Jewett</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tales of New England</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Country of the Pointed Firs</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Country Doctor</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Deephaven</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Queen's Twin and Other Stories</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The King of Folly Island and Other People</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Marsh Island</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Tory Lover</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Native of Winby and Other Tales</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Betty Leicester's Christmas</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Betty Leicester</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Country By-ways</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Letters of Sarah Orne Jewett</td><td align='left'>Mrs. James T. Fields (Ed.)</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>For Biographies and criticisms of Miss Jewett, see: Atlantic Monthly, +94:485; Critic, 39:292, October, 1901 (Portrait); New England Magazine, +22:737, August, 1900; Outlook, 69:423; Bookman, 34:221 (Portrait).</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ON_THE_LIFE-MASK_OF_ABRAHAM_LINCOLN" id="ON_THE_LIFE-MASK_OF_ABRAHAM_LINCOLN"></a>ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN</h2> + +<h3>RICHARD WATSON GILDER</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This bronze doth keep the very form and mold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That brow all wisdom, all benignity;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For storms to beat on; the lone agony<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As might some prophet of the elder day—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brooding above the tempest and the fray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A power was his beyond the touch of art<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or armèd strength—his pure and mighty heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>the life-mask</b>:—The life-mask of Abraham Lincoln was made by Leonard +W. Volk, in Chicago, in April, 1860. A good picture of it is given as +the frontispiece to Volume 4 of Nicolay and Hay's <i>Abraham Lincoln, A +History</i>.</p> + +<p><b>this bronze</b>:—A life-mask is made of plaster first; then usually it is +cast in bronze.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>This is not difficult to understand. Read it over slowly, trying first +to get the meaning of each sentence as if it were prose.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> You may have +to read it several times before you see the exact meaning of each part. +When you have mastered it, read it through consecutively, thinking of +what it tells about Lincoln.</p> + +<p>This poem is, as you may know, a sonnet. Notice the number of lines, the +meter, and the rhyme-scheme, referring to page <a href="#Page_139">139</a> for a review of the +sonnet form. Notice how the thought changes at the ninth line. Find a +sonnet in one of the good current magazines. How can you recognize it? +Read it carefully. If it is appropriate, bring it to class, and read and +explain it to your classmates. Why has the sonnet form been used so much +by poets?</p> + +<p>If you can find it, read the sonnet on <i>The Sonnet</i>, by Richard Watson +Gilder.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + +<p>For references on Lincoln, see pages <a href="#Page_50">50</a> and <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</p> + +<p>For portraits of Richard Watson Gilder, and biographical material, +consult: Current Literature, 41:319 (Portrait); Review of Reviews, 34: +491 (Portrait); Nation, 89:519; Dial, 47:441; Harper's Weekly, 53:6; +World's Work, 17:11293 (Portrait); Craftsman, 16:130, May, 1909 +(Portrait); Outlook, 93:689 (Portrait).</p> + +<p>For references to material on the sonnet, see page <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_FIRE_AMONG_THE_GIANTS" id="A_FIRE_AMONG_THE_GIANTS"></a>A FIRE AMONG THE GIANTS</h2> + +<h3>JOHN MUIR</h3> + +<h4>(From <i>Our National Parks</i>)</h4> + + +<p>In the forest between the Middle and East forks of the Kaweah, I met a +great fire, and as fire is the master scourge and controller of the +distribution of trees, I stopped to watch it and learn what I could of +its works and ways with the giants. It came racing up the steep +chaparral-covered slopes of the East Fork cañon with passionate +enthusiasm in a broad cataract of flames, now bending down low to feed +on the green bushes, devouring acres of them at a breath, now towering +high in the air as if looking abroad to choose a way, then stooping to +feed again,—the lurid flapping surges and the smoke and terrible +rushing and roaring hiding all that is gentle and orderly in the work. +But as soon as the deep forest was reached, the ungovernable flood +became calm like a torrent entering a lake, creeping and spreading +beneath the trees where the ground was level or sloped gently, slowly +nibbling the cake of compressed needles and scales with flames an inch +high, rising here and there to a foot or two on dry twigs and clumps of +small bushes and brome grass. Only at considerable intervals were fierce +bonfires lighted, where heavy branches broken off by snow had +accumulated, or around some venerable giant whose head had been stricken +off by lightning.</p> + +<p>I tethered Brownie on the edge of a little meadow beside a stream a good +safe way off, and then cautiously <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>chose a camp for myself in a big +stout hollow trunk not likely to be crushed by the fall of burning +trees, and made a bed of ferns and boughs in it. The night, however, and +the strange wild fireworks were too beautiful and exciting to allow much +sleep. There was no danger of being chased and hemmed in; for in the +main forest belt of the Sierra, even when swift winds are blowing, fires +seldom or never sweep over the trees in broad all-embracing sheets as +they do in the dense Rocky Mountain woods and in those of the Cascade +Mountains of Oregon and Washington. Here they creep from tree to tree +with tranquil deliberation, allowing close observation, though caution +is required in venturing around the burning giants to avoid falling +limbs and knots and fragments from dead shattered tops. Though the day +was best for study, I sauntered about night after night, learning what I +could, and admiring the wonderful show vividly displayed in the lonely +darkness, the ground-fire advancing in long crooked lines gently grazing +and smoking on the close-pressed leaves, springing up in thousands of +little jets of pure flame on dry tassels and twigs, and tall spires and +flat sheets with jagged flapping edges dancing here and there on grass +tufts and bushes, big bonfires blazing in perfect storms of energy where +heavy branches mixed with small ones lay smashed together in hundred +cord piles, big red arches between spreading root-swells and trees +growing close together, huge fire-mantled trunks on the hill slopes +glowing like bars of hot iron, violet-colored fire running up the tall +trees, tracing the furrows of the bark in quick quivering rills, and +lighting magnificent torches on dry shattered tops, and ever and anon, +with a tremendous roar and burst of light, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>young trees clad in +low-descending feathery branches vanishing in one flame two or three +hundred feet high.</p> + +<p>One of the most impressive and beautiful sights was made by the great +fallen trunks lying on the hillsides all red and glowing like colossal +iron bars fresh from a furnace, two hundred feet long some of them, and +ten to twenty feet thick. After repeated burnings have consumed the bark +and sapwood, the sound charred surface, being full of cracks and +sprinkled with leaves, is quickly overspread with a pure, rich, furred, +ruby glow almost flameless and smokeless, producing a marvelous effect +in the night. Another grand and interesting sight are the fires on the +tops of the largest living trees flaming above the green branches at a +height of perhaps two hundred feet, entirely cut off from the +ground-fires, and looking like signal beacons on watch towers. From one +standpoint I sometimes saw a dozen or more, those in the distance +looking like great stars above the forest roof. At first I could not +imagine how these Sequoia lamps were lighted, but the very first night, +strolling about waiting and watching, I saw the thing done again and +again. The thick fibrous bark of old trees is divided by deep, nearly +continuous furrows, the sides of which are bearded with the bristling +ends of fibres broken by the growth swelling of the trunk, and when the +fire comes creeping around the feet of the trees, it runs up these +bristly furrows in lovely pale blue quivering, bickering rills of flame +with a low, earnest whispering sound to the lightning-shattered top of +the trunk, which, in the dry Indian summer, with perhaps leaves and +twigs and squirrel-gnawed cone-scales and seed-wings lodged in it, is +readily ignited.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> These lamp-lighting rills, the most beautiful +fire-streams I ever saw, last only a minute or two, but the big lamps +burn with varying brightness for days and weeks, throwing off sparks +like the spray of a fountain, while ever and anon a shower of red coals +comes sifting down through the branches, followed at times with +startling effect by a big burned-off chunk weighing perhaps half a ton.</p> + +<p>The immense bonfires where fifty or a hundred cords of peeled, split, +smashed wood has been piled around some old giant by a single stroke of +lightning is another grand sight in the night. The light is so great I +found I could read common print three hundred yards from them, and the +illumination of the circle of onlooking trees is indescribably +impressive. Other big fires, roaring and booming like waterfalls, were +blazing on the upper sides of trees on hillslopes, against which limbs +broken off by heavy snow had rolled, while branches high overhead, +tossed and shaken by the ascending air current, seemed to be writhing in +pain. Perhaps the most startling phenomenon of all was the quick death +of childlike Sequoias only a century or two of age. In the midst of the +other comparatively slow and steady fire work one of these tall, +beautiful saplings, leafy and branchy, would be seen blazing up +suddenly, all in one heaving, booming, passionate flame reaching from +the ground to the top of the tree, and fifty to a hundred feet or more +above it, with a smoke column bending forward and streaming away on the +upper, free-flowing wind. To burn these green trees a strong fire of dry +wood beneath them is required, to send up a current of air hot enough to +distill inflammable gases from the leaves and sprays; then instead of +the lower limbs <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>gradually catching fire and igniting the next and the +next in succession, the whole tree seems to explode almost +simultaneously, and with awful roaring and throbbing a round, tapering +flame shoots up two or three hundred feet, and in a second or two is +quenched, leaving the green spire a black, dead mast, bristled and +roughened with down-curling boughs. Nearly all the trees that have been +burned down are lying with their heads up hill, because they are burned +far more deeply on the upper side, on account of broken limbs rolling +down against them to make hot fires, while only leaves and twigs +accumulate on the lower side and are quickly consumed without injury to +the tree. But green, resinless Sequoia wood burns very slowly, and many +successive fires are required to burn down a large tree. Fires can run +only at intervals of several years, and when the ordinary amount of +fire-wood that has rolled against the gigantic trunk is consumed, only a +shallow scar is made, which is slowly deepened by recurring fires until +far beyond the centre of gravity, and when at last the tree falls, it of +course falls up hill. The healing folds of wood layers on some of the +deeply burned trees show that centuries have elapsed since the last +wounds were made.</p> + +<p>When a great Sequoia falls, its head is smashed into fragments about as +small as those made by lightning, which are mostly devoured by the first +running, hunting fire that finds them, while the trunk is slowly wasted +away by centuries of fire and weather. One of the most interesting +fire-actions on the trunk is the boring of those great tunnel-like +hollows through which horsemen may gallop. All of these famous hollows +are burned out of the solid wood, for no Sequoia is ever hollowed by +decay. When the tree falls, the brash <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>trunk is often broken straight +across into sections as if sawed; into these joints the fire creeps, +and, on account of the great size of the broken ends, burns for weeks or +even months without being much influenced by the weather. After the +great glowing ends fronting each other have burned so far apart that +their rims cease to burn, the fire continues to work on in the centres, +and the ends become deeply concave. Then heat being radiated from side +to side, the burning goes on in each section of the trunk independent of +the other, until the diameter of the bore is so great that the heat +radiated across from side to side is not sufficient to keep them +burning. It appears, therefore, that only very large trees can receive +the fire-auger and have any shell-rim left.</p> + +<p>Fire attacks the large trees only at the ground, consuming the fallen +leaves and humus at their feet, doing them but little harm unless +considerable quantities of fallen limbs happen to be piled about them, +their thick mail of spongy, unpitchy, almost unburnable bark affording +strong protection. Therefore the oldest and most perfect unscarred trees +are found on ground that is nearly level, while those growing on +hillsides, against which fallen branches roll, are always deeply scarred +on the upper side, and as we have seen are sometimes burned down. The +saddest thing of all was to see the hopeful seedlings, many of them +crinkled and bent with the pressure of winter snow, yet bravely aspiring +at the top, helplessly perishing, and young trees, perfect spires of +verdure and naturally immortal, suddenly changed to dead masts. Yet the +sun looked cheerily down the openings in the forest roof, turning the +black smoke to a beautiful brown as if all was for the best.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Kaweah</b>:—A river in California, which runs through the Sequoia +National Park.</p> + +<p><b>Brownie</b>:—A small donkey which Mr. Muir had brought along to carry his +pack of blankets and provisions. (See pp. 285, 286 of <i>Our National +Parks</i>.)</p> + +<p><b>humus</b>:—Vegetable mold.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>In 1875, Mr. Muir spent some weeks in the Sequoia forests, learning what +he could of the life and death of the giant trees. This selection is +from his account of his experiences. How does the author make you feel +the fierceness of the fire? Why does it become calmer when it enters the +forest? Would most people care to linger in a burning forest? What is +shown by Mr. Muir's willingness to stay? Note the vividness of the +passage beginning "Though the day was best": How does the author manage +to make it so clear? Might this passage be differently punctuated, with +advantage? What is the value of the figure "like colossal iron bars"? +Note the vivid words in the passage beginning "The thick" and ending +with "half a ton." What do you think of the expressions <i>onlooking +trees</i>, and <i>childlike Sequoias</i>? Explain why the burned trees fall up +hill. Go through the selection and pick out the words that show action; +color; sound. Try to state clearly the reasons why this selection is +clear and picturesque.</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +The Forest Fire<br /> +A Group of Large Trees<br /> +Felling a Tree<br /> +A Fire in the Country<br /> +A Fire in the City<br /> +Alone in the Woods<br /> +The Woodsman<br /> +In the Woods<br /> +Camping Out for the Night<br /> +By-products of the Forest<br /> +A Tree Struck by Lightning<br /> +A Famous Student of Nature<br /> +Planting Trees<br /> +The Duties of a Forest Ranger<br /> +The Lumber Camp<br /> +A Fire at Night<br /> +Learning to Observe<br /> +The Conservation of the Forests<br /> +The Pine<br /> +Ravages of the Paper Mill<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>A Fire at Night</b>:—If possible, found this theme on actual observation +and experience. Tell of your first knowledge of the fire—the smoke and +the flame, or the ringing of bells and the shouting. From what point of +view did you see the fire? Tell how it looked when you first saw it. Use +words of color and action, as Mr. Muir does. Perhaps you can make your +description vivid by means of sound-words. Tell what people did and what +they said. Did you hear anything said by the owners of the property that +was burning? Go on and trace the progress of the fire, describing its +change in volume and color. Try at all times to make your reader see the +beauty and fierceness and destructiveness of the fire. You might close +your theme with the putting out of the fire, or perhaps you will prefer +to speak of the appearance of the ruins by daylight. When you have +finished your theme, read it over, and see where you can touch it up to +make it clearer and more impressive. Read again some of the most +brilliant passages in Mr. Muir's description, and see how you can profit +by the devices he uses.</p> + +<p><b>In the Woods</b>:—Give an account of a long or a short trip in the woods, +and tell what you observed. It might be well to plan this theme a number +of days before writing it, and in the interim to take a walk in the +woods to get mental notes. In writing the theme, give your chief +attention to the trees—their situation, appearance, height, manner of +growth from the seedling up, peculiarities. Make clear the differences +between the kinds of trees, especially between varieties of the same +species. You can make good use of color-words in your descriptions of +leaves, flowers, seed-receptacles (cones, keys, wings, etc.), and +berries. Keep your work simple, almost as if you were talking to some +one who wishes information about the forest trees.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Our National Parks</td><td align='left'>John Muir</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My First Summer in the Sierra</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Mountains of California</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of my Boyhood and Youth</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stickeen: The Story of a Dog</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Yosemite</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Giant Forest (chapter 18 of <i>The Mountains</i>)</td><td align='left'>Stewart Edward White</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Pines (chapter 8 of <i>The Mountains</i>)</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Blazed Trail</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Forest</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Heart of the Ancient Wood</td><td align='left'>C.G.D. Roberts</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of a Thousand-year Pine</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (in <i>Wild Life on the Rockies</i>)</td><td align='left'>Enos A. Mills</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lodge-pole Pine</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (in <i>Wild Life on the Rockies</i>)</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rocky Mountain Forests</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> (in <i>Wild Life on the Rockies</i>)</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Spell of the Rockies</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Under the Sky in California</td><td align='left'>C.F. Saunders</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Field Days in California</td><td align='left'>Bradford Torrey</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Snowing of the Pines (poem)</td><td align='left'>T.W. Higginson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Young Fir Wood (poem)</td><td align='left'>D.G. Rossetti</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Spirit of the Pine (poem)</td><td align='left'>Bayard Taylor</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>To a Pine Tree</td><td align='left'>J.R. Lowell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Silverado Squatters</td><td align='left'>Robert Louis Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Travels with a Donkey</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Forest Fire (in <i>The Old Pacific Capital</i>)</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Two Matches (in <i>Fables</i>)</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In the Maine Woods</td><td align='left'>Henry D. Thoreau</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Yosemite Trails</td><td align='left'>J.S. Chase</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Conservation of Natural Resources</td><td align='left'>Charles R. Van Hise</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Getting Acquainted with the Trees</td><td align='left'>J.H. McFarland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Trees (poem)</td><td align='left'>Josephine Preston Peabody</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p>For biographical material relating to John Muir, consult: With John o' +Birds and John o' Mountains, Century, 80:521 (Portraits); At Home with +Muir, Overland Monthly (New Series), 52:125, August, 1908; Craftsman, +7:665 (page 637 for portrait), March, 1905; Craftsman, 23:324 +(Portrait); Outlook, 80:303, January 3, 1905; Bookman, 26:593, +February, 1908; World's Work, 17:11355, March, 1909; 19:12529, +February, 1910.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WAITING" id="WAITING"></a>WAITING</h2> + +<h3>JOHN BURROUGHS</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Serene, I fold my hands and wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For lo! my own shall come to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I stay my haste, I make delays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For what avails this eager pace?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stand amid the eternal ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And what is mine shall know my face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Asleep, awake, by night or day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The friends I seek are seeking me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wind can drive my bark astray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor change the tide of destiny.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What matter if I stand alone?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wait with joy the coming years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart shall reap where it has sown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And garner up its fruit of tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The law of love binds every heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And knits it to its utmost kin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can our lives flow long apart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From souls our secret souls would win.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stars come nightly to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tidal wave comes to the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can keep my own away from me.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>This poem is so easy that it needs little explanation. It shows the +calmness and confidence of one who feels that the universe is right, and +that everything comes out well sooner or later. Read the poem through +slowly. <i>Its utmost kin</i> means its most distant relations or +connections. <i>The tidal wave</i> means the regular and usual flow of the +tide. <i>Nor time nor space</i>:—Perhaps Mr. Burroughs was thinking of the +Bible, Romans 8:38, 39.</p> + +<p>Does the poem mean to encourage mere waiting, without action? Does it +discourage effort? Just how much is it intended to convey? Is the theory +expressed here a good one? Do you believe it to be true? Read the verses +again, slowly and carefully, thinking what they mean. If you like them, +take time to learn them.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + +<p>For a list of Mr. Burrough's books, see page <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Song: The year's at the spring</td><td align='left'>Robert Browning</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Building of the Chimney</td><td align='left'>Richard Watson Gilder</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>With John o'Birds and John o'Mountains (Century Magazine, 80:521)</p> + +<p>A Day at Slabsides (Outlook, 66:351) Washington Gladden</p> + +<p>Century, 86:884, October, 1915 (Portrait); Outlook, 78:878, December 3, +1904.</p> + + +<h3>EXERCISES</h3> + +<p>Try writing a stanza or two in the meter and with the rhyme that Mr. +Burroughs uses. Below are given lines that may prove suggestive:—</p> + +<p> +1. One night when all the sky was clear<br /> +2. The plum tree near the garden wall<br /> +3. I watched the children at their play<br /> +4. The wind swept down across the plain<br /> +5. The yellow leaves are drifting down<br /> +6. Along the dusty way we sped (In an Automobile)<br /> +7. I looked about my garden plot (In my Garden)<br /> +8. The sky was red with sudden flame<br /> +9. I walked among the forest trees<br /> +10. He runs to meet me every day (My Dog)<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_PONT_DU_GARD" id="THE_PONT_DU_GARD"></a>THE PONT DU GARD</h2> + +<h3>HENRY JAMES</h3> + +<h4>(Chapter <span class="smcap">xxvi</span> of <i>A Little Tour in France</i>)</h4> + + +<p>It was a pleasure to feel one's self in Provence again,—the land where +the silver-gray earth is impregnated with the light of the sky. To +celebrate the event, as soon as I arrived at Nîmes I engaged a calèche +to convey me to the Pont du Gard. The day was yet young, and it was +perfectly fair; it appeared well, for a longish drive, to take +advantage, without delay, of such security. After I had left the town I +became more intimate with that Provençal charm which I had already +enjoyed from the window of the train, and which glowed in the sweet +sunshine and the white rocks, and lurked in the smoke-puffs of the +little olives. The olive-trees in Provence are half the landscape. They +are neither so tall, so stout, nor so richly contorted as I have seen +them beyond the Alps; but this mild colorless bloom seems the very +texture of the country. The road from Nîmes, for a distance of fifteen +miles, is superb; broad enough for an army, and as white and firm as a +dinner-table. It stretches away over undulations which suggest a kind of +harmony; and in the curves it makes through the wide, free country, +where there is never a hedge or a wall, and the detail is always +exquisite, there is something majestic, almost processional. Some twenty +minutes before I reached the little inn that marks the termination of +the drive, my vehicle met with an accident which just missed being +serious, and which engaged the attention of a gentleman, who, followed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>by his groom and mounted on a strikingly handsome horse, happened to +ride up at the moment. This young man, who, with his good looks and +charming manner, might have stepped out of a novel of Octave Feuillet, +gave me some very intelligent advice in reference to one of my horses +that had been injured, and was so good as to accompany me to the inn, +with the resources of which he was acquainted, to see that his +recommendations were carried out. The result of our interview was that +he invited me to come and look at a small but ancient château in the +neighborhood, which he had the happiness—not the greatest in the world, +he intimated—to inhabit, and at which I engaged to present myself after +I should have spent an hour at the Pont du Gard. For the moment, when we +separated, I gave all my attention to that great structure. You are very +near it before you see it; the ravine it spans suddenly opens and +exhibits the picture. The scene at this point grows extremely beautiful. +The ravine is the valley of the Gardon, which the road from Nîmes has +followed some time without taking account of it, but which, exactly at +the right distance from the aqueduct, deepens and expands, and puts on +those characteristics which are best suited to give it effect. The gorge +becomes romantic, still, and solitary, and, with its white rocks and +wild shrubbery, hangs over the clear, colored river, in whose slow +course there is here and there a deeper pool. Over the valley, from side +to side, and ever so high in the air, stretch the three tiers of the +tremendous bridge. They are unspeakably imposing, and nothing could well +be more Roman. The hugeness, the solidity, the unexpectedness, the +monumental rectitude of the whole thing leave you nothing to say—at the +time—and make <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>you stand gazing. You simply feel that it is noble and +perfect, that it has the quality of greatness. A road, branching from +the highway, descends to the level of the river and passes under one of +the arches. This road has a wide margin of grass and loose stones, which +slopes upward into the bank of the ravine. You may sit here as long as +you please, staring up at the light, strong piers; the spot is extremely +natural, though two or three stone benches have been erected on it. I +remained there an hour and got a complete impression; the place was +perfectly soundless, and for the time, at least, lonely; the splendid +afternoon had begun to fade, and there was a fascination in the object I +had come to see. It came to pass that at the same time I discovered in +it a certain stupidity, a vague brutality. That element is rarely absent +from great Roman work, which is wanting in the nice adaptation of the +means to the end. The means are always exaggerated; the end is so much +more than attained. The Roman rigidity was apt to overshoot the mark, +and I suppose a race which could do nothing small is as defective as a +race that can do nothing great. Of this Roman rigidity the Pont du Gard +is an admirable example. It would be a great injustice, however, not to +insist upon its beauty,—a kind of manly beauty, that of an object +constructed not to please but to serve, and impressive simply from the +scale on which it carries out this intention. The number of arches in +each tier is different; they are smaller and more numerous as they +ascend. The preservation of the thing is extraordinary; nothing has +crumbled or collapsed; every feature remains; and the huge blocks of +stone, of a brownish-yellow (as if they had been baked by the Provençal +sun for eighteen centuries), pile themselves, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>without mortar or cement, +as evenly as the day they were laid together. All this to carry the +water of a couple of springs to a little provincial city! The conduit on +the top has retained its shape and traces of the cement with which it +was lined. When the vague twilight began to gather, the lonely valley +seemed to fill itself with the shadow of the Roman name, as if the +mighty empire were still as erect as the supports of the aqueduct; and +it was open to a solitary tourist, sitting there sentimental, to believe +that no people has ever been, or will ever be, as great as that, +measured, as we measure the greatness of an individual, by the push they +gave to what they undertook. The Pont du Gard is one of the three or +four deepest impressions they have left; it speaks of them in a manner +with which they might have been satisfied.</p> + +<p>I feel as if it were scarcely discreet to indicate the whereabouts of +the château of the obliging young man I had met on the way from Nîmes; I +must content myself with saying that it nestled in an enchanting +valley,—<i>dans le fond</i>, as they say in France,—and that I took my +course thither on foot, after leaving the Pont du Gard. I find it noted +in my journal as "an adorable little corner." The principal feature of +the place is a couple of very ancient towers, brownish-yellow in hue, +and mantled in scarlet Virginia-creeper. One of these towers, reputed to +be of Saracenic origin, is isolated, and is only the more effective; the +other is incorporated in the house, which is delightfully fragmentary +and irregular. It had got to be late by this time, and the lonely +<i>castel</i> looked crepuscular and mysterious. An old housekeeper was sent +for, who showed me the rambling interior; and then the young man took me +into a dim old drawing-room, which had no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>less than four +chimney-pieces, all unlighted, and gave me a refection of fruit and +sweet wine. When I praised the wine and asked him what it was, he said +simply, "C'est du vin de ma mère!" Throughout my little journey I had +never yet felt myself so far from Paris; and this was a sensation I +enjoyed more than my host, who was an involuntary exile, consoling +himself with laying out a <i>manège</i>, which he showed me as I walked away. +His civility was great, and I was greatly touched by it. On my way back +to the little inn where I had left my vehicle, I passed the Pont du +Gard, and took another look at it. Its great arches made windows for the +evening sky, and the rocky ravine, with its dusky cedars and shining +river, was lonelier than before. At the inn I swallowed, or tried to +swallow, a glass of horrible wine with my coachman; after which, with my +reconstructed team, I drove back to Nîmes in the moonlight. It only +added a more solitary whiteness to the constant sheen of the Provençal +landscape.</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>The Pont du Gard</b>:—A famous aqueduct built by the Romans many years +ago.</p> + +<p><b>Provence</b>:—One of the old provinces in southeast France.</p> + +<p><b>Nîmes</b>:—(Nēēm) A town in southeast France, noted for its Roman +ruins.</p> + +<p><b>calèche</b>:—(ka lāsh') The French term for a light covered carriage +with seats for four besides the driver.</p> + +<p><b>Octave Feuillet</b>:—A French writer, the author of <i>The Romance of a +Poor Young Man</i>; Feuillet's heroes are young, dark, good-looking, and +poetic.</p> + +<p><b>château</b>:—The country residence of a wealthy or titled person.</p> + +<p><b>Gardon</b>:—A river in France flowing into the Rhone.</p> + +<p><b>nice</b>:—Look up the meaning of this word.</p> + +<p><b>dans le fond</b>:—In the bottom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Saracenic</b>:—The Saracen invaders of France were vanquished at Tours in +732 <span class="smcap">a.d.</span></p> + +<p><b>castel</b>:—A castle.</p> + +<p><b>C'est</b>, etc.:—It is some of my mother's wine.</p> + +<p><b>manège</b>:—A place where horses are kept and trained.</p> + + +<h3>QUESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Can you find out anything about Provence and its history? By means of +what details does Mr. James give you an idea of the country? What is +meant by <i>processional</i>? Why is the episode of the young man +particularly pleasing at the point at which it is related? How does the +author show the character of the aqueduct? What does <i>monumental +rectitude</i> mean? Why is it a good term? What is meant here by "a certain +stupidity, a vague brutality"? Can you think of any great Roman works of +which Mr. James's statement is true? What did the Romans most commonly +build? Can you find out something of their style of building? Are there +any reasons why the arches at the top should be smaller and lighter than +those below? What does this great aqueduct show of the Roman people and +the Roman government? Notice what Mr. James says of the way in which we +measure greatness: Is this a good way? Why would the Romans like the way +in which the Pont du Gard speaks of them? Why is it not "discreet" to +tell where the young man's château is? Why does the traveler feel so far +from Paris? Why does the young man treat the traveler with such +unnecessary friendliness? See how the author closes his chapter by +bringing the description round to the Pont du Gard again and ending with +the note struck in the first lines. Is this a good method?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +A Bridge<br /> +Country Roads<br /> +An Accident on the Road<br /> +A Remote Dwelling<br /> +The Stranger<br /> +At a Country Hotel<br /> +Roman Roads<br /> +A Moonlight Scene<br /> +A Picturesque Ravine<br /> +What I should Like to See in Europe<br /> +Traveling in Europe<br /> +Reading a Guide Book<br /> +The Baedeker<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +A Ruin<br /> +The Character of the Romans<br /> +The Romans in France<br /> +Level Country<br /> +A Sunny Day<br /> +The Parlor<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>At a Country Hotel</b>:—Tell how you happened to go to the hotel (this +part may be true or merely imagined). Describe your approach, on foot or +in some conveyance. Give your first general impression of the building +and its surroundings. What persons were visible when you reached the +entrance? What did they say and do? How did you feel? Describe the room +that you entered, noting any striking or amusing things. Tell of any +particularly interesting person, and what he (or she) said. Did you have +something to eat? If so, describe the dining-room, and tell about the +food. Perhaps you will have something to say about the waiter. How long +did you stay at the hotel? What incident was connected with your +departure? Were you glad or sorry to leave?</p> + +<p><b>The Bridge</b>:—Choose a large bridge that you have seen. Where is it, +and what stream or ravine does it span? When was it built? Clearly +indicate the point of view of your description. If you change the point +of view, let the reader know of your doing so. Give a general idea of +the size of the bridge: You need not give measurements; try rather to +make the reader feel the size from the comparisons that you use. +Describe the banks at each end of the bridge, and the effect of the +water or the abyss between. How is the bridge supported? Try to make the +reader feel its solidity and safety. Is it clumsy or graceful? Why? Give +any interesting details in its appearance. What conveyances or persons +are passing over it? How does the bridge make you feel?</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>A Little Tour in France</td><td align='left'>Henry James</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Small Boy and Others</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Portraits of Places</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Travels with a Donkey</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>An Inland Voyage</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Along French Byways</td><td align='left'>Clifton Johnson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Seeing France with Uncle John</td><td align='left'>Anne Warner</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of France</td><td align='left'>Mary Macgregor</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Reds of the Midi</td><td align='left'>Felix Gras</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Wanderer in Paris</td><td align='left'>E.V. Lucas</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>An American in Europe (poem)</td><td align='left'>Henry Van Dyke</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Home Thoughts from Abroad</td><td align='left'>Robert Browning</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In and Out of Three Normandy Inns</td><td align='left'>Anna Bowman Dodd</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Cathedral Days</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>From Ponkapog to Pesth</td><td align='left'>T.B. Aldrich</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Our Hundred Days in Europe</td><td align='left'>O.W. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>One Year Abroad</td><td align='left'>Blanche Willis Howard</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Well-worn Roads</td><td align='left'>F.H. Smith</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Gondola Days</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Saunterings</td><td align='left'>C.D. Warner</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>By Oak and Thorn</td><td align='left'>Alice Brown</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fresh Fields</td><td align='left'>John Burroughs</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Our Old Home</td><td align='left'>Nathaniel Hawthorne</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Penelope's Progress</td><td align='left'>Kate Douglas Wiggin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Penelope's Experiences</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Cathedral Courtship</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ten Days in Spain</td><td align='left'>Kate Fields</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Russian Rambles</td><td align='left'>Isabel F. Hapgood</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>For biography and criticism of Mr. James, see: American Writers of +To-day, pp. 68-86, H.C. Vedder; American Prose Masters, pp. 337-400, +W.C. Brownell; and (for the teacher), Century, 84:108 (Portrait) and +87:150 (Portrait); Scribners, 48:670 (Portrait); Chautauquan, 64:146 +(Portrait).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_YOUNGEST_SON_OF_HIS_FATHERS_HOUSE" id="THE_YOUNGEST_SON_OF_HIS_FATHERS_HOUSE"></a>THE YOUNGEST SON OF HIS FATHER'S HOUSE</h2> + +<h3>ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The eldest son of his father's house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His was the right to have and hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He took the chair before the hearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he was master of all the gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The second son of his father's house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He took the wheatfields broad and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He took the meadows beside the brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the white flocks that pastured there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pipe high—pipe low! Along the way</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>From dawn till eve I needs must sing!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Who has a song throughout the day,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He has no need of anything!</i>"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The youngest son of his father's house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had neither gold nor flocks for meed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He went to the brook at break of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made a pipe out of a reed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pipe high—pipe low! Each wind that blows</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Is comrade to my wandering.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Who has a song wherever he goes,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He has no need of anything!</i>"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His brother's wife threw open the door.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Piper, come in for a while," she said.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Thou shalt sit at my hearth since thou art so poor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou shalt give me a song instead!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Pipe high—pipe low—all over the wold!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>"Lad, wilt thou not come in?" asked she.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>"Who has a song, he feels no cold!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>My brother's hearth is mine own," quoth he.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pipe high—pipe low! For what care I</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Though there be no hearth on the wide gray plain?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I have set my face to the open sky,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And have cloaked myself in the thick gray rain.</i>"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Over the hills where the white clouds are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He piped to the sheep till they needs must come.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They fed in pastures strange and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But at fall of night he brought them home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They followed him, bleating, wherever he led:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He called his brother out to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I have brought thee my flocks for a gift," he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"For thou seest that they are mine," quoth he.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pipe high—pipe low! wherever I go</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The wide grain presses to hear me sing.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Who has a song, though his state be low,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He has no need of anything.</i>"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye have taken my house," he said, "and my sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ye had no heart to take me in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will give ye my right for your own to keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ye be not my kin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To the kind fields my steps are led.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My people rush across the plain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +<span class="i0">My bare feet shall not fear to tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the cold white feet of the rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My father's house is wherever I pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brothers are each stock and stone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My mother's bosom in the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yields a sweet slumber to her son.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye are rich in house and flocks," said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Though ye have no heart to take me in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was only a reed that was left for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye be not my kin."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Pipe high—pipe low! Though skies be gray,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Who has a song, he needs must roam!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Even though ye call all day, all day,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>'Brother, wilt thou come home?</i>'"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Over the meadows and over the wold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the hills where the skies begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youngest son of his father's house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went forth to find his kin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>The stanzas in italic are a kind of refrain; they represent the music of +the youngest son.</p> + +<p>Why does the piper not go into the house when his brother's wife invites +him? What does he mean when he says, "My brother's hearth is mine own"? +Why does he say that the sheep are his? What does he mean when he says, +"I will give ye my right," etc.? Why are his brothers not his kin? Who +are the people that "rush across the plain"? Explain the fourteenth +stanza. Why did the piper go forth to find his kin? Whom would he claim +as his kindred? Why? Does the poem have a deeper meaning than that which +first appears? What kind of person is represented by the youngest son? +What are meant by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>his pipe and the music? Who are those who cast him +out? Re-read the whole poem with the deeper meaning in mind.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>The Prophet</td><td align='left'>Josephine Preston Peabody</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Piper: Act I</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Shepherd of King Admetus</td><td align='left'>James Russell Lowell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Shoes that Danced</td><td align='left'>Anna Hempstead Branch</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Heart of the Road and Other Poems</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rose of the Wind and Other Poems</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TENNESSEES_PARTNER" id="TENNESSEES_PARTNER"></a>TENNESSEE'S PARTNER</h2> + +<h3>BRET HARTE</h3> + + +<p>I do not think that we ever knew his real name. Our ignorance of it +certainly never gave us any social inconvenience, for at Sandy Bar in +1854 most men were christened anew. Sometimes these appellatives were +derived from some distinctiveness of dress, as in the case of "Dungaree +Jack"; or from some peculiarity of habit, as shown in "Saleratus Bill," +so called from an undue proportion of that chemical in his daily bread; +or from some unlucky slip, as exhibited in "The Iron Pirate," a mild, +inoffensive man, who earned that baleful title by his unfortunate +mispronunciation of the term "iron pyrites." Perhaps this may have been +the beginning of a rude heraldry; but I am constrained to think that it +was because a man's real name in that day rested solely upon his own +unsupported statement. "Call yourself Clifford, do you?" said Boston, +addressing a timid newcomer with infinite scorn; "hell is full of such +Cliffords!" He then introduced the unfortunate man, whose name happened +to be really Clifford, as "Jaybird Charley,"—an unhallowed inspiration +of the moment that clung to him ever after.</p> + +<p>But to return to Tennessee's Partner, whom we never knew by any other +than this relative title. That he had ever existed as a separate and +distinct individuality we only learned later. It seems that in 1853 he +left Poker Flat to go to San Francisco, ostensibly to procure a wife. He +never got any farther than Stockton. At that place he was attracted by a +young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>person who waited upon the table at the hotel where he took his +meals. One morning he said something to her which caused her to smile +not unkindly, to somewhat coquettishly break a plate of toast over his +upturned, serious, simple face, and to retreat to the kitchen. He +followed her, and emerged a few moments later, covered with more toast +and victory. That day week they were married by a justice of the peace, +and returned to Poker Flat. I am aware that something more might be made +of this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at Sandy +Bar,—in the gulches and bar-rooms,—where all sentiment was modified by +a strong sense of humor.</p> + +<p>Of their married felicity but little is known, perhaps for the reason +that Tennessee, then living with his partner, one day took occasion to +say something to the bride on his own account, at which, it is said, she +smiled not unkindly and chastely retreated,—this time as far as +Marysville, where Tennessee followed her, and where they went to +housekeeping without the aid of a justice of the peace. Tennessee's +Partner took the loss of his wife simply and seriously, as was his +fashion. But to everybody's surprise, when Tennessee one day returned +from Marysville, without his partner's wife,—she having smiled and +retreated with somebody else,—Tennessee's Partner was the first man to +shake his hand and greet him with affection. The boys who had gathered +in the cañon to see the shooting were naturally indignant. Their +indignation might have found vent in sarcasm but for a certain look in +Tennessee's Partner's eye that indicated a lack of humorous +appreciation. In fact, he was a grave man, with a steady application to +practical detail which was unpleasant in a difficulty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had grown up on the Bar. +He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief. In these +suspicions Tennessee's Partner was equally compromised; his continued +intimacy with Tennessee after the affair above quoted could only be +accounted for on the hypothesis of a copartnership of crime. At last +Tennessee's guilt became flagrant. One day he overtook a stranger on his +way to Red Dog. The stranger afterward related that Tennessee beguiled +the time with interesting anecdote and reminiscence, but illogically +concluded the interview in the following words: "And now, young man, +I'll trouble you for your knife, your pistols, and your money. You see +your weppings might get you into trouble at Red Dog, and your money's a +temptation to the evilly disposed. I think you said your address was San +Francisco. I shall endeavor to call." It may be stated here that +Tennessee had a fine flow of humor, which no business preoccupation +could wholly subdue.</p> + +<p>This exploit was his last. Red Dog and Sandy Bar made common cause +against the highwayman. Tennessee was hunted in very much the same +fashion as his prototype, the grizzly. As the toils closed around him, +he made a desperate dash through the Bar, emptying his revolver at the +crowd before the Arcade Saloon, and so on up Grizzly Cañon; but at its +farther extremity he was stopped by a small man on a gray horse. The men +looked at each other a moment in silence. Both were fearless, both +self-possessed and independent, and both types of a civilization that in +the seventeenth century would have been called heroic, but in the +nineteenth simply "reckless."</p> + +<p>"What have you got there?—I call," said Tennessee quietly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Two bowers and an ace," said the stranger as quietly, showing two +revolvers and a bowie-knife.</p> + +<p>"That takes me," returned Tennessee; and, with this gambler's epigram, +he threw away his useless pistol and rode back with his captor.</p> + +<p>It was a warm night. The cool breeze which usually sprang up with the +going down of the sun behind the chaparral-crested mountain was that +evening withheld from Sandy Bar. The little cañon was stifling with +heated resinous odors, and the decaying driftwood on the Bar sent forth +faint sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day and its fierce +passions still filled the camp. Lights moved restlessly along the bank +of the river, striking no answering reflection from its tawny current. +Against the blackness of the pines the windows of the old loft above the +express-office stood out staringly bright; and through their curtainless +panes the loungers below could see the forms of those who were even then +deciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on the dark +firmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned with remoter +passionless stars.</p> + +<p>The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was consistent with a +judge and jury who felt themselves to some extent obliged to justify, in +their verdict, the previous irregularities of arrest and indictment. The +law of Sandy Bar was implacable, but not vengeful. The excitement and +personal feeling of the chase were over; with Tennessee safe in their +hands, they were ready to listen patiently to any defense, which they +were already satisfied was insufficient. There being no doubt in their +own minds, they were willing to give the prisoner the benefit of any +that might exist. Secure in the hypothesis that he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>ought to be hanged +on general principles, they indulged him with more latitude of defense +than his reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The Judge appeared to be more +anxious than the prisoner, who, otherwise unconcerned, evidently took a +grim pleasure in the responsibility he had created. "I don't take any +hand in this yer game," had been his invariable but good-humored reply +to all questions. The Judge—who was also his captor—for a moment +vaguely regretted that he had not shot him "on sight" that morning, but +presently dismissed this human weakness as unworthy of the judicial +mind. Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was said +that Tennessee's Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he was +admitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger members of the +jury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailed +him as a relief. For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. Short +and stout, with a square face, sunburned into a preternatural redness, +clad in a loose duck "jumper" and trousers streaked and splashed with +red soil, his aspect under any circumstances would have been quaint, and +was now even ridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy +carpetbag he was carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed +legends and inscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had +been patched had been originally intended for a less ambitious covering. +Yet he advanced with great gravity, and after shaking the hand of each +person in the room with labored cordiality, he wiped his serious +perplexed face on a red bandana handkerchief, a shade lighter than his +complexion, laid his powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, and +thus addressed the Judge:—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was passin' by," he began, by way of apology, "and I thought I'd just +step in and see how things was gittin' on with Tennessee thar,—my +pardner. It's a hot night. I disremember any sich weather before on the +Bar."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorological +recollection, he again had recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and for +some moments mopped his face diligently.</p> + +<p>"Have you anything to say on behalf of the prisoner?" said the Judge +finally.</p> + +<p>"Thet's it," said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief. "I come yar +as Tennessee's pardner,—knowing him nigh on four year, off and on, wet +and dry, in luck and, out o' luck. His ways ain't aller my ways, but +thar ain't any p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness as +he's been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sez +you,—confidential-like, and between man and man,—sez you, 'Do you know +anything in his behalf?' and I sez to you, sez I,—confidential-like, as +between man and man,—'What should a man know of his pardner?'"</p> + +<p>"Is this all you have to say?" asked the Judge impatiently, feeling, +perhaps, that a dangerous sympathy of humor was beginning to humanize +the court.</p> + +<p>"Thet's so," continued Tennessee's Partner. "It ain't for me to say +anything agin' him. And now, what's the case? Here's Tennessee wants +money, wants it bad, and doesn't like to ask it of his old pardner. +Well, what does Tennessee do? He lays for a stranger, and he fetches +that stranger; and you lays for <i>him</i>, and you fetches <i>him</i>; and the +honors is easy. And I put it to you, bein' a fa'r-minded man, and to +you, gentlemen all, as fa'r-minded men, ef this isn't so."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Prisoner," said the Judge, interrupting, "have you any questions to ask +this man?"</p> + +<p>"No! no!" continued Tennessee's Partner hastily. "I play this yer hand +alone. To come down to the bed-rock, it's just this: Tennessee, thar, +has played it pretty rough and expensive-like on a stranger, and on this +yer camp. And now, what's the fair thing? Some would say more, some +would say less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars in coarse gold and a +watch,—it's about all my pile,—and call it square!" And before a hand +could be raised to prevent him, he had emptied the contents of the +carpetbag upon the table.</p> + +<p>For a moment his life was in jeopardy. One or two men sprang to their +feet, several hands groped for hidden weapons, and a suggestion to +"throw him from the window" was only overridden by a gesture from the +Judge. Tennessee laughed. And apparently oblivious of the excitement, +Tennessee's Partner improved the opportunity to mop his face again with +his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>When order was restored, and the man was made to understand, by the use +of forcible figures and rhetoric, that Tennessee's offense could not be +condoned by money, his face took a more serious and sanguinary hue, and +those who were nearest to him noticed that his rough hand trembled +slightly on the table. He hesitated a moment as he slowly returned the +gold to the carpetbag, as if he had not yet entirely caught the elevated +sense of justice which swayed the tribunal, and was perplexed with the +belief that he had not offered enough. Then he turned to the Judge, and +saying, "This yer is a lone hand, played alone, and without my pardner," +he bowed to the jury and was about to withdraw, when the Judge called +him back:—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you have anything to say to Tennessee, you had better say it now."</p> + +<p>For the first time that evening the eyes of the prisoner and his strange +advocate met. Tennessee smiled, showed his white teeth, and saying, +"Euchred, old man!" held out his hand. Tennessee's Partner took it in +his own, and saying, "I just dropped in as I was passin' to see how +things was gettin' on," let the hand passively fall, and adding that "it +was a warm night," again mopped his face with his handkerchief, and +without another word withdrew.</p> + +<p>The two men never again met each other alive. For the unparalleled +insult of a bribe offered to Judge Lynch—who, whether bigoted, weak, or +narrow, was at least incorruptible—firmly fixed in the mind of that +mythical personage any wavering determination of Tennessee's fate; and +at the break of day he was marched, closely guarded, to meet it at the +top of Marley's Hill.</p> + +<p>How he met it, how cool he was, how he refused to say anything, how +perfect were the arrangements of the committee, were all duly reported, +with the addition of a warning moral and example to all future +evil-doers, in the "Red Dog Clarion," by its editor, who was present, +and to whose vigorous English I cheerfully refer the reader. But the +beauty of that midsummer morning, the blessed amity of earth and air and +sky, the awakened life of the free woods and hills, the joyous renewal +and promise of Nature, and above all, the infinite serenity that +thrilled through each, was not reported, as not being a part of the +social lesson. And yet, when the weak and foolish deed was done, and a +life, with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed out of the +misshapen thing that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>dangled between earth and sky, the birds sang, the +flowers bloomed, the sun shone, as cheerily as before; and possibly the +"Red Dog Clarion" was right.</p> + +<p>Tennessee's Partner was not in the group that surrounded the ominous +tree. But as they turned to disperse, attention was drawn to the +singular appearance of a motionless donkey-cart halted at the side of +the road. As they approached, they at once recognized the venerable +"Jenny" and the two-wheeled cart as the property of Tennessee's Partner, +used by him in carrying dirt from his claim; and a few paces distant the +owner of the equipage himself, sitting under a buckeye-tree, wiping the +perspiration from his glowing face. In answer to an inquiry, he said he +had come for the body of the "diseased," "if it was all the same to the +committee." He didn't wish to "hurry anything"; he could "wait." He was +not working that day; and when the gentlemen were done with the +"diseased," he would take him. "Ef thar is any present," he added, in +his simple, serious way, "as would care to jine in the fun'l, they kin +come." Perhaps it was from a sense of humor, which I have already +intimated was a feature of Sandy Bar,—perhaps it was from something +even better than that, but two thirds of the loungers accepted the +invitation at once.</p> + +<p>It was noon when the body of Tennessee was delivered into the hands of +his partner. As the cart drew up to the fatal tree, we noticed that it +contained a rough oblong box,—apparently made from a section of +sluicing,—and half filled with bark and the tassels of pine. The cart +was further decorated with slips of willow and made fragrant with +buckeye-blossoms. When the body was deposited in the box, Tennessee's +Partner's drew over it a piece of tarred canvas, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>gravely mounting +the narrow seat in front, with his feet upon the shafts, urged the +little donkey forward. The equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous +pace which was habitual with Jenny even under less solemn circumstances. +The men—half curiously, half jestingly, but all +good-humoredly—strolled along beside the cart, some in advance, some a +little in the rear of the homely catafalque. But whether from the +narrowing of the road or some present sense of decorum, as the cart +passed on, the company fell to the rear in couples, keeping step, and +otherwise assuming the external show of a formal procession. Jack +Folinsbee, who had at the outset played a funeral march in dumb show +upon an imaginary trombone, desisted from a lack of sympathy and +appreciation,—not having, perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be +content with the enjoyment of his own fun.</p> + +<p>The way led through Grizzly Cañon, by this time clothed in funereal +drapery and shadows. The redwoods, burying their moccasined feet in the +red soil, stood in Indian file along the track, trailing an uncouth +benediction from their bending boughs upon the passing bier. A hare, +surprised into helpless inactivity, sat upright and pulsating in the +ferns by the roadside as the cortège went by. Squirrels hastened to gain +a secure outlook from higher boughs; and the blue-jays, spreading their +wings, fluttered before them like outriders, until the outskirts of +Sandy Bar were reached, and the solitary cabin of Tennessee's Partner.</p> + +<p>Viewed under more favorable circumstances, it would not have been a +cheerful place. The unpicturesque site, the rude and unlovely outlines, +the unsavory details, which distinguish the nest-building of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>the +California miner, were all here with the dreariness of decay superadded. +A few paces from the cabin there was a rough inclosure, which, in the +brief days of Tennessee's Partner's matrimonial felicity, had been used +as a garden, but was now overgrown with fern. As we approached it, we +were surprised to find that what we had taken for a recent attempt at +cultivation was the broken soil about an open grave.</p> + +<p>The cart was halted before the inclosure, and rejecting the offers of +assistance with the same air of simple self-reliance he had displayed +throughout, Tennessee's Partner lifted the rough coffin on his back, and +deposited it unaided within the shallow grave. He then nailed down the +board which served as a lid, and mounting the little mound of earth +beside it, took off his hat and slowly mopped his face with his +handkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary to speech, and they +disposed themselves variously on stumps and boulders, and sat expectant.</p> + +<p>"When a man," began Tennessee's Partner slowly, "has been running free +all day, what's the natural thing for him to do? Why, to come home. And +if he ain't in a condition to go home, what can his best friend do? Why, +bring him home. And here's Tennessee has been running free, and we +brings him home from his wandering." He paused and picked up a fragment +of quartz, rubbed it thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on: "It ain't +the first time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd me now. It +ain't the first time that I brought him to this yer cabin when he +couldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and Jinny have +waited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so fetched him home, +when he couldn't speak and didn't know me. And now that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>it's the last +time, why"—he paused and rubbed the quartz gently on his sleeve—"you +see it's sort of rough on his pardner. And now, gentlemen," he added +abruptly, picking up his long-handled shovel, "the fun'l's over; and my +thanks, and Tennessee's thanks, to you for your trouble."</p> + +<p>Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the grave, +turning his back upon the crowd, that after a few moments' hesitation +gradually withdrew. As they crossed the little ridge that hid Sandy Bar +from view, some, looking back, thought they could see Tennessee's +Partner, his work done, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between his +knees, and his face buried in his red bandana handkerchief. But it was +argued by others that you couldn't tell his face from his handkerchief +at that distance, and this point remained undecided.</p> + +<p>In the reaction that followed the feverish excitement of that day, +Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret investigation had +cleared him of any complicity in Tennessee's guilt, and left only a +suspicion of his general sanity. Sandy Bar made a point of calling on +him, and proffering various uncouth but well-meant kindnesses. But from +that day his rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline; +and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-blades were +beginning to peep from the rocky mound above Tennessee's grave, he took +to his bed.</p> + +<p>One night, when the pines beside the cabin were swaying in the storm and +trailing their slender fingers over the roof, and the roar and rush of +the swollen river were heard below, Tennessee's Partner lifted his head +from the pillow, saying, "It is time to go for Tennessee; I must put +Jinny in the cart"; and would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>have risen from his bed but for the +restraint of his attendant. Struggling, he still pursued his singular +fancy: "There, now, steady, Jinny,—steady, old girl. How dark it is! +Look out for the ruts,—and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes, +you know, when he's blind drunk, he drops down right in the trail. Keep +on straight up to the pine on the top of the hill. Thar! I told you +so!—thar he is,—coming this way, too,—all by himself, sober, and his +face a-shining. Tennessee! Pardner!"</p> + +<p>And so they met.</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Sandy Bar</b>:—The imaginary mining-camp in which Bret Harte laid the +scenes of many of his stories.</p> + +<p><b>dungaree</b>:—A coarse kind of unbleached cotton cloth.</p> + +<p><b>I call</b>:—An expression used in the game of euchre.</p> + +<p><b>bowers</b>:—<i>Bower</i> is from the German word <i>bauer</i>, meaning a +peasant,—so called from the jack or knave; the right bower, in the game +of euchre, is the jack of trumps, and the left bower is the other jack +of the same color.</p> + +<p><b>chaparral</b>:—A thicket of scrub-oaks or thorny shrubs.</p> + +<p><b>euchred</b>:—Defeated, as in the game of euchre.</p> + +<p><b>Judge Lynch</b>:—A name used for the hurried judging and executing of a +suspected person, by private citizens, without due process of law. A +Virginian named Lynch is said to have been connected with the origin of +the expression.</p> + +<p>"<b>diseased</b>":—Tennessee's Partner means <i>deceased</i>.</p> + +<p><b>sluicing</b>:—A trough for water, fitted with gates and valves; it is +used in washing out gold from the soil.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Why is the first sentence a good introduction? Compare it with the first +sentence of <i>Quite So</i>, page <a href="#Page_21">21</a>. In this selection, why does the author +say so much about names? Of what value is the first paragraph? Why is it +necessary to tell about Tennessee's Partner's earlier experiences? Who +were "the boys"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> who gathered to see the shooting? Why did they think +there would be shooting? Why was there not? Why does the author not give +us a fuller picture of Tennessee? What is the proof that he had "a fine +flow of humor"? Try in a few words to sum up his character. Read +carefully the paragraph beginning "It was a warm night": How does the +author give us a good picture of Sandy Bar? Tell in your own words the +feelings of the judge, the prisoner, and the jury, as explained in the +paragraph beginning "The trial of Tennessee." What does the author gain +by such expressions as "a less ambitious covering," "meteorological +recollection"? What does Tennessee's Partner mean when he says "What +should a man know of his pardner"? Why did the judge think that humor +would be dangerous? Why are the people angry when Tennessee's Partner +offers his seventeen hundred dollars for Tennessee's release? Why does +Tennessee's Partner take its rejection so calmly? What effect does his +offer have on the jury? What does the author mean by "the weak and +foolish deed"? Does he approve the hanging? Why does Tennessee's Partner +not show any grief? What do you think of Jack Folinsbee? What is gained +by the long passage of description? What does Tennessee's Partner's +speech show about the friendship of the two men? About friendship in +general? Do men often care so much for each other? Is it possible that +Tennessee's Partner died of grief? Is the conclusion good? Comment on +the kind of men who figure in the story. Are there any such men now? Why +is this called a very good story?</p> + +<p>Some time after you have read the story, run through it and see how many +different sections or scenes there are in it. How are these sections +linked together? Look carefully at the beginning of each paragraph and +see how the connection is made with the paragraph before.</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +Two Friends<br /> +A Miner's Cabin<br /> +The Thief<br /> +The Road through the Woods<br /> +The Trial<br /> +A Scene in the Court Room<br /> +Early Days in our County<br /> +Bret Harte's Best Stories<br /> +The Escaped Convict<br /> +The Highwayman<br /> +A Lumber Camp<br /> +Roughing It<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +The Judge<br /> +The Robbers' Rendezvous<br /> +An Odd Character<br /> +Early Days in the West<br /> +A Mining Town<br /> +Underground with the Miners<br /> +Capturing the Thieves<br /> +The Sheriff<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>Two Friends</b>:—Tell where these two friends lived and how long they had +known each other. Describe each one, explaining his peculiarities; +perhaps you can make his character clear by telling some incident +concerning him. What seemed to be the attraction between the two +friends? Were they much together? What did people say of them? What did +they do for each other? Did they talk to others about their friendship? +Did either make a sacrifice for the other? If so, tell about it rather +fully. Was there any talk about it? What was the result of the +sacrifice? Was the friendship ever broken?</p> + +<p><b>Early Days in our County</b>:—Perhaps you can get material for this from +some old settlers, or from a county history. Tell of the first +settlement: Who was first on the ground, and why did he choose this +particular region? What kind of shelter was erected? How fast did the +settlement grow? Tell some incidents of the early days. You might speak +also of the processes of clearing the land and of building; of primitive +methods of living, and the difficulty of getting supplies. Were there +any dangers? Speak of several prominent persons, and tell what they did. +Go on and tell of development of the settlements and the surrounding +country. Were there any strikingly good methods of making money? Was +there any excitement over land, or gold, or high prices of products? +Were there any misfortunes, such as floods, or droughts, or fires, or +cyclones? When did the railroad reach the region? What differences did +it make? What particular influences have brought about recent +conditions?</p> + +<p><b>The Sheriff</b>:—Describe the sheriff—his physique, his features, his +clothes, his manner. Does he look the part? Do you know, or can you +imagine, one of his adventures? Perhaps you will wish to tell his story +in his own words. Think carefully whether it would be better to do this, +or to tell the story in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>third person. Make the tale as lively and +stirring as possible. Remember that when you are reporting the talk of +the persons involved, it is better to quote their words directly. See +that everything you say helps in making the situation clear or in +actually telling the story. Close the story rather quickly after its +outcome has been made quite clear.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar</td><td align='left'>Bret Harte</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Outcasts of Poker Flat</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Luck of Roaring Camp</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Baby Sylvester</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Waif of the Plains</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How I Went to the Mines</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>M'liss</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Frontier Stories</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tales of the Argonauts</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Sappho of Green Springs and Other Stories</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pony Tracks</td><td align='left'>Frederic Remington</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Crooked Trails</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Cœur d'Alène</td><td align='left'>Mary Hallock Foote</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Led-Horse Claim</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wolfville Days</td><td align='left'>Alfred Henry Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wolfville Nights</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Sunset Trail</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pathfinders of the West</td><td align='left'>Agnes C. Laut</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Old Santa Fé Trail</td><td align='left'>H. Inman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stories of the Great West</td><td align='left'>Theodore Roosevelt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>California and the Californians</td><td align='left'>D.S. Jordan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Our Italy</td><td align='left'>C.D. Warner</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>California</td><td align='left'>Josiah Royce</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The West from a Car Window</td><td align='left'>R.H. Davis</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the Railroad</td><td align='left'>Cy Warman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Roughing It</td><td align='left'>S.L. Clemens</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Poems</td><td align='left'>Joaquin Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Appropriate poems by Bret Harte:—</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> John Burns of Gettysburg</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> In the Tunnel[Pg 251]</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> The Lost Galleon</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Grizzly</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Battle Bunny</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> The Wind in the Chimney</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Reveille</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Plain Language from Truthful James (The Heathen Chinee)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Highways and Byways in the Rocky Mountains</td><td align='left'>Clifton Johnson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Trails of the Pathfinders</td><td align='left'>G.B. Grinnell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stories of California</td><td align='left'>E.M. Sexton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Glimpses of California</td><td align='left'>Helen Hunt Jackson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>California: Its History and Romance</td><td align='left'>J.S. McGroarty</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Heroes of California</td><td align='left'>G.W. James</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Recollections of an Old Pioneer</td><td align='left'>P.H. Bennett</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Mountains of California</td><td align='left'>John Muir</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Romantic California</td><td align='left'>E.C. Peixotto</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Silverado Squatters</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jimville: A Bret Harte Town (in <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, November, 1902)</td><td align='left'>Mary Austin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Prospector (poem)</td><td align='left'>Robert W. Service</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Rover</td><td align='left'>" "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Life of Bret Harte</td><td align='left'>H.C. Merwin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bret Harte</td><td align='left'>Henry W. Boynton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bret Harte</td><td align='left'>T.E. Pemberton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Writers of To-day, pp. 212-229</td><td align='left'>H.C. Vedder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bookman, 15:312 (see also map on page 313).</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><b>For stories of famous friendships, look up:—</b></p> + +<p> +Damon and Pythias (any good encyclopedia).<br /> +Patroclus and Achilles (the Iliad).<br /> +David and Jonathan (the Bible: 1st Samuel 18:1-4; 19:1-7; chapter 20, +entire; 23:16-18; chapter 31, entire; 2d Samuel, chapter 1, entire).<br /> +The Substitute (Le Remplaçant) François Coppée<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(In <i>Modern Short-stories</i> edited by M. Ashmun.)</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_COURSE_OF_AMERICAN_HISTORY" id="THE_COURSE_OF_AMERICAN_HISTORY"></a>THE COURSE OF AMERICAN HISTORY</h2> + +<h3>WOODROW WILSON</h3> + +<h4>(In <i>Mere Literature</i>)</h4> + + +<p>Our national history has been written for the most part by New England +men. All honor to them! Their scholarship and their characters alike +have given them an honorable enrollment amongst the great names of our +literary history; and no just man would say aught to detract, were it +never so little, from their well-earned fame. They have written our +history, nevertheless, from but a single point of view. From where they +sit, the whole of the great development looks like an Expansion of New +England. Other elements but play along the sides of the great process by +which the Puritan has worked out the development of nation and polity. +It is he who has gone out and possessed the land: the man of destiny, +the type and impersonation of a chosen people. To the Southern writer, +too, the story looks much the same, if it be but followed to its +culmination,—to its final storm and stress and tragedy in the great +war. It is the history of the Suppression of the South. Spite of all her +splendid contributions to the steadfast accomplishment of the great task +of building the nation; spite of the long leadership of her statesmen in +the national counsels; spite of her joint achievements in the conquest +and occupation of the West, the South was at last turned upon on every +hand, rebuked, proscribed, defeated. The history of the United States, +we have learned, was, from the settlement at Jamestown to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>the surrender +at Appomattox, a long-drawn contest for mastery between New England and +the South,—and the end of the contest we know. All along the parallels +of latitude ran the rivalry, in those heroical days of toil and +adventure during which population crossed the continent, like an army +advancing its encampments, Up and down the great river of the continent, +too, and beyond, up the slow incline of the vast steppes that lift +themselves toward the crowning towers of the Rockies,—beyond that, +again, in the gold-fields and upon the green plains of California, the +race for ascendency struggled on,—till at length there was a final +coming face to face, and the masterful folk who had come from the loins +of New England won their consummate victory.</p> + +<p>It is a very dramatic form for the story. One almost wishes it were +true. How fine a unity it would give our epic! But perhaps, after all, +the real truth is more interesting. The life of the nation cannot be +reduced to these so simple terms. These two great forces, of the North +and of the South, unquestionably existed,—were unquestionably projected +in their operation out upon the great plane of the continent, there to +combine or repel, as circumstances might determine. But the people that +went out from the North were not an unmixed people; they came from the +great Middle States as well as from New England. Their transplantation +into the West was no more a reproduction of New England or New York or +Pennsylvania or New Jersey than Massachusetts was a reproduction of old +England, or New Netherland a reproduction of Holland. The Southern +people, too, whom they met by the western rivers and upon the open +prairies, were transformed, as they them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>selves were, by the rough +fortunes of the frontier. A mixture of peoples, a modification of mind +and habit, a new round of experiment and adjustment amidst the novel +life of the baked and untilled plain, and the far valleys with the +virgin forests still thick upon them: a new temper, a new spirit of +adventure, a new impatience of restraint, a new license of life,—these +are the characteristic notes and measures of the time when the nation +spread itself at large upon the continent, and was transformed from a +group of colonies into a family of States.</p> + +<p>The passes of these eastern mountains were the arteries of the nation's +life. The real breath of our growth and manhood came into our nostrils +when first, like Governor Spotswood and that gallant company of +Virginian gentlemen that rode with him in the far year 1716, the Knights +of the Order of the Golden Horseshoe, our pioneers stood upon the ridges +of the eastern hills and looked down upon those reaches of the continent +where lay the untrodden paths of the westward migration. There, upon the +courses of the distant rivers that gleamed before them in the sun, down +the farther slopes of the hills beyond, out upon the broad fields that +lay upon the fertile banks of the "Father of Waters," up the long tilt +of the continent to the vast hills that looked out upon the +Pacific—there were the regions in which, joining with people from every +race and clime under the sun, they were to make the great compounded +nation whose liberty and mighty works of peace were to cause all the +world to stand at gaze. Thither were to come Frenchmen, Scandinavians, +Celts, Dutch, Slavs,—men of the Latin races and of the races of the +Orient, as well as men, a great host, of the first stock of the +settlements: English, Scots, Scots-Irish,—like New England men, but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>touched with the salt of humor, hard, and yet neighborly too. For this +great process of growth by grafting, of modification no less than of +expansion, the colonies,—the original thirteen States,—were only +preliminary studies and first experiments. But the experiments that most +resembled the great methods by which we peopled the continent from side +to side and knit a single polity across all its length and breadth, were +surely the experiments made from the very first in the Middle States of +our Atlantic seaboard.</p> + +<p>Here from the first were mixture of population, variety of element, +combination of type, as if of the nation itself in small. Here was never +a simple body, a people of but a single blood and extraction, a polity +and a practice brought straight from one motherland. The life of these +States was from the beginning like the life of the country: they have +always shown the national pattern. In New England and the South it was +very different. There some of the great elements of the national life +were long in preparation: but separately and with an individual +distinction; without mixture,—for long almost without movement. That +the elements thus separately prepared were of the greatest importance, +and run everywhere like chief threads of the pattern through all our +subsequent life, who can doubt? They give color and tone to every part +of the figure. The very fact that they are so distinct and separately +evident throughout, the very emphasis of individuality they carry with +them, but proves their distinct origin. The other elements of our life, +various though they be, and of the very fibre, giving toughness and +consistency to the fabric, are merged in its texture, united, confused, +almost indistinguishable, so thoroughly are they mixed, intertwined, +interwoven, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>like the essential strands of the stuff itself: but these +of the Puritan and the Southerner, though they run everywhere with the +rest and seem upon a superficial view themselves the body of the cloth, +in fact modify rather than make it.</p> + +<p>What in fact has been the course of American history? How is it to be +distinguished from European history? What features has it of its own, +which give it its distinctive plan and movement? We have suffered, it is +to be feared, a very serious limitation of view until recent years by +having all our history written in the East. It has smacked strongly of a +local flavor. It has concerned itself too exclusively with the origins +and Old-World derivations of our story. Our historians have made their +march from the sea with their heads over shoulder, their gaze always +backward upon the landing-places and homes of the first settlers. In +spite of the steady immigration, with its persistent tide of foreign +blood, they have chosen to speak often and to think always of our people +as sprung after all from a common stock, bearing a family likeness in +every branch, and following all the while old, familiar, family ways. +The view is the more misleading because it is so large a part of the +truth without being all of it. The common British stock did first make +the country, and has always set the pace. There were common institutions +up and down the coast; and these had formed and hardened for a +persistent growth before the great westward migration began which was to +re-shape and modify every element of our life. The national government +itself was set up and made strong by success while yet we lingered for +the most part upon the eastern coast and feared a too distant frontier.</p> + +<p>But, the beginnings once safely made, change set <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>in apace. Not only so: +there had been slow change from the first. We have no frontier now, we +are told,—except a broken fragment, it may be, here and there in some +barren corner of the western lands, where some inhospitable mountain +still shoulders us out, or where men are still lacking to break the +baked surface of the plains and occupy them in the very teeth of hostile +nature. But at first it was all frontier,—a mere strip of settlements +stretched precariously upon the sea-edge of the wilds: an untouched +continent in front of them, and behind them an unfrequented sea that +almost never showed so much as the momentary gleam of a sail. Every step +in the slow process of settlement was but a step of the same kind as the +first, an advance to a new frontier like the old. For long we lacked, it +is true, that new breed of frontiersmen born in after years beyond the +mountains. Those first frontiersmen had still a touch of the timidity of +the Old World in their blood: they lacked the frontier heart. They were +"Pilgrims" in very fact,—exiled, not at home. Fine courage they had: +and a steadfastness in their bold design which it does a faint-hearted +age good to look back upon. There was no thought of drawing back. +Steadily, almost calmly, they extended their seats. They built homes, +and deemed it certain their children would live there after them. But +they did not love the rough, uneasy life for its own sake. How long did +they keep, if they could, within sight of the sea! The wilderness was +their refuge; but how long before it became their joy and hope! Here was +their destiny cast; but their hearts lingered and held back. It was only +as generations passed and the work widened about them that their thought +also changed, and a new thrill sped along their blood. Their life had +been new <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>and strange from their first landing in the wilderness. Their +houses, their food, their clothing, their neighborhood dealings were all +such as only the frontier brings. Insensibly they were themselves +changed. The strange life became familiar; their adjustment to it was at +length unconscious and without effort; they had no plans which were not +inseparably a part and a product of it. But, until they had turned their +backs once for all upon the sea; until they saw their western borders +cleared of the French; until the mountain passes had grown familiar, and +the lands beyond the central and constant theme of their hope, the goal +and dream of their young men, they did not become an American people.</p> + +<p>When they did, the great determining movement of our history began. The +very visages of the people changed. That alert movement of the eye, that +openness to every thought of enterprise or adventure, that nomadic habit +which knows no fixed home and has plans ready to be carried any +whither,—all the marks of the authentic type of the "American" as we +know him came into our life. The crack of the whip and the song of the +teamster, the heaving chorus of boatmen poling their heavy rafts upon +the rivers, the laughter of the camp, the sound of bodies of men in the +still forests, became the characteristic notes in our air. A roughened +race, embrowned in the sun, hardened in manner by a coarse life of +change and danger, loving the rude woods and the crack of the rifle, +living to begin something new every day, striking with the broad and +open hand, delicate in nothing but the touch of the trigger, leaving +cities in its track as if by accident rather than design, settling again +to the steady ways of a fixed life only when it must: such <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>was the +American people whose achievement it was to be to take possession of +their continent from end to end ere their national government was a +single century old. The picture is a very singular one! Settled life and +wild side by side: civilization frayed at the edges,—taken forward in +rough and ready fashion, with a song and a swagger,—not by statesmen, +but by woodsmen and drovers, with axes and whips and rifles in their +hands, clad in buckskin, like huntsmen.</p> + +<p>It has been said that we have here repeated some of the first processes +of history; that the life and methods of our frontiersmen take us back +to the fortunes and hopes of the men who crossed Europe when her +forests, too, were still thick upon her. But the difference is really +very fundamental, and much more worthy of remark than the likeness. +Those shadowy masses of men whom we see moving upon the face of the +earth in the far-away, questionable days when states were forming: even +those stalwart figures we see so well as they emerge from the deep +forests of Germany, to displace the Roman in all his western provinces +and set up the states we know and marvel upon at this day, show us men +working their new work at their own level. They do not turn back a long +cycle of years from the old and settled states, the ordered cities, the +tilled fields, and the elaborated governments of an ancient +civilization, to begin as it were once more at the beginning. They carry +alike their homes and their states with them in the camp and upon the +ordered march of the host. They are men of the forest, or else men +hardened always to take the sea in open boats. They live no more roughly +in the new lands than in the old. The world has been frontier for them +from the first. They may go forward <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>with their life in these new seats +from where they left off in the old. How different the circumstances of +our first settlement and the building of new states on this side the +sea! Englishmen, bred in law and ordered government ever since the +Norman lawyers were followed a long five hundred years ago across the +narrow seas by those masterful administrators of the strong Plantagenet +race, leave an ancient realm and come into a wilderness where states +have never been; leave a land of art and letters, which saw but +yesterday "the spacious times of great Elizabeth," where Shakespeare +still lives in the gracious leisure of his closing days at Stratford, +where cities teem with trade and men go bravely dight in cloth of gold, +and turn back six centuries,—nay, a thousand years and more,—to the +first work of building states in a wilderness! They bring the steadied +habits and sobered thoughts of an ancient realm into the wild air of an +untouched continent. The weary stretches of a vast sea lie, like a full +thousand years of time, between them and the life in which till now all +their thought was bred. Here they stand, as it were, with all their +tools left behind, centuries struck out of their reckoning, driven back +upon the long dormant instincts and forgotten craft of their race, not +used this long age. Look how singular a thing: the work of a primitive +race, the thought of a civilized! Hence the strange, almost grotesque +groupings of thought and affairs in that first day of our history. +Subtle politicians speak the phrases and practice the arts of intricate +diplomacy from council chambers placed within log huts within a +clearing. Men in ruffs and lace and polished shoe-buckles thread the +lonely glades of primeval forests. The microscopical distinctions of the +schools, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>the thin notes of a metaphysical theology are woven in and out +through the labyrinths of grave sermons that run hours long upon the +still air of the wilderness. Belief in dim refinements of dogma is made +the test for man or woman who seeks admission to a company of pioneers. +When went there by an age since the great flood when so singular a thing +was seen as this: thousands of civilized men suddenly rusticated and +bade do the work of primitive peoples,—Europe <i>frontiered</i>!</p> + +<p>Of course there was a deep change wrought, if not in these men, at any +rate in their children; and every generation saw the change deepen. It +must seem to every thoughtful man a notable thing how, while the change +was wrought, the simples of things complex were revealed in the clear +air of the New World: how all accidentals seemed to fall away from the +structure of government, and the simple first principles were laid bare +that abide always; how social distinctions were stripped off, shown to +be the mere cloaks and masks they were, and every man brought once again +to a clear realization of his actual relations to his fellows! It was as +if trained and sophisticated men had been rid of a sudden of their +sophistication and of all the theory of their life, and left with +nothing but their discipline of faculty, a schooled and sobered +instinct. And the fact that we kept always, for close upon three hundred +years, a like element in our life, a frontier people always in our van, +is, so far, the central and determining fact of our national history. +"East" and "West," an ever-changing line, but an unvarying experience +and a constant leaven of change working always within the body of our +folk. Our political, our economic, our social life has felt this potent +influence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>from the wild border all our history through. The "West" is +the great word of our history. The "Westerner" has been the type and +master of our American life. Now at length, as I have said, we have lost +our frontier; our front lies almost unbroken along all the great coast +line of the western sea. The Westerner, in some day soon to come, will +pass out of our life, as he so long ago passed out of the life of the +Old World. Then a new epoch will open for us. Perhaps it has opened +already. Slowly we shall grow old, compact our people, study the +delicate adjustments of an intricate society, and ponder the niceties, +as we have hitherto pondered the bulks and structural framework, of +government. Have we not, indeed, already come to these things? But the +past we know. We can "see it steady and see it whole"; and its central +movement and motive are gross and obvious to the eye.</p> + +<p>Till the first century of the Constitution is rounded out we stand all +the while in the presence of that stupendous westward movement which has +filled the continent: so vast, so various, at times so tragical, so +swept by passion. Through all the long time there has been a line of +rude settlements along our front wherein the same tests of power and of +institutions were still being made that were made first upon the sloping +banks of the rivers of old Virginia and within the long sweep of the Bay +of Massachusetts. The new life of the West has reacted all the +while—who shall say how powerfully?—upon the older life of the East; +and yet the East has moulded the West as if she sent forward to it +through every decade of the long process the chosen impulses and +suggestions of history. The West has taken strength, thought, training, +selected aptitudes out of the old treasures of the East,—as if <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>out of +a new Orient; while the East has itself been kept fresh, vital, alert, +originative by the West, her blood quickened all the while, her youth +through every age renewed. Who can say in a word, in a sentence, in a +volume, what destinies have been variously wrought, with what new +examples of growth and energy, while, upon this unexampled scale, +community has passed beyond community across the vast reaches of this +great continent!</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>Jamestown</b>:—A town in Virginia, the site of the first English +settlement in America (1607).</p> + +<p><b>Appomattox</b>:—In 1865 Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox, Virginia.</p> + +<p><b>epic</b>:—A long narrative poem recounting in a stirring way some great +series of events.</p> + +<p><b>Governor Spotswood</b>:—Governor of Virginia in the early part of the +eighteenth century.</p> + +<p><b>Knights of the Golden Horseshoe</b>:—In 1716 an exploring expedition +under Governor Spotswood made a journey across the Blue Ridge. The +Governor gave each member of the party a gold horseshoe, as a souvenir.</p> + +<p><b>Celts</b>:—One of the early Aryan races of southwestern Europe; the Welsh +and the Highland Scotch are descended from the Celts.</p> + +<p><b>Slavs</b>:—The race of people inhabiting Russia, Poland, Bohemia, and +Servia.</p> + +<p><b>Latin races</b>:—The French, Spanish, and Italian people, whose languages +are derived chiefly from the Latin.</p> + +<p><b>Orient</b>:—The far East—India, China, Japan, etc.</p> + +<p><b>Norman</b>:—The Norman-French from northern France had been in possession +of England for the greater part of a century (1066-1154) when Henry, son +of a Saxon princess and a French duke (Geoffrey of Anjou) came to +England as Henry II, the first of the Plantagenet line of English kings.</p> + +<p><b>Stratford</b>:—A small town on the Avon River in England; the birthplace +of Shakespeare.</p> + +<p><b>dight</b>:—Clothed. (What does an unabridged dictionary say <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>about this +word? Is it commonly used nowadays? Was it used in Shakespeare's time? +Why does the author use it here?)</p> + +<p><b>see it steady and see it whole</b>:—A quotation from the works of Matthew +Arnold, an English poet and critic.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>What has been the disadvantage of having our history written by New +England men? Do you know what particular New England men have written of +American history? What state is President Wilson from? What is meant by +the "Suppression of the South"? Why does the author put in the phrase +"we have learned"? Does he believe what he is saying? Show where he +makes his own view clear. What "story" is it that one "almost wishes" +were true? <i>Went out from the North</i>: Where? How are the Northerners and +the Southerners changed after they have gone West? What "new temper" do +they have? How do they show their "impatience of restraint"? What +eastern mountains are meant here? How did our nation gain new life when +the pioneers looked westward from the eastern ridges? Why are we spoken +of as a "great compounded nation"? What are our "mighty works of peace"? +The author now shows how the Middle Seaboard States were a type of the +later form of the nation, because they had a mixed population. What does +he think about the influence of the Puritan and the Southerner? Note the +questions that he asks regarding the course of American history. See how +he answers them in the pages that follow. Why does he say that the first +frontiersmen were "timid"? When, according to the author, did the "great +determining movement" of our history begin? Why does he call the picture +that he draws a "singular" one? What is meant by "civilization frayed at +the edges"? How do the primitive conditions of our nation differ from +the earliest beginnings of the European nations? (See the long passage +beginning "How different.") What is meant by "Europe frontiered"? Look +carefully on page <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, to see what the author says is "the central and +determining fact of our national history." What is the "great word" of +our history? Has the author answered the questions he set for himself on +page <a href="#Page_256">256</a>? What is happening to us as a nation now that we have lost our +frontier? What is the relation between the East and the West? Perhaps +you will like <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>to go on and read some more of this essay, from which we +have here only a selection. Do you like what the author has said? What +do you think of the way in which he has said it?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +Life in the Wilderness<br /> +The Log Cabin<br /> +La Salle<br /> +My Friend from the West<br /> +My Friend from the East<br /> +Crossing the Mountains<br /> +Early Days in our State<br /> +An Encounter with the Indians<br /> +The Coming of the Railroad<br /> +Daniel Boone<br /> +A Home on the Prairies<br /> +Cutting down the Forest<br /> +The Homesteader<br /> +A Frontier Town<br /> +Life on a Western Ranch<br /> +The Old Settler<br /> +Some Stories of the Early Days<br /> +Moving West<br /> +Lewis and Clark<br /> +The Pioneer<br /> +The Old Settlers' Picnic<br /> +"Home-coming Day" in our Town<br /> +An Explorer<br /> +My Trip through the West (or the East)<br /> +The President<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>La Salle</b>:—Look up, in Parkman's <i>La Salle</i> or elsewhere, the facts of +La Salle's life. Make very brief mention of his life in France. Contrast +it with his experiences in America. What were his reasons for becoming +an explorer? Give an account of one of his expeditions: his plans; his +preparations; his companions; his hardships; his struggles to establish +a fort; his return to Canada for help; his failure or success. Perhaps +you will want to write of his last expedition, and its unfortunate +ending. Speak of his character as a man and an explorer. Show briefly +the results of his endeavors.</p> + +<p><b>Daniel Boone</b>:—Look up the adventures of Daniel Boone, and tell some +of them in a lively way. Perhaps you can imagine his telling them in his +own words to a settler or a companion. In that case, try to put in the +questions and the comments of the other person. This will make a kind of +dramatic conversation.</p> + +<p><b>Early Days in our State</b>:—With a few changes, you can use the outline +given on page <a href="#Page_249"><b>249</b></a> for "Early Days in our County."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span><b>An Encounter with the Indians</b>:—Tell a story that you have heard or +imagined, about some one's escape from the Indians. How did the hero +happen to get into such a perilous situation? Briefly describe his +surroundings. Tell of his first knowledge that the Indians were about to +attack him. What did he do? How did he feel? Describe the Indians. Tell +what efforts the hero made to get away or to protect himself. Make the +account of his action brief and lively. Try to keep him before the +reader all the time. Now and then explain what was going on in his mind. +This is often a good way to secure suspense. Tell very clearly how the +hero succeeded in escaping, and what his difficulties were in getting +away from the spot. Condense the account of what took place after his +actual escape. Where did he take refuge? Was he much the worse for his +adventure?</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>The Course of American History (in <i>Mere Literature</i>)</td><td align='left'>Woodrow Wilson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Life of George Washington</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Winning of the West</td><td align='left'>Theodore Roosevelt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stories of the Great West</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hero Tales from American History</td><td align='left'>Roosevelt and Lodge</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Great Salt Lake Trail</td><td align='left'>Inman and Cody</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Old Santa Fé Trail</td><td align='left'>H. Inman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rocky Mountain Exploration</td><td align='left'>Reuben G. Thwaites</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Daniel Boone</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How George Rogers Clark Won the Northwest</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road</td><td align='left'>H.A. Bruce</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Crossing</td><td align='left'>Winston Churchill</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Conquest of Arid America</td><td align='left'>W.E. Smythe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Last American Frontier</td><td align='left'>F.L. Paxon</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Northwestern Fights and Fighters</td><td align='left'>Cyrus Townsend Brady</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Western Frontier Stories</td><td align='left'>The Century Company</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of Tonty</td><td align='left'>Mary Hartwell Catherwood</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Heroes of the Middle West</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pony Tracks</td><td align='left'>Frederic Remington</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Different West</td><td align='left'>A.E. Bostwick</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Expedition of Lewis and Clark</td><td align='left'>J.K. Hosmer</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Trail of Lewis and Clark</td><td align='left'>O.D. Wheeler</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Discovery of the Old Northwest</td><td align='left'>James Baldwin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Boots and Saddles</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth Custer</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West</td><td align='left'>Francis Parkman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Oregon Trail</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Samuel Houston</td><td align='left'>Henry Bruce</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the Railroad</td><td align='left'>Cy Warman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Pioneers</td><td align='left'>Walt Whitman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the Cowboy</td><td align='left'>Emerson Hough</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Woodrow Wilson</td><td align='left'>W.B. Hale</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Recollections of Thirteen Presidents</td><td align='left'>John S. Wise</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Presidential Problems</td><td align='left'>Grover Cleveland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the White House</td><td align='left'>Esther Singleton</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WHAT_I_KNOW_ABOUT_GARDENING" id="WHAT_I_KNOW_ABOUT_GARDENING"></a>WHAT I KNOW ABOUT GARDENING</h2> + +<h3>CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER</h3> + +<h4>(From <i>My Summer in a Garden</i>)</h4> + + +<h4>NINTH WEEK</h4> + +<p>I am more and more impressed with the moral qualities of vegetables, and +contemplate forming a science which shall rank with comparative anatomy +and comparative philology,—the science of comparative vegetable +morality. We live in an age of protoplasm. And, if life-matter is +essentially the same in all forms of life, I purpose to begin early, and +ascertain the nature of the plants for which I am responsible. I will +not associate with any vegetable which is disreputable, or has not some +quality that can contribute to my moral growth. I do not care to be seen +much with the squashes or the dead-beets....</p> + +<p>This matter of vegetable rank has not been at all studied as it should +be. Why do we respect some vegetables, and despise others, when all of +them come to an equal honor or ignominy on the table? The bean is a +graceful, confiding, engaging vine; but you never can put beans into +poetry, nor into the highest sort of prose. There is no dignity in the +bean. Corn, which in my garden grows alongside the bean, and, so far as +I can see, with no affectation of superiority, is, however, the child of +song. It waves in all literature. But mix it with beans, and its high +tone is gone. Succotash is vulgar. It is the bean in it. The bean is a +vulgar vegetable, without culture, or any flavor of high society among +vegetables. Then there is the cool <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>cucumber, like so many people,—good +for nothing when it is ripe and the wildness has gone out of it. How +inferior in quality it is to the melon, which grows upon a similar vine, +is of a like watery consistency, but is not half so valuable! The +cucumber is a sort of low comedian in a company where the melon is a +minor gentleman. I might also contrast the celery with the potato. The +associations are as opposite as the dining-room of the duchess and the +cabin of the peasant. I admire the potato, both in vine and blossom; but +it is not aristocratic. I began digging my potatoes, by the way, about +the 4th of July; and I fancy I have discovered the right way to do it. I +treat the potato just as I would a cow. I do not pull them up, and shake +them out, and destroy them; but I dig carefully at the side of the hill, +remove the fruit which is grown, leaving the vine undisturbed: and my +theory is that it will go on bearing, and submitting to my exactions, +until the frost cuts it down. It is a game that one would not undertake +with a vegetable of tone.</p> + +<p>The lettuce is to me a most interesting study. Lettuce is like +conversation: it must be fresh and crisp, so sparkling that you scarcely +notice the bitter in it. Lettuce, like most talkers, is, however, apt to +run rapidly to seed. Blessed is that sort which comes to a head, and so +remains, like a few people I know; growing more solid and satisfactory +and tender at the same time, and whiter at the centre, and crisp in +their maturity. Lettuce, like conversation, requires a good deal of oil, +to avoid friction, and keep the company smooth; a pinch of attic salt; a +dash of pepper; a quantity of mustard and vinegar, by all means, but so +mixed that you will notice no sharp contrasts; and a trifle of sugar. +You can put anything, and the more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>things the better, into salad, as +into a conversation; but everything depends upon the skill of mixing. I +feel that I am in the best society when I am with lettuce. It is in the +select circle of vegetables. The tomato appears well on the table; but +you do not want to ask its origin. It is a most agreeable <i>parvenu</i>. Of +course, I have said nothing about the berries. They live in another and +more ideal region: except, perhaps, the currant. Here we see that, even +among berries, there are degrees of breeding. The currant is well +enough, clear as truth, and exquisite in color; but I ask you to notice +how far it is from the exclusive <i>hauteur</i> of the aristocratic +strawberry, and the native refinement of the quietly elegant raspberry.</p> + +<p>I do not know that chemistry, searching for protoplasm, is able to +discover the tendency of vegetables. It can only be found out by outward +observation. I confess that I am suspicious of the bean, for instance. +There are signs in it of an unregulated life. I put up the most +attractive sort of poles for my Limas. They stand high and straight, +like church-spires, in my theological garden,—lifted up; and some of +them have even budded, like Aaron's rod. No church-steeple in a New +England village was ever better fitted to draw to it the rising +generation on Sunday than those poles to lift up my beans towards +heaven. Some of them did run up the sticks seven feet, and then +straggled off into the air in a wanton manner; but more than half of +them went galivanting off to the neighboring grape-trellis, and wound +their tendrils with the tendrils of the grape, with a disregard of the +proprieties of life which is a satire upon human nature. And the grape +is morally no better. I think the ancients, who were not troubled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>with +the recondite mystery of protoplasm, were right in the mythic union of +Bacchus and Venus.</p> + +<p>Talk about the Darwinian theory of development and the principle of +natural selection! I should like to see a garden let to run in +accordance with it. If I had left my vegetables and weeds to a free +fight, in which the strongest specimens only should come to maturity, +and the weaker go to the wall, I can clearly see that I should have had +a pretty mess of it. It would have been a scene of passion and license +and brutality. The "pusley" would have strangled the strawberry; the +upright corn, which has now ears to hear the guilty beating of the +hearts of the children who steal the raspberries, would have been +dragged to the earth by the wandering bean; the snake-grass would have +left the place for the potatoes under ground; and the tomatoes would +have been swamped by the lusty weeds. With a firm hand, I have had to +make my own "natural selection." Nothing will so well bear watching as a +garden except a family of children next door. Their power of selection +beats mine. If they could read half as well as they can steal a while +away, I should put up a notice, "<i>Children, beware! There is Protoplasm +here.</i>" But I suppose it would have no effect. I believe they would eat +protoplasm as quick as anything else, ripe or green. I wonder if this is +going to be a cholera-year. Considerable cholera is the only thing that +would let my apples and pears ripen. Of course I do not care for the +fruit; but I do not want to take the responsibility of letting so much +"life-matter," full of crude and even wicked vegetable-human tendencies, +pass into the composition of the neighbors' children, some of whom may +be as immortal as snake-grass.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>There ought to be a public meeting about this, and resolutions, and +perhaps a clambake. At least, it ought to be put into the catechism, and +put in strong.</p> + + +<h4>TENTH WEEK</h4> + +<p>I <span class="smcap">think</span> I have discovered the way to keep peas from the birds. +I tried the scarecrow plan, in a way which I thought would outwit the +shrewdest bird. The brain of the bird is not large; but it is all +concentrated on one object, and that is the attempt to elude the devices +of modern civilization which injure his chances of food. I knew that, if +I put up a complete stuffed man, the bird would detect the imitation at +once; the perfection of the thing would show him that it was a trick. +People always overdo the matter when they attempt deception. I therefore +hung some loose garments, of a bright color, upon a rake-head, and set +them up among the vines. The supposition was, that the bird would think +there was an effort to trap him, that there was a man behind, holding up +these garments, and would sing, as he kept at a distance, "You can't +catch me with any such double device." The bird would know, or think he +knew, that I would not hang up such a scare, in the expectation that it +would pass for a man, and deceive a bird; and he would therefore look +for a deeper plot. I expected to outwit the bird by a duplicity that was +simplicity itself. I may have over-calculated the sagacity and reasoning +power of the bird. At any rate, I did over-calculate the amount of peas +I should gather.</p> + +<p>But my game was only half played. In another part of the garden were +other peas, growing and blowing. To these I took good care not to +attract the attention <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>of the bird by any scarecrow whatever! I left the +old scarecrow conspicuously flaunting above the old vines; and by this +means I hope to keep the attention of the birds confined to that side of +the garden. I am convinced that this is the true use of a scarecrow: it +is a lure, and not a warning. If you wish to save men from any +particular vice, set up a tremendous cry of warning about some other, +and they will all give their special efforts to the one to which +attention is called. This profound truth is about the only thing I have +yet realized out of my pea-vines.</p> + +<p>However, the garden does begin to yield. I know of nothing that makes +one feel more complacent, in these July days, than to have his +vegetables from his own garden. What an effect it has on the market-man +and the butcher! It is a kind of declaration of independence. The +market-man shows me his peas and beets and tomatoes, and supposes he +shall send me out some with the meat. "No, I thank you," I say +carelessly: "I am raising my own this year." Whereas I have been wont to +remark, "Your vegetables look a little wilted this weather," I now say, +"What a fine lot of vegetables you've got!" When a man is not going to +buy, he can afford to be generous. To raise his own vegetables makes a +person feel, somehow, more liberal. I think the butcher is touched by +the influence, and cuts off a better roast for me. The butcher is my +friend when he sees that I am not wholly dependent on him.</p> + +<p>It is at home, however, that the effect is most marked, though sometimes +in a way that I had not expected. I have never read of any Roman supper +that seemed to me equal to a dinner of my own vegetables, when +everything on the table is the product of my own labor, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>except the +clams, which I have not been able to raise yet, and the chickens, which +have withdrawn from the garden just when they were most attractive. It +is strange what a taste you suddenly have for things you never liked +before. The squash has always been to me a dish of contempt; but I eat +it now as if it were my best friend. I never cared for the beet or the +bean; but I fancy now that I could eat them all, tops and all, so +completely have they been transformed by the soil in which they grew. I +think the squash is less squashy, and the beet has a deeper hue of rose, +for my care of them.</p> + +<p>I had begun to nurse a good deal of pride in presiding over a table +whereon was the fruit of my honest industry. But woman!—John Stuart +Mill is right when he says that we do not know anything about women. Six +thousand years is as one day with them. I thought I had something to do +with those vegetables.</p> + +<p>But when I saw Polly seated at her side of the table, presiding over the +new and susceptible vegetables, flanked by the squash and the beans, and +smiling upon the green corn and the new potatoes, as cool as the +cucumbers which lay sliced in ice before her, and when she began to +dispense the fresh dishes, I saw at once that the day of my destiny was +over. You would have thought that she owned all the vegetables, and had +raised them all from their earliest years. Such quiet, vegetable airs! +Such gracious appropriation!</p> + +<p>At length I said,—</p> + +<p>"Polly, do you know who planted that squash, or those squashes?"</p> + +<p>"James, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, perhaps James did plant them to a certain extent. But who +hoed them?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>"We did."</p> + +<p>"<i>We</i> did!" I said in the most sarcastic manner. "And I suppose <i>we</i> put +on the sackcloth and ashes, when the striped bug came at four o'clock, +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, and we watched the tender leaves, and watered night and +morning the feeble plants. I tell you, Polly," said I, uncorking the +Bordeaux raspberry vinegar, "there is not a pea here that does not +represent a drop of moisture wrung from my brow, not a beet that does +not stand for a backache, not a squash that has not caused me untold +anxiety, and I did hope—but I will say no more."</p> + +<p><i>Observation.</i>—In this sort of family discussion, "I will say no more" +is the most effective thing you can close up with.</p> + +<p>I am not an alarmist. I hope I am as cool as anybody this hot summer. +But I am quite ready to say to Polly or any other woman, "You can have +the ballot; only leave me the vegetables, or, what is more important, +the consciousness of power in vegetables." I see how it is. Woman is now +supreme in the house. She already stretches out her hand to grasp the +garden. She will gradually control everything. Woman is one of the +ablest and most cunning creatures who have ever mingled in human +affairs. I understand those women who say they don't want the ballot. +They purpose to hold the real power while we go through the mockery of +making laws. They want the power without the responsibility. (Suppose my +squash had not come up, or my beans—as they threatened at one time—had +gone the wrong way: where would I have been?) We are to be held to all +the responsibilities. Woman takes the lead in all the departments, +leaving us politics only. And what is politics? Let me raise <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>the +vegetables of a nation, says Polly, and I care not who makes its +politics. Here I sat at the table, armed with the ballot, but really +powerless among my own vegetables. While we are being amused by the +ballot, woman is quietly taking things into her own hands.</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>comparative philology</b>:—The comparison of words from different +languages, for the purpose of seeing what relationships can be found.</p> + +<p><b>protoplasm</b>:—"The physical basis of life"; the substance which passes +life on from one vegetable or animal to another.</p> + +<p><b>attic salt</b>:—The delicate wit of the Athenians, who lived in the state +of Attica, in Greece.</p> + +<p><b>parvenu</b>:—A French word meaning an upstart who tries to force himself +into good society.</p> + +<p><b>Aaron's rod</b>:—See Numbers, 17:1-10.</p> + +<p><b>Bacchus and Venus</b>:—Bacchus was the Greek god of wine; Venus was the +Greek goddess of love.</p> + +<p><b>Darwinian theory</b>:—Charles R. Darwin (1809-1882) was a great English +scientist who proved that the higher forms of life have developed from +the lower.</p> + +<p><b>natural selection</b>:—One of Darwin's theories, to the effect that +nature weeds out the weak and unfit, leaving the others to continue the +species; the result is called "the survival of the fittest."</p> + +<p><b>steal a while away</b>:—A quotation from a well known hymn beginning,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love to steal a while away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every cumbering care.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was written in 1829, by Deodatus Dutton.</p> + +<p><b>Roman supper</b>:—The Romans were noted for the extravagance of their +evening meals, at which all sorts of delicacies were served.</p> + +<p><b>John Stuart Mill</b>:—An English philosopher (1806-1873). He wrote about +theories of government.</p> + +<p><b>Polly</b>:—The author's wife.</p> + +<p><b>the day of my destiny</b>:—A quotation from Lord Byron's poem, <i>Stanzas +to Augusta</i> [his sister]. The lines run:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Though the day of my destiny's over,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the star of my fate hath declined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soft heart refused to discover<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The faults that so many could find.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><b>sack-cloth and ashes</b>:—In old Jewish times, a sign of grief or +mourning. See Esther, 4:1; Isaiah, 58:5.</p> + +<p><b>Bordeaux</b>:—A province in France noted for its wine.</p> + + +<h3>QUESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>The author is writing of the ninth and tenth weeks of his work; he now +has time to stop and moralize about his garden. Do not take what he says +too seriously; look for the fun in it. Is he in earnest about the moral +qualities of vegetables? Why cannot the bean figure in poetry and +romance? Can you name any prose or verse in which corn does? Explain +what is said about the resemblance of some people to cucumbers. Why is +celery more aristocratic than potato? Is "them" the right word in the +sentence: "I do not pull them up"? Explain what is meant by the +paragraph on salads. Why is the tomato a "<i>parvenu</i>"? Does the author +wish to cast a slur on the Darwinian theory? Is it true that moral +character is influenced by what one eats? What is the catechism? What do +you think of the author's theories about scarecrows? About "saving men +from any particular vice"? Why does raising one's own vegetables make +one feel generous? How does the author pass from vegetables to woman +suffrage? Is he in earnest in what he says? What does one get out of a +selection like this?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +My Summer on a Farm<br /> +A Garden on the Roof<br /> +The Truck Garden<br /> +My First Attempt at Gardening<br /> +Raspberrying<br /> +Planting Time<br /> +The Watermelon Patch<br /> +Weeding the Garden<br /> +Visiting in the Country<br /> +Getting Rid of the Insects<br /> +School Gardens<br /> +A Window-box Garden<br /> +Some Weeds of our Vicinity<br /> +The Scarecrow<br /> +Going to Market<br /> +"Votes for Women"<br /> +How Women Rule<br /> +A Suffrage Meeting<br /> +Why I Believe [or do not Believe] in Woman's Suffrage<br /> +The "Militants"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>My First Attempt at Gardening</b>:—Tell how you came to make the garden. +Was there any talk about it before it was begun? What were your plans +concerning it? Did you spend any time in consulting seed catalogues? +Tell about buying (or otherwise securing) the seeds. If you got them +from some more experienced gardener than yourself, report the talk about +them. Tell how you made the ground ready; how you planted the seeds. +Take the reader into your confidence as to your hopes and uncertainties +when the sprouts began to appear. Did the garden suffer any misfortunes +from the frost, or the drought, or the depredations of the hens? Can you +remember any conversation about it? Tell about the weeding, and what was +said when it became necessary. Trace the progress of the garden; tell of +its success or failure as time went on. What did you do with the +products? Did any one praise or make fun of you? How did you feel? Did +you want to have another garden?</p> + +<p><b>The Scarecrow</b>:—You might speak first about the garden—its prosperity +and beauty, and the fruit or vegetables that it was producing. Then +speak about the birds, and tell how they acted and what they did. Did +you try driving them away? What was said about them? Now tell about the +plans for the scarecrow. Give an account of how it was set up, and what +clothes were put on it. How did it look? What was said about it? Give +one or two incidents (real or imaginary) in which it was concerned. Was +it of any use? How long did it remain in its place?</p> + +<p><b>Votes for Women</b>:—There are several ways in which you could deal with +this subject:—</p> + +<p>(<i>a</i>) If you have seen a suffrage parade, you might describe it and tell +how it impressed you. (<i>b</i>) Perhaps you could write of some particular +person who was interested in votes for women: How did she [or he] look, +and what did she say? (<i>c</i>) Report a lecture on suffrage. (<i>d</i>) Give two +or three arguments for or against woman's suffrage; do not try to take +up too many, but deal with each rather completely. (<i>e</i>) Imagine two +people talking together about suffrage—for instance, two old men; a man +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>and a woman; a young woman and an old one; a child and a grown person; +two children. (<i>f</i>) Imagine the author of the selection and his wife +Polly talking about suffrage at the dinner table.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>My Summer in a Garden</td><td align='left'>Charles Dudley Warner</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Being a Boy</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In the Wilderness</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Winter on the Nile</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>On Horseback</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Back-log Studies</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Journey to Nature</td><td align='left'>A.C. Wheeler</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Making of a Country Home</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Self-supporting Home</td><td align='left'>Kate V. St. Maur</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Folks back Home</td><td align='left'>Eugene Wood</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Adventures in Contentment</td><td align='left'>David Grayson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Adventures in Friendship</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Friendly Road</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>New Lives for Old</td><td align='left'>William Carleton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Living without a Boss</td><td align='left'>Anonymous</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Fat of the Land</td><td align='left'>J.W. Streeter</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Jonathan Papers</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth Woodbridge</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Adopting an Abandoned Farm</td><td align='left'>Kate Sanborn</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Out-door Studies</td><td align='left'>T.W. Higginson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Women of America</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth McCracken</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Country Home</td><td align='left'>E.P. Powell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Blessing the Cornfields (in <i>Hiawatha</i>)</td><td align='left'>H.W. Longfellow</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Corn Song (in <i>The Huskers</i>)</td><td align='left'>J.G. Whittier</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Charles Dudley Warner (in <i>American Writers of To-day</i>, pp. 89-103)</td><td align='left'>H.C. Vedder</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_SINGING_MAN" id="THE_SINGING_MAN"></a>THE SINGING MAN</h2> + +<h3>JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sang above the vineyards of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And after him the vines with woven hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Triumphing green above the barren lands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looked upon his work; and it was good:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The corn, the wine, the oil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sang above the noon. The topmost cleft<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That grudged him footing on the mountain scars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He planted and despaired not; till he left<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His vines soft breathing to the host of stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wrought, he tilled; and even as he sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The creatures of his planting laughed to scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient threat of deserts where there sprang<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The wine, the oil, the corn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sang not for abundance.—Over-lords<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Took of his tilth. Yet was there still to reap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The portion of his labor; dear rewards<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sunlit day, and bread, and human sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sang for strength; for glory of the light.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He dreamed above the furrows, 'They are mine!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all he wrought stood fair before his sight<br /></span> +<span class="i8">With corn, and oil, and wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Truly, the light is sweet</i><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +<span class="i6"><i>Yea, and a pleasant thing</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>It is to see the Sun.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>And that a man should eat</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>His bread that he hath won</i>;—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(<i>So is it sung and said</i>),<br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>That he should take and keep</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>After his laboring</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>The portion of his labor in his bread</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>His bread that he hath won</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>Yea, and in quiet sleep</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>When all is done.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sang; above the burden and the heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above all seasons with their fitful grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the chance and change that led his feet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To this last ambush of the Market-place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Enough for him,' they said—and still they say—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'A crust, with air to breathe, and sun to shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He asks no more!'—Before they took away<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The corn, the oil, the wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sang. No more he sings now, anywhere.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light was enough, before he was undone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They knew it well, who took away the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—Who took away the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who took, to serve their soul-devouring greed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Himself, his breath, his bread—the goad of toil;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who have and hold, before the eyes of Need,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">The corn, the wine,—the oil!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>Truly, one thing is sweet</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Of things beneath the Sun</i>;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +<span class="i0"><i>This, that a man should earn his bread and eat</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Rejoicing in his work which he hath done.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>What shall be sung or said</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Of desolate deceit</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>When others take his bread</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>His and his children's bread?</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>And the laborer hath none.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>This, for his portion now, of all that he hath done.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>He earns; and others eat.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>He starves;—they sit at meat</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Who have taken away the Sun.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seek him now, that singing Man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look for him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look for him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mines;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the very daylight pines,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, who once did walk the hills!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall find him, if you scan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shapes all unbefitting Man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bodies warped, and faces dim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mines; in the mills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the ceaseless thunder fills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spaces of the human brain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till all thought is turned to pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the skirl of wheel on wheel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grinding him who is their tool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes the shattered senses reel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the numbness of the fool.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perisht thought, and halting tongue—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Once it spoke;—once it sung!)<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Live to hunger, dead to song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only heart-beats loud with wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hammer on,—<i>How long?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">... <i>How long?</i>—<i>How long?</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Search for him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Search for him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the crazy atoms swim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up the fiery furnace-blast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall find him, at the last,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He whose forehead braved the sun,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wreckt and tortured and undone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no breath across the heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispers him that life was sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sparkles mock and flare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scattering up the crooked air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Blackened with that bitter mirk,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would God know His handiwork?)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thought is not for such as he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naught but strength, and misery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since, for just the bite and sup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life must needs be swallowed up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only, reeling up the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurtling flames that hurry by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gasp and flare, with <i>Why</i>—<i>Why</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">... <i>Why?</i>...<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why the human mind of him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrinks, and falters and is dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he tries to make it out:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the torture is about.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why he breathes, a fugitive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom the World forbids to live.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Why he earned for his abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Habitation of the toad!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why his fevered day by day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not serve to drive away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Horror that must always haunt:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">... <i>Want</i> ... <i>Want!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nightmare shot with waking pangs;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tightening coil, and certain fangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close and closer, always nigh ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">... <i>Why?</i>... <i>Why?</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why he labors under ban<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That denies him for a man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why his utmost drop of blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buys for him no human good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why his utmost urge of strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only lets Them starve at length;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not let him starve alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must watch, and see his own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fade and fail, and starve, and die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">. . . . . . .<br /></span> +<span class="i0">... <i>Why?</i>... <i>Why?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">. . . . . . .<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heart-beats, in a hammering song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavy as an ox may plod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goaded—goaded—faint with wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cry unto some ghost of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">... <i>How long</i>?... <i>How long?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10">... <i>How long?</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seek him yet. Search for him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall find him, spent and grim;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In the prisons, where we pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These unsightly shards of men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheltered fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Housed at length;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothed and fed, no matter how!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the householders, aghast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Measure in his broken strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nought but power for evil, now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beast-of-burden drudgeries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could not earn him what was his:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He who heard the world applaud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glories seized by force and fraud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must break,—he must take!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both for hate and hunger's sake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must seize by fraud and force;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must strike, without remorse!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seize he might; but never keep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike, his once!—Behold him here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Human life we buy so cheap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who should know we held it dear?)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No denial,—no defence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From a brain bereft of sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any more than penitence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the heart-beats now, that plod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goaded—goaded—dumb with wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask not even a ghost of God<br /></span> +<span class="i10">... <i>How long</i>?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>When the Sea gives up its dead,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Prison caverns, yield instead</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>This, rejected and despised;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>This, the Soiled and Sacrificed!</i><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Without form or comeliness;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Shamed for us that did transgress</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Bruised, for our iniquities,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With the stripes that are all his!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Face that wreckage, you who can.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>It was once the Singing Man.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Must it be?—Must we then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Render back to God again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This His broken work, this thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For His man that once did sing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not all our wonders do?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gifts we stored the ages through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Trusting that He had forgot)—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gifts the Lord requirèd not?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would the all-but-human serve!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Monsters made of stone and nerve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Towers to threaten and defy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curse or blessing of the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shafts that blot the stars with smoke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightnings harnessed under yoke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sea-things, air-things, wrought with steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That may smite, and fly, and feel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oceans calling each to each;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hostile hearts, with kindred speech.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every work that Titans can;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every marvel: save a man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who might rule without a sword.—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is a man more precious, Lord?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can it be?—Must we then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Render back to Thee again<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Million, million wasted men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men, of flickering human breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only made for life and death?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, but see the sovereign Few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Highly favored, that remain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, the glorious residue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the cherished race of Cain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, the magnates of the age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High above the human wage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who have numbered and possesst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the portion of the rest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are all despairs and shames,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the mean, forgotten names<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the thousand more or less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one surfeit of success?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For those dullest lives we spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take these Few magnificent!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that host of blotted ones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take these glittering central suns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few;—but how their lustre thrives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the million broken lives!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Splendid, over dark and doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a million souls gone out!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, the holders of our hoard,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wilt thou not accept them, Lord?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh in the wakening thunders of the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—The small lost Eden, troubled through the night,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds there not now,—forboded and apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Some voice and sword of light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some voice and portent of a dawn to break?—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Searching like God, the ruinous human shard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that lost Brother-man Himself did make,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And Man himself hath marred?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It sounds!—And may the anguish of that birth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seize on the world; and may all shelters fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till we behold new Heaven and new Earth<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Through the rent Temple-vail!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the high-tides that threaten near and far<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sweep away our guilt before the sky,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flooding the waste of this dishonored Star,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Cleanse, and o'ewhelm, and cry!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cry, from the deep of world-accusing waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With longing more than all since Light began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the nations,—underneath the graves,—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">'Give back the Singing Man!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p><b>and it was good</b>:—Genesis, 1:31: "And God saw all that he had made, +and, behold, it was very good."</p> + +<p><b>the ancient threat of deserts</b>:—Isaiah, 35:1-2: "The desert shall +rejoice and blossom as the rose."</p> + +<p><b>after his laboring</b>:—Luke, 10:7, and 1st Timothy, 5:18: "The laborer +is worthy of his hire."</p> + +<p><b>portion of his labor</b>:—Ecclesiastes, 2:10: "For my heart rejoiced in +my labor; and this was my portion of all my labor."</p> + +<p><b>the light is sweet</b>:—Ecclesiastes, 11:7: "Truly the light is sweet, +and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun."</p> + +<p><b>How long</b>:—Revelation, 6:10: "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost +thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>when the sea</b>:—Revelation, 20:13: "And the sea gave up the dead which +were in it."</p> + +<p><b>rejected and despised</b>:—For this and the remainder of the stanza, see +Isaiah, 53.</p> + +<p><b>Titans</b>:—In Greek mythology, powerful and troublesome giants.</p> + +<p><b>Cain</b>:—See the story of Cain, Genesis, 4:2-16.</p> + +<p><b>searching like God</b>:—Genesis, 4:9: "And the Lord said unto Cain, Where +is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not! Am I my brother's keeper?"</p> + +<p><b>Temple-vail</b>:—At the death of Christ, the vail of the temple was rent; +see Matthew, 27:51.</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></h3> + +<p>Read the poem slowly and thoughtfully. The "singing man" is the laborer +who, in days gone by, was happy in his work. People were not crowded +into great cities, and there was more simple out-door labor than there +is now, and less strife for wealth.</p> + +<p><i>Above the vineyards</i>: In Europe, vineyards are often planted on the +slopes of hills and mountains. What ancient country do you think of in +connection with "the corn [grain], the oil, the wine"? Were the laborers +happy in that country? What were the "creatures" of man's planting +(second stanza)? What was the "ancient threat" of deserts? Of what kind +of deserts, as described here? Of what deserts would this be true after +the rainy season? <i>Laughed to scorn</i>: Does this mean "outdid"? Mentally +insert the word <i>something</i> after <i>still</i> in the second line of the +third stanza. If the laborer in times gone by did not sing for +abundance, what did he sing for (stanza three)? The verses in italics +are a kind of refrain, as if the laborer were singing to himself. <i>So is +it said and sung</i> refers to the fact that these lines are adapted from +passages in the Bible. <i>This last ambush</i>: What does the author mean +here by suggesting that the laborer has been entrapped? Who are "they" +in the line "'Enough for him,' they said"? How did they take away "the +corn, the oil, the wine"? How did they take away "the air and the sun"?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +Who now has the product of the workman's toil? What are "the eyes of +Need"? Is it true that one may work hard and still be in need? If it is +true, who is to blame? What are "dim" faces? Why does the author begin +the word <i>Man</i> with a capital? What effect does too much hard work have +upon the laborer? What is "the crooked air"? Who is represented as +saying <i>Why</i>? How does the world forbid the laborer to live? Why are +there dotted lines before and after <i>Why</i> and <i>What</i> and <i>How long</i>? Who +are meant by <i>Them</i> in the line beginning "Only lets"? Why does the +author say that the prisons are filled with ill-used laborers? What does +she mean by saying that the prisoners are "bruised for our iniquities"? +What is gained here by using the language of the Bible? <i>The +all-but-human</i> means "almost intelligent"—referring to machinery. Does +the author mean to praise the "sovereign Few"? Who are these "Few +magnificent"? Are they really to blame for the sufferings of the poor? +<i>Himself</i> in the line beginning "Of that lost," refers to God. What is +meant here by "a new Heaven and a new Earth"? What is "this dishonored +Star"? What conditions does the author think will bring back the singing +man? Are they possible conditions?</p> + +<p>Re-read the poem, thinking of the author's protest against the +sufferings of the poor and the selfishness of the rich. What do you +think of the poem?</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>The Singing Man and Other Poems</td><td align='left'>Josephine Preston Peabody</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Piper</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Singing Leaves</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fortune and Men's Eyes</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wolf of Gubbio</td><td align='left'> " " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Man with the Hoe</td><td align='left'>Edwin Markham</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_DANCE_OF_THE_BON-ODORI" id="THE_DANCE_OF_THE_BON-ODORI"></a>THE DANCE OF THE BON-ODORI</h2> + +<h3>LAFCADIO HEARN</h3> + +<h4>(From <i>Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan</i>, Volume I, Chapter VI)</h4> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>At last, from the verge of an enormous ridge, the roadway suddenly +slopes down into a vista of high peaked roofs of thatch and green-mossed +eaves—into a village like a colored print out of old Hiroshige's +picture-books, a village with all its tints and colors precisely like +the tints and colors of the landscape in which it lies. This is +Kami-Ichi, in the land of Hoki.</p> + +<p>We halt before a quiet, dingy little inn, whose host, a very aged man, +comes forth to salute me; while a silent, gentle crowd of villagers, +mostly children and women, gather about the kuruma to see the stranger, +to wonder at him, even to touch his clothes with timid smiling +curiosity. One glance at the face of the old inn-keeper decides me to +accept his invitation. I must remain here until to-morrow: my runners +are too wearied to go farther to-night.</p> + +<p>Weather-worn as the little inn seemed without, it is delightful within. +Its polished stairway and balconies are speckless, reflecting like +mirror-surfaces the bare feet of the maid-servants; its luminous rooms +are fresh and sweet-smelling as when their soft mattings were first laid +down. The carven pillars of the alcove (toko) in my chamber, leaves and +flowers chiseled in some black rich wood, are wonders; and the kakemono +or scroll-picture hanging there is an idyl, Hotei, God of Happiness, +drifting in a bark down <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>some shadowy stream into evening mysteries of +vapory purple. Far as this hamlet is from all art-centres, there is no +object visible in the house which does not reveal the Japanese sense of +beauty in form. The old gold-flowered lacquer-ware, the astonishing box +in which sweetmeats (kwashi) are kept, the diaphanous porcelain +wine-cups dashed with a single tiny gold figure of a leaping shrimp, the +tea-cup holders which are curled lotus-leaves of bronze, even the iron +kettle with its figurings of dragons and clouds, and the brazen hibachi +whose handles are heads of Buddhist lions, delight the eye and surprise +the fancy. Indeed, wherever to-day in Japan one sees something totally +uninteresting in porcelain or metal, something commonplace and ugly, one +may be almost sure that detestable something has been shaped under +foreign influence. But here I am in ancient Japan; probably no European +eyes ever looked upon these things before.</p> + +<p>A window shaped like a heart peeps out upon the garden, a wonderful +little garden with a tiny pond and miniature bridges and dwarf trees, +like the landscape of a tea-cup; also some shapely stones of course, and +some graceful stone lanterns, or tōrō, such as are placed in the +courts of temples. And beyond these, through the warm dusk, I see +lights, colored lights, the lanterns of the Bonku, suspended before each +home to welcome the coming of beloved ghosts; for by the antique +calendar, according to which in this antique place the reckoning of time +is still made, this is the first night of the Festival of the Dead.</p> + +<p>As in all other little country villages where I have been stopping, I +find the people here kind to me with a kindness and a courtesy +unimaginable, indescribable, unknown in any other country, and even in +Japan <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>itself only in the interior. Their simple politeness is not an +art; their goodness is absolutely unconscious goodness; both come +straight from the heart. And before I have been two hours among these +people, their treatment of me, coupled with the sense of my utter +inability to repay such kindness, causes a wicked wish to come into my +mind. I wish these charming folk would do me some unexpected wrong, +something surprisingly evil, something atrociously unkind, so that I +should not be obliged to regret them, which I feel sure I must begin to +do as soon as I go away.</p> + +<p>While the aged landlord conducts me to the bath, the wife prepares for +us a charming little repast of rice, eggs, vegetables, and sweetmeats. +She is painfully in doubt about her ability to please me, even after I +have eaten enough for two men, and apologizes too much for not being +able to offer me more.</p> + +<p>"There is no fish," she says, "for to-day is the first day of the Bonku, +the Festival of the Dead; being the thirteenth day of the month. On the +thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth of the month nobody may eat fish. +But on the morning of the sixteenth day, the fishermen go out to catch +fish; and everybody who has both parents living may eat of it. But if +one has lost one's father or mother then one must not eat fish, even +upon the sixteenth day."</p> + +<p>While the good soul is thus explaining I become aware of a strange +remote sound from without, a sound I recognize through memory of +tropical dances, a measured clapping of hands. But this clapping is very +soft and at long intervals. And at still longer intervals there comes to +us a heavy muffled booming, the tap of a great drum, a temple drum.</p> + +<p>"Oh! we must go to see it," cries Akira; "it is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> Bon-odori, the +Dance of the Festival of the Dead. And you will see the Bon-odori danced +here as it is never danced in cities—the Bon-odori of ancient days. For +customs have not changed here; but in the cities all is changed."</p> + +<p>So I hasten out, wearing only, like the people about me, one of those +light wide-sleeved summer robes—yukata—which are furnished to male +guests at all Japanese hotels; but the air is so warm that even thus +lightly clad, I find myself slightly perspiring. And the night is +divine,—still, clear, vaster than the nights of Europe, with a big +white moon flinging down queer shadows of tilted eaves and horned +gables, and delightful silhouettes of robed Japanese. A little boy, the +grandson of our host, leads the way with a crimson paper lantern; and +the sonorous echoing of geta, the <i>koro-koro</i> of wooden sandals, fills +all the street, for many are going whither we are going, to see the +dance.</p> + +<p>A little while we proceed along the main street; then, traversing a +narrow passage between two houses, we find ourselves in a great open +space flooded by moonlight. This is the dancing-place; but the dance has +ceased for a time. Looking about me, I perceive that we are in the court +of an ancient Buddhist temple. The temple building itself remains +intact, a low, long peaked silhouette against the starlight; but it is +void and dark and unhallowed now; it has been turned, they tell me, into +a schoolhouse. The priests are gone; the great bell is gone; the Buddhas +and the Bodhisattvas have vanished, all save one,—a broken-handed Jizo +of stone, smiling with eyelids closed, under the moon.</p> + +<p>In the centre of the court is a framework of bamboo <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>supporting a great +drum; and about it benches have been arranged, benches from the +schoolhouse, on which the villagers are resting. There is a hum of +voices, voices of people speaking very low, as if expecting something +solemn; and cries of children betimes, and soft laughter of girls. And +far behind the court, beyond a low hedge of sombre evergreen shrubs, I +see soft white lights and a host of tall gray shapes throwing long +shadows; and I know that the lights are the <i>white</i> lanterns of the dead +(those hung in cemeteries only), and that the gray shapes are the shapes +of tombs.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a girl rises from her seat, and taps the huge drum once. It is +the signal for the Dance of Souls.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>Out of the shadow of the temple a professional line of dancers files +into the moonlight and as suddenly halts,—all young women or girls, +clad in their choicest attire; the tallest leads; her comrades follow in +order of stature. Little maids of ten or twelve years compose the end of +the procession. Figures lightly poised as birds,—figures that somehow +recall the dreams of shapes circling about certain antique vases; those +charming Japanese robes, close-clinging about the knees, might seem, but +for the great fantastic drooping sleeves, and the curious broad girdles +confining them, designed after the drawing of some Greek or Etruscan +artist. And, at another tap of the drum, there begins a performance +impossible to picture in words, something unimaginable, phantasmal,—a +dance, an astonishment.</p> + +<p>All together glide the right foot forward one pace, without lifting the +sandal from the ground, and extend <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>both hands to the right, with a +strange floating motion and a smiling, mysterious obeisance. Then the +right foot is drawn back, with a repetition of the waving of hands and +the mysterious bow. Then all advance the left foot and repeat the +previous movements, half-turning to the left. Then all take two gliding +paces forward, with a single simultaneous soft clap of the hands, and +the first performance is reiterated, alternately to the right and left; +all the sandaled feet gliding together, all the supple hands waving +together, all the pliant bodies bowing and swaying together. And so +slowly, weirdly, the processional movement changes into a great round, +circling about the moon-lit court and around the voiceless crowd of +spectators.</p> + +<p>And always the white hands sinuously wave together, as if weaving +spells, alternately without and within the round, now with palms upward, +now with palms downward; and all the elfish sleeves hover duskily +together, with a shadowing as of wings; and all the feet poise together +with such a rhythm of complex motion, that, in watching it, one feels a +sensation of hypnotism—as while striving to watch a flowing and +shimmering of water.</p> + +<p>And this soporous allurement is intensified by a dead hush. No one +speaks, not even a spectator. And, in the long intervals between the +soft clapping of hands, one hears only the shrilling of the crickets in +the trees, and the <i>shu-shu</i> of sandals, lightly stirring the dust. Unto +what, I ask myself, may this be likened? Unto nothing; yet it suggests +some fancy of somnambulism,—dreamers, who dream themselves flying, +dreaming upon their feet.</p> + +<p>And there comes to me the thought that I am looking at something +immemorially old, something belonging <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>to the unrecorded beginning of +this Oriental life, perhaps to the crepuscular Kamiyo itself, to the +magical Age of the Gods; a symbolism of motion whereof the meaning has +been forgotten for innumerable years. Yet more and more unreal the +spectacle appears, with silent smilings, with its silent bowings, as if +obeisance to watchers invisible; and I find myself wondering whether, +were I to utter but a whisper, all would not vanish forever, save the +gray mouldering court and the desolate temple, and the broken statue of +Jizo, smiling always the same mysterious smile I see upon the faces of +the dancers.</p> + +<p>Under the wheeling moon, in the midst of the round, I feel as one within +the circle of a charm. And verily, this is enchantment; I am bewitched, +by the ghostly weaving of hands, by the rhythmic gliding of feet, above +all by the flittering of the marvellous sleeves—apparitional, +soundless, velvety as a flitting of great tropical bats. No; nothing I +ever dreamed of could be likened to this. And with the consciousness of +the ancient hakaba behind me, and the weird invitation of its lanterns, +and the ghostly beliefs of the hour and the place, there creeps upon me +a nameless, tingling sense of being haunted. But no! these gracious, +silent, waving, weaving shapes are not of the Shadowy Folk, for whose +coming the white fires were kindled: a strain of song, full of sweet, +clear quavering, like the call of a bird, gushes from some girlish +mouth, and fifty soft voices join the chant:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Sorota soroimashita odorikoga sorota,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Soroikita, kita hare yukata.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Uniform to view [as ears of young rice ripening in the field] all clad +alike in summer festal robes, the company of dancers have assembled."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>Again only the shrilling of the crickets, the <i>shu-shu</i> of feet, the +gentle clapping; and the wavering hovering measure proceeds in silence, +with mesmeric lentor,—with a strange grace, which by its very naïveté, +seems as old as the encircling hills.</p> + +<p>Those who sleep the sleep of centuries out there, under the gray stones +where the white lanterns are, and their fathers, and the fathers of +their fathers' fathers, and the unknown generations behind them, buried +in cemeteries of which the place has been forgotten for a thousand +years, doubtless looked upon a scene like this. Nay! the dust stirred by +those young feet was human life, and so smiled and so sang under this +self-same moon, "with woven paces and with waving hands."</p> + +<p>Suddenly a deep male chant breaks the hush. Two giants have joined the +round, and now lead it, two superb young mountain peasants nearly nude, +towering head and shoulders above the whole of the assembly. Their +kimono are rolled about their waists like girdles, leaving their bronzed +limbs and torsos naked to the warm air; they wear nothing else save +their immense straw hats, and white tabi, donned expressly for the +festival. Never before among these people saw I such men, such thews; +but their smiling beardless faces are comely and kindly as those of +Japanese boys. They seem brothers, so like in frame, in movement, in the +timbre of their voices, as they intone the same song:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>No demo yama demo ko wa umiokeyo,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Sen ryo kura yori ko ga takara.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Whether brought forth upon the mountain or in the field, it matters +nothing: more than a treasure of one thousand ryo, a baby precious is."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>And Jizo, the lover of children's ghosts, smiles across the silence.</p> + +<p>Souls close to nature's Soul are these; artless and touching their +thought, like the worship of that Kishibojin to whom wives pray. And +after the silence, the sweet thin voices of the women answer:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Oomu otoko ni sowa sanu oya wa,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Oyade gozaranu ko no kataki.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"The parents who will not allow their girl to be united with her lover; +they are not the parents, but the enemies of their child."</p> + +<p>And song follows song; and the round ever becomes larger; and the hours +pass unfelt, unheard, while the moon wheels slowly down the blue steeps +of the night.</p> + +<p>A deep low boom rolls suddenly across the court, the rich tone of some +temple bell telling the twelfth hour. Instantly the witchcraft ends, +like the wonder of some dream broken by a sound; the chanting ceases; +the round dissolves in an outburst of happy laughter, and chatting, and +softly-voweled callings of flower-names which are names of girls, and +farewell cries of "Sayonara!" as dancers and spectators alike betake +themselves homeward, with a great <i>koro-koro</i> of getas.</p> + +<p>And I, moving with the throng, in the bewildered manner of one suddenly +roused from sleep, know myself ungrateful. These silvery-laughing folk +who now toddle along beside me upon their noisy little clogs, stepping +very fast to get a peep at my foreign face, these but a moment ago were +visions of archaic grace, illusions of necromancy, delightful phantoms; +and I feel a vague resentment against them for thus materializing into +simple country-girls.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p>Lafcadio Hearn, the author of this selection, took a four days' journey +in a jinrikisha to the remote country district which he describes. He is +almost the only foreigner who has ever entered the village.</p> + +<p><b>Bon-odori</b>:—The dance in honor of the dead.</p> + +<p><b>Hiroshige</b>:—A Japanese landscape painter of an early date.</p> + +<p><b>kuruma</b>:—A jinrikisha; a two-wheeled cart drawn by a man.</p> + +<p><b>hibachi</b>:—(hi bä' chi) A brazier.</p> + +<p><b>Bonku</b>:—The Festival of the Dead.</p> + +<p><b>The memory of tropical dances</b>:—Lafcadio Hearn had previously spent +some years in the West Indies.</p> + +<p><b>Akira</b>:—The name of the guide who has drawn the kuruma in which the +foreigner has come to the village. (See page 18 of <i>Glimpses of +Unfamiliar Japan</i>.)</p> + +<p><b>yukata</b>:—Pronounced <i>yu kä' ta.</i></p> + +<p><b>geta</b>:—Pronounced <i>gēē' ta</i>, not <i>jēē' ta;</i> high noisy +wooden clogs. (See page 10 of <i>Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan</i>.)</p> + +<p><b>Buddhist</b>:—One who believes in the doctrines of Gautama Siddartha, a +religious teacher of the sixth century before Christ.</p> + +<p><b>Buddha</b>:—A statue representing the Buddha Siddartha in a very calm +position, usually sitting cross-legged.</p> + +<p><b>Bodhisattvas</b>:—Pronounced <i>bō di säht' vas;</i> gods who have almost +attained the perfection of Buddha (Gautama Siddartha).</p> + +<p><b>Jizo</b>:—A Japanese God. See page <a href="#Page_297"><b>297</b></a>.</p> + +<p><b>Etruscan</b>:—Relating to Etruria, a division of ancient Italy. Etruscan +vases have graceful figures upon them.</p> + +<p><b>soporous</b>:—Drowsy; sleep-producing.</p> + +<p><b>crepuscular</b>:—Relating to twilight.</p> + +<p><b>Kamiyo</b>:—The Age of the Gods in Japan.</p> + +<p><b>hakaba</b>:—Cemetery.</p> + +<p><b>lentor</b>:—Slowness.</p> + +<p><b>"with woven paces,"</b> etc. See Tennyson's <i>Idylls of the King</i>: "With +woven paces and with waving arms."</p> + +<p><b>tabi</b>:—White stockings with a division for the great toe.</p> + +<p><b>ryo</b>:—About fifty cents.</p> + +<p><b>Kishibojin</b>:—Pronounced <i>ki shi bō' jin.</i> (See page 96 of <i>Glimpses +of Unfamiliar Japan</i>.)</p> + +<p><b>Sayonara</b>:—Good-bye.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY</h3> + +<p>Read the selection through rather slowly. Do not be alarmed at the +Japanese names: they are usually pronounced as they are spelled. Perhaps +your teacher will be able to show you a Japanese print; at least you can +see on a Japanese fan quaint villages such as are here described. What +sort of face has the host? How does this Japanese inn differ from the +American hotel? Does there seem to be much furniture? If the Americans +had the same sense of beauty that the Japanese have, what changes would +be made in most houses? Why does the foreign influence make the Japanese +manufactures "uninteresting" and "detestable"? If you have been in a +shop where Japanese wares are sold, tell what seemed most striking about +the objects and their decoration. What is meant by "the landscape of a +tea-cup"? Why does the author say so much about the remoteness of the +village? See how the author uses picture-words and sound-words to make +his description vivid. Note his use of contrasts. Why does he preface +his account of the dance by the remark that it cannot be described in +words? Is this a good method? How does the author make you feel the +swing and rhythm of the dance? Do not try to pronounce the Japanese +verses: Notice that they are translated. Why are the Japanese lines put +in at all? Why does the author say that he is ungrateful at the last? +Try to tell in a few sentences what are the good qualities of this +selection. Make a little list of the devices that the author has used in +order to make his descriptions vivid and his narration lively. Can you +apply some of his methods to a short description of your own?</p> + + +<h3>THEME SUBJECTS</h3> + +<p> +A Flower Festival<br /> +A Pageant<br /> +The May Fête<br /> +Dancing out of Doors<br /> +A Lawn Social<br /> +The Old Settlers' Picnic<br /> +The Russian Dancers<br /> +A Moonlight Picnic<br /> +Children's Games in the Yard<br /> +Some Japanese People that I have Seen<br /> +Japanese Students in our Schools<br /> +Japanese Furniture<br /> +An Oriental Store in our Town<br /> +My Idea of Japan<br /> +Japanese Pictures<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +A Street Carnival<br /> +An Old-fashioned Square Dance<br /> +The Revival of Folk-Dancing<br /> +The Girls' Drill<br /> +A Walk in the Village at Night<br /> +Why We have Ugly Things in our Houses<br /> +Do we have too much Furniture in our Houses?<br /> +What we can Learn from the Japanese<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING</h3> + +<p><b>An Evening Walk in the Village</b>:—Imagine yourself taking a walk +through the village at nightfall. Tell of the time of day, the season, +and the weather. Make your reader feel the approach of darkness, and the +heat, or the coolness, or the chill of the air. What signs do you see +about you, of the close of day? Can you make the reader feel the +contrast of the lights and the surrounding darkness? As you walk along, +what sounds do you hear? What activities are going on? Can you catch any +glimpses, through the windows, of the family life inside the houses? Do +you see people eating or drinking? Do you see any children? Are the +scenes about you quiet and restful, or are they confused and irritating? +Make use of any incidents that you can to complete your description of +the village as you see it in your walk. Perhaps you will wish to close +your theme with your entering a house, or your advance into the dark +open country beyond the village.</p> + +<p><b>My Idea of Japan</b>:—Suppose that you were suddenly transported to a +small town in Japan: What would be your first impression? Tell what you +would expect to see. Speak of the houses, the gardens, and the temples. +Tell about the shops, and booths, and the wares that are for sale. +Describe the dress and appearance of the Japanese men; of the women; the +children. Speak of the coolies, or working-people; the foreigners. +Perhaps you can imagine yourself taking a ride in a <i>jinrikisha</i>. Tell +of the amusing or extraordinary things that you see, and make use of +incidents and conversation. Bring out the contrasts between Japan and +your own country.</p> + +<p><b>A Dance or Drill</b>:—Think of some drill or dance or complicated game +that you have seen, which lends itself to the kind of description in the +selection. In your work, try to emphasize the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>contrast between the +background and the moving figures; the effects of light and darkness; +the sound of music and voices; the sway and rhythm of the action. +Re-read parts of <i>The Dance of the Bon-odori</i>, to see what devices the +author has used in order to bring out effects of sound and rhythm.</p> + + +<h3>COLLATERAL READINGS</h3> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan</td><td align='left'>Lafcadio Hearn</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Out of the East</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kokoro</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kwaidan</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Japanese Miscellany</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Years in the French West Indies</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Japanese Life in Town and Country</td><td align='left'>G.W. Knox</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Our Neighbors the Japanese</td><td align='left'>J.K. Goodrich</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>When I Was Young</td><td align='left'>Yoshio Markino</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Miss John Bull</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>When I Was a Boy in Japan</td><td align='left'>Sakae Shioya</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Japanese Girls and Women</td><td align='left'>Alice M. Bacon</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Japanese Interior</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Japonica</td><td align='left'>Sir Edwin Arnold</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Japan</td><td align='left'>W.E. Griffis</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Human Bullets</td><td align='left'>Tadayoshy Sukurai</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of Japan</td><td align='left'>R. Van Bergen</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Boy in Old Japan</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Letters from Japan</td><td align='left'>Mrs. Hugh Frazer</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Unbeaten Tracks in Japan</td><td align='left'>Isabella Bird (Bishop)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lady of the Decoration</td><td align='left'>Frances Little</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Sister Snow</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Japan in Pictures</td><td align='left'>Douglas Sladen</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old and New Japan (good illustrations in color)</td><td align='left'>Clive Holland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nogi</td><td align='left'>Stanley Washburn</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Japan, the Eastern Wonderland</td><td align='left'>D.C. Angus</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Peeps at Many Lands: Japan</td><td align='left'>John Finnemore</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Japan Described by Great Writers</td><td align='left'>Esther Singleton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Flower of Old Japan [verse]</td><td align='left'>Alfred Noyes</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dancing and Dancers of To-day</td><td align='left'>Caroline and Chas. H. Coffin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Healthful Art of Dancing</td><td align='left'>L.H. Gulick</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Festival Book</td><td align='left'>J.E.C. Lincoln</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Folk Dances</td><td align='left'>Caroline Crawford</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lafcadio Hearn</td><td align='left'>Nina H. Kennard</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lafcadio Hearn (Portrait)</td><td align='left'>Edward Thomas</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth Bisland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lafcadio Hearn in Japan</td><td align='left'>Yone Noguchi</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lafcadio Hearn (Portraits)</td><td align='left'>Current Literature 42:50</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LETTERS" id="LETTERS"></a>LETTERS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH_TO_WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS" id="THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH_TO_WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS"></a>THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">Ponkapog, Mass.</span>, Dec. 13, 1875.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Howells</span>,—We had so charming a visit at your house that I +have about made up my mind to reside with you permanently. I am tired of +writing. I would like to settle down in just such a comfortable home as +yours, with a man who can work regularly four or five hours a day, +thereby relieving one of all painful apprehensions in respect to clothes +and pocket-money. I am easy to get along with. I have few unreasonable +wants and never complain when they are constantly supplied. I think I +could depend on you.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">Ever yours,<br /></span> +<span class="i22">T.B.A.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>P.S.—I should want to bring my two mothers, my two boys (I seem to have +everything in twos), my wife, and her sister.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH_TO_ES_MORSE" id="THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH_TO_ES_MORSE"></a>THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO E.S. MORSE</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Morse</span>:</p> + +<p>It was very pleasant to me to get a letter from you the other day. +Perhaps I should have found it pleasanter if I had been able to decipher +it. I don't think that I mastered anything beyond the date (which I +knew) and the signature (at which I guessed).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>There's a singular and perpetual charm in a letter of yours—it never +grows old; it never loses its novelty. One can say to one's self every +morning: "There's that letter of Morse's. I haven't read it yet. I think +I'll take another shy at it to-day, and maybe I shall be able in the +course of a few days to make out what he means by those <i>t</i>'s that look +like <i>w</i>'s, and those <i>i</i>'s that haven't any eyebrows."</p> + +<p>Other letters are read, and thrown away, and forgotten; but yours are +kept forever—unread. One of them will last a reasonable man a lifetime.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">Admiringly yours,<br /></span> +<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">T.B. Aldrich.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_VAUGHN_MOODY_TO_JOSEPHINE_PRESTON_PEABODY" id="WILLIAM_VAUGHN_MOODY_TO_JOSEPHINE_PRESTON_PEABODY"></a>WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TO JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">The Quadrangle Club</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">Chicago</span>, September 30, '99.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Your generous praise makes me rather shamefaced: you ought to keep it +for something that counts. At least other people ought: you would find a +bright ringing word, and the proportion of things would be kept. As for +me, I am doing my best to keep the proportion of things, in the midst of +no-standards and a dreary dingy fog-expanse of darkened counsel. Bah! +here I am whining in my third sentence, and the purpose of this note was +not to whine, but to thank you for heart new-taken. I take the friendly +words (for I need them cruelly) and forget the inadequate occasion of +them. I am looking forward with almost feverish pleasure to the new +year, when I shall be among friendships which time and absence and +half-estrangements have only made to shine with a more inward light; and +when, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>so accompanied, I can make shift to think and live a little. Do +not wait till then to say Welcome.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">W.V.M.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BRET_HARTE_TO_HIS_WIFE" id="BRET_HARTE_TO_HIS_WIFE"></a>BRET HARTE TO HIS WIFE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">Lawrence, Kansas</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i22">October 24, 1873.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Anna</span>,—</p> + + +<p>I left Topeka—which sounds like a name Franky might have +invented—early yesterday morning, but did not reach Atchison, only +sixty miles distant, until seven o'clock at night—an hour before the +lecture. The engine as usual had broken down, and left me at four +o'clock fifteen miles from Atchison, on the edge of a bleak prairie with +only one house in sight. But I got a saddle-horse—there was no vehicle +to be had—and strapping my lecture and blanket to my back I gave my +valise to a little yellow boy—who looked like a dirty terra-cotta +figure—with orders to follow me on another horse, and so tore off +towards Atchison. I got there in time; the boy reached there two hours +after.</p> + +<p>I make no comment; you can imagine the half-sick, utterly disgusted man +who glared at that audience over his desk that night.... And yet it was +a good audience, thoroughly refined and appreciative, and very glad to +see me. I was very anxious about this lecture, for it was a venture of +my own, and I had been told that Atchison was a rough place—energetic +but coarse. I think I wrote you from St. Louis that I had found there +were only three actual engagements in Kansas, and that my list which +gave Kansas City twice was a mistake. So I decided to take Atchison. I +made a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>hundred dollars by the lecture, and it is yours, for yourself, +Nan, to buy "Minxes" with, if you want, for it is over and above the +amount Eliza and I footed up on my lecture list. I shall send it to you +as soon as the bulk of the pressing claims are settled.</p> + +<p>Everything thus far has gone well; besides my lecture of to-night I have +one more to close Kansas, and then I go on to St. Joseph. I've been +greatly touched with the very honest and sincere liking which these +Western people seem to have for me. They seem to have read everything I +have written—and appear to appreciate the best. Think of a rough fellow +in a bearskin coat and blue shirt repeating to me <i>Concepcion de +Arguello</i>! Their strange good taste and refinement under that rough +exterior—even their tact—are wonderful to me. They are "Kentucks" and +"Dick Bullens" with twice the refinement and tenderness of their +California brethren....</p> + +<p>I've seen but one [woman] that interested me—an old negro wench. She +was talking and laughing outside my door the other evening, but her +laugh was so sweet and unctuous and musical—so full of breadth and +goodness that I went outside and talked to her while she was scrubbing +the stones. She laughed as a canary bird sings—because she couldn't +help it. It did me a world of good, for it was before the lecture, at +twilight, when I am very blue and low-toned. She had been a slave.</p> + +<p>I expected to have heard from you here. I've nothing from you or Eliza +since last Friday, when I got yours of the 12th. I shall direct this to +Eliza's care, as I do not even know where you are.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">Your affectionate<br /></span> +<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">Frank</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LAFCADIO_HEARN_TO_BASIL_HALL_CHAMBERLAIN" id="LAFCADIO_HEARN_TO_BASIL_HALL_CHAMBERLAIN"></a>LAFCADIO HEARN TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">[<span class="smcap">Kumamoto, Japan</span>]<br /></span> +<span class="i22">January 17, 1893.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Chamberlain</span>,—</p> + + +<p>I'm writing just because I feel lonesome; isn't that selfish? However, +if I can amuse you at all, you will forgive me. You have been away a +whole year,—so perhaps you would like to hear some impressions of mine +during that time. Here goes.</p> + +<p>The illusions are forever over; but the memory of many pleasant things +remains. I know much more about the Japanese than I did a year ago; and +still I am far from understanding them well. Even my own little wife is +somewhat mysterious still to me, though always in a lovable way. Of +course a man and woman know each other's hearts; but outside of personal +knowledge, there are race tendencies difficult to understand. Let me +tell one. In Oki we fell in love with a little Samurai boy, who was +having a hard time of it, and we took him with us. He is now like an +adopted son,—goes to school and all that. Well, I wished at first to +pet him a little, but I found that was not in accordance with custom, +and that even the boy did not understand it. At home, I therefore +scarcely spoke to him at all; he remained under the control of the women +of the house. They treated him kindly,—though I thought coldly. The +relationship I could not quite understand. He was never praised and +rarely scolded. A perfect code of etiquette was established between him +and all the other persons in the house, according to degree and rank. He +seemed extremely cold-mannered, and perhaps not even grateful, that was, +so far <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>as I could see. Nothing seemed to move his young +placidity,—whether happy or unhappy his mien was exactly that of a +stone Jizo. One day he let fall a little cup and broke it. According to +custom, no one noticed the mistake, for fear of giving him pain. +Suddenly I saw tears streaming down his face. The muscles of the face +remained quite smilingly placid as usual, but even the will could not +control tears. They came freely. Then everybody laughed, and said kind +things to him, till he began to laugh too. Yet that delicate +sensitiveness no one like me could have guessed the existence of.</p> + +<p>But what followed surprised me more. As I said, he had been (in my idea) +distantly treated. One day he did not return from school for three hours +after the usual time. Then to my great surprise, the women began to +cry,—to cry passionately. I had never been able to imagine alarm for +the boy could have affected them so. And the servants ran over town in +real, not pretended, anxiety to find him. He had been taken to a +teacher's house for something relating to school matters. As soon as his +voice was heard at the door, everything was quiet, cold, and amiably +polite again. And I marvelled exceedingly.</p> + +<p>Sensitiveness exists in the Japanese to an extent never supposed by the +foreigners who treat them harshly at the open ports.... The Japanese +master is never brutal or cruel. How Japanese can serve a certain class +of foreigners at all, I can't understand....</p> + +<p>This Orient knows not our deeper pains, nor can it even rise to our +larger joys; but it has its pains. Its life is not so sunny as might be +fancied from its happy aspect. Under the smile of its toiling millions +there <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>is suffering bravely hidden and unselfishly borne; and a lower +intellectual range is counterbalanced by a childish sensitiveness to +make the suffering balance evenly in the eternal order of things.</p> + +<p>Therefore I love the people very much, more and more, the more I know +them....</p> + +<p>And with this, I say good-night.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">Ever most truly,<br /></span> +<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">Lafcadio Hearn</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHARLES_ELIOT_NORTON_TO_WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS" id="CHARLES_ELIOT_NORTON_TO_WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS"></a>CHARLES ELIOT NORTON TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22"><span class="smcap">Shady Hill</span>, 2 May, 1902.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"The Kentons" have been a great comfort to me. I have been in my +chamber, with a slight attack of illness, for two or three weeks, and I +received them one morning. I could not have had kinder or more +entertaining visitors, and I was sorry when, after two or three days, I +had to say Good-bye to them. They are very "natural" people, "just +Western." I am grateful to you for making me acquainted with them.</p> + +<p>"Just Western" is the acme of praise. I think I once told you what +pleasure it gave me as a compliment. Several years ago at the end of one +of our Christmas Eve receptions, a young fellow from the West, taking my +hand and bidding me Good-night, said with great cordiality, "Mr. Norton, +I've had a delightful time; it's been <i>just Western</i>"!</p> + +<p>"The Kentons" is really, my dear Howells, an admirable study of life, +and as it was read to me my chief pleasure in listening was in your +sympathetic, creative imagination, your insight, your humour, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>all +your other gifts, which make your stories, I believe, the most faithful +representations of actual life that were ever written. Other stories +seem unreal after them, and so when we had finished "The Kentons," +nothing would do for entertainment but another of your books: so now we +are almost at the end of "Silas Lapham," which I find as good as I found +it fifteen or sixteen years ago. As Gray's idea of pleasure was to lie +on a sofa and have an endless succession of stories by Crébillon,—mine +is to have no end of Howells!...</p> + + +<h3>NOTES</h3> + +<p>Letter from William Vaughn Moody:—</p> + +<p><b>darkened counsel</b>:—See Job, 38:2. Moody seems to be referring here to +the uncertainty of his plans for the future.</p> + + +<p>Letter from Bret Harte:—</p> + +<p><b>Franky</b>:—Francis King Harte, Bret Harte's second son, who was eight +years old at this time.</p> + +<p><b>Concepcion de Arguello</b>:—One of Bret Harte's longer poems.</p> + +<p><b>Kentuck</b>:—A rough but kindly character in Harte's <i>The Luck of Roaring +Camp</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Dick Bullen</b>:—The chief character in <i>How Santa Claus Came to +Simpson's Bar</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Frank</b>:—Bret Harte's name was Francis Brett Hart(e), and his family +usually called him Frank.</p> + + +<p>Letter from Lafcadio Hearn:·—</p> + +<p><b>Chamberlain</b>:—Professor Chamberlain had lived for some years in Japan, +when Hearn, in 1890, wrote to him, asking assistance in securing a +position as teacher in the Japanese Government Schools. The friendship +between the two men continued until Hearn's death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Samurai</b>:—Pronounced <i>sä' mŏŏ rī</i>; a member of the lesser +nobility of Japan.</p> + +<p><b>Jizo</b>:—A Japanese god, said to be the playmate of the ghosts of +children. Stone images of Jizo are common in Japan. (See page 19 of <i>The +Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn</i>.)</p> + + +<h4>EXERCISES IN LETTER WRITING</h4> + +<p>You are planning a camping trip with several of your friends; write to a +friend who lives in another town, asking him or her to join the camping +party.</p> + +<p>Write to a friend asking him, or her, to come to your house for dinner +and to go with you afterward to see the moving pictures.</p> + +<p>Write a letter to accompany a borrowed book, which you are returning. +Speak of the contents of the book, and the parts that you have +particularly enjoyed. Express your thanks for the use of the volume.</p> + +<p>Write a letter to an intimate friend, telling of the occurrences of the +last week. Do not hesitate to recount trifling events; but make your +letter as varied and lively and interesting as possible.</p> + +<p>Write to a friend about the new house or apartment that your family has +lately moved into.</p> + +<p>Write to a friend or a relative who is visiting in a large city, asking +him or her to purchase some especial article that you cannot get in your +home town. Explain exactly what you want and tell how much you are +willing to pay. Speak of enclosing the money, and do not fail to express +the gratitude that you will feel if your friend will make the purchase +for you.</p> + +<p>You have been invited to spend the week-end in a town not far from your +home. Write explaining why you cannot accept the invitation. Make your +letter personal and pleasant.</p> + +<p>Write to some member of your family explaining how you have altered your +room to make it more to your taste than it has been. If you have not +really changed the room, imagine that you have done so, and that it is +now exactly as you want it to be.</p> + +<p>You have heard of a family that is in great need. Write to one of your +friends, telling the circumstances and asking her to help you in +providing food and clothing for the children in the family.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<p>You have just heard some startling news about an old friend whom you +have not seen for some time. Write to another friend who you know will +be interested, and relate the news that you have heard.</p> + +<p>Write to one of your teachers explaining why you are late in handing in +a piece of work.</p> + +<p>Your uncle has made you a present of a sum of money. Thank him for the +money and tell him what you think you will do with it.</p> + +<p>A schoolmate is kept at home by illness. Write, offering your sympathy +and services, and telling the school news.</p> + +<p>You have had an argument with a friend on a subject of interest to you +both. Since seeing this friend, you have run across an article in a +magazine, which supports your view of the question. Write to your friend +and tell him about the substance of the article.</p> + +<p>Your mother has hurt her hand and cannot write; she has asked you to +write to a friend of hers about some business connected with the Woman's +Club.</p> + +<p>You have arrived at home after a week's visit with a friend. Write your +friend's mother, expressing the pleasure that the visit has given you. +Speak particularly of the incidents of the visit, and show a lively +appreciation of the kindness of your friends.</p> + +<p>A friend whom you have invited to visit you has written saying that she +(or he) is unable to accept your invitation. Write expressing your +regret. You might speak of the plans you had made in anticipation of the +visit; you might also make a more or less definite suggestion regarding +a later date for the arrival of your friend.</p> + +<p>You are trying to secure a position. Write to some one for whom you have +worked, or some one who knows you well, asking for a recommendation that +you can use in applying for a position.</p> + +<p>Write to your brother (or some other near relative), telling about a +trip that you have recently taken.</p> + +<p>Write to one of your friends who is away at school, telling of the +athletic situation in the high school you are attending. Assume that +your friend is acquainted with many of the students in the high school.</p> + +<p>You are sending some kodak films to be developed by a professional +photographer. Explain to him what you are sending <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>and what you want +done. Speak of the price that he asks for his work, and the money that +you are enclosing.</p> + +<p>Write a letter applying for a position. If possible, tell how you have +heard of the vacancy. State your qualifications, especially the +education and training that you have had; if you have had any +experience, tell definitely what it has been. Mention the +recommendations that you are enclosing, or give references to several +persons who will write concerning your character and ability. Do not +urge your qualifications, or make any promises, but tell about yourself +as simply and impersonally as possible. Close your letter without any +elaborate expressions of "hoping" or "trusting" or "thanking." "Very +truly yours," or "Very respectfully yours," will be sufficient.</p> + +<p>You have secured the position for which you applied. Write expressing +your pleasure in obtaining the situation. Ask for information as to the +date on which you are to begin work.</p> + +<p>Write to a friend or a relative, telling about your new position: how +you secured it; what your work will be; what you hope will come of it.</p> + +<p>Write a brief respectful letter asking for money that is owed you.</p> + +<p>Write to a friend considerably older than yourself, asking for advice as +to the appropriate college or training school for you to enter when you +have finished the high school course.</p> + + +<h3>BOOKS FOR READING AND STUDY</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Letters and Letter-writing</td><td align='left'>Charity Dye</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Success in Letter-writing</td><td align='left'>Sherwin Cody</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How to do Business by Letter</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Charm and Courtesy in Letter-writing</td><td align='left'>Frances B. Callaway</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Studies for Letters</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Gentlest Art</td><td align='left'>E.V. Lucas</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Second Post</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Friendly Craft</td><td align='left'>F.D. Hanscom</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Life and Letters of Miss Alcott</td><td align='left'>E.D. Cheney (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Vailima Letters</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Letters of William Vaughn Moody</td><td align='left'>Daniel Mason (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Letters from Colonial Children</td><td align='left'>Eva March Tappan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Woman as Letter-writers</td><td align='left'>A.M. Ingpen.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Etiquette of Correspondence</td><td align='left'>Helen E. Gavit</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>EXERCISES IN DRAMATIC COMPOSITION</h2> + +<p>I. Write a conversation suggested by one of the following situations. +Wherever it seems desirable to do so, give, in parentheses, directions +for the action, and indicate the gestures and the facial expressions of +the speakers.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>1. Tom has had trouble at school; he is questioned at home +about the matter.</p> + +<p>2. Two girls discuss a party that has taken place the night +before.</p> + +<p>3. A child and his mother are talking about Christmas.</p> + +<p>4. Clayton Wells is running for the presidency of the Senior +class in the high school; he talks with some of his +schoolmates, and is talked about.</p> + +<p>5. There has been a fire at the factory; some of the men talk +about its origin.</p> + +<p>6. A girl borrows her sister's pearl pin and loses it.</p> + +<p>7. Unexpected guests have arrived; while they are removing +their wraps in the hall, a conversation takes place in the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>8. Anna wishes to go on a boating expedition, but her father +and mother object.</p> + +<p>9. The crops in a certain district have failed; two young +farmers talk over the situation.</p> + +<p>10. Two girls are getting dinner; their mother is away, and +they are obliged to plan and do everything themselves.</p> + +<p>11. A boy has won a prize, and two or three other boys are +talking with him.</p> + +<p>12. The prize-winning student has gone, and the other boys are +talking about him.</p> + +<p>13. The furnace fire has gone out; various members of the +family express their annoyance, and the person who is to blame +defends himself.</p> + +<p>14. Grandfather has lost his spectacles.</p> + +<p>15. Laura has seen a beautiful hat in a shop window, and talks +with her mother about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> + +<p>16. Two men talk of the coming election of city officers.</p> + +<p>17. A boy has been removed from the football team on account of +his low standings; members of the team discuss the situation.</p> + +<p>18. Sylvia asks her younger brother to go on an errand for her; +he does not wish to go; the conversation becomes spirited.</p> + +<p>19. Grandmother entertains another old lady at afternoon tea.</p> + +<p>20. A working man is accused of stealing a dollar bill from the +cook in the house where he is temporarily employed.</p> + +<p>21. Mary Sturgis talks with her mother about going away to +college.</p> + +<p>22. A young man talks with his sister about woman's suffrage; +they become somewhat excited.</p> + +<p>23. A middle-aged couple talk about adopting a child.</p> + +<p>24. There is a strike at the mills; some of the employees +discuss it; the employers discuss it among themselves.</p> + +<p>25. An aunt in the city has written asking Louise to visit her; +Louise talks with several members of her family about going.</p> + +<p>26. Two boys talk about the ways in which they earn money, and +what they do with it.</p> + +<p>27. Albert Gleason has had a run-away; his neighbors talk about +it.</p> + +<p>28. Two brothers quarrel over a horse.</p> + +<p>29. Ruth's new dress does not satisfy her.</p> + +<p>30. The storekeeper discusses neighborhood news with some of +his customers.</p> + +<p>31. Will has had a present of a five-dollar gold-piece; his +sisters tell him what he ought to do with it; his ideas on the +subject are not the same as theirs.</p> + +<p>32. An old house, in which a well-to-do family have lived for +many years, is to be torn down; a group of neighbors talk about +the house and the family.</p> + +<p>33. A young man talks with a business man about a position.</p> + +<p>34. Harold buys a canoe; he converses with the boy who sells it +to him, and also with some of the members of his own family.</p> + +<p>35. Two old men talk about the pranks they played when they +were boys.</p> + +<p>36. Several young men talk about a recent baseball game.</p> + +<p>37. Several young men talk about a coming League game.</p> + +<p>38. Breakfast is late.</p> + +<p>39. A mysterious stranger has appeared in the village; a group +of people talk about him.</p> + +<p>40. Herbert Elliott takes out his father's automobile without +permission, and damages it seriously; he tries to explain.</p> + +<p>41. Jerome Connor has just "made" the high school football +team.</p> + +<p>42. Two boys plan a camping trip.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> + +<p>43. Several boys are camping, and one of the number does not +seem willing to do his share of the work.</p> + +<p>44. Several young people consider what they are going to do +when they have finished school.</p> + +<p>45. Two women talk about the spring fashions.</p></div> + + +<p>II. Choose some familiar fairy-tale or well known children's story, and +put it into the form of a little play for children. Find a story that is +rather short, and that has a good deal of dialogue in it. In writing the +play, try to make the conversation simple and lively.</p> + + +<p>III. In a story book for children, find a short story and put it into +dialogue form. It will be wise to select a story that already contains a +large proportion of conversation.</p> + + +<p>IV. From a magazine or a book of short stories (not for children), +select a very brief piece of narration, and put it into dramatic form. +After you have finished, write out directions for the setting of the +stage, if you have not already done so, and give your idea of what the +costuming ought to be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>MODERN BOOKS FOR HOME READING</h2> + +<h4>Not included in the lists of Collateral Readings</h4> + + +<h3>BOOKS OF FICTION</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Gentlemen of Kentucky</td><td align='left'>James Lane Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Standish of Standish</td><td align='left'>Jane G. Austin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>D'ri and I</td><td align='left'>Irving Bacheller</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Eben Holden</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Halfback</td><td align='left'>R.H. Barbour</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>For King or Country</td><td align='left'>James Barnes</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Loyal Traitor</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Bow of Orange Ribbon</td><td align='left'>Amelia E. Barr</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jan Vedder's Wife</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Remember the Alamo</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Little Minister</td><td align='left'>J.M. Barrie</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Little White Bird</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sentimental Tommy</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wee MacGregor</td><td align='left'>J.J. Bell.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Looking Backward</td><td align='left'>Edward Bellamy</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Master Skylark</td><td align='left'>John Bennett</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Princess of Thule</td><td align='left'>William Black</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lorne Doone</td><td align='left'>R.D. Blackmore</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mary Cary</td><td align='left'>K.L. Bosher</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Miss Gibbie Gault</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jane Eyre</td><td align='left'>Charlotte Brontë</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Villette</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Meadow Grass</td><td align='left'>Alice Brown</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tiverton Tales</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of a Ploughboy</td><td align='left'>James Bryce</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Robin</td><td align='left'>F.H. Burnett</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Secret Garden</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>T. Tembarom</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Jackknife Man</td><td align='left'>Ellis Parker Butler</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Begum's Daughter</td><td align='left'>E.L. Bynner</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bonaventure</td><td align='left'>G.W. Cable</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dr. Sevier</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Golden Rule Dollivers</td><td align='left'>Margaret Cameron</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lady of Fort St. John</td><td align='left'>Mary Hartwell Catherwood</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lazarre</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old Kaskaskia</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Romance of Dollard</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of Tonty</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The White Islander</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Richard Carvel</td><td align='left'>Winston Churchill</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court</td><td align='left'>Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pudd'nhead Wilson</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Prince and the Pauper</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tom Sawyer</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Halifax, Gentleman</td><td align='left'>D.M. Craik (Miss Mulock)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Red Badge of Courage</td><td align='left'>Stephen Crane</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Whilomville Stories</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Roman Singer</td><td align='left'>F.M. Crawford</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Saracinesca</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Zoroaster</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lilac Sunbonnet</td><td align='left'>S.R. Crockett</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Stickit Minister</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Smith College Stories</td><td align='left'>J.D. Daskam [Bacon]</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Gallegher</td><td align='left'>R.H. Davis</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Princess Aline</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Soldiers of Fortune</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old Chester Tales</td><td align='left'>Margaret Deland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of a Child</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hugh Gwyeth</td><td align='left'>B.M. Dix</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Soldier Rigdale</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rebecca Mary</td><td align='left'>Annie Hamilton Donnell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Very Small Person</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes</td><td align='left'>A. Conan Doyle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Micah Clarke</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Refugees</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Uncle Bernac</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Black Tulip</td><td align='left'>Alexander Dumas</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Three Musketeers</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Doctor Luke of the Labrador</td><td align='left'>Norman Duncan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of Sonny Sahib</td><td align='left'>Sara J. Duncan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Hoosier Schoolboy</td><td align='left'>Edward Eggleston</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Hoosier Schoolmaster</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Honorable Peter Stirling</td><td align='left'>P.L. Ford</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Janice Meredith</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In the Valley</td><td align='left'>Harold Frederic</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A New England Nun</td><td align='left'>M.E. Wilkins Freeman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Portion of Labor</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Six Trees</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Friendship Village</td><td align='left'>Zona Gale</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Boy Life on the Prairie</td><td align='left'>Hamlin Garland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Prairie Folks</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Toby: The Story of a Dog</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth Goldsmith</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>College Girls</td><td align='left'>Abby Carter Goodloe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Glengarry School Days</td><td align='left'>Charles W. Gordon (Ralph Connor)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Man from Glengarry</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Prospector</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Sky Pilot</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Man Without a Country</td><td align='left'>E.E. Hale</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nights with Uncle Remus</td><td align='left'>J.C. Harris</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Log of a Sea Angler</td><td align='left'>C.F. Holder</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Phroso</td><td align='left'>Anthony Hope [Hawkins]</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Prisoner of Zenda</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rupert of Hentzau</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>One Summer</td><td align='left'>B.W. Howard</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Flight of Pony Baker</td><td align='left'>W.D. Howells</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tom Brown at Oxford</td><td align='left'>Thomas Hughes</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tom Brown's School Days</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lady of the Barge</td><td align='left'>W.W. Jacobs</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Odd Craft</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ramona</td><td align='left'>H.H. Jackson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Citizens</td><td align='left'>Myra Kelly</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wards of Liberty</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Horseshoe Robinson</td><td align='left'>J.P. Kennedy</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Brushwood Boy</td><td align='left'>Rudyard Kipling</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Captains Courageous</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Jungle Book</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kim</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Puck of Pook's Hill</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tales of the Fish Patrol</td><td align='left'>Jack London</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Slowcoach</td><td align='left'>E.V. Lucas</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush</td><td align='left'>Ian Maclaren (John Watson)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Doctor of the Old School</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Peg o' my Heart</td><td align='left'>J.H. Manners</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Emmy Lou</td><td align='left'>G.M. Martin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tilly: A Mennonite Maid</td><td align='left'>H.R. Martin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jim Davis</td><td align='left'>John Masefield</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Four Feathers</td><td align='left'>A.E.W. Mason</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Adventures of François</td><td align='left'>S.W. Mitchell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hugh Wynne</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Anne of Avonlea</td><td align='left'>L.M. Montgomery</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Anne of Green Gables</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Chronicles of Avonlea</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Down the Ravine</td><td align='left'>Mary N. Murfree (Charles Egbert Craddock)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In the Tennessee Mountains</td><td align='left'>Mary N. Murfree</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The House of a Thousand Candles</td><td align='left'>Meredith Nicholson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mother</td><td align='left'>Kathleen Norris</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Peanut</td><td align='left'>A.B. Paine</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Judgments of the Sea</td><td align='left'>Ralph D. Paine</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Man with the Iron Hand</td><td align='left'>John C. Parish</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pierre and his People</td><td align='left'>Gilbert Parker</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Seats of the Mighty</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>When Valmond Came to Pontiac</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Madonna of the Tubs</td><td align='left'>E.S. Phelps [Ward]</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Singular Life</td><td align='left'>E.S. Phelps [Ward]</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Freckles</td><td align='left'>G.S. Porter</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ezekiel</td><td align='left'>Lucy Pratt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ezekiel Expands</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>November Joe</td><td align='left'>Hesketh Prichard</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Men of Iron</td><td align='left'>Howard Pyle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Splendid Spur</td><td align='left'>A.T. Quiller-Couch</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lovey Mary</td><td align='left'>Alice Hegan Rice</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sandy</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Feet of the Furtive</td><td align='left'>C.G.D. Roberts</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Heart of an Ancient Wood</td><td align='left'>C.G.D. Roberts</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wreck of the Grosvenor</td><td align='left'>W.C. Russell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Girls of Old New Jersey</td><td align='left'>Agnes C. Sage</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Jarvis</td><td align='left'>Molly Elliot Seawell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Virginia Cavalier</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Quest of the Fish-Dog Skin</td><td align='left'>J.W. Schultz</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Black Arrow</td><td align='left'>Robert Louis Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>David Balfour</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Master of Ballantrae</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>St. Ives</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Fugitive Blacksmith</td><td align='left'>C.D. Stewart</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine</td><td align='left'>Frank R. Stockton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Dusantes</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lady or the Tiger</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Merry Chanter</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rudder Grange</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Napoleon Jackson</td><td align='left'>Ruth McE. Stuart</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sonny</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Monsieur Beaucaire</td><td align='left'>Booth Tarkington</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Expiation</td><td align='left'>Octave Thanet (Alice French)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stories of a Western Town</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Golden Book of Venice</td><td align='left'>F.L. Turnbull</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>W.A.G.'s Tale</td><td align='left'>Margaret Turnbull</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ben Hur</td><td align='left'>Lew Wallace</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Fair God</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Rag Picker</td><td align='left'>Mary E. Waller</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wood Carver of 'Lympus</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of Ab</td><td align='left'>Stanley Waterloo</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Daddy Long-Legs</td><td align='left'>Jean Webster</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Gentleman of France</td><td align='left'>Stanley J. Weyman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Under the Red Robe</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Blazed Trail</td><td align='left'>Stewart Edward White</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Conjuror's House</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Silent Places</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Westerners</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Certain Rich Man</td><td align='left'>William Allen White</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Court of Boyville</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stratagems and Spoils</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Gayworthys</td><td align='left'>A.D.T. Whitney</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mother Carey's Chickens</td><td align='left'>K.D. Wiggin [Riggs]</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Chronicles of Rebecca</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of Waitstill Baxter</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Princeton Stories</td><td align='left'>J.L. Williams</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Philosophy Four</td><td align='left'>Owen Wister</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Virginian</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bootles' Baby</td><td align='left'>John Strange Winter (H.E. Stannard)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys</td><td align='left'>Gulielma Zollinger (W.Z. Gladwin)</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<h3>NON-FICTION BOOKS</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>The Klondike Stampede</td><td align='left'>E.T. Adney</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Land of Little Rain</td><td align='left'>Mary Austin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Camps in the Rockies</td><td align='left'>W.A. Baillie-Grohman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boys' Book of Inventions</td><td align='left'>R.S. Baker</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Second Book of Inventions</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Book of Little Dogs</td><td align='left'>F.T. Barton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lighter Side of Irish Life</td><td align='left'>G.A. Birmingham (J.O. Hannay)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wonderful Escapes by Americans</td><td align='left'>W.S. Booth</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Training of Wild Animals</td><td align='left'>Frank Bostock</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Confederate Portraits</td><td align='left'>Gamaliel Bradford</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Fights and Fighters</td><td align='left'>Cyrus T. Brady</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Commodore Paul Jones</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Conquest of the Southwest</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Every-Day Life of Abraham Lincoln</td><td align='left'>F.F. Browne</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boyhood and Youth of Napoleon</td><td align='left'>Oscar Browning</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The New North</td><td align='left'>Agnes Cameron</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boys' Book of Modern Marvels</td><td align='left'>C.L.J. Clarke</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boys' Book of Airships</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc</td><td align='left'>Samuel L. Clemens</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wireless Man</td><td align='left'>F.A. Collins</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old Boston Days and Ways</td><td align='left'>M.C. Crawford</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Romantic Days in Old Boston</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Harriet Beecher Stowe</td><td align='left'>M.F. Crowe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wild Animals and the Camera</td><td align='left'>W.P. Dando</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Football</td><td align='left'>P.H. Davis</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stories of Inventors</td><td align='left'>Russell Doubleday</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Navigating the Air</td><td align='left'>Doubleday Page and Co.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Dooley's Opinions</td><td align='left'>F.P. Dunne</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Dooley's Philosophy</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Edison: His Life and Inventions</td><td align='left'>Dyer and Martin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Child Life in Colonial Days</td><td align='left'>Alice Morse Earle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Colonial Days in Old New York</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stage Coach and Tavern Days</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Centuries of Costume in America</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old Indian Days</td><td align='left'>Charles Eastman</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Life of the Fly</td><td align='left'>J.H. Fabre</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Life of the Spider</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wonders of the Heavens</td><td align='left'>Camille Flammarion</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Boys and Girls: A Book of Verse</td><td align='left'>J.W. Foley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Following the Sun Flag</td><td align='left'>John Fox, Jr.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Four Months Afoot in Spain</td><td align='left'>Harry A. Franck</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Vagabond Journey around the World</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Zone Policeman 88</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Trail of the Gold Seeker</td><td align='left'>Hamlin Garland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In Eastern Wonder Lands</td><td align='left'>C.E. Gibson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Hearth of Youth: Poems for Young People</td><td align='left'>Jeannette Gilder (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Heroes of the Elizabethan Ago</td><td align='left'>Edward Gilliat</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Camping on Western Trails</td><td align='left'>E.R. Gregor</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Camping in the Winter Woods</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Big Game</td><td align='left'>G.B. Grinnell (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Trail and Camp Fire</td><td align='left'>Grinnell and Roosevelt (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Life at West Point</td><td align='left'>H.I. Hancock</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Camp Kits and Camp Life</td><td align='left'>C.S. Hanks</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boys' Parkman</td><td align='left'>L.S. Hasbrouck (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Historic Adventures</td><td align='left'>R.S. Holland</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Camp Fires in the Canadian Rockies</td><td align='left'>W.T. Hornaday</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Our Vanishing Wild Life</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Taxidermy and Zoölogical Collecting</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Years in the Jungle</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Mark Twain</td><td align='left'>W.D. Howells</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador</td><td align='left'>Mrs. Leonidas Hubbard</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Animal Competitors</td><td align='left'>Ernest Ingersoll</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Lady of the Chimney Corner</td><td align='left'>Alexander Irvine</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Indians of the Painted Desert Region</td><td align='left'>G.W. James</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boys' Book of Explorations</td><td align='left'>Tudor Jenks</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Through the South Sea with Jack London</td><td align='left'>Martin Johnson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Wayfarer in China</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth Kendall</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Tragedy of Pelee</td><td align='left'>George Kennan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Recollections of a Drummer Boy</td><td align='left'>H.M. Kieffer</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the Trapper</td><td align='left'>A.C. Laut</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Animals of the Past</td><td align='left'>F.A. Lucas</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Marjorie Fleming</td><td align='left'>L. Macbean (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>From Sail to Steam</td><td align='left'>A.T. Mahan</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Æegean Days and Other Sojourns</td><td align='left'>J. Irving Manatt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of a Piece of Coal</td><td align='left'>E.A. Martin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Friendly Stars</td><td align='left'>Martha E. Martin</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Boys' Life of Edison</td><td align='left'>W.H. Meadowcroft</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Serving the Republic</td><td align='left'>Nelson A. Miles</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In Beaver World</td><td align='left'>Enos A. Mills</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mosquito Life</td><td align='left'>E.G. Mitchell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Childhood of Animals</td><td align='left'>P.C. Mitchell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Youth of Washington</td><td align='left'>S.W. Mitchell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lewis Carroll</td><td align='left'>Belle Moses</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Charles Dickens</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Louisa M. Alcott</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Country of Sir Walter Scott</td><td align='left'>C.S. Olcott</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Storytelling Poems</td><td align='left'>F.J. Olcott (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mark Twain: A Biography</td><td align='left'>A.B. Paine</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Man with the Iron Hand</td><td align='left'>John C. Parish</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nearest the Pole</td><td align='left'>Robert E. Peary</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Book of Famous Verse</td><td align='left'>Agnes Repplier (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Florence Nightingale</td><td align='left'>Laura E. Richards</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Children of the Tenements</td><td align='left'>Jacob A. Riis</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wilderness Hunter</td><td align='left'>Theodore Roosevelt</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>American Big Game Hunting</td><td align='left'>Roosevelt and Grinnell (Ed.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hunting in Many Lands</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Air Ships</td><td align='left'>Alberto Santos-Dumont</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Paul Jones</td><td align='left'>Molly Elliott Seawell</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>With the Indians in the Rockies</td><td align='left'>J.W. Schultz</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Curiosities of the Sky</td><td align='left'>Garrett P. Serviss</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Where Rolls the Oregon</td><td align='left'>Dallas Lore Sharp</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nature in a City Yard</td><td align='left'>C.M. Skinner</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Wild White Woods</td><td align='left'>Russell D. Smith</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the New England Whalers</td><td align='left'>J.R. Spears</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Camping on the Great Lakes</td><td align='left'>R.S. Spears</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Life with the Eskimos</td><td align='left'>Vilhjalmar Stefansson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>With Kitchener to Khartum</td><td align='left'>G.W. Stevens</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Across the Plains</td><td align='left'>R.L. Stevenson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Letters of a Woman Homesteader</td><td align='left'>Elinore P. Stewart</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hunting the Elephant in Africa</td><td align='left'>C.H. Stigand</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Black Bear</td><td align='left'>W.H. Wright</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Grizzly Bear</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>George Washington</td><td align='left'>Woodrow Wilson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Workers: The East</td><td align='left'>W.A. Wyckoff</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Workers: The West</td><td align='left'> " "</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See Bleyer, W.G.: Introduction to <i>Prose Literature for +Secondary Schools.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See also <i>American Magazine</i>, 63:339.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> See <i>Scribner's Magazine</i>, 40:17.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> See <i>Harper's Monthly Magazine</i>, 116:3.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> In: <i>The Little Book of Modern Verse</i>, edited by J.B. +Rittenhouse.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> See page 41 for magazine reference.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> See <i>Collier's Magazine</i>, 42:11.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Additional suggestions for dramatic work are given on page +<a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> If a copy of <i>The Promised Land</i> is available, some of the +students might look up material on this subject.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> See references for <i>Moly</i>, on p. <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> In Alden's <i>English Verse</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> In <i>The Little Book of Modern Verse</i>, edited by J.B. +Rittenhouse.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> If this is thought too difficult, some of the exercises on +pages 316-318 may be used.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Note: The teacher might read aloud a part of the <i>Ode in +Time of Hesitation</i>, by Moody. In its entirety it is almost too +difficult for the pupils to get much out of; but it has some vigorous +things to say about the war in the Philippines.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> <span class="smcap">To the Teacher</span>: It will probably be better for +the pupils to study this poem in class than to begin it by themselves.</p></div> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary +Schools, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PROSE AND POETRY *** + +***** This file should be named 17160-h.htm or 17160-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/6/17160/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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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: Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary Schools + Edited With Notes, Study Helps, And Reading Lists + +Author: Various + +Editor: Margaret Ashmun + +Release Date: November 26, 2005 [EBook #17160] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PROSE AND POETRY *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +MODERN PROSE AND POETRY FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS + +EDITED + +WITH NOTES, STUDY HELPS, AND READING LISTS + +BY + +MARGARET ASHMUN, M.A. + +_Formerly Instructor in English in the University of Wisconsin_ +_Editor of Prose Literature for Secondary Schools_ + + +BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +The Riverside Press Cambridge + + +COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + +_All selections in this book are used by special permission of, and +arrangement with, the owners of the copyrights._ + +The Riverside Press +CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS +U.S.A + + * * * * * + +Transcribers Note: There are several areas where a pronunciation guide +is given with diacritical marks that cannot be reproduced in a text +file. The following symbols are used: + +Symbols for Diacritical Marks: + +DIACRITICAL MARK SAMPLE ABOVE BELOW +macron (straight line) - [=x] [x=] +2 dots (diaresis, umlaut) " [:x] [x:] +1 dot {~BULLET~} [.x] [x.] +grave accent ` [`x] or [\x] [x`] or [x\] +acute accent (aigu) ' ['x] or [/x] [x'] or [x/] +circumflex ^ [^x] [x^] +caron (v-shaped symbol) [vx] [xv] +breve (u-shaped symbol) [)x] [x)] +tilde ~ [~x] [x~] +cedilla ¸ [,x] [x,] + +Also words italicized will have undescores _ before and after them and +bold words will have = before and after them. + +Footnotes have been moved to the end of the text. Minor typos have +been corrected. + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +It is pleasant to note, among teachers of literature in the high school, +a growing (or perhaps one should say an established) conviction that the +pupil's enjoyment of what he reads ought to be the chief consideration +in the work. From such enjoyment, it is conceded, come the knowledge and +the power that are the end of study. All profitable literature work in +the secondary grades must be based upon the unforced attention and +activity of the student. + +An inevitable phase of this liberal attitude is a readiness to promote +the study of modern authors. It is now the generally accepted view that +many pieces of recent literature are more suitable for young people's +reading than the old and conventionally approved classics. This is not +to say that the really readable classics should be discarded, since they +have their own place and their own value. Yet it is everywhere admitted +that modern literature should be given its opportunity to appeal to high +school students, and that at some stage in their course it should +receive its due share of recognition. The mere fact that modern writers +are, in point of material and style, less remote than the classic +authors from the immediate interests of the students is sufficient to +recommend them. Then, too, since young people are, in the nature of +things, constantly brought into contact with some form of modern +literature, they need to be provided with a standard of criticism and +choice. + +The present volume is an attempt to assemble, in a convenient manner, a +number of selections from recent literature, such as high school +students of average taste and ability may understand and enjoy. These +selections are not all equally difficult. Some need to be read rapidly +for their intrinsic interest; others deserve more analysis of form and +content; still others demand careful intensive study. This diversity of +method is almost a necessity in a full year's course in reading, in +which rigidity and monotony ought above all things to be avoided. + +Although convinced that the larger part of the reading work in the high +school years should be devoted to the study of prose, the editor has +here included what she believes to be a just proportion of poetry. The +poems have been chosen with a view to the fact that they are varied in +form and sentiment; and that they exhibit in no small degree the +tendencies of modern poetic thought, with its love of nature and its +humanitarian impulses. + +An attempt has been made to present examples of the most usual and +readable forms of prose composition--narration, the account of travel, +the personal essay, and serious exposition. The authors of these +selections possess without exception that distinction of style which +entitles them to a high rank in literature and makes them inspiring +models for the unskilled writer. + +A word may be said as to the intention of the study helps and lists of +readings. The object of this equipment is to conserve the energies of +the teacher and direct the activities of the student. It is by no means +expected that any one class will be able to make use of all the material +provided; yet it is hoped that a considerable amount may prove +available to every group that has access to the text. + +The study questions serve to concentrate the reading of the students, in +order to prevent that aimless wandering of eye and mind, which with many +pupils passes for study. Doubtless something would in most instances be +gained if these questions were supplemented by specific directions from +the teacher. + +Lists of theme subjects accompany the selections, so that the work in +composition may be to a large extent correlated with that in +literature.[1] The plan of utilizing the newly stimulated interests of +the pupils for training in composition is not a new one; its value has +been proved. _Modern Prose and Poetry_ aims to make the most of such +correlation, at the same time drawing upon the personal experience of +the students, to the elimination of all that is perfunctory and formal. +Typical outlines (suggestions for theme writing) are provided; these, +however, cannot serve in all cases, and the teacher must help the pupils +in planning their themes, or give them such training as will enable them +to make outlines for themselves. + +It will be noted that some suggestions are presented for the +dramatization of simple passages of narration, and for original +composition of dramatic fragments. In an age when the trend of popular +interest is unquestionably toward the drama, such suggestions need no +defense. The study of dramatic composition may be granted as much or as +little attention as the teacher thinks wise. In any event, it will +afford an opportunity for a discussion of the drama and will serve, in +an elementary way, to train the pupil's judgment as to the difference +between good and bad plays. Especially can this end be accomplished if +some of the plays mentioned in the lists be read by the class or by +individual students. + +A few simple exercises in the writing of poetry have been inserted, in +order to give the pupils encouragement and assistance in trying their +skill in verse. It is not intended that this work shall be done for the +excellence of its results, but rather for the development of the pupil's +ingenuity and the increasing of his respect for the poet and the poetic +art. + +The collateral readings are appended for the use of those teachers who +wish to carry on a course of outside reading in connection with the +regular work of the class. These lists have been made somewhat extensive +and varied, in order that they may fit the tastes and opportunities of +many teachers and pupils. In some cases, the collateral work may be +presented by the teacher, to elaborate a subject in which the class has +become interested; or individual pupils may prepare themselves and speak +to the class about what they have read; or all the pupils may read for +pleasure alone, merely reporting the extent of their reading, for the +teacher's approval. The outside reading should, it is needless to say, +be treated as a privilege and not as a mechanical task. The +possibilities of this work will be increased if the teacher familiarizes +herself with the material in the collateral lists, so that she can adapt +the home readings to the tastes of the class and of specific pupils. The +miscellaneous lists given at the close of the book are intended to +supplement the lists accompanying the selections, and to offer some +assistance in the choice of books for a high school library. + +M.A. + +NEW YORK, February, 1914. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +A DAY AT LAGUERRE'S _F. Hopkinson Smith_ + +QUITE SO _Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ + (In _Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories_) + +PAN IN WALL STREET _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ + +THE HAND OF LINCOLN _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ + +JEAN VALJEAN _Augusta Stevenson_ + (In _A Dramatic Reader_, Book Five) + +A COMBAT ON THE SANDS _Mary Johnston_ + (From _To Have and to Hold_, Chapters XXI and XXII) + +THE GRASSHOPPER _Edith M. Thomas_ + +MOLY _Edith M. Thomas_ + +THE PROMISED LAND _Mary Antin_ + (From Chapter IX of _The Promised Land_) + +WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME _Walt Whitman_ + +WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER _Walt Whitman_ + +VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT _Walt Whitman_ + +ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA _Translated by George Herbert Palmer_ + +ODYSSEUS _George Cabot Lodge_ + +A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE _William Dean Howells_ + (In _Suburban Sketches_) + +THE WILD RIDE _Louise Imogen Guiney_ + +CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS _Dallas Lore Sharp_ + (In _The Lay of the Land_) + +GLOUCESTER MOORS _William Vaughn Moody_ + +ROAD-HYMN FOR THE START _William Vaughn Moody_ + +ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILLIPINES _William Vaughn Moody_ + +THE COON DOG _Sarah Orne Jewett_ + (In _The Queen's Twin, and Other Stories_) + +ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN _Richard Watson Gilder_ + +A FIRE AMONG THE GIANTS _John Muir_ + (From _Our National Parks_) + +WAITING _John Burroughs_ + +THE PONT DU GARD _Henry James_ + (Chapter XXVI of _A Little Tour in France_) + +THE YOUNGEST SON OF HIS FATHER'S HOUSE _Anna Hempstead Branch_ + +TENNESSEE'S PARTNER _Bret Harte_ + +THE COURSE OF AMERICAN HISTORY _Woodrow Wilson_ + (In _Mere Literature_) + +WHAT I KNOW ABOUT GARDENING _Charles Dudley Warner_ + (From _My Summer in a Garden_) + +THE SINGING MAN _Josephine Preston Peabody_ + +THE DANCE OF THE BON-ODORI _Lafcadio Hearn_ + (From _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_, Volume I, Chapter VI) + + +LETTERS: + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + (From _The Life of Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ by Ferris Greenslet) + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO E.S. MORSE + (By permission of Professor Morse) + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TO JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + (From _Some Letters of William Vaughn Moody_) + +BRET HARTE TO HIS WIFE + (From _The Life of Bret Harte_ by Henry C. Merwin) + +LAFCADIO HEARN TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN + (From _Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn_) + +CHARLES ELIOT NORTON TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + (From _Letters of Charles Eliot Norton_) + +EXERCISES IN DRAMATIC COMPOSITION + +MODERN BOOKS FOR HOME READING + + + + +MODERN PROSE AND POETRY FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS + + + + +A DAY AT LAGUERRE'S + +F. HOPKINSON SMITH + + +It is the most delightful of French inns, in the quaintest of French +settlements. As you rush by in one of the innumerable trains that pass +it daily, you may catch glimpses of tall trees trailing their branches +in the still stream,--hardly a dozen yards wide,--of flocks of white +ducks paddling together, and of queer punts drawn up on the shelving +shore or tied to soggy, patched-up landing-stairs. + +If the sun shines, you can see, now and then, between the trees, a +figure kneeling at the water's edge, bending over a pile of clothes, +washing,--her head bound with a red handkerchief. + +If you are quick, the miniature river will open just before you round +the curve, disclosing in the distance groups of willows, and a rickety +foot-bridge perched up on poles to keep it dry. All this you see in a +flash. + +But you must stop at the old-fashioned station, within ten minutes of +the Harlem River, cross the road, skirt an old garden bound with a fence +and bursting with flowers, and so pass on through a bare field to the +water's edge, before you catch sight of the cosy little houses lining +the banks, with garden fences cutting into the water, the arbors +covered with tangled vines, and the boats crossing back and forth. + +I have a love for the out-of-the-way places of the earth when they +bristle all over with the quaint and the old and the odd, and are mouldy +with the picturesque. But here is an in-the-way place, all sunshine and +shimmer, with never a fringe of mould upon it, and yet you lose your +heart at a glance. It is as charming in its boat life as an old Holland +canal; it is as delightful in its shore life as the Seine; and it is as +picturesque and entrancing in its sylvan beauty as the most exquisite of +English streams. + +The thousands of workaday souls who pass this spot daily in their whirl +out and in the great city may catch all these glimpses of shade and +sunlight over the edges of their journals, and any one of them living +near the city's centre, with a stout pair of legs in his knickerbockers +and the breath of the morning in his heart, can reach it afoot any day +before breakfast; and yet not one in a hundred knows that this ideal +nook exists. + +Even this small percentage would be apt to tell of the delights of +Devonshire and of the charm of the upper Thames, with its tall rushes +and low-thatched houses and quaint bridges, as if the picturesque ended +there; forgetting that right here at home there wanders many a stream +with its breast all silver that the trees courtesy to as it sings +through meadows waist-high in lush grass,--as exquisite a picture as can +be found this beautiful land over. + +So, this being an old tramping-ground of mine, I have left the station +with its noise and dust behind me this lovely morning in June, have +stopped long enough to twist a bunch of sweet peas through the garden +fence, and am standing on the bank waiting for some sign of life at +Madame Laguerre's. I discover that there is no boat on my side of the +stream. But that is of no moment. On the other side, within a biscuit's +toss, so narrow is it, there are two boats; and on the landing-wharf, +which is only a few planks wide, supporting a tumble-down flight of +steps leading to a vine-covered terrace above, rest the oars. + +I lay my traps down on the bank and begin at the top of my voice:-- + +"Madame Laguerre! Madame Laguerre! Send Lucette with the boat." + +For a long time there is no response. A young girl drawing water a short +distance below, hearing my cries, says she will come; and some children +above, who know me, begin paddling over. I decline them all. Experience +tells me it is better to wait for madame. + +In a few minutes she pushes aside the leaves, peers through, and calls +out:-- + +"Ah! it is that horrible painter. Go away! I have nothing for you. You +are hungry again that you come?" + +"Very, madame. Where is Lucette?" + +"Lucette! Lucette! It is always Lucette. Lu-c-e-t-t-e!" This in a shrill +key. "It is the painter. Come quick." + +I have known Lucette for years, even when she was a barefooted little +tangle-hair, peeping at me with her great brown eyes from beneath her +ragged straw hat. She wears high-heeled slippers now, and sometimes on +Sundays dainty silk stockings, and her hair is braided down her back, +little French Marguerite that she is, and her hat is never ragged any +more, nor her hair tangled. Her eyes, though, are still the same +velvety, half-drooping eyes, always opening and shutting and never +still. + +As she springs into the boat and pulls towards me I note how round and +trim she is, and before we have landed at Madame Laguerre's feet I have +counted up Lucette's birthdays,--those that I know myself,--and find to +my surprise that she must be eighteen. We have always been the best of +friends, Lucette and I, ever since she looked over my shoulder years ago +and watched me dot in the outlines of her boat, with her dog Mustif +sitting demurely in the bow. + +Madame, her mother, begins again:-- + +"Do you know that it is Saturday that you come again to bother? Now it +will be a _filet_, of course, with mushrooms and tomato salad; and there +are no mushrooms, and no tomatoes, and nothing. You are horrible. Then, +when I get it ready, you say you will come at three. 'Yes, madame; at +three,'--mimicking me,--'sure, very sure.' But it is four, five, +o'clock--and then everything is burned up waiting. Ah! I know you." + +This goes on always, and has for years. Presently she softens, for she +is the most tender-hearted of women, and would do anything in the world +to please me. + +"But, then, you will be tired, and of course you must have something. I +remember now there is a chicken. How will the chicken do? Oh, the +chicken it is lovely, _charmant_. And some pease--fresh. Monsieur picked +them himself this morning. And some Roquefort, with an olive. Ah! You +leave it to me; but at three--no later--not one minute. _Sacre! Vous +etes le diable!_" + +As we walk under the arbor and by the great trees, towards the cottage, +Lucette following with the oars, I inquire after monsieur, and find that +he is in the city, and very well and very busy, and will return at +sundown. He has a shop of his own in the upper part where he makes +_passe-partouts_. Here, at his home, madame maintains a simple +restaurant for tramps like me. + +These delightful people are old friends of mine, Francois Laguerre and +his wife and their only child Lucette. They have lived here for nearly a +quarter of a century. He is a straight, silver-haired old Frenchman of +sixty, who left Paris, between two suns, nearly forty years ago, with a +gendarme close at his heels, a red cockade under his coat, and an +intense hatred in his heart for that "little nobody," Napoleon III. + +If you met him on the boulevard you would look for the decoration on his +lapel, remarking to yourself, "Some retired officer on half pay." If you +met him at the railway station opposite, you would say, "A French +professor returning to his school." Both of these surmises are partly +wrong, and both partly right. Monsieur Laguerre has had a history. One +can see by the deep lines in his forehead and by the firm set of his +eyes and mouth that it has been an eventful one. + +His wife is a few years his junior, short and stout, and thoroughly +French down to the very toes of her felt slippers. She is devoted to +Francois and Lucette, the best of cooks, and, in spite of her scoldings, +good-nature itself. As soon as she hears me calling, there arise before +her the visions of many delightful dinners prepared for me by her own +hand and ready to the minute--all spoiled by my belated sketches. So +she begins to scold before I am out of the boat or in it, for that +matter. + +Across the fence next to Laguerre's lives a _confrere_, a brother exile, +Monsieur Marmosette, who also has a shop in the city, where he carves +fine ivories. Monsieur Marmosette has only one son. He too is named +Francois, after his father's old friend. Farther down on both sides of +the narrow stream front the cottages of other friends, all Frenchmen; +and near the propped-up bridge an Italian who knew Garibaldi burrows in +a low, slanting cabin, which is covered with vines. I remember a dish of +_spaghetti_ under those vines, and a flask of Chianti from its cellar, +all cobwebs and plaited straw, that left a taste of Venice in my mouth +for days. + +As there is only the great bridge above, which helps the country road +across the little stream, and the little foot-bridge below, and as there +is no path or road,--all the houses fronting the water,--the Bronx here +is really the only highway, and so everybody must needs keep a boat. +This is why the stream is crowded in the warm afternoons with all sorts +of water craft loaded with whole families, even to the babies, taking +the air, or crossing from bank to bank in their daily pursuits. + +There is a quality which one never sees in Nature until she has been +rough-handled by man and has outlived the usage. It is the picturesque. +In the deep recesses of the primeval forest, along the mountain-slope, +and away up the tumbling brook, Nature may be majestic, beautiful, and +even sublime; but she is never picturesque. This quality comes only +after the axe and the saw have let the sunlight into the dense tangle +and have scattered the falling timber, or the round of the water-wheel +has divided the rush of the brook. It is so here. Some hundred years +ago, along this quiet, silvery stream were encamped the troops of the +struggling colonies, and, later, the great estates of the survivors +stretched on each side for miles. The willows that now fringe these +banks were saplings then; and they and the great butternuts were only +spared because their arching limbs shaded the cattle knee-deep along the +shelving banks. + +Then came the long interval that succeeds that deadly conversion of the +once sweet farming lands, redolent with clover, into that barren +waste--suburban property. The conflict that had lasted since the days +when the pioneer's axe first rang through the stillness of the forest +was nearly over; Nature saw her chance, took courage, and began that +regeneration which is exclusively her own. The weeds ran riot; tall +grasses shot up into the sunlight, concealing the once well-trimmed +banks; and great tangles of underbrush and alders made lusty efforts to +hide the traces of man's unceasing cruelty. Lastly came this little +group of poor people from the Seine and the Marne and lent a helping +hand, bringing with them something of their old life at home,--their +boats, rude landings, patched-up water-stairs, fences, arbors, and +vine-covered cottages,--unconsciously completing the picture and adding +the one thing needful--a human touch. So Nature, having outlived the +wrongs of a hundred years, has here with busy fingers so woven a web of +weed, moss, trailing vine, and low-branching tree that there is seen a +newer and more entrancing quality in her beauty, which, for want of a +better term, we call the picturesque. + +But madame is calling that the big boat must be bailed out; that if I +am ever coming back to dinner it is absolutely necessary that I should +go away. This boat is not of extraordinary size. It is called the big +boat from the fact that it has one more seat than the one in which +Lucette rowed me over; and not being much in use except on Sunday, is +generally half full of water. Lucette insists on doing the bailing. She +has very often performed this service, and I have always considered it +as included in the curious scrawl of a bill which madame gravely +presents at the end of each of my days here, beginning in small printed +type with "Francois Laguerre, Restaurant Francais," and ending with +"Coffee 10 cents." + +But this time I resist, remarking that she will hurt her hands and soil +her shoes, and that it is all right as it is. + +To this Francois the younger, who is leaning over the fence, agrees, +telling Lucette to wait until he gets a pail. + +Lucette catches his eye, colors a little, and says she will fetch it. + +There is a break in the palings through which they both disappear, but I +am half-way out on the stream, with my traps and umbrella on the seat in +front and my coat and waistcoat tucked under the bow, before they +return. + +For half a mile down-stream there is barely a current. Then comes a +break of a dozen yards just below the perched-up bridge, and the stream +divides, one part rushing like a mill-race, and the other spreading +itself softly around the roots of leaning willows, oozing through beds +of water-plants, and creeping under masses of wild grapes and +underbrush. Below this is a broad pasture fringed with another and +larger growth of willows. Here the weeds are breast-high, and in early +autumn they burst into purple asters, and white immortelles, and +goldenrod, and flaming sumac. + +If a painter had a lifetime to spare, and loved this sort of +material,--the willows, hillsides, and winding stream,--he would grow +old and weary before he could paint it all; and yet no two of his +compositions need be alike. I have tied my boat under these same willows +for ten years back, and I have not yet exhausted one corner of this +neglected pasture. + +There may be those who go a-fishing and enjoy it. The arranging and +selecting of flies, the joining of rods, the prospective comfort in high +water-boots, the creel with the leather strap,--every crease in it a +reminder of some day without care or fret,--all this may bring the flush +to the cheek and the eager kindling of the eye, and a certain sort of +rest and happiness may come with it; but--they have never gone +a-sketching! Hauled up on the wet bank in the long grass is your boat, +with the frayed end of the painter tied around some willow that offers a +helping root. Within a stone's throw, under a great branching of gnarled +trees, is a nook where the curious sun, peeping at you through the +interlaced leaves, will stencil Japanese shadows on your white umbrella. +Then the trap is unstrapped, the stool opened, the easel put up, and you +set your palette. The critical eye with which you look over your +brush-case and the care with which you try each feather point upon your +thumb-nail are but an index of your enjoyment. + +Now you are ready. You loosen your cravat, hang your coat to some rustic +peg in the creviced bark of the tree behind you, seize a bit of charcoal +from your bag, sweep your eye around, and dash in a few guiding +strokes. Above is a turquoise sky filled with soft white clouds; behind +you the great trunks of the many-branched willows; and away off, under +the hot sun, the yellow-green of the wasted pasture, dotted with patches +of rock and weeds, and hemmed in by the low hills that slope to the +curving stream. + +It is high noon. There is a stillness in the air that impresses you, +broken only by the low murmur of the brook behind and the ceaseless song +of the grasshopper among the weeds in front. A tired bumblebee hums +past, rolls lazily over a clover blossom at your feet, and has his +midday luncheon. Under the maples near the river's bend stands a group +of horses, their heads touching. In the brook below are the patient +cattle, with patches of sunlight gilding and bronzing their backs and +sides. Every now and then a breath of cool air starts out from some +shaded retreat, plays around your forehead, and passes on. All nature +rests. It is her noontime. + +But you work on: an enthusiasm has taken possession of you; the paints +mix too slowly; you use your thumb, smearing and blending with a bit of +rag--anything for the effect. One moment you are glued to your seat, +your eye riveted on your canvas, the next, you are up and backing away, +taking it in as a whole, then pouncing down upon it quickly, belaboring +it with your brush. Soon the trees take shape; the sky forms become +definite; the meadow lies flat and loses itself in the fringe of +willows. + +When all of this begins to grow upon your once blank canvas, and some +lucky pat matches the exact tone of blue-gray haze or shimmer of leaf, +or some accidental blending of color delights you with its truth, a +tingling goes down your backbone, and a rush surges through your veins +that stirs you as nothing else in your whole life will ever do. The +reaction comes the next day when, in the cold light of your studio, you +see how far short you have come and how crude and false is your best +touch compared with the glory of the landscape in your mind and heart. +But the thrill that it gave you will linger forever. + +But I hear a voice behind me calling out:-- + +"Monsieur, mamma says that dinner will be ready in half an hour. Please +do not be late." + +It is Lucette. She and Francois have come down in the other boat--the +one with the little seat. They have moved so noiselessly that I have not +even heard them. The sketch is nearly finished; and so, remembering the +good madame, and the Roquefort, and the olives, and the many times I +have kept her waiting, I wash my brushes at once, throw my traps into +the boat, and pull back through the winding turn, Francois taking the +mill-race, and in the swiftest part springing to the bank and towing +Lucette, who sits in the stern, her white skirts tucked around her +dainty feet. + +"_Sacre!_ He is here. _C'est merveilleux!_ Why did you come?" + +"Because you sent for me, madame, and I am hungry." + +"_Mon Dieu!_ He is hungry, and no chicken!" + +It is true. The chicken was served that morning to another tramp for +breakfast, and madame had forgotten all about it, and had ransacked the +settlement for its mate. She was too honest a cook to chase another into +the frying-pan. + +But there was a _filet_ with mushrooms, and a most surprising salad of +chicory fresh from the garden, and the pease were certain, and the +Roquefort and the olives beyond question. All this she tells me as I +walk past the table covered with a snow-white cloth and spread under the +grape-vines overlooking the stream, with the trees standing against the +sky, their long shadows wrinkling down into the water. + +I enter the summer kitchen built out into the garden, which also covers +the old well, let down the bucket, and then, taking the clean crash +towel from its hook, place the basin on the bench in the sunlight, and +plunge my head into the cool water. Madame regards me curiously, her +arms akimbo, re-hangs the towel, and asks:-- + +"Well, what about the wine? The same?" + +"Yes; but I will get it myself." + +The cellar is underneath the larger house. Outside is an old-fashioned, +sloping double door. These doors are always open, and a cool smell of +damp straw flavored with vinegar greets you from a leaky keg as you +descend into its recesses. On the hard earthen floor rest eight or ten +great casks. The walls are lined with bottles large and small, loaded on +shelves to which little white cards are tacked giving the vintage and +brand. In one corner, under the small window, you will find dozens of +boxes of French delicacies--truffles, pease, mushrooms, pate de foie +gras, mustard, and the like, and behind them rows of olive oil and +olives. I carefully draw out a bottle from the row on the last shelf +nearest the corner, mount the steps, and place it on the table. Madame +examines the cork, and puts down the bottle, remarking sententiously:-- + +"Chateau Lamonte, '62! Monsieur has told you." + +There may be ways of dining more delicious than out in the open air +under the vines in the cool of the afternoon, with Lucette, in her +whitest of aprons, flitting about, and madame garnishing the dishes each +in turn, and there may be better bottles of honest red wine to be found +up and down this world of care than "Chateau Lamonte, '62," but I have +not yet discovered them. + +Lucette serves the coffee in a little cup, and leaves the Roquefort and +the cigarettes on the table just as the sun is sinking behind the hill +skirting the railroad. While I am blowing rings through the grape leaves +over my head a quick noise is heard across the stream. Lucette runs past +me through the garden, picking up her oars as she goes. + +"_Oui, mon pere._ I am coming." + +It is monsieur from his day's work in the city. + +"Who is here?" I hear him say as he mounts the terrace steps. "Oh, the +painter--good!" + +"Ah, _mon ami_. So you must see the willows once more. Have you not +tired of them yet?" Then, seating himself, "I hope madame has taken good +care of you. What, the '62? Ah, I remember I told you." + +When it is quite dark he joins me under the leaves, bringing a second +bottle a little better corked he thinks, and the talk drifts into his +early life. + +"What year was that, monsieur?" I asked. + +"In 1849. I was a young fellow just grown. I had learned my trade in +Rheims, and I had come down to Paris to make my bread. Two years later +came the little affair of December 2. That 'nobody,' Louis, had +dissolved the National Assembly and the Council of State, and had issued +his address to the army. Paris was in a ferment. By the help of his +soldiers and police he had silenced every voice in Paris except his own. +He had suppressed all the journals, and locked up everybody who had +opposed him. Victor Hugo was in exile, Louis Blanc in London, +Changarnier and Cavaignac in prison. At the moment I was working in a +little shop near the Porte St. Martin decorating lacquerwork. We workmen +all belonged to a secret society which met nightly in a back room over a +wine-shop near the Rue Royale. We had but one thought--how to upset the +little devil at the Elysee. Among my comrades was a big fellow from my +own city, one Cambier. He was the leader. On the ground floor of the +shop was built a huge oven where the lacquer was baked. At night this +was made hot with charcoal and allowed to cool off in the morning ready +for the finished work of the previous day. It was Cambier's duty to +attend to this oven. + +"One night just after all but he and two others had left the shop a +strange man was discovered in a closet where the men kept their working +clothes. He was seized, brought to the light, and instantly recognized +as a member of the secret police. + +"At daylight the next morning I was aroused from my bed, and, looking +up, saw Chapot, an inspector of police, standing over me. He had known +me from a boy, and was a friend of my father's. + +"'Francois, there is trouble at the shop. A police agent has been +murdered. His body was found in the oven. Cambier is under arrest. I +know what you have been doing, but I also know that in this you have had +no hand. Here are one hundred francs. Leave Paris in an hour.' + +"I put the money in my pocket, tied my clothes in a bundle, and that +night was on my way to Havre, and the next week set sail for here." + +"And what became of Cambier?" I asked. + +"I have never heard from that day to this, so I think they must have +snuffed him out." + +Then he drifted into his early life here--the weary tramping of the +streets day after day, the half-starving result, the language and people +unknown. Suddenly, somewhere in the lower part of the city, he espied a +card tacked outside of a window bearing this inscription, "Decorator +wanted." A man inside was painting one of the old-fashioned iron +tea-trays common in those days. Monsieur took off his hat, pointed to +the card, then to himself, seized the brush, and before the man could +protest had covered the bottom with morning-glories so pink and fresh +that his troubles ended on the spot. The first week he earned six +dollars; but then this was to be paid at the end of it. For these six +days he subsisted on one meal a day. This he ate at a restaurant where +at night he washed dishes and blacked the head waiter's boots. When +Saturday came, and the money was counted out in his hand, he thrust it +into his pocket, left the shop, and sat down on a doorstep outside to +think. + +"And, _mon ami_, what did I do first?" + +"Got something to eat?" + +"Never. I paid for a bath, had my hair cut and my face shaved, bought a +shirt and collar, and then went back to the restaurant where I had +washed dishes the night before, and the head waiter _served me_. After +that it was easy; the next week it was ten dollars; then in a few years +I had a place of my own; then came madame and Lucette--and here we are." + +The twilight had faded into a velvet blue, sprinkled with stars. The +lantern which madame had hung against the arbor shed a yellow light, +throwing into clear relief the sharply cut features of monsieur. Up and +down the silent stream drifted here and there a phantom boat, the gleam +of its light following like a firefly. From some came no sound but the +muffled plash of the oars. From others floated stray bits of song and +laughter. Far up the stream I heard the distant whistle of the down +train. + +"It is mine, monsieur. Will you cross with me, and bring back the boat?" + +Monsieur unhooked the lantern, and I followed through the garden and +down the terrace steps. + +At the water's edge was a bench holding two figures. + +Monsieur turned his lantern, and the light fell upon the face of young +Francois. + +When the bow grated on the opposite bank I shook his hand, and said, in +parting, pointing to the lovers,-- + +"The same old story, Monsieur?" + +"Yes; and always new. You must come to the church." + + +NOTES + +=Harlem River=:--Note that this river is in New York City, not in France +as one might suppose from the name of the selection. + +=Devonshire=:--A very attractive county of southwestern England. + +=filet=:--A thick slice of meat or fish. + +=charmant=:--The French word for _charming_. + +=Roquefort=:--A kind of cheese. + +=Sacre! Vous etes le diable=:--Curses! You are the very deuce. + +=passe-partouts=:--Engraved ornamental borders for pictures. + +=gendarme=:--A policeman of France. + +=Napoleon III=:--Emperor of the French, 1852-1870. He was elected +president of the Republic in 1848; he seized full power in 1851; in +1852, he was proclaimed emperor. He was a nephew of the great Napoleon. + +=confrere=:--A close associate. + +=Garibaldi=:--Giuseppe Garibaldi, an Italian patriot (1807-1882). + +=Chianti=:--A kind of Italian wine. + +=Bronx=:--A small river in the northern part of New York City. + +=Restaurant Francais=:--French restaurant. + +=the painter=:--A rope at the bow of a boat. + +=C'est merveilleux=:--It's wonderful. + +=Mon Dieu=:--Good heavens! + +=pate de fois gras=:--A delicacy made of fat goose livers. + +=Chateau Lamonte, '62=:--A kind of wine; the date refers to the year in +which it was bottled. + +=Oui, mon pere=:--Yes, father. + +=mon ami=:--My friend. + +=the little affair of December 2=:--On December 2, 1851, Louis Napoleon +overawed the French legislature and assumed absolute power. Just a year +later he had himself proclaimed Emperor. + +=Louis=:--Napoleon III. + +=Victor Hugo=:--French poet and novelist (1802-1885). + +=Louis Blanc=:--French author and politician (1812-1882). + +=Changarnier=:--Pronounced _shan gaer ny[=a]'_; Nicholas Changarnier, a +French general (1793-1877). + +=Cavaignac=:--Pronounced _ka vay nyak'_; Louis Eugene Cavaignac, a +French general (1803-1857). He ran for the Presidency against Louis +Napoleon. + +=Porte St. Martin=:--The beginning of the Boulevard St. Martin, in +Paris. + +=Rue Royale=:--_Rue_ is the French word for _street_. + +=Elysee=:--A palace in Paris used as a residence by Napoleon III. + +=one hundred francs=:--About twenty dollars. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What does the title suggest to you? At what point do you change your +idea as to the location of Laguerre's? Do you know of any picturesque +places that are somewhat like the one described here? Could you +describe one of them for the class? Why do people usually not appreciate +the scenery near at hand? What do you think of the plan of "seeing +America first"? What is meant here by "my traps"? Why is it better to +wait for Madame? Why does Madame talk so crossly? What sort of person is +she? See if you can tell accurately, from what follows in later pages, +why Monsieur left Paris so hastily. How does the author give you an idea +of Francois Laguerre's appearance? Why does the author stop to give us +the two paragraphs beginning, "There is a quality," and "Then came a +long interval"? How does he get back to his subject? Why does he not let +Lucette bail the boat? Who does bail it at last? Why? Do you think that +every artist enjoys his work as the writer seems to enjoy his? How does +he make you feel the pleasure of it? Why is there more enjoyment in +eating out of doors than in eating in the house? Why does the author +sprinkle little French phrases through the piece? Is it a good plan to +use foreign phrases in this way? What kind of man is Monsieur Laguerre? +Review his story carefully. Why was the police agent murdered? Who +killed him? Why has Monsieur Laguerre never found out what became of +Cambier? + +This selection deals with a number of different subjects: Why does it +not seem "choppy"? How does the author manage to link the different +parts together? How would you describe this piece to some one who had +not read it? Mr. Smith is an artist who paints in water-colors: do you +see how his painting influences his writing? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Madame Laguerre +Old-fashioned Garden +The Ferry +Sketching +An Old Pasture +The Stream +Good Places to Sketch +Learning to Paint +An Old Man with a History +An Incident in French History +Getting Dinner under Difficulties +A Scene in the Kitchen +Washing at the Pump +The Flight of the Suspect +Crossing the Ocean +penniless +The Foreigner +Looking for Work +A Dinner out of Doors +The French Family at Home +The Cellar +Some Pictures that I Like +A Restaurant +A Country Inn +What my Foreign Neighbors Eat +Landscapes +The Artist + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=The Stream=:--Plan a description of some stream that you know well. +Imagine yourself taking a trip up the stream in a boat. Tell something +of the weather and the time of day. Speak briefly of the boat and its +occupants. Describe the first picturesque spot: the trees and flowers; +the buildings, if there are any; the reflections in the water; the +people that you see. Go on from point to point, describing the +particularly interesting places. Do not try to do too much. Vary your +account by telling of the boats you meet. Perhaps there will be some +brief dialogues that you can report, or some little adventures that you +can relate. Close your theme by telling of your arrival at your +destination, or of your turning about to go back down the stream. + +=An Old Man with a History=:--Perhaps you can take this from real life; +or perhaps you know some interesting old man whose early adventures you +can imagine. Tell briefly how you happened to know the old man. Describe +him. Speak of his manners, his way of speaking; his character as it +appeared when you knew him. How did you learn his story? Imagine him +relating it. Where was he when he told it? How did he act? Was he +willing to tell the story, or did he have to be persuaded? Tell the +story simply and directly, in his words, breaking it now and then by a +comment or a question from the listener (or listeners). It might be well +to explain occasionally how the old man seemed to feel, what expressions +his face assumed, and what gestures he made. Go on thus to the end of +the story. Is it necessary for you to make any remarks at the last, +after the man has finished? + +=A Country Inn=:--See the outline for a similar subject on page 229. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Day at Laguerre's and Other Days F. Hopkinson Smith +Gondola Days " " " +The Under Dog " " " +Caleb West, Master Diver " " " +Tom Grogan " " " +The Other Fellow " " " +Colonel Carter of Cartersville " " " +Colonel Carter's Christmas " " " +The Fortunes of Oliver Horn " " " +Forty Minutes Late " " " +At Close Range " " " +A White Umbrella in Mexico " " " +A Gentleman Vagabond " " " + (Note especially in this, _Along the Bronx_.) +Fisherman's Luck Henry van Dyke +A Lazy Idle Brook (in _Fisherman's Luck_) " " +Little Rivers " " +The Friendly Road David Grayson +Adventures in Contentment " " + +For information concerning Mr. Smith, consult:-- + +A History of Southern Literature, p. 375., Carl Holliday +American Authors and their Homes, pp. 187-194 F.W. Halsey + +Bookman, 17:16 (Portrait); 24:9, September, 1906 (Portrait); 28:9, +September, 1908 (Portrait). Arena, 38:678, December, 1907. Outlook, +93:689, November 27, 1909. Bookbuyer, 25:17-20, August, 1902. + + + + +QUITE SO + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH + +(In _Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories_) + + +I + +Of course that was not his name. Even in the State of Maine, where it is +still a custom to maim a child for life by christening him Arioch or +Shadrach or Ephraim, nobody would dream of calling a boy "Quite So." It +was merely a nickname which we gave him in camp; but it stuck to him +with such bur-like tenacity, and is so inseparable from my memory of +him, that I do not think I could write definitely of John Bladburn if I +were to call him anything but "Quite So." + +It was one night shortly after the first battle of Bull Run. The Army of +the Potomac, shattered, stunned, and forlorn, was back in its old +quarters behind the earth-works. The melancholy line of ambulances +bearing our wounded to Washington was not done creeping over Long +Bridge; the blue smocks and the gray still lay in windrows on the field +of Manassas; and the gloom that weighed down our hearts was like the fog +that stretched along the bosom of the Potomac, and infolded the valley +of the Shenandoah. A drizzling rain had set in at twilight, and, growing +bolder with the darkness, was beating a dismal tattoo on the tent,--the +tent of Mess 6, Company A, --th Regiment, N.Y. Volunteers. Our mess, +consisting originally of eight men, was reduced to four. Little Billy, +as one of the boys grimly remarked, had concluded to remain at +Manassas; Corporal Steele we had to leave at Fairfax Court-House, shot +through the hip; Hunter and Suydam we had said good-by to that +afternoon. "Tell Johnny Reb," says Hunter, lifting up the leather +sidepiece of the ambulance, "that I'll be back again as soon as I get a +new leg." But Suydam said nothing; he only unclosed his eyes languidly +and smiled farewell to us. + +The four of us who were left alive and unhurt that shameful July day sat +gloomily smoking our brier-wood pipes, thinking our thoughts, and +listening to the rain pattering against the canvas. That, and the +occasional whine of a hungry cur, foraging on the outskirts of the camp +for a stray bone, alone broke the silence, save when a vicious drop of +rain detached itself meditatively from the ridge-pole of the tent, and +fell upon the wick of our tallow candle, making it "cuss," as Ned Strong +described it. The candle was in the midst of one of its most profane +fits when Blakely, knocking the ashes from his pipe and addressing no +one in particular, but giving breath, unconsciously as it were, to the +result of his cogitations, observed that "it was considerable of a +fizzle." + +"The 'on to Richmond' business?" + +"Yes." + +"I wonder what they'll do about it over yonder," said Curtis, pointing +over his right shoulder. By "over yonder" he meant the North in general +and Massachusetts especially. Curtis was a Boston boy, and his sense of +locality was so strong that, during all his wanderings in Virginia, I do +not believe there was a moment, day or night, when he could not have +made a bee-line for Faneuil Hall. + +"Do about it?" cried Strong. "They'll make about two hundred thousand +blue flannel trousers and send them along, each pair with a man in +it,--all the short men in the long trousers, and all the tall men in the +short ones," he added, ruefully contemplating his own leg-gear, which +scarcely reached to his ankles. + +"That's so," said Blakely. "Just now, when I was tackling the commissary +for an extra candle, I saw a crowd of new fellows drawing blankets." + +"I say there, drop that!" cried Strong. "All right, sir, didn't know it +was you," he added hastily, seeing it was Lieutenant Haines who had +thrown back the flap of the tent, and let in a gust of wind and rain +that threatened the most serious bronchial consequences to our +discontented tallow dip. + +"You're to bunk in here," said the lieutenant, speaking to some one +outside. The some one stepped in, and Haines vanished in the darkness. + +When Strong had succeeded in restoring the candle to consciousness, the +light fell upon a tall, shy-looking man of about thirty-five, with long, +hay-colored beard and mustache, upon which the rain-drops stood in +clusters, like the night-dew on patches of cobweb in a meadow. It was an +honest face, with unworldly sort of blue eyes, that looked out from +under the broad visor of the infantry cap. With a deferential glance +towards us, the new-comer unstrapped his knapsack, spread his blanket +over it, and sat down unobtrusively. + +"Rather damp night out," remarked Blakely, whose strong hand was +supposed to be conversation. + +"Quite so," replied the stranger, not curtly, but pleasantly, and with +an air as if he had said all there was to be said about it. + +"Come from the North recently?" inquired Blakely, after a pause. + +"Yes." + +"From any place in particular?" + +"Maine." + +"People considerably stirred up down there?" continued Blakely, +determined not to give up. + +"Quite so." + +Blakely threw a puzzled look over the tent, and seeing Ned Strong on the +broad grin, frowned severely. Strong instantly assumed an abstracted +air, and began humming softly, + + "I wish I was in Dixie." + +"The State of Maine," observed Blakely, with a certain defiance of +manner not at all necessary in discussing a geographical question, "is a +pleasant State." + +"In summer," suggested the stranger. + +"In summer, I mean," returned Blakely with animation, thinking he had +broken the ice. "Cold as blazes in winter, though,--isn't it?" + +The new recruit merely nodded. + +Blakely eyed the man homicidally for a moment, and then, smiling one of +those smiles of simulated gayety which the novelists inform us are more +tragic than tears, turned upon him with withering irony. + +"Trust you left the old folks pretty comfortable?" + +"Dead." + +"The old folks dead!" + +"Quite so." + +Blakely made a sudden dive for his blanket, tucked it around him with +painful precision, and was heard no more. + +Just then the bugle sounded "lights out,"--bugle answering bugle in +far-off camps. When our not elaborate night-toilets were complete, +Strong threw somebody else's old boot at the candle with infallible aim, +and darkness took possession of the tent. Ned, who lay on my left, +presently reached over to me, and whispered, "I say, our friend 'quite +so' is a garrulous old boy! He'll talk himself to death some of these +odd times, if he isn't careful. How he _did_ run on!" + +The next morning, when I opened my eyes, the new member of Mess 6 was +sitting on his knapsack, combing his blond beard with a horn comb. He +nodded pleasantly to me, and to each of the boys as they woke up, one by +one. Blakely did not appear disposed to renew the animated conversation +of the previous night; but while he was gone to make a requisition for +what was in pure sarcasm called coffee, Curtis ventured to ask the man +his name. + +"Bladburn, John," was the reply. + +"That's rather an unwieldy name for everyday use," put in Strong. "If it +wouldn't hurt your feelings, I'd like to call you Quite So,--for short. +Don't say no, if you don't like it. Is it agreeable?" + +Bladburn gave a little laugh, all to himself, seemingly, and was about +to say, "Quite so," when he caught at the words, blushed like a girl, +and nodded a sunny assent to Strong. From that day until the end, the +sobriquet clung to him. + +The disaster at Bull Run was followed, as the reader knows, by a long +period of masterly inactivity, so far as the Army of the Potomac was +concerned. McDowell, a good soldier but unlucky, retired to Arlington +Heights, and McClellan, who had distinguished himself in Western +Virginia, took command of the forces in front of Washington, and bent +his energies to reorganizing the demoralized troops. It was a dreary +time to the people of the North, who looked fatuously from week to week +for "the fall of Richmond"; and it was a dreary time to the denizens of +that vast city of tents and forts which stretched in a semicircle before +the beleaguered Capitol,--so tedious and soul-wearing a time that the +hardships of forced marches and the horrors of battle became desirable +things to them. + +Roll-call morning and evening, guard-duty, dress-parades, an occasional +reconnaissance, dominoes, wrestling-matches, and such rude games as +could be carried on in camp made up the sum of our lives. The arrival of +the mail with letters and papers from home was the event of the day. We +noticed that Bladburn neither wrote nor received any letters. When the +rest of the boys were scribbling away for dear life, with drumheads and +knapsacks and cracker-boxes for writing-desks, he would sit serenely +smoking his pipe, but looking out on us through rings of smoke with a +face expressive of the tenderest interest. + +"Look here, Quite So," Strong would say, "the mail-bag closes in half an +hour. Ain't you going to write?" + +"I believe not to-day," Bladburn would reply, as if he had written +yesterday, or would write to-morrow: but he never wrote. + +He had become a great favorite with us, and with all the officers of the +regiment. He talked less than any man I ever knew, but there was nothing +sinister or sullen in his reticence. It was sunshine,--warmth and +brightness, but no voice. Unassuming and modest to the verge of +shyness, he impressed every one as a man of singular pluck and nerve. + +"Do you know," said Curtis to me one day, "that that fellow Quite So is +clear grit, and when we come to close quarters with our Palmetto +brethren over yonder, he'll do something devilish?" + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Well, nothing quite explainable; the exasperating coolness of the man, +as much as anything. This morning the boys were teasing Muffin Fan" [a +small mulatto girl who used to bring muffins into camp three times a +week,--at the peril of her life!] "and Jemmy Blunt of Company K--you +know him--was rather rough on the girl, when Quite So, who had been +reading under a tree, shut one finger in his book, walked over to where +the boys were skylarking, and with the smile of a juvenile angel on his +face lifted Jemmy out of that and set him down gently in front of his +own tent. There Blunt sat speechless, staring at Quite So, who was back +again under the tree, pegging away at his little Latin grammar." + +That Latin grammar! He always had it about him, reading it or turning +over its dog's-eared pages at odd intervals and in out-of-the-way +places. Half a dozen times a day he would draw it out from the bosom of +his blouse, which had taken the shape of the book just over the left +breast, look at it as if to assure himself it was all right, and then +put the thing back. At night the volume lay beneath his pillow. The +first thing in the morning, before he was well awake, his hand would go +groping instinctively under his knapsack in search of it. + +A devastating curiosity seized upon us boys concerning that Latin +grammar, for we had discovered the nature of the book. Strong wanted to +steal it one night, but concluded not to. "In the first place," +reflected Strong, "I haven't the heart to do it, and in the next place I +haven't the moral courage. Quite So would placidly break every bone in +my body." And I believe Strong was not far out of the way. + +Sometimes I was vexed with myself for allowing this tall, simple-hearted +country fellow to puzzle me so much. And yet, was he a simple-hearted +country fellow? City bred he certainly was not; but his manner, in spite +of his awkwardness, had an indescribable air of refinement. Now and +then, too, he dropped a word or a phrase that showed his familiarity +with unexpected lines of reading. "The other day," said Curtis, with the +slightest elevation of eyebrow, "he had the cheek to correct my Latin +for me." In short, Quite So was a daily problem to the members of Mess +6. Whenever he was absent, and Blakely and Curtis and Strong and I got +together in the tent, we discussed him, evolving various theories to +explain why he never wrote to anybody and why nobody ever wrote to him. +Had the man committed some terrible crime, and fled to the army to hide +his guilt? Blakely suggested that he must have murdered "the old folks." +What did he mean by eternally conning that tattered Latin grammar? And +was his name Bladburn, anyhow? Even his imperturbable amiability became +suspicious. And then his frightful reticence! If he was the victim of +any deep grief or crushing calamity, why didn't he seem unhappy? What +business had he to be cheerful? + +"It's my opinion," said Strong, "that he's a rival Wandering Jew; the +original Jacobs, you know, was a dark fellow." + +Blakely inferred from something Bladburn had said, or something he had +not said,--which was more likely,--that he had been a schoolmaster at +some period of his life. + +"Schoolmaster be hanged!" was Strong's comment. "Can you fancy a +schoolmaster going about conjugating baby verbs out of a dratted little +spelling-book? No, Quite So has evidently been a--a--Blest if I can +imagine _what_ he's been!" + +Whatever John Bladburn had been, he was a lonely man. Whenever I want a +type of perfect human isolation, I shall think of him, as he was in +those days, moving remote, self-contained, and alone in the midst of two +hundred thousand men. + + +II + +The Indian summer, with its infinite beauty and tenderness, came like a +reproach that year to Virginia. The foliage, touched here and there with +prismatic tints, drooped motionless in the golden haze. The delicate +Virginia creeper was almost minded to put forth its scarlet buds again. +No wonder the lovely phantom--this dusky Southern sister of the pale +Northern June--lingered not long with us, but, filling the once peaceful +glens and valleys with her pathos, stole away rebukefully before the +savage enginery of man. + +The preparations that had been going on for months in arsenals and +foundries at the North were nearly completed. For weeks past the air had +been filled with rumors of an advance; but the rumor of to-day refuted +the rumor of yesterday, and the Grand Army did not move. Heintzelman's +corps was constantly folding its tents, like the Arabs, and as silently +stealing away; but somehow it was always in the same place the next +morning. One day, at length, orders came down for our brigade to move. + +"We're going to Richmond, boys!" shouted Strong, thrusting his head in +at the tent; and we all cheered and waved our caps like mad. You see, +Big Bethel and Bull Run and Ball's Bluff (the Bloody B's, as we used to +call them,) hadn't taught us any better sense. + +Rising abruptly from the plateau, to the left of our encampment, was a +tall hill covered with a stunted growth of red-oak, persimmon, and +chestnut. The night before we struck tents I climbed up to the crest to +take a parting look at a spectacle which custom had not been able to rob +of its enchantment. There, at my feet, and extending miles and miles +away, lay the camps of the Grand Army, with its camp-fires reflected +luridly against the sky. Thousands of lights were twinkling in every +direction, some nestling in the valley, some like fire-flies beating +their wings and palpitating among the trees, and others stretching in +parallel lines and curves, like the street-lamps of a city. Somewhere, +far off, a band was playing, at intervals it seemed; and now and then, +nearer to, a silvery strain from a bugle shot sharply up through the +night, and seemed to lose itself like a rocket among the stars,--the +patient, untroubled stars. Suddenly a hand was laid upon my arm. + +"I'd like to say a word to you," said Bladburn. + +With a little start of surprise, I made room for him on the fallen tree +where I was seated. + +"I mayn't get another chance," he said. "You and the boys have been very +kind to me, kinder than I deserve; but sometimes I've fancied that my +not saying anything about myself had given you the idea that all was +not right in my past. I want to say that I came down to Virginia with a +clean record." + +"We never really doubted it, Bladburn." + +"If I didn't write home," he continued, "it was because I hadn't any +home, neither kith nor kin. When I said the old folks were dead, I said +it. Am I boring you? If I thought I was--" + +"No, Bladburn. I have often wanted you to talk to me about yourself, not +from idle curiosity, I trust, but because I liked you that rainy night +when you came to camp, and have gone on liking you ever since. This +isn't too much to say, when Heaven only knows how soon I may be past +saying it or you listening to it." + +"That's it," said Bladburn, hurriedly, "that's why I want to talk with +you. I've a fancy that I shan't come out of our first battle." + +The words gave me a queer start, for I had been trying several days to +throw off a similar presentiment concerning him,--a foolish presentiment +that grew out of a dream. + +"In case anything of that kind turns up," he continued, "I'd like you to +have my Latin grammar here,--you've seen me reading it. You might stick +it away in a bookcase, for the sake of old times. It goes against me to +think of it falling into rough hands or being kicked about camp and +trampled under foot." + +He was drumming softly with his fingers on the volume in the bosom of +his blouse. + +"I didn't intend to speak of this to a living soul," he went on, +motioning me not to answer him; "but something took hold of me to-night +and made me follow you up here. Perhaps, if I told you all, you would be +the more willing to look after the little book in case it goes ill with +me. When the war broke out I was teaching school down in Maine, in the +same village where my father was schoolmaster before me. The old man +when he died left me quite alone. I lived pretty much by myself, having +no interests outside of the district school, which seemed in a manner my +personal property. Eight years ago last spring a new pupil was brought +to the school, a slight slip of a girl, with a sad kind of face and +quiet ways. Perhaps it was because she wasn't very strong, and perhaps +because she wasn't used over well by those who had charge of her, or +perhaps it was because my life was lonely, that my heart warmed to the +child. It all seems like a dream now, since that April morning when +little Mary stood in front of my desk with her pretty eyes looking down +bashfully and her soft hair falling over her face. One day I look up, +and six years have gone by,--as they go by in dreams,--and among the +scholars is a tall girl of sixteen, with serious, womanly eyes which I +cannot trust myself to look upon. The old life has come to an end. The +child has become a woman and can teach the master now. So help me +Heaven, I didn't know that I loved her until that day! + +"Long after the children had gone home I sat in the schoolroom with my +face resting on my hands. There was her desk, the afternoon shadows +falling across it. It never looked empty and cheerless before. I went +and stood by the low chair, as I had stood hundreds of times. On the +desk was a pile of books, ready to be taken away, and among the rest a +small Latin grammar which we had studied together. What little despairs +and triumphs and happy hours were associated with it! I took it up +curiously, as if it were some gentle dead thing, and turned over the +pages, and could hardly see them. Turning the pages, idly so, I came to +a leaf on which something was written with ink, in the familiar girlish +hand. It was only the words 'Dear John,' through which she had drawn two +hasty pencil lines--I wish she hadn't drawn those lines!" added +Bladburn, under his breath. + +He was silent for a minute or two, looking off towards the camps, where +the lights were fading out one by one. + +"I had no right to go and love Mary. I was twice her age, an awkward, +unsocial man, that would have blighted her youth. I was as wrong as +wrong can be. But I never meant to tell her. I locked the grammar in my +desk and the secret in my heart for a year. I couldn't bear to meet her +in the village, and kept away from every place where she was likely to +be. Then she came to me, and sat down at my feet penitently, just as she +used to do when she was a child, and asked what she had done to anger +me; and then, Heaven forgive me! I told her all, and asked her if she +could say with her lips the words she had written, and she nestled in my +arms all a-trembling like a bird, and said them over and over again. + +"When Mary's family heard of our engagement, there was trouble. They +looked higher for Mary than a middle-aged schoolmaster. No blame to +them. They forbade me the house, her uncles; but we met in the village +and at the neighbors' houses, and I was happy, knowing she loved me. +Matters were in this state when the war came on. I had a strong call to +look after the old flag, and I hung my head that day when the company +raised in our village marched by the schoolhouse to the railroad +station; but I couldn't tear myself away. About this time the minister's +son, who had been away to college, came to the village. He met Mary here +and there, and they became great friends. He was a likely fellow, near +her own age, and it was natural they should like one another. Sometimes +I winced at seeing him made free of the home from which I was shut out; +then I would open the grammar at the leaf where 'Dear John' was written +up in the corner, and my trouble was gone. Mary was sorrowful and pale +these days, and I think her people were worrying her. + +"It was one evening two or three days before we got the news of Bull +Run. I had gone down to the burying-ground to trim the spruce hedge set +round the old man's lot, and was just stepping into the enclosure, when +I heard voices from the opposite side. One was Mary's, and the other I +knew to be young Marston's, the minister's son. I didn't mean to listen, +but what Mary was saying struck me dumb. _We must never meet again_, she +was saying in a wild way. _We must say good-by here, forever,--good-by, +good-by!_ And I could hear her sobbing. Then, presently, she said, +hurriedly, _No, no; my hand, not my lips_! Then it seemed he kissed her +hands, and the two parted, one going towards the parsonage, and the +other out by the gate near where I stood. + +"I don't know how long I stood there, but the night-dews had wet me to +the bone when I stole out of the graveyard and across the road to the +schoolhouse. I unlocked the door, and took the Latin grammar from the +desk and hid it in my bosom. There was not a sound or a light anywhere +as I walked out of the village. And now," said Bladburn, rising suddenly +from the tree-trunk, "if the little book ever falls in your way, won't +you see that it comes to no harm, for my sake, and for the sake of the +little woman who was true to me and didn't love me? Wherever she is +to-night, God bless her!" + + * * * * * + +As we descended to camp with our arms resting on each other's shoulder, +the watch-fires were burning low in the valleys and along the hillsides, +and as far as the eye could reach, the silent tents lay bleaching in the +moonlight. + + +III + +We imagined that the throwing forward of our brigade was the initial +movement of a general advance of the army: but that, as the reader will +remember, did not take place until the following March. The Confederates +had fallen back to Centreville without firing a shot, and the National +troops were in possession of Lewinsville, Vienna, and Fairfax +Court-House. Our new position was nearly identical with that which we +had occupied on the night previous to the battle of Bull Run,--on the +old turnpike road to Manassas, where the enemy was supposed to be in +great force. With a field-glass we could see the Rebel pickets moving in +a belt of woodland on our right, and morning and evening we heard the +spiteful roll of their snare-drums. + +Those pickets soon became a nuisance to us. Hardly a night passed but +they fired upon our outposts, so far with no harmful result; but after a +while it grew to be a serious matter. The Rebels would crawl out on +all-fours from the wood into a field covered with underbrush, and lie +there in the dark for hours, waiting for a shot. Then our men took to +the rifle-pits,--pits ten or twelve feet long by four or five feet deep, +with the loose earth banked up a few inches high on the exposed sides. +All the pits bore names, more or less felicitous, by which they were +known to their transient tenants. One was called "The Pepper-Box," +another "Uncle Sam's Well," another "The Reb-Trap," and another, I am +constrained to say, was named after a not to be mentioned tropical +locality. Though this rude sort of nomenclature predominated, there was +no lack of softer titles, such as "Fortress Matilda" and "Castle Mary," +and one had, though unintentionally, a literary flavor to it, "Blair's +Grave," which was not popularly considered as reflecting unpleasantly on +Nat Blair, who had assisted in making the excavation. + +Some of the regiment had discovered a field of late corn in the +neighborhood, and used to boil a few ears every day, while it lasted, +for the boys detailed on the night-picket. The corn-cobs were always +scrupulously preserved and mounted on the parapets of the pits. Whenever +a Rebel shot carried away one of these _barbette_ guns, there was +swearing in that particular trench. Strong, who was very sensitive to +this kind of disaster, was complaining bitterly one morning, because he +had lost three "pieces" the night before. + +"There's Quite So, now," said Strong, "when a Minie-ball comes _ping_! +and knocks one of his guns to flinders, he merely smiles, and doesn't at +all see the degradation of the thing." + +Poor Bladburn! As I watched him day by day going about his duties, in +his shy, cheery way, with a smile for every one and not an extra word +for anybody, it was hard to believe he was the same man who, that night +before we broke camp by the Potomac, had poured out to me the story of +his love and sorrow in words that burned in my memory. + +While Strong was speaking, Blakely lifted aside the flap of the tent and +looked in on us. + +"Boys, Quite So was hurt last night," he said, with a white tremor to +his lip. + +"What!" + +"Shot on picket." + +"Why, he was in the pit next to mine," cried Strong. + +"Badly hurt?" + +"Badly hurt." + +I knew he was; I need not have asked the question. He never meant to go +back to New England! + + * * * * * + +Bladburn was lying on the stretcher in the hospital-tent. The surgeon +had knelt down by him, and was carefully cutting away the bosom of his +blouse. The Latin grammar, stained and torn, slipped, and fell to the +floor. Bladburn gave me a quick glance. I picked up the book, and as I +placed it in his hand, the icy fingers closed softly over mine. He was +sinking fast. In a few minutes the surgeon finished his examination. +When he rose to his feet there were tears on the weather-beaten cheeks. +He was a rough outside, but a tender heart. + +"My poor lad," he blurted out, "it's no use. If you've anything to say, +say it now, for you've nearly done with this world." + +Then Bladburn lifted his eyes slowly to the surgeon, and the old smile +flitted over his face as he murmured,-- + +"Quite so." + + +NOTES + +=the first battle of Bull Run=:--Fought July 21, 1861; known in the +South as Manassas. + +=Long Bridge=:--A bridge over which the Union soldiers crossed in +fleeing to Washington after the battle of Bull Run. + +=Shenandoah=:--A river and a valley in Virginia--the scene of many +events in the Civil War. + +=Fairfax Court House=:--Near Manassas Junction. + +=On to Richmond=:--In 1861 the newspapers of the North were violently +demanding an attack on Richmond. + +=Faneuil Hall=:--An historic hall in Boston, in which important meetings +were held before the Revolution. + +=McDowell=:--Irving McDowell, who commanded the Union troops at Bull +Run. + +=McClellan=:--George B. McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac. + +=Wandering Jew=:--A legendary person said to have been condemned to +wander over the earth, undying, till the Day of Judgment. The legend is +probably founded on a passage in the Bible--John 21:20-23. + +=folding its tents=:--A quotation from _The Day is Done_, by Longfellow. +The lines are:-- + + And the night shall be filled with music, + And the cares, that infest the day, + Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, + And as silently steal away. + +=Big Bethel=:--The Union troops were defeated here on June 10, 1861. + +=Ball's Bluff=:--A place on the Potomac where the Union soldiers were +beaten, October 21, 1861. + +=Centreville=:--A small town, the Union base in the first Battle of Bull +Run. + +=Lewinsville=:--A small town, north of Centreville. + +=Vienna=:--A village in the Bull Run district. + +=Blair's Grave=:--Robert Blair, a Scotch writer, published (1743) a poem +in blank verse called "The Grave." + +=barbette guns=:--Guns elevated to fire over the top of a turret or +parapet. + +=minie-ball=:--A conical ball plugged with iron, named after its +inventor, Captain Minie, of France. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the piece through without stopping, so that you can get the story. +Then go back to the beginning and study with the help of the following +questions:-- + +Compare the first sentence with the first sentence of _Tennessee's +Partner_. What do you think of the method? What is the use of the first +paragraph in _Quite So_? Why the long paragraph giving the setting? Is +this a good method in writing a story? What had become of "Little +Billy"? Who was "Johnny Reb"? What do you think of bringing in humorous +touches when one is dealing with things so serious as war and battles? +What does "Drop that!" refer to? Why does Strong change his tone? Note +what details the author has selected in order to give a clear picture of +"Quite So" in a few words. How does the conversation reveal the +stranger's character? What is shown by the fact that "Quite So" does not +write any letters? What is the purpose of the episode of "Muffin Fan"? +What devices does the author use, in order to bring out the mystery and +the loneliness of "Quite So"? Note how the author emphasizes the passage +of time. Why does Bladburn finally tell his story? How does it reveal +his character? Was Mary right in what she did? Why are some sentences in +the text printed in italics? Was Bladburn right in leaving his home +village without explanation? Why did he do so? What do you get from the +sentence, "He never meant to go back to New England"? What is the +impression made by the last sentence? Do you like the story? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Mysterious Person +The New Girl at School +The Schoolmaster's Romance +A Sudden Departure +A Camp Scene +The G.A.R. on Memorial Day +The Militia in our Town +An Old Soldier +A Story of the Civil War +Some Relics of the Civil War +Watching the Cadets Drill +My Uncle's Experiences in the War +A Sham Battle +A Visit to an Old Battlefield +On Picket Duty +A Daughter of the Confederacy +"Stonewall" Jackson +Modern Ways of Preventing War +The Soldiers' Home +An Escape from a Military Prison +The Women's Relief Corps +Women in the Civil War + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=An Old Soldier=:--Tell how you happen to know this old soldier. Where +does he live? Do you see him often? What is he doing when you see him? +Describe him as vividly as you can:--his general appearance; his +clothes; his way of walking. Speak particularly of his face and its +expression. If possible, let us hear him talk. Perhaps you can tell some +of his war stories--in his own words. + +=A Mysterious Person=:--Imagine a mysterious person appearing in a +little town where everybody knows everybody else. Tell how he (or she) +arrives. How does he look? What does he do? Explain clearly why he is +particularly hard to account for. What do people say about him? Try to +make each person's remarks fit his individual character. How do people +try to find out about the stranger? Does he notice their curiosity? Do +they ask him questions? If so, give some bits of their conversations +with him. You might go on and make a story of some length out of this. +Show whether the stranger really has any reason for concealing his +identity. Does he get into any trouble? Does an accident reveal who he +is and why he is in the town? Does some one find out by spying upon him? +Or does he tell all about himself, when the right time comes? + +Perhaps you can put the story into the form of a series of brief +conversations about the stranger or with him. + +=An Incident of the Civil War=:--Select some historical incident, or one +that you have heard from an old soldier, and tell it simply and vividly +in your own words. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Story of a Bad Boy Thomas Bailey Aldrich +Marjorie Daw and Other People " " " +The Stillwater Tragedy " " " +Prudence Palfrey " " " +From Ponkapog to Pesth " " " +The Queen of Sheba " " " +A Sea Turn and Other Matters " " " +For Bravery on the Field of Battle + (in _Two Bites at a Cherry_) " " " +The Return of a Private + (in _Main-Travelled Roads_) Hamlin Garland +On the Eve of the Fourth Harold Frederic +Marse Chan Thomas Nelson Page +Meh Lady " " " +The Burial of the Guns " " " +Red Rock " " " +The Long Roll Mary Johnston +Cease Firing " " +The Crisis Winston Churchill +Where the Battle was Fought Mary N. Murfree +The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come John Fox, Jr. +Hospital Sketches Louisa M. Alcott +A Blockaded Family P.A. Hague +He Knew Lincoln[2] Ida Tarbell +The Perfect Tribute[3] M.R.S. Andrews +The Toy Shop[4] M.S. Gerry +Thomas Bailey Aldrich Ferris Greenslet +Park Street Papers, pp. 143-70 Bliss Perry +American Writers of To-day, pp. 104-23 H.C. Vedder +American Authors and their Homes, + pp. 89-98 F.W. Halsey +American Authors at Home, pp. 3-16 J.L. and J.B. Gilder +Literary Pilgrimages in New England, + pp. 89-97 E.M. Bacon +Thomas Bailey Aldrich (poem) Henry van Dyke + +For biographies and criticisms of Thomas B. Aldrich, see also: Outlook, +86:922, August 24, 1907; 84:735, November 24, 1906; 85:737, March 30, +1907. Bookman, 24:317, December, 1906 (Portrait); also 25:218 +(Portrait). Current Literature, 42:49, January, 1907 (Portrait). +Chautauquan, 65:168, January, 1912. + + + + +PAN IN WALL STREET + +A.D. 1867 + +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN + + + Just where the Treasury's marble front + Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations; + Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont + To throng for trade and last quotations; + Where, hour by hour, the rates of gold + Outrival, in the ears of people, + The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled + From Trinity's undaunted steeple,-- + + Even there I heard a strange, wild strain + Sound high above the modern clamor, + Above the cries of greed and gain, + The curbstone war, the auction's hammer; + And swift, on Music's misty ways, + It led, from all this strife for millions. + To ancient, sweet-do-nothing days + Among the kirtle-robed Sicilians. + + And as it stilled the multitude, + And yet more joyous rose, and shriller, + I saw the minstrel where he stood + At ease against a Doric pillar: + One hand a droning organ played, + The other held a Pan's-pipe (fashioned + Like those of old) to lips that made + The reeds give out that strain impassioned. + + 'Twas Pan himself had wandered here + A-strolling through this sordid city, + And piping to the civic ear + The prelude of some pastoral ditty! + The demigod had crossed the seas,-- + From haunts of shepherd, nymph, and satyr, + And Syracusan times,--to these + Far shores and twenty centuries later. + + A ragged cap was on his head; + But--hidden thus--there was no doubting + That, all with crispy locks o'erspread, + His gnarled horns were somewhere sprouting; + His club-feet, cased in rusty shoes, + Were crossed, as on some frieze you see them, + And trousers, patched of divers hues, + Concealed his crooked shanks beneath them. + + He filled the quivering reeds with sound, + And o'er his mouth their changes shifted, + And with his goat's-eyes looked around + Where'er the passing current drifted; + And soon, as on Trinacrian hills + The nymphs and herdsmen ran to hear him, + Even now the tradesmen from their tills, + With clerks and porters, crowded near him. + + The bulls and bears together drew + From Jauncey Court and New Street Alley, + As erst, if pastorals be true, + Came beasts from every wooded valley; + And random passers stayed to list,-- + A boxer AEgon, rough and merry, + A Broadway Daphnis, on his tryst + With Nais at the Brooklyn Ferry. + + A one-eyed Cyclops halted long + In tattered cloak of army pattern, + And Galatea joined the throng,-- + A blowsy apple-vending slattern; + While old Silenus staggered out + From some new-fangled lunch-house handy, + And bade the piper, with a shout, + To strike up Yankee Doodle Dandy! + + A newsboy and a peanut-girl + Like little Fauns began to caper; + His hair was all in tangled curl, + Her tawny legs were bare and taper; + And still the gathering larger grew, + And gave its pence and crowded nigher, + While aye the shepherd-minstrel blew + His pipe, and struck the gamut higher. + + O heart of Nature, beating still + With throbs her vernal passion taught her,-- + Even here, as on the vine-clad hill, + Or by the Arethusan water! + New forms may fold the speech, new lands + Arise within these ocean-portals, + But Music waves eternal wands,-- + Enchantress of the souls of mortals! + + So thought I,--but among us trod + A man in blue, with legal baton, + And scoffed the vagrant demigod, + And pushed him from the step I sat on. + Doubting I mused upon the cry, + "Great Pan is dead!"--and all the people + Went on their ways:--and clear and high + The quarter sounded from the steeple. + + +NOTES + +=Wall Street=:--An old street in New York faced by the Stock Exchange +and the offices of the wealthiest bankers and brokers. + +=the Treasury=:--The Sub-Treasury Building. + +=last quotations=:--The latest information on stock values given out +before the Stock Exchange closes. + +=Trinity=:--The famous old church that stands at the head of Wall +Street. + +=curbstone war=:--The clamorous quoting, auctioning, and bidding of +stock out on the street curb, where the "curb brokers"--brokers who do +not have seats on the Stock Exchange--do business. + +=sweet-do-nothing=:--A translation of an Italian expression, _dolce far +niente_. + +=Sicilians=:--Theocritus (3rd century before Christ), the Greek pastoral +poet, wrote of the happy life of the shepherds and shepherdesses in +Sicily. + +=Doric pillar=:--A heavy marble pillar, such as was used in the +architecture of the Dorians in Greece. + +=Pan's pipe=:--Pan was the Greek god of shepherds, and patron of fishing +and hunting. He is represented as having the head and body of a man, +with the legs, horns, and tail of a goat. It was said that he invented +the shepherd's pipe or flute, which he made from reeds plucked on the +bank of a stream. + +=pastoral ditty=:--A poem about shepherds and the happy outdoor life. +The word pastoral comes from the Latin _pastor_, shepherd. + +=Syracusan times=:--Syracuse was an important city in Sicily. See the +note on Sicilians, above. + +=Trinacrian hills=:--Trinacria is an old name for Sicily. + +=bulls and bears=:--A bull, on the Stock Exchange, is one who operates +in expectation of a rise in stocks; a bear is a person who sells stocks +in expectation of a fall in the market. + +=Jauncey Court=:--The Jauncey family were prominent in the early New +York days. This court was probably named after them. + +=AEgon=:--Usually spelled AEgaeon; another name for Briareus, a monster +with a hundred arms. + +=Daphnis=:--In Greek myth, a shepherd who loved music. + +=Nais=:--In Greek myth, a happy young girl, a nymph. + +=Cyclops=:--One of a race of giants having but one eye--in the middle of +the forehead. These giants helped Vulcan at his forge under Aetna. + +=Galatea=:--A sea-nymph beloved by the Cyclops Polyphemus. + +=Silenus=:--The foster-father and companion of Bacchus, god of wine. In +pictures and sculpture Silenus is usually represented as intoxicated. + +=Fauns=:--Fabled beings, half goat and half man. + +=Arethusan water=:--Arethusa, in Greek myth, was a wood-nymph, who was +pursued by the river Alpheus. She was changed into a fountain, and ran +under the sea to Sicily, where she rose near the city of Syracuse. +Shelley has a poem on Arethusa. + +=baton=:--A rod or wand; here, of course, a policeman's club. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The author sees an organ-grinder playing his gay tunes in Wall Street, +New York, among the buildings where enormous financial transactions are +carried on. He (the author) imagines this wandering minstrel to be Pan +himself, assuming a modern form. Read the notes carefully for what is +said about Pan. Notice, in the poem, how skillfully the author brings +out the contrast between the easy-going days of ancient Greece and the +busy, rushing times of modern America. Of what value is the word +_serenely_ in the first stanza? What is the "curbstone war"? Do you +think the old-fashioned Pan's pipe is common now? Could a man play an +organ and a pipe at the same time? Why is the city spoken of as +"sordid"? What is the "civic ear"? In the description of the player, how +is the idea of his being Pan emphasized? How was it that the bulls and +bears drew together? In plain words who were the people whom the author +describes under Greek names? Show how aptly the mythological characters +are fitted to modern persons. Read carefully what is said about the +power of music, in the stanza beginning "O heart of Nature." Who was the +man in blue? Why did he interfere? Why is the organ-grinder called a +"vagrant demigod"? What was it that the author doubted? What is meant +here by "Great Pan is dead"? Does the author mean more than the mere +words seem to express? Do you think that people are any happier in these +commercial times than they were in ancient Greece? After you have +studied the poem and mastered all the references, read the poem through, +thinking of its meaning and its lively measure. + +Read Mrs. Browning's poem, _A Musical Instrument_, which is about Pan +and his pipe of reeds. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Nooks and Corners of Old New York Charles Hemstreet +In Old New York Thomas A. Janvier +The Greatest Street in the World: + Broadway Stephen Jenkins +The God of Music (poem) Edith M. Thomas +A Musical Instrument Elizabeth Barrett Browning +Classic Myths (See Index) C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable Thomas Bulfinch +A Butterfly in Wall Street + (in _Madrigals and Catches_) Frank D. Sherman +Come Pan, and Pipe + (in _Madrigals and Catches_) " " " +Pan Learns Music (poem) Henry van Dyke +Peeps at Great Cities: New York Hildegarde Hawthorne +Vignettes of Manhattan Brander Matthews +New York Society Ralph Pulitzer +In the Cities (poem) R.W. Gilder +Up at a Villa--Down in the City Robert Browning +The Faun in Wall Street[5] (poem) John Myers O'Hara + + + + +THE HAND OF LINCOLN + +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN + + + Look on this cast, and know the hand + That bore a nation in its hold; + From this mute witness understand + What Lincoln was,--how large of mould + + The man who sped the woodman's team, + And deepest sunk the ploughman's share, + And pushed the laden raft astream, + Of fate before him unaware. + + This was the hand that knew to swing + The axe--since thus would Freedom train + Her son--and made the forest ring, + And drove the wedge, and toiled amain. + + Firm hand, that loftier office took, + A conscious leader's will obeyed, + And, when men sought his word and look, + With steadfast might the gathering swayed. + + No courtier's, toying with a sword, + Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute; + A chief's, uplifted to the Lord + When all the kings of earth were mute! + + The hand of Anak, sinewed strong, + The fingers that on greatness clutch; + Yet, lo! the marks their lines along + Of one who strove and suffered much. + + For here in knotted cord and vein + I trace the varying chart of years; + I know the troubled heart, the strain, + The weight of Atlas--and the tears. + + Again I see the patient brow + That palm erewhile was wont to press; + And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now + Made smooth with hope and tenderness. + + For something of a formless grace + This moulded outline plays about; + A pitying flame, beyond our trace, + Breathes like a spirit, in and out,-- + + The love that cast an aureole + Round one who, longer to endure, + Called mirth to ease his ceaseless dole, + Yet kept his nobler purpose sure. + + Lo, as I gaze, the statured man, + Built up from yon large hand, appears; + A type that Nature wills to plan + But once in all a people's years. + + What better than this voiceless cast + To tell of such a one as he, + Since through its living semblance passed + The thought that bade a race be free! + + +NOTES + +=this cast=:--A cast of Lincoln's hand was made by Leonard W. Volk, in +1860, on the Sunday following the nomination of Lincoln for the +Presidency. The original, in bronze, can be seen at the National Museum +in Washington. Various copies have been made in plaster. An anecdote +concerning one of these is told on page 107 of William Dean Howells's +_Literary Friends and Acquaintances_; facing page 106 of the same book +there is an interesting picture. In the _Critic_, volume 44, page 510, +there is an article by Isabel Moore, entitled _Hands that have Done +Things_; a picture of Lincoln's hand, in plaster, is given in the course +of this article. + +=Anak=:--The sons of Anak are spoken of in the Bible as a race of +giants. See Numbers, 13:33; Deuteronomy, 9:2. + +=Atlas=:--In Greek story, the giant who held the world on his shoulders. + +=the thought=:--The Emancipation Proclamation. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem through from beginning to end. Then go back to the first +and study it more carefully. Notice that there is no pause at the end of +the first stanza. In the ninth line, mentally put in _how_ after _know_. +Explain what is said about Freedom's training her son. _Loftier office_: +Loftier than what? Note that _might_ is a noun. Mentally insert _hand_ +after _courtier's_. Can you tell from the hand of a person whether he +has suffered or not? What does the author mean here by "the weight of +Atlas"? What is a "formless grace"? Is the expression appropriate here? +What characteristic of Lincoln is referred to in the line beginning +"Called mirth"? Are great men so rare as the author seems to think? Why +is the cast a good means of telling of "such a one as he"? Look +carefully at one of Lincoln's portraits, and then read this poem aloud +to yourself. + +Compare this poem with the sonnet _On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln_, +page 210. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Abraham Lincoln: A Short Life John G. Nicolay +The Boys' Life of Lincoln Helen Nicolay +Personal Traits of Abraham Lincoln " " +Lincoln the Lawyer F.T. Hill +Passages from the Speeches and Letters + of Abraham Lincoln R.W. Gilder (Ed.) +Lincoln's Own Stories Anthony Gross +Lincoln Norman Hapgood +Abraham Lincoln, the Boy and the Man James Morgan +Father Abraham Ida Tarbell +He Knew Lincoln[6] " " +Life of Abraham Lincoln " " +Abraham Lincoln Robert G. Ingersoll +Abraham Lincoln Noah Brooks +Abraham Lincoln for Boys and Girls C.W. Moores +The Graysons Edward Eggleston +The Perfect Tribute[6] M.R.S. Andrews +The Toy Shop[6] M.S. Gerry +We Talked of Lincoln (poem)[7] E.W. Thomson +Lincoln and the Sleeping Sentinel L.E. Chittenden +O Captain, my Captain! Walt Whitman +When Lilacs last in the Dooryard Bloomed " " +Poems E.C. Stedman +An American Anthology " " " +American Authors and their Homes, pp. 157-172 F.W. Halsey +American Authors at Home, pp. 273-291 J.L. and J.B. Gilder + +For portraits of E.C. Stedman, see Bookman, 34:592; Current Literature, +42:49. + + + + +JEAN VALJEAN + +AUGUSTA STEVENSON + +(Dramatized from Victor Hugo's _Les Miserables_) + + +SCENE II + +TIME: _Evening._ + +PLACE: _Village of D----; dining room of the Bishop's house._ + + * * * * * + +[_The room is poorly furnished, but orderly. A door at the back opens on +the street. At one side, a window overlooks the garden; at the other, +curtains hang before an alcove._ MADEMOISELLE, _the Bishop's_ SISTER, _a +sweet-faced lady, sits by the fire, knitting._ MADAME, _his_ +HOUSEKEEPER, _is laying the table for supper._] + +MLLE. Has the Bishop returned from the service? + +MADAME. Yes, Mademoiselle. He is in his room, reading. Shall I +call him? + +MLLE. No, do not disturb him--he will come in good time--when +supper is ready. + +MADAME. Dear me--I forgot to get bread when I went out to-day. + +MLLE. Go to the baker's, then; we will wait. + +[_Exit Madame. Pause._] + +[_Enter the_ BISHOP. _He is an old man, gentle and kindly._] + +BISHOP. I hope I have not kept you waiting, sister. + +MLLE. No, brother, Madame has just gone out for bread. She +forgot it this morning. + +BISHOP (_having seated himself by the fire_). The wind blows +cold from the mountains to-night. + +MLLE. (_nodding_). All day it has been growing colder. + +BISHOP. 'Twill bring great suffering to the poor. + +MLLE. Who suffer too much already. + +BISHOP. I would I could help them more than I do! + +MLLE. You give all you have, my brother. You keep nothing for +yourself--you have only bare necessities. + +BISHOP. Well, I have sent in a bill for carriage hire in making +pastoral visits. + +MLLE. Carriage hire! I did not know you ever rode. Now I am +glad to hear that. A bishop should go in state sometimes. I venture to +say your bill is small. + +BISHOP. Three thousand francs. + +MLLE. Three thousand francs! Why, I cannot believe it! + +BISHOP. Here is the bill. + +MLLE. (_reading bill_). What is this! + +EXPENSES OF CARRIAGE + +For furnishing soup to hospital 1500 francs +For charitable society of D---- 500 " +For foundlings 500 " +For orphans 500 " + ---- +Total 3000 francs + +So! that is your carriage hire! Ha, ha! I might have known it! + +[_They laugh together._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME, _excited, with bread._] + +MADAME. Such news as I have heard! The whole town is talking +about it! We should have locks put on our doors at once! + +MLLE. What is it, Madame? What have you heard? + +MADAME. They say there is a suspicious vagabond in the town. +The inn-keeper refused to take him in. They say he is a released convict +who once committed an awful crime. + +[_The Bishop is looking into the fire, paying no attention to Madame._] + +MLLE. Do you hear what Madame is saying, brother? + +BISHOP. Only a little. Are we in danger, Madame? + +MADAME. There is a convict in town, your Reverence! + +BISHOP. Do you fear we shall be robbed? + +MADAME. I do, indeed! + +BISHOP. Of what? + +MADAME. There are the six silver plates and the silver +soup-ladle and the two silver candlesticks. + +BISHOP. All of which we could do without. + +MADAME. Do without! + +MLLE. 'Twould be a great loss, brother. We could not treat a +guest as is our wont. + +BISHOP. Ah, there you have me, sister. I love to see the silver +laid out for every guest who comes here. And I like the candles lighted, +too; it makes a brighter welcome. + +MLLE. A bishop's house should show some state. + +BISHOP. Aye--to every stranger! Henceforth, I should like every +one of our six plates on the table whenever we have a guest here. + +MLLE. All of them? + +MADAME. For one guest? + +BISHOP. Yes--we have no right to hide treasures. Each guest +shall enjoy all that we have. + +MADAME. Then 'tis time we should look to the locks on the +doors, if we would keep our silver. I'll go for the locksmith now-- + +BISHOP. Stay! This house shall not be locked against any man! +Would you have me lock out my brothers? + +[_A loud knock is heard at street door._] + +Come in! + +[_Enter_ JEAN VALJEAN, _with his knapsack and cudgel. The women +are frightened._] + +JEAN (_roughly_). See here! My name is Jean Valjean. I am a +convict from the galleys. I was set free four days ago, and I am looking +for work. I hoped to find a lodging here, but no one will have me. It +was the same way yesterday and the day before. To-night a good woman +told me to knock at your door. I have knocked. Is this an inn? + +BISHOP. Madame, put on another plate. + +JEAN. Stop! You do not understand, I think. Here is my +passport--see what it says: "Jean Valjean, discharged convict, has been +nineteen years in the galleys; five years for theft; fourteen years for +having attempted to escape. He is a very dangerous man." There! you know +it all. I ask only for straw in your stable. + +BISHOP. Madame, you will put white sheets on the bed in the +alcove. + +[_Exit Madame. The Bishop turns to Jean._] + +We shall dine presently. Sit here by the fire, sir. + +JEAN. What! You will keep me? You call me "sir"! Oh! I am going +to dine! I am to have a bed with sheets like the rest of the world--a +bed! It is nineteen years since I have slept in a bed! I will pay +anything you ask. You are a fine man. You are an innkeeper, are you not? + +BISHOP. I am a priest who lives here. + +JEAN. A priest! Ah, yes--I ask your pardon--I didn't notice +your cap and gown. + +BISHOP. Be seated near the fire, sir. + +[_Jean deposits his knapsack, repeating to himself with delight._] + +JEAN. He calls me _sir_--_sir_. (_Aloud._) You will require me +to pay, will you not? + +BISHOP. No, keep your money. How much have you? + +JEAN. One hundred and nine francs. + +BISHOP. How long did it take you to earn it? + +JEAN. Nineteen years. + +BISHOP (_sadly_). Nineteen years--the best part of your life! + +JEAN. Aye, the best part--I am now forty-six. A beast of burden +would have earned more. + +BISHOP. This lamp gives a very bad light, sister. + +[_Mlle. gets the two silver candlesticks from the mantel, lights them, +and places them on the table._] + +JEAN. Ah, but you are good! You don't despise me. You light +your candles for me,--you treat me as a guest,--and I've told you where +I come from, who I am! + +BISHOP. This house does not demand of him who enters whether he +has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer--you are hungry--you +are welcome. + +JEAN. I cannot understand it-- + +BISHOP. This house is home to the man who needs a refuge. So, +sir, this is your house now more than it is mine. Whatever is here is +yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me, +I knew it. + +JEAN. What! You knew my name! + +BISHOP. Yes, your name is--Brother. + +JEAN. Stop! I cannot bear it--you are so good-- + +[_He buries his face in his hands._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME _with dishes for the table; she continues +passing in and out, preparing supper._] + +BISHOP. You have suffered much, sir-- + +JEAN (_nodding_). The red shirt, the ball on the ankle, a plank +to sleep on, heat, cold, toil, the whip, the double chain for nothing, +the cell for one word--even when sick in bed, still the chain! Dogs, +dogs are happier! Nineteen years! and now the yellow passport! + +BISHOP. Yes, you have suffered. + +JEAN (_with violence_). I hate this world of laws and courts! I +hate the men who rule it! For nineteen years my soul has had only +thoughts of hate. For nineteen years I've planned revenge. Do you hear? +Revenge--revenge! + +BISHOP. It is not strange that you should feel so. And if you +continue to harbor those thoughts, you are only deserving of pity. But +listen, my brother; if, in spite of all you have passed through, your +thoughts could be of peace and love, you would be better than any one of +us. + +[_Pause. Jean reflects._] + +JEAN (_speaking violently_). No, no! I do not belong to your +world of men. I am apart--a different creature from you all. The galleys +made me different. I'll have nothing to do with any of you! + +MADAME. The supper, your Reverence. + +[_The Bishop glances at the table_.] + +BISHOP. It strikes me there is something missing from this +table. + +[_Madame hesitates._] + +MLLE. Madame, do you not understand? + +[_Madame steps to a cupboard, gets the remaining silver plates, and +places them on the table._] + +BISHOP (_gayly, turning to Jean_). To table then, my friend! To +table! + +[_Jean remains for a moment, standing doggedly apart; then he steps over +to the chair awaiting him, jerks it back, and sinks into it, without +looking up._] + + +SCENE III + +TIME: _Daybreak the next morning._ + +PLACE: _The Bishop's dining room._ + + * * * * * + +[_The room is dark, except for a faint light that comes in through +window curtains._ JEAN VALJEAN _creeps in from the alcove. He +carries his knapsack and cudgel in one hand; in the other, his shoes. He +opens the window overlooking the garden; the room becomes lighter. Jean +steps to the mantel and lifts a silver candlestick._] + +JEAN (_whispering_). Two hundred francs--double what I have +earned in nineteen years! + +[_He puts it in his knapsack; takes up the other candlestick; shudders, +and sets it down again._] + +No, no, he is good--he called me "sir"-- + +[_He stands still, staring before him, his hand still gripping the +candlestick. Suddenly he straightens up; speaks bitterly._] + +Why not? 'Tis easy to give a bed and food! Why doesn't he keep men from +the galleys? Nineteen years for a loaf of bread! + +[_Pauses a moment, then resolutely puts both candlesticks into his bag; +steps to the cupboard and takes out the silver plates and the ladle, and +slips them into the bag._] + +All solid--I should gain at least one thousand francs. 'Tis due me--due +me for all these years! + +[_Closes the bag. Pause._] + +No, not the candles--I owe him that much-- + +[_He puts the candlesticks on mantel; takes up cudgel, knapsack, and +shoes; jumps out window and disappears. Pause._] + +[_Enter_ MADAME. _She shivers; discovers the open window._] + +MADAME. Why is that window open? I closed it last night myself. +Oh! Could it be possible? + +[_Crosses and looks at open cupboard._] + +It is gone! + +[_Enter the_ BISHOP _from his room._] + +BISHOP. Good morning, Madame! + +MADAME. Your Reverence! The silver is gone! Where is that man? + +BISHOP. In the alcove sleeping, I suppose. + +[_Madame runs to curtains of alcove and looks in. Enter_ +MADEMOISELLE. _Madame turns._] + +He is gone! + +MLLE. Gone? + +MADAME. Aye, gone--gone! He has stolen our silver, the +beautiful plates and the ladle! I'll inform the police at once! + +[_Starts off. The Bishop stops her._] + +BISHOP. Wait!--Let me ask you this--was that silver ours? + +MADAME. Why--why not? + +BISHOP. Because it has always belonged to the poor. I have +withheld it wrongfully. + +MLLE. Its loss makes no difference to Madame or me. + +MADAME. Oh, no! But what is your Reverence to eat from now? + +BISHOP. Are there no pewter plates? + +MADAME. Pewter has an odor. + +BISHOP. Iron ones, then. + +MADAME. Iron has a taste. + +BISHOP. Well, then, wooden plates. + +[_A knock is heard at street door._] + +Come in. + +[_Enter an_ OFFICER _and two_ SOLDIERS, _dragging in_ +JEAN VALJEAN.] + +OFFICER. Your Reverence, we found your silver on this man. + +BISHOP. Why not? I gave it to him. I am glad to see you again, +Jean. Why did you not take the candlesticks, too? + +JEAN (_trembling_). Your Reverence-- + +BISHOP. I told you everything in this house was yours, my +brother. + +OFFICER. Ah, then what he said was true. But, of course, we did +not believe him. We saw him creeping from your garden-- + +BISHOP. It is all right, I assure you. This man is a friend of +mine. + +OFFICER. Then we can let him go? + +BISHOP. Certainly. + +[_Soldiers step back._] + +JEAN (_trembling_). I am free? + +OFFICER. Yes! You can go. Do you not understand? + +[_Steps back._] + +BISHOP (_to Jean_). My friend, before you go away--here are +your candlesticks (_going to the mantel and bringing the candlesticks_); +take them. + +[_Jean takes the candlesticks, seeming not to know what he is doing._] + +By the way, my friend, when you come again you need not come through the +garden. The front door is closed only with a latch, day or night. (_To +the Officer and Soldiers._) Gentlemen, you may withdraw. + +[_Exit Officer and Soldiers._] + +JEAN (_recoiling and holding out the candlesticks_). +No--no--I--I-- + +BISHOP. Say no more; I understand. You felt that they were all +owing to you from a world that had used you ill. Keep them, my friend, +keep them. I would I had more to give you. It is small recompense for +nineteen years. + +[_Jean stands bewildered, looking down at the candlesticks in his +hands._] + +They will add something to your hundred francs. But do not forget, never +forget, that you have promised to use the money in becoming an honest +man. + +JEAN. I--promised--? + +BISHOP (_not heeding_). Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer +belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you: I +withdraw it from thoughts of hatred and revenge--I give it to peace and +hope and God. + +[_Jean stands as if stunned, staring at the Bishop, then turns and walks +unsteadily from the room._] + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Jean Valjean, as a young man, was sent to the galleys for stealing a +loaf of bread to feed his sister's hungry children. From time to time, +when he tried to escape, his sentence was increased, so that he spent +nineteen years as a convict. Scene I of Miss Stevenson's dramatization +shows Jean Valjean being turned away from the inn because he has been in +prison. + +What does the stage setting tell of the Bishop and his sister? Notice, +as you read, why each of the items in the stage setting is mentioned. +Why is Madame made to leave the room--how does her absence help the +action of the play? What is the purpose of the conversation about the +weather? About the carriage hire? Why is the Bishop not more excited at +Madame's news? What is gained by the talk about the silver? Notice the +dramatic value of the Bishop's speech beginning "Stay!" Why does Jean +Valjean speak so roughly when he enters? Why does he not try to conceal +the fact that he is a convict? Why does not the Bishop reply directly to +Jean Valjean's question? What would be the action of Mademoiselle and +Madame while Jean is speaking? What is Madame's action as she goes out? +What is gained by the conversation between Jean and the Bishop? Why does +the Bishop not reproach Jean for saying he will have revenge? Why is the +silver mentioned so many times? + +While you are reading the first part of Scene III, think how it should +be played. Note how much the stage directions add to the clearness of +the scene. How long should the pause be, before Madame enters? What is +gained by the calmness of the Bishop? How can he say that the silver was +not his? What does the Bishop mean when he says, "I gave it to him"? +What are Mademoiselle and Madame doing while the conversation with the +officers and Jean Valjean is going on? Is it a good plan to let them +drop so completely out of the conversation? Why does the Bishop say that +Jean has promised? Why does the scene close without Jean's replying to +the Bishop? How do you think the Bishop's kindness has affected Jean +Valjean's attitude toward life? + +Note how the action and the conversation increase in intensity as the +play proceeds: Is this a good method? Notice the use of contrast in +speech and action. Note how the chief characters are emphasized. Can you +discover the quality called "restraint," in this fragment of a play? How +is it gained, and what is its value? + + +EXERCISES[8] + +Select a short passage from some book that you like, and try to put it +into dramatic form, using this selection as a kind of model. Do not +attempt too much at once, but think out carefully the setting, the stage +directions, and the dialogue for a brief fragment of a play. + +Make a series of dramatic scenes from the same book, so that a connected +story is worked out. + +Read a part of some modern drama, such as _The Piper_, or _The Blue +Bird_, or one of Mr. Howells's little farces, and notice how it makes +use of setting and stage directions; how the conversation is broken up; +how the situation is brought out in the dialogue; how each person is +made to speak in his own character. + +After you have done the reading suggested above, make another attempt at +dramatizing a scene from a book, and see what improvement you can make +upon the sort of thing you did at first. + +It might be interesting for two or three persons to work on a bit of +dramatization together, and then give the fragment of a play in simple +fashion before the class. Or the whole class may work on the play, and +then select some of their number to perform it. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Dramatic Reader: Book Five Augusta Stevenson +Plays for the Home " " +Jean Valjean (translated and abridged from + Victor Hugo's _Les Miserables_) S.E. Wiltse (Ed.) +The Little Men Play (adapted from Louisa + Alcott's _Little Men_) E.L. Gould +The Little Women Play " " " +The St. Nicholas Book of Plays Century Company +The Silver Thread and Other Folk Plays Constance Mackay +Patriotic Plays and Pageants " " +Fairy Tale Plays and How to Act Them Mrs. Hugh Bell +Festival Plays Marguerite Merington +Short Plays from Dickens H.B. Browne +The Piper Josephine Preston Peabody +The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck +Riders to the Sea J.M. Synge +She Stoops to Conquer Oliver Goldsmith +The Rivals Richard Brinsley Sheridan +Prince Otto R.L. Stevenson +The Canterbury Pilgrims Percy Mackaye +The Elevator William Dean Howells +The Mouse Trap " " " +The Sleeping Car William Dean Howells +The Register " " " +The Story of Waterloo Henry Irving +The Children's Theatre A. Minnie Herts +The Art of Play-writing Alfred Hennequin + + + + +A COMBAT ON THE SANDS + +MARY JOHNSTON + +(From _To Have and to Hold_, Chapters XXI and XXII) + + +A few minutes later saw me almost upon the party gathered about the +grave. The grave had received that which it was to hold until the crack +of doom, and was now being rapidly filled with sand. The crew of +deep-dyed villains worked or stood or sat in silence, but all looked at +the grave, and saw me not. As the last handful of sand made it level +with the beach, I walked into their midst, and found myself face to face +with the three candidates for the now vacant captaincy. + +"Give you good-day, gentlemen," I cried. "Is it your captain that you +bury or one of your crew, or is it only pezos and pieces of eight? + +"The sun shining on so much bare steel hurts my eyes," I said. "Put up, +gentlemen, put up! Cannot one rover attend the funeral of another +without all this crowding and display of cutlery? If you will take the +trouble to look around you, you will see that I have brought to the +obsequies only myself." + +One by one cutlass and sword were lowered, and those who had drawn them, +falling somewhat back, spat and swore and laughed. The man in black and +silver only smiled gently and sadly. "Did you drop from the blue?" he +asked. "Or did you come up from the sea?" + +"I came out of it," I said. "My ship went down in the storm yesterday. +Your little cockboat yonder was more fortunate." I waved my hand toward +that ship of three hundred tons, then twirled my mustaches and stood at +gaze. + +"Was your ship so large, then?" demanded Paradise, while a murmur of +admiration, larded with oaths, ran around the circle. + +"She was a very great galleon," I replied, with a sigh for the good ship +that was gone. + +A moment's silence, during which they all looked at me. "A galleon," +then said Paradise softly. + +"They that sailed her yesterday are to-day at the bottom of the sea," I +continued. "Alackaday! so are one hundred thousand pezos of gold, three +thousand bars of silver, ten frails of pearls, jewels uncounted, cloth +of gold and cloth of silver. She was a very rich prize." + +The circle sucked in their breath. "All at the bottom of the sea?" +queried Red Gil, with gloating eyes fixed upon the smiling water. "Not +one pezo left, not one little, little pearl?" + +I shook my head and heaved a prodigious sigh. "The treasure is gone," I +said, "and the men with whom I took it are gone. I am a captain with +neither ship nor crew. I take you, my friends, for a ship and crew +without a captain. The inference is obvious." + +The ring gaped with wonder, then strange oaths arose. Red Gil broke into +a bellow of angry laughter, while the Spaniard glared like a catamount +about to spring. "So you would be our captain?" said Paradise, picking +up another shell, and poising it upon a hand as fine and small as a +woman's. + +"Faith, you might go farther and fare worse," I answered, and began to +hum a tune. When I had finished it, "I am Kirby," I said, and waited to +see if that shot should go wide or through the hull. + +For two minutes the dash of the surf and the cries of the wheeling sea +fowl made the only sound in that part of the world; then from those +half-clad rapscallions arose a shout of "Kirby!"--a shout in which the +three leaders did not join. That one who looked a gentleman rose from +the sand and made me a low bow. "Well met, noble captain," he cried in +those his honey tones. "You will doubtless remember me who was with you +that time at Maracaibo when you sunk the galleasses. Five years have +passed since then, and yet I see you ten years younger and three inches +taller." + +"I touched once at the Lucayas, and found the spring de Leon sought," I +said. "Sure the waters have a marvelous effect, and if they give not +eternal youth at least renew that which we have lost." + +"Truly a potent aqua vitae," he remarked, still with thoughtful +melancholy. "I see that it hath changed your eyes from black to gray." + +"It hath that peculiar virtue," I said, "that it can make black seem +white." + +The man with the woman's mantle drawn about him now thrust himself from +the rear to the front rank. "That's not Kirby!" he bawled. "He's no more +Kirby than I am Kirby! Didn't I sail with Kirby from the Summer Isles to +Cartagena and back again? He's a cheat, and I am a-going to cut his +heart out!" He was making at me with a long knife, when I whipped out my +rapier. + +"Am I not Kirby, you dog?" I cried, and ran him through the shoulder. + +He dropped, and his fellows surged forward with a yell. "Yet a little +patience, my masters!" said Paradise in a raised voice and with genuine +amusement in his eyes. "It is true that that Kirby with whom I and our +friend there on the ground sailed was somewhat short and as swart as a +raven, besides having a cut across his face that had taken away part of +his lip and the top of his ear, and that this gentleman who announces +himself as Kirby hath none of Kirby's marks. But we are fair and +generous and open to conviction"-- + +"He'll have to convince my cutlass!" roared Red Gil. + +I turned upon him. "If I do convince it, what then?" I demanded. "If I +convince your sword, you of Spain, and yours, Sir Black and Silver?" + +The Spaniard stared. "I was the best sword in Lima," he said stiffly. "I +and my Toledo will not change our minds." + +"Let him try to convince Paradise; he's got no reputation as a +swordsman!" cried out the grave-digger with the broken head. + +A roar of laughter followed this suggestion, and I gathered from it and +from the oaths and allusions to this or that time and place that +Paradise was not without reputation. + +I turned to him. "If I fight you three, one by one, and win, am I +Kirby?" + +He regarded the shell with which he was toying with a thoughtful smile, +held it up that the light might strike through its rose and pearl, then +crushed it to dust between his fingers. + +"Ay," he said with an oath. "If you win against the cutlass of Red Gil, +the best blade of Lima, and the sword of Paradise, you may call yourself +the devil an you please, and we will all subscribe to it." + +I lifted my hand. "I am to have fair play?" + +As one man that crew of desperate villains swore that the odds should be +only three to one. By this the whole matter had presented itself to them +as an entertainment more diverting than bullfight or bear-baiting. They +that follow the sea, whether honest men or black-hearted knaves, have in +their composition a certain childlikeness that makes them easily turned, +easily led, and easily pleased. The wind of their passion shifts quickly +from point to point, one moment blowing a hurricane, the next sinking to +a happy-go-lucky summer breeze. I have seen a little thing convert a +crew on the point of mutiny into a set of rollicking, good-natured souls +who--until the wind veered again--would not hurt a fly. So with these. +They spread themselves into a circle, squatting or kneeling or standing +upon the white sand in the bright sunshine, their sinewy hands that +should have been ingrained red clasped over their knees, or, arms +akimbo, resting upon their hips, on their scoundrel faces a broad smile, +and in their eyes that had looked on nameless horrors a pleasurable +expectation as of spectators in a playhouse awaiting the entrance of the +players. + +"There is really no good reason why we should gratify your whim," said +Paradise, still amused. "But it will serve to pass the time. We will +fight you, one by one." + +"And if I win?" + +He laughed. "Then, on the honor of a gentleman, you are Kirby and our +captain. If you lose, we will leave you where you stand for the gulls to +bury." + +"A bargain," I said, and drew my sword. + +"I first!" roared Red Gil. "God's wounds! there will need no second!" + +As he spoke he swung his cutlass and made an arc of blue flame. The +weapon became in his hands a flail, terrible to look upon, making +lightnings and whistling in the air, but in reality not so deadly as it +seemed. The fury of his onslaught would have beaten down the guard of +any mere swordsman, but that I was not. A man, knowing his weakness and +insufficiency in many and many a thing, may yet know his strength in one +or two and his modesty take no hurt. I was ever master of my sword, and +it did the thing I would have it do. Moreover, as I fought I saw her as +I had last seen her, standing against the bank of sand, her dark hair, +half braided, drawn over her bosom and hanging to her knees. Her eyes +haunted me, and my lips yet felt the touch of her hand. I fought +well,--how well the lapsing of oaths and laughter into breathless +silence bore witness. + +The ruffian against whom I was pitted began to draw his breath in gasps. +He was a scoundrel not fit to die, less fit to live, unworthy of a +gentleman's steel. I presently ran him through with as little +compunction and as great a desire to be quit of a dirty job as if he had +been a mad dog. He fell, and a little later, while I was engaged with +the Spaniard, his soul went to that hell which had long gaped for it. To +those his companions his death was as slight a thing as would theirs +have been to him. In the eyes of the two remaining would-be leaders he +was a stumbling-block removed, and to the squatting, open-mouthed +commonalty his taking off weighed not a feather against the solid +entertainment I was affording them. I was now a better man than Red +Gil,--that was all. + +The Spaniard was a more formidable antagonist. The best blade of Lima +was by no means to be despised: but Lima is a small place, and its +blades can be numbered. The sword that for three years had been counted +the best in all the Low Countries was its better. But I fought fasting +and for the second time that morning, so maybe the odds were not so +great. I wounded him slightly, and presently succeeded in disarming him. +"Am I Kirby?" I demanded, with my point at his breast. + +"Kirby, of course, senor," he answered with a sour smile, his eyes upon +the gleaming blade. + +I lowered my point and we bowed to each other, after which he sat down +upon the sand and applied himself to stanching the bleeding from his +wound. The pirate ring gave him no attention, but stared at me instead. +I was now a better man than the Spaniard. + +The man in black and silver rose and removed his doublet, folding it +very carefully, inside out, that the sand might not injure the velvet, +then drew his rapier, looked at it lovingly, made it bend until point +and hilt well-nigh met, and faced me with a bow. + +"You have fought twice, and must be weary," he said. "Will you not take +breath before we engage, or will your long rest afterward suffice you?" + +"I will rest aboard my ship," I made reply. "And as I am in a hurry to +be gone we won't delay." + +Our blades had no sooner crossed than I knew that in this last encounter +I should need every whit of my skill, all my wit, audacity, and +strength. I had met my equal, and he came to it fresh and I jaded. I +clenched my teeth and prayed with all my heart; I set her face before +me, and thought if I should fail her to what ghastly fate she might +come, and I fought as I had never fought before. The sound of the surf +became a roar in my ears, the sunshine an intolerable blaze of light; +the blue above and around seemed suddenly beneath my feet as well. We +were fighting high in the air, and had fought thus for ages. I knew that +he made no thrust I did not parry, no feint I could not interpret. I +knew that my eye was more quick to see, my brain to conceive, and my +hand to execute than ever before; but it was as though I held that +knowledge of some other, and I myself was far away, at Weyanoke, in the +minister's garden, in the haunted wood, anywhere save on that barren +islet. I heard him swear under his breath, and in the face I had set +before me the eyes brightened. As if she had loved me I fought for her +with all my powers of body and mind. He swore again, and my heart +laughed within me. The sea now roared less loudly, and I felt the good +earth beneath my feet. Slowly but surely I wore him out. His breath came +short, the sweat stood upon his forehead, and still I deferred my +attack. He made the thrust of a boy of fifteen, and I smiled as I put it +by. + +"Why don't you end it?" he breathed. "Finish and be hanged to you!" + +For answer I sent his sword flying over the nearest hillock of sand. "Am +I Kirby?" I said. He fell back against the heaped-up sand and leaned +there, panting, with his hand to his side. "Kirby or devil," he replied. +"Have it your own way." + +I turned to the now highly excited rabble. "Shove the boats off, half a +dozen of you!" I ordered. "Some of you others take up that carrion there +and throw it into the sea. The gold upon it is for your pains. You there +with the wounded shoulder you have no great hurt. I'll salve it with ten +pieces of eight from the captain's own share, the next prize we take." + +A shout of acclamation arose that scared the sea fowl. They who so short +a time before had been ready to tear me limb from limb now with the +greatest apparent delight hailed me as captain. How soon they might +revert to their former mood was a question that I found not worth while +to propound to myself. + +By this the man in black and silver had recovered his breath and his +equanimity. "Have you no commission with which to honor me, noble +captain?" he asked in gently reproachful tones. "Have you forgot how +often you were wont to employ me in those sweet days when your eyes were +black?" + +"By no means, Master Paradise," I said courteously. "I desire your +company and that of the gentleman from Lima. You will go with me to +bring up the rest of my party. The three gentlemen of the broken head, +the bushy ruff, which I protest is vastly becoming, and the wounded +shoulder will escort us." + +"The rest of your party?" said Paradise softly. + +"Ay," I answered nonchalantly. "They are down the beach and around the +point warming themselves by a fire which this piled-up sand hides from +you. Despite the sunshine it is a biting air. Let us be going! This +island wearies me, and I am anxious to be on board ship and away." + +"So small an escort scarce befits so great a captain," he said. "We will +all attend you." One and all started forward. + +I called to mind and gave utterance to all the oaths I had heard in the +wars. "I entertain you for my subordinate whom I command, and not who +commands me!" I cried, when my memory failed me. "As for you, you dogs, +who would question your captain and his doings, stay where you are, if +you would not be lessoned in earnest!" + +Sheer audacity is at times the surest steed a man can bestride. Now at +least it did me good service. With oaths and grunts of admiration the +pirates stayed where they were, and went about their business of +launching the boats and stripping the body of Red Gil, while the man in +black and silver, the Spaniard, the two gravediggers, the knave with the +wounded shoulder, and myself walked briskly up the beach. + +With these five at my heels I strode up to the dying fire and to those +who had sprung to their feet at our approach. "Sparrow," I said easily, +"luck being with us as usual, I have fallen in with a party of rovers. I +have told them who I am,--that Kirby, to wit, whom an injurious world +calls the blackest pirate unhanged,--and I have recounted to them how +the great galleon which I took some months ago went down yesterday with +all on board, you and I with these others being the sole survivors. By +dint of a little persuasion they have elected me their captain, and we +will go on board directly and set sail for the Indies, a hunting ground +which we never should have left. You need not look so blank; you shall +be my mate and right hand still." I turned to the five who formed my +escort. "This, gentlemen, is my mate, Jeremy Sparrow by name, who hath a +taste for divinity that in no wise interferes with his taste for a +galleon or a guarda costa. This man, Diccon Demon by name, was of my +crew. The gentleman without a sword is my prisoner, taken by me from the +last ship I sunk. How he, an Englishman, came to be upon a Spanish bark +I have not found leisure to inquire. The lady is my prisoner, also." + +"Sure by rights she should be gaoler and hold all men's hearts in ward," +said Paradise, with a low bow to my unfortunate captive. + +While he spoke a most remarkable transformation was going on. The +minister's grave, rugged, and deeply lined face smoothed itself and shed +ten years at least; in the eyes that I had seen wet with noble tears a +laughing devil now lurked, while his strong mouth became a loose-lipped, +devil-may-care one. His head with its aureole of bushy, grizzled hair +set itself jauntily upon one side, and from it and from his face and his +whole great frame breathed a wicked jollity quite indescribable. + +"Odsbodikins, captain!" he cried. "Kirby's luck!--'twill pass into a +saw! Adzooks! and so you're captain once more, and I'm mate once more, +and we've a ship once more, and we're off once more + + To sail the Spanish Main, + And give the Spaniard pain, + Heave ho, bully boy, heave ho! + +By 'r lakin! I'm too dry to sing. It will take all the wine of Xeres in +the next galleon to unparch my tongue!" + + +NOTES + +=the grave=:--This refers to the latter part of chapter 21 of _To Have +and to Hold_; the hero, Ralph Percy, who has been shipwrecked with his +companions, discovers a group of pirates burying their dead captain. + +=pezos and pieces of eight=:--_peso_ is the Spanish word for dollar; +_pieces of eight_ are dollars also, each dollar containing eight +_reals_. + +=the man in black and silver=:--Paradise, an Englishman. + +=frails=:--Baskets made of rushes. + +=Kirby=:--A renowned pirate mentioned in chapter 21. + +=Maracaibo=:--The city or the gulf of that name in Venezuela. + +=galleasses=:--Heavy, low-built vessels having sails as well as oars. + +=Lucayas=:--An old name for the Bahama Islands. + +=de Leon=:--Ponce de Leon discovered Florida in 1513; he searched long +for a fountain which would restore youth. + +=aqua vitae=:--Latin for _water of life_. + +=Summer Isles=:--Another name for the Bermuda Islands. + +=Cartagena=:--A city in Spain. + +=Lima=:--A city in Peru. + +=Toledo=:--A "Toledo blade"--a sword of the very finest temper, made in +Toledo, Spain. + +=the Low Countries=:--Holland and Belgium. + +=senor=:--The Spanish word for _sir_. + +=Weyanoke=:--The home of the hero, near Jamestown, Virginia. + +=Sparrow=:--A minister, one of the hero's companions; see chapter 3 of +_To Have and to Hold_. + +=guarda costa=:--Coast guard. + +=Diccon=:--Ralph Percy's servant. + +=the gentleman without a sword=:--Lord Carnal, an enemy of Percy. + +=the lady=:--She is really Percy's wife. + +=Odsbodikins=; =Adzooks=:--Oaths much used two centuries ago. + +=By 'r lakin=:--By our ladykin (little lady); an oath by the Virgin +Mary. + +=Xeres=:--The Spanish town after which sherry wine is named. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This selection is easily understood. Ralph Percy, his wife, and several +others (see notes) are cast on a desert shore after the sinking of their +boat. Percy leaves his companions for a time and falls among pirates; he +pretends to be a "sea-rover" himself. Why does he allude to the pirate +ship as a "cockboat"? Why are the pirates impressed by his remarks? Why +does Percy emphasize the riches of the sunken ship? Is what he says +true? (See chapter 19 of _To Have and to Hold_.) If not, is he +justified in telling a falsehood? Is he really Kirby? Is he fortunate in +his assertion that he is? How does he explain his lack of resemblance to +Kirby? What kind of person is the hero? Why does he wish to become the +leader of the pirates? Is it possible that the pirate crew should change +their attitude so suddenly? Is it a good plan in a story to make a hero +tell of his own successes? Characterize the man in black and silver. How +does the author make us feel the action and peril of the struggle? How +does she make us feel the long duration of the fight with Paradise? Do +you like the hero's behavior with the defeated pirates? Why is he so +careful to repeat to the minister what he has told the pirates? Why does +the minister appear to change his character? + +Can you make this piece into a little play? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Real Pirates +Spanish Gold +A Fight for Life +A Famous Duel +Buried Treasure +Playing Pirates +Sea Stories that I Like +Captain Kidd +Ponce de Leon +The Search for Gold +Story-book Heroes +Along the Sea Shore +A Barren Island +The Rivals +Land Pirates +The Pirates in _Peter Pan_ +A Struggle for Leadership +Our High School Play + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +Try to make a fragment of a play out of this selection. In this process, +all the class may work together under the direction of the teacher, or +each pupil may make his own attempt to dramatize the piece. + +In writing the drama, tell first what the setting is. In doing so, you +had better look up some modern play and see how the setting is explained +to the reader or the actors. Now show the pirates at work, and give a +few lines of their conversation; then have the hero come upon the scene. +Indicate the speech of each person, and put in all necessary stage +directions. Perhaps you will want to add more dialogue than there is +here. Some of the onlookers may have something to say. Perhaps you will +wish to leave something out. It might be well, while the fighting is +going on, to bring in remarks from the combatants and the other pirates. +You might look up the duel scene in _Hamlet_ for this point. You can end +your play with the departure of the group; or you can write a second +scene, in which the hero's companions appear, including the lady. +Considerable dialogue could be invented here, and a new episode added--a +quarrel, a plan for organization, or a merry-making. + +When your play is finished, you may possibly wish to have it acted +before the class. A few turbans, sashes, and weapons will be sufficient +to give an air of piracy to the group of players. Some grim black +mustaches would complete the effect. + +=A Pirate Story=:--Tell an old-fashioned "yarn" of adventure, in which a +modest hero relates his own experiences. Give your imagination a good +deal of liberty. Do not waste much time in getting started, but plunge +very soon into the actual story. Let your hero tell how he fell among +the pirates. Then go on with the conversation that ensued--the threats, +the boasting, and the bravado. Make the hero report his struggles, or +the tricks that he resorted to in order to outwit the sea-rovers. +Perhaps he failed at first and got into still greater dangers. Follow +out his adventures to the moment of his escape. Make your descriptions +short and vivid; put in as much direct conversation as possible; keep +the action brisk and spirited. Try to write a lively tale that would +interest a group of younger boys. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +To Have and to Hold Mary Johnston +Prisoners of Hope " " +The Long Roll " " +Cease Firing " " +Audrey " " +The Virginians W.M. Thackeray +White Aprons Maude Wilder Goodwin +The Gold Bug Edgar Allan Poe +Treasure Island R.L. Stevenson +Kidnapped " " +Ebb Tide " " +Buccaneers and Pirates of our Coast Frank R. Stockton +Kate Bonnett " " +Drake Julian Corbett +Drake and his Yeomen James Barnes +Drake, the Sea-king of Devon G.M. Towle +Raleigh " " +Red Rover J.F. Cooper +The Pirate Walter Scott +Robinson Crusoe Daniel Defoe +Two Years before the Mast R.H. Dana +Tales of a Traveller (Part IV) Washington Irving +Nonsense Novels (chapter 8) Stephen Leacock +The Duel (in _The Master of Ballantrae_, + chapter 4) R.L. Stevenson +The Lost Galleon (poem) Bret Harte +Stolen Treasure Howard Pyle +Jack Ballister's Fortunes " " +Buried Treasure R.B. Paine +The Last Buccaneer (poem) Charles Kingsley +The Book of the Ocean Ernest Ingersoll +Ocean Life in the Old Sailing-Ship Days J.D. Whidden + +For Portraits of Miss Johnston, see Bookman, 20:402; 28:193. + + + + +THE GRASSHOPPER + +EDITH M. THOMAS + + + Shuttle of the sunburnt grass, + Fifer in the dun cuirass, + Fifing shrilly in the morn, + Shrilly still at eve unworn; + Now to rear, now in the van, + Gayest of the elfin clan: + Though I watch their rustling flight, + I can never guess aright + Where their lodging-places are; + 'Mid some daisy's golden star, + Or beneath a roofing leaf, + Or in fringes of a sheaf, + Tenanted as soon as bound! + Loud thy reveille doth sound, + When the earth is laid asleep, + And her dreams are passing deep, + On mid-August afternoons; + And through all the harvest moons, + Nights brimmed up with honeyed peace, + Thy gainsaying doth not cease. + When the frost comes, thou art dead; + We along the stubble tread, + On blue, frozen morns, and note + No least murmur is afloat: + Wondrous still our fields are then, + Fifer of the elfin men! + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why is the grasshopper called a "shuttle"? What does the word _still_ +mean here? Who are the "elfin clan"? By whom is the sheaf tenanted? What +is a _reveille_? Does the grasshopper chirp at night? Why is its cry +called "gainsaying"? + +See how simple the meter (measure) is in this little poem. Ask your +teacher to explain how it is represented by these characters: + + -u-u-u- + -u-u-u- + +[Transcriber's note: The u's represent breve marks in the text] + + +Note which signs indicate the accented syllables. See whether or not the +accent comes at the end of the line. The rhyme-scheme is called a +_couplet_, because of the way in which two lines are linked together. +This kind of rhyme is represented by _aa_, _bb_, _cc_, etc. + + +EXERCISES + +Find some other poem that has the same meter and rhyme that this one +has. Try to write a short poem of five or six couplets, using this meter +and rhyme. You do not need to choose a highly poetic subject: Try +something very simple. + +Perhaps you can "get a start" from one of the lines given below:-- + +1. Glowing, darting dragon-fly. +2. Voyager on dusty wings (A Moth). +3. Buzzing through the fragrant air (A Bee). +4. Trembling lurker in the gloom (A Mouse). +5. Gay red-throated epicure (A humming-bird). +6. Stealthy vagrant of the night (An Owl). +7. Flashing through your crystal room (A Gold-fish). +8. Fairyland is all awake. +9. Once when all the woods were green. +10. In the forest is a pool. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +On the Grasshopper and Cricket John Keats +To the Grasshopper and the Cricket Leigh Hunt +Little Brother of the Ground Edwin Markham +The Humble Bee R.W. Emerson +The Cricket Percy Mackaye +The Katydid " " +A Glow Worm (in _Little Folk Lyrics_) F.D. Sherman +Bees " " " " " " + + + + +MOLY + +EDITH M. THOMAS + + The root is hard to loose + From hold of earth by mortals, but Gods' power + Can all things do. 'Tis black, but bears a flower + As white as milk. (Chapman's Homer.) + + + Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, + If thou touch at Circe's isle,-- + Hermes' moly, growing solely + To undo enchanter's wile. + When she proffers thee her chalice,-- + Wine and spices mixed with malice,-- + When she smites thee with her staff + To transform thee, do thou laugh! + Safe thou art if thou but bear + The least leaf of moly rare. + Close it grows beside her portal, + Springing from a stock immortal,-- + Yes, and often has the Witch + Sought to tear it from its niche; + But to thwart her cruel will + The wise God renews it still. + Though it grows in soil perverse, + Heaven hath been its jealous nurse, + And a flower of snowy mark + Springs from root and sheathing dark; + Kingly safeguard, only herb + That can brutish passion curb! + Some do think its name should be + Shield-heart, White Integrity. + + Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, + If thou touch at Circe's isle,-- + Hermes' moly, growing solely + To undo enchanter's wile! + + +NOTES + +=Chapman's Homer=:--George Chapman (1559?-1634) was an English poet. He +translated Homer from the Greek into English verse. + +=moly=:--An herb with a black root and a white flower, which Hermes gave +to Odysseus in order to help him withstand the spell of the witch Circe. + +=Circe=:--A witch who charmed her victims with a drink that she prepared +for them, and then changed them into the animals they in character most +resembled. + +=Hermes=:--The messenger of the other Greek gods; he was crafty and +eloquent. + +=The wise God=:--Hermes, or Mercury. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Before you try to study this poem carefully, find out something of the +story of Ulysses and Circe: when you have this information, the poem +will become clear. Notice how the author applies the old Greek tale to +the experiences of everyday life. This would be a good poem to memorize. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +On First Looking into Chapman's Homer John Keats +The Strayed Reveller Matthew Arnold +The Wine of Circe Dante Gabriel Rossetti +Tanglewood Tales (Circe's Palace) Nathaniel Hawthorne +Greek Story and Song, pp. 214-225 A.J. Church +The Odyssey, pp. 151-164 (School Ed.) G.H. Palmer (Trans.) +Classic Myths, chapter 24 C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable, p. 295 Thomas Bulfinch +The Prayer of the Swine to Circe Austin Dobson + + +PICTURES + +The Wine of Circe Sir Edward Burne-Jones +Circe and the Companions of Ulysses Briton Riviere + + + + +THE PROMISED LAND + +MARY ANTIN + +(From Chapter IX of _The Promised Land_) + + +During his three years of probation, my father had made a number of +false starts in business. His history for that period is the history of +thousands who come to America, like him, with pockets empty, hands +untrained to the use of tools, minds cramped by centuries of repression +in their native land. Dozens of these men pass under your eyes every +day, my American friend, too absorbed in their honest affairs to notice +the looks of suspicion which you cast at them, the repugnance with which +you shrink from their touch. You see them shuffle from door to door with +a basket of spools and buttons, or bending over the sizzling irons in a +basement tailor shop, or rummaging in your ash can, or moving a pushcart +from curb to curb, at the command of the burly policeman. "The Jew +peddler!" you say, and dismiss him from your premises and from your +thoughts, never dreaming that the sordid drama of his days may have a +moral that concerns you. What if the creature with the untidy beard +carries in his bosom his citizenship papers? What if the cross-legged +tailor is supporting a boy in college who is one day going to mend your +state constitution for you? What if the ragpicker's daughters are +hastening over the ocean to teach your children in the public schools? +Think, every time you pass the greasy alien on the street, that he was +born thousands of years before the oldest native American; and he may +have something to communicate to you, when you two shall have learned a +common language. Remember that his very physiognomy is a cipher the key +to which it behooves you to search for most diligently. + + * * * * * + +By the time we joined my father, he had surveyed many avenues of +approach toward the coveted citadel of fortune. One of these, heretofore +untried, he now proposed to essay, armed with new courage, and cheered +on by the presence of his family. In partnership with an energetic +little man who had an English chapter in his history, he prepared to set +up a refreshment booth on Crescent Beach. But while he was completing +arrangements at the beach, we remained in town, where we enjoyed the +educational advantages of a thickly populated neighborhood; namely, Wall +Street, in the West End of Boston. + +Anybody who knows Boston knows that the West and North Ends are the +wrong ends of that city. They form the tenement district, or, in the +newer phrase, the slums of Boston. Anybody who is acquainted with the +slums of any American metropolis knows that that is the quarter where +poor immigrants foregather, to live, for the most part, as unkempt, +half-washed, toiling, unaspiring foreigners; pitiful in the eyes of +social missionaries, the despair of boards of health, the hope of ward +politicians, the touchstone of American democracy. The well-versed +metropolitan knows the slums as a sort of house of detention for poor +aliens, where they live on probation till they can show a certificate of +good citizenship. + +He may know all this and yet not guess how Wall Street, in the West End, +appears in the eyes of a little immigrant from Polotzk. What would the +sophisticated sight-seer say about Union Place, off Wall Street, where +my new home waited for me? He would say that it is no place at all, but +a short box of an alley. Two rows of three-story tenements are its +sides, a stingy strip of sky is its lid, a littered pavement is the +floor, and a narrow mouth its exit. + +But I saw a very different picture on my introduction to Union Place. I +saw two imposing rows of brick buildings, loftier than any dwelling I +had ever lived in. Brick was even on the ground for me to tread on, +instead of common earth or boards. Many friendly windows stood open, +filled with uncovered heads of women and children. I thought the people +were interested in us, which was very neighborly. I looked up to the +topmost row of windows, and my eyes were filled with the May blue of an +American sky! + +In our days of affluence in Russia we had been accustomed to upholstered +parlors, embroidered linen, silver spoons and candlesticks, goblets of +gold, kitchen shelves shining with copper and brass. We had feather-beds +heaped halfway to the ceiling; we had clothes presses dusky with velvet +and silk and fine woolen. The three small rooms into which my father now +ushered us, up one flight of stairs, contained only the necessary beds, +with lean mattresses; a few wooden chairs; a table or two; a mysterious +iron structure, which later turned out to be a stove; a couple of +unornamental kerosene lamps; and a scanty array of cooking-utensils and +crockery. And yet we were all impressed with our new home and its +furniture. It was not only because we had just passed through our seven +lean years, cooking in earthern vessels, eating black bread on holidays +and wearing cotton; it was chiefly because these wooden chairs and tin +pans were American chairs and pans that they shone glorious in our +eyes. And if there was anything lacking for comfort or decoration we +expected it to be presently supplied--at least, we children did. Perhaps +my mother alone, of us newcomers, appreciated the shabbiness of the +little apartment, and realized that for her there was as yet no laying +down of the burden of poverty. + +Our initiation into American ways began with the first step on the new +soil. My father found occasion to instruct or correct us even on the way +from the pier to Wall Street, which journey we made crowded together in +a rickety cab. He told us not to lean out of the windows, not to point, +and explained the word "greenhorn." We did not want to be "greenhorns," +and gave the strictest attention to my father's instructions. I do not +know when my parents found opportunity to review together the history of +Polotzk in the three years past, for we children had no patience with +the subject; my mother's narrative was constantly interrupted by +irrelevant questions, interjections, and explanations. + +The first meal was an object lesson of much variety. My father produced +several kinds of food, ready to eat, without any cooking, from little +tin cans that had printing all over them. He attempted to introduce us +to a queer, slippery kind of fruit, which he called "banana," but had to +give it up for the time being. After the meal, he had better luck with a +curious piece of furniture on runners, which he called "rocking-chair." +There were five of us newcomers, and we found five different ways of +getting into the American machine of perpetual motion, and as many ways +of getting out of it. One born and bred to the use of a rocking-chair +cannot imagine how ludicrous people can make themselves when attempting +to use it for the first time. We laughed immoderately over our various +experiments with the novelty, which was a wholesome way of letting off +steam after the unusual excitement of the day. + +In our flat we did not think of such a thing as storing the coal in the +bathtub. There was no bathtub. So in the evening of the first day my +father conducted us to the public baths. As we moved along in a little +procession, I was delighted with the illumination of the streets. So +many lamps, and they burned until morning, my father said, and so people +did not need to carry lanterns. In America, then, everything was free, +as we had heard in Russia. Light was free; the streets were as bright as +a synagogue on a holy day. Music was free; we had been serenaded, to our +gaping delight, by a brass band of many pieces, soon after our +installation on Union Place. + +Education was free. That subject my father had written about repeatedly, +as comprising his chief hope for us children, the essence of American +opportunity, the treasure that no thief could touch, not even misfortune +or poverty. It was the one thing that he was able to promise us when he +sent for us; surer, safer than bread or shelter. On our second day I was +thrilled with the realization of what this freedom of education meant. A +little girl from across the alley came and offered to conduct us to +school. My father was out, but we five between us had a few words of +English by this time. We knew the word school. We understood. This +child, who had never seen us till yesterday, who could not pronounce our +names, who was not much better dressed than we, was able to offer us the +freedom of the schools of Boston! No application made, no questions +asked, no examinations, rulings, exclusions; no machinations, no fees. +The doors stood open for every one of us. The smallest child could show +us the way. + +This incident impressed me more than anything I had heard in advance of +the freedom of education in America. It was a concrete proof--almost the +thing itself. One had to experience it to understand it. + +It was a great disappointment to be told by my father that we were not +to enter upon our school career at once. It was too near the end of the +term, he said, and we were going to move to Crescent Beach in a week or +so. We had to wait until the opening of the schools in September. What a +loss of precious time--from May till September! + +Not that the time was really lost. Even the interval on Union Place was +crowded with lessons and experiences. We had to visit the stores and be +dressed from head to foot in American clothing; we had to learn the +mysteries of the iron stove, the washboard, and the speaking-tube; we +had to learn to trade with the fruit peddler through the window, and not +to be afraid of the policeman; and, above all, we had to learn English. + +The kind people who assisted us in these important matters form a group +by themselves in the gallery of my friends. If I had never seen them +from those early days till now, I should still have remembered them with +gratitude. When I enumerate the long list of American teachers, I must +begin with those who came to us on Wall Street and taught us our first +steps. To my mother, in her perplexity over the cookstove, the woman who +showed her how to make the fire was an angel of deliverance. A fairy +godmother to us children was she who led us to a wonderful country +called "uptown," where in a dazzlingly beautiful palace called a +"department store," we exchanged our hateful homemade European costumes, +which pointed us out as "greenhorns" to the children on the street, for +real American machine-made garments, and issued forth glorified in each +other's eyes. + +With our despised immigrant clothing we shed also our impossible Hebrew +names. A committee of our friends, several years ahead of us in American +experience, put their heads together and concocted American names for us +all. Those of our real names that had no pleasing American equivalents +they ruthlessly discarded, content if they retained the initials. My +mother, possessing a name that was not easily translatable, was punished +with the undignified nickname of Annie. Fetchke, Joseph, and Deborah +issued as Frieda, Joseph, and Dora, respectively. As for poor me, I was +simply cheated. The name they gave me was hardly new. My Hebrew name +being Maryashe in full, Mashke for short, Russianized into Marya +(_Mar-ya_) my friends said that it would hold good in English as _Mary_; +which was very disappointing, as I longed to possess a strange-sounding +American name like the others. + +I am forgetting the consolation I had, in this matter of names, from the +use of my surname, which I have had no occasion to mention until now. I +found on my arrival that my father was "Mr. Antin" on the slightest +provocation, and not, as in Polotzk, on state occasions alone. And so I +was "Mary Antin," and I felt very important to answer to such a +dignified title. It was just like America that even plain people should +wear their surnames on week days. + +As a family we were so diligent under instruction, so adaptable, and so +clever in hiding our deficiencies, that when we made the journey to +Crescent Beach, in the wake of our small wagon-load of household goods, +my father had very little occasion to admonish us on the way, and I am +sure he was not ashamed of us. So much we had achieved toward our +Americanization during the two weeks since our landing. + +Crescent Beach is a name that is printed in very small type on the maps +of the environs of Boston, but a life-size strip of sand curves from +Winthrop to Lynn; and that is historic ground in the annals of my +family. The place is now a popular resort for holiday crowds, and is +famous under the name of Revere Beach. When the reunited Antins made +their stand there, however, there were no boulevards, no stately +bath-houses, no hotels, no gaudy amusement places, no illuminations, no +showmen, no tawdry rabble. There was only the bright clean sweep of +sand, the summer sea, and the summer sky. At high tide the whole +Atlantic rushed in, tossing the seaweeds in his mane; at low tide he +rushed out, growling and gnashing his granite teeth. Between tides a +baby might play on the beach, digging with pebbles and shells, till it +lay asleep on the sand. The whole sun shone by day, troops of stars by +night, and the great moon in its season. + +Into this grand cycle of the seaside day I came to live and learn and +play. A few people came with me, as I have already intimated; but the +main thing was that _I_ came to live on the edge of the sea--I, who had +spent my life inland, believing that the great waters of the world were +spread out before me in the Dvina. My idea of the human world had grown +enormously during the long journey; my idea of the earth had expanded +with every day at sea, my idea of the world outside the earth now budded +and swelled during my prolonged experience of the wide and unobstructed +heavens. + +Not that I got any inkling of the conception of a multiple world. I had +had no lessons in cosmogony, and I had no spontaneous revelation of the +true position of the earth in the universe. For me, as for my fathers, +the sun set and rose, and I did not feel the earth rushing through +space. But I lay stretched out in the sun, my eyes level with the sea, +till I seemed to be absorbed bodily by the very materials of the world +around me; till I could not feel my hand as separate from the warm sand +in which it was buried. Or I crouched on the beach at full moon, +wondering, wondering, between the two splendors of the sky and the sea. +Or I ran out to meet the incoming storm, my face full in the wind, my +being a-tingle with an awesome delight to the tips of my fog-matted +locks flying behind; and stood clinging to some stake or upturned boat, +shaken by the roar and rumble of the waves. So clinging, I pretended +that I was in danger, and was deliciously frightened; I held on with +both hands, and shook my head, exulting in the tumult around me, equally +ready to laugh or sob. Or else I sat, on the stillest days, with my back +to the sea, not looking at all, but just listening to the rustle of the +waves on the sand; not thinking at all, but just breathing with the sea. + +Thus courting the influence of sea and sky and variable weather, I was +bound to have dreams, hints, imaginings. It was no more than this, +perhaps: that the world as I knew it was not large enough to contain +all that I saw and felt; that the thoughts that flashed through my +mind, not half understood, unrelated to my utterable thoughts, concerned +something for which I had as yet no name. Every imaginative growing +child has these flashes of intuition, especially one that becomes +intimate with some one aspect of nature. With me it was the growing +time, that idle summer by the sea, and I grew all the faster because I +had been so cramped before. My mind, too, had so recently been worked +upon by the impressive experience of a change of country that I was more +than commonly alive to impressions, which are the seeds of ideas. + +Let no one suppose that I spent my time entirely, or even chiefly, in +inspired solitude. By far the best part of my day was spent in +play--frank, hearty, boisterous play, such as comes natural to American +children. In Polotzk I had already begun to be considered too old for +play, excepting set games or organized frolics. Here I found myself +included with children who still played, and I willingly returned to +childhood. There were plenty of playfellows. My father's energetic +little partner had a little wife and a large family. He kept them in the +little cottage next to ours; and that the shanty survived the tumultuous +presence of that brood is a wonder to me to-day. The young Wilners +included an assortment of boys, girls, and twins, of every possible +variety of age, size, disposition, and sex. They swarmed in and out of +the cottage all day long, wearing the door-sill hollow, and trampling +the ground to powder. They swung out of windows like monkeys, slid up +the roof like flies, and shot out of trees like fowls. Even a small +person like me couldn't go anywhere without being run over by a Wilner; +and I could never tell which Wilner it was because none of them ever +stood still long enough to be identified; and also because I suspected +that they were in the habit of interchanging conspicuous articles of +clothing, which was very confusing. + +You would suppose that the little mother must have been utterly lost, +bewildered, trodden down in this horde of urchins; but you are mistaken. +Mrs. Wilner was a positively majestic little person. She ruled her brood +with the utmost coolness and strictness. She had even the biggest boy +under her thumb, frequently under her palm. If they enjoyed the wildest +freedom outdoors, indoors the young Wilners lived by the clock. And so +at five o'clock in the evening, on seven days in the week, my father's +partner's children could be seen in two long rows around the supper +table. You could tell them apart on this occasion, because they all had +their faces washed. And this is the time to count them: there are twelve +little Wilners at table. + +I managed to retain my identity in this multitude somehow, and while I +was very much impressed with their numbers, I even dared to pick and +choose my friends among the Wilners. One or two of the smaller boys I +liked best of all, for a game of hide-and-seek or a frolic on the beach. +We played in the water like ducks, never taking the trouble to get dry. +One day I waded out with one of the boys, to see which of us dared go +farthest. The tide was extremely low, and we had not wet our knees when +we began to look back to see if familiar objects were still in sight. I +thought we had been wading for hours, and still the water was so shallow +and quiet. My companion was marching straight ahead, so I did the same. +Suddenly a swell lifted us almost off our feet, and we clutched at each +other simultaneously. There was a lesser swell, and little waves began +to run, and a sigh went up from the sea. The tide was turning--perhaps a +storm was on the way--and we were miles, dreadful miles from dry land. + +Boy and girl turned without a word, four determined bare legs ploughing +through the water, four scared eyes straining toward the land. Through +an eternity of toil and fear they kept dumbly on, death at their heels, +pride still in their hearts. At last they reach high-water mark--six +hours before full tide. + +Each has seen the other afraid, and each rejoices in the knowledge. But +only the boy is sure of his tongue. + +"You was scared, warn't you?" he taunts. + +The girl understands so much, and is able to reply: + +"You can schwimmen, I not." + +"Betcher life I can schwimmen," the other mocks. + +And the girl walks off, angry and hurt. + +"An' I can walk on my hands," the tormentor calls after her. "Say, you +greenhorn, why don'tcher look?" + +The girl keeps straight on, vowing that she would never walk with that +rude boy again, neither by land nor sea, not even though the waters +should part at his bidding. + +I am forgetting the more serious business which had brought us to +Crescent Beach. While we children disported ourselves like mermaids and +mermen in the surf, our respective fathers dispensed cold lemonade, hot +peanuts, and pink popcorn, and piled up our respective fortunes, nickel +by nickel, penny by penny. I was very proud of my connection with the +public life of the beach. I admired greatly our shining soda fountain, +the rows of sparkling glasses, the pyramids of oranges, the sausage +chains, the neat white counter, and the bright array of tin spoons. It +seemed to me that none of the other refreshment stands on the +beach--there were a few--were half so attractive as ours. I thought my +father looked very well in a long white apron and shirt sleeves. He +dished out ice cream with enthusiasm, so I supposed he was getting rich. +It never occurred to me to compare his present occupation with the +position for which he had been originally destined; or if I thought +about it, I was just as well content, for by this time I had by heart my +father's saying, "America is not Polotzk." All occupations were +respectable, all men were equal, in America. + +If I admired the soda fountain and the sausage chains, I almost +worshipped the partner, Mr. Wilner. I was content to stand for an hour +at a time watching him make potato chips. In his cook's cap and apron, +with a ladle in his hand and a smile on his face, he moved about with +the greatest agility, whisking his raw materials out of nowhere, dipping +into his bubbling kettle with a flourish, and bringing forth the +finished product with a caper. Such potato chips were not to be had +anywhere else on Crescent Beach. Thin as tissue paper, crisp as dry +snow, and salt as the sea--such thirst-producing, lemonade-selling, +nickel-bringing potato chips only Mr. Wilner could make. On holidays, +when dozens of family parties came out by every train from town, he +could hardly keep up with the demand for his potato chips. And with a +waiting crowd around him our partner was at his best. He was as voluble +as he was skilful, and as witty as he was voluble; at least so I guessed +from the laughter that frequently drowned his voice. I could not +understand his jokes, but if I could get near enough to watch his lips +and his smile and his merry eyes, I was happy. That any one could talk +so fast, and in English, was marvel enough, but that this prodigy should +belong to _our_ establishment was a fact to thrill me. I had never seen +anything like Mr. Wilner, except a wedding jester; but then he spoke +common Yiddish. So proud was I of the talent and good taste displayed at +our stand that if my father beckoned to me in the crowd and sent me on +an errand, I hoped the people noticed that I, too, was connected with +the establishment. + +And all this splendor and glory and distinction came to a sudden end. +There was some trouble about a license--some fee or fine--there was a +storm in the night that damaged the soda fountain and other +fixtures--there was talk and consultation between the houses of Antin +and Wilner--and the promising partnership was dissolved. No more would +the merry partner gather the crowd on the beach; no more would the +twelve young Wilners gambol like mermen and mermaids in the surf. And +the less numerous tribe of Antin must also say farewell to the jolly +seaside life; for men in such humble business as my father's carry their +families, along with their other earthly goods, wherever they go, after +the manner of the gypsies. We had driven a feeble stake into the sand. +The jealous Atlantic, in conspiracy with the Sunday law, had torn it +out. We must seek our luck elsewhere. + +In Polotzk we had supposed that "America" was practically synonymous +with "Boston." When we landed in Boston, the horizon was pushed back, +and we annexed Crescent Beach. And now, espying other lands of promise, +we took possession of the province of Chelsea, in the name of our +necessity. + +In Chelsea, as in Boston, we made our stand in the wrong end of the +town. Arlington Street was inhabited by poor Jews, poor Negroes, and a +sprinkling of poor Irish. The side streets leading from it were occupied +by more poor Jews and Negroes. It was a proper locality for a man +without capital to do business. My father rented a tenement with a store +in the basement. He put in a few barrels of flour and of sugar, a few +boxes of crackers, a few gallons of kerosene, an assortment of soap of +the "save the coupon" brands; in the cellar a few barrels of potatoes, +and a pyramid of kindling-wood; in the showcase, an alluring display of +penny candy. He put out his sign, with a gilt-lettered warning of +"Strictly Cash," and proceeded to give credit indiscriminately. That was +the regular way to do business on Arlington Street. My father, in his +three years' apprenticeship, had learned the tricks of many trades. He +knew when and how to "bluff." The legend of "Strictly Cash" was a +protection against notoriously irresponsible customers; while none of +the "good" customers, who had a record for paying regularly on Saturday, +hesitated to enter the store with empty purses. + +If my father knew the tricks of the trade, my mother could be counted on +to throw all her talent and tact into the business. Of course she had no +English yet, but as she could perform the acts of weighing, measuring, +and mental computation of fractions mechanically, she was able to give +her whole attention to the dark mysteries of the language, as +intercourse with her customers gave her opportunity. In this she made +such rapid progress that she soon lost all sense of disadvantage, and +conducted herself behind the counter very much as if she were back in +her old store in Polotzk. It was far more cozy than Polotzk--at least, +so it seemed to me; for behind the store was the kitchen, where, in the +intervals of slack trade, she did her cooking and washing. Arlington +Street customers were used to waiting while the storekeeper salted the +soup or rescued a loaf from the oven. + +Once more Fortune favored my family with a thin little smile, and my +father, in reply to a friendly inquiry, would say, "One makes a living," +with a shrug of the shoulders that added "but nothing to boast of." It +was characteristic of my attitude toward bread-and-butter matters that +this contented me, and I felt free to devote myself to the conquest of +my new world. Looking back to those critical first years, I see myself +always behaving like a child let loose in a garden to play and dig and +chase the butterflies. Occasionally, indeed, I was stung by the wasp of +family trouble; but I knew a healing ointment--my faith in America. My +father had come to America to make a living. America, which was free and +fair and kind, must presently yield him what he sought. I had come to +America to see a new world, and I followed my own ends with the utmost +assiduity; only, as I ran out to explore, I would look back to see if my +house were in order behind me--if my family still kept its head above +water. + +In after years, when I passed as an American among Americans, if I was +suddenly made aware of the past that lay forgotten,--if a letter from +Russia, or a paragraph in the newspaper, or a conversation overheard in +the street-car, suddenly reminded me of what I might have been,--I +thought it miracle enough that I, Mashke, the granddaughter of Raphael +the Russian, born to a humble destiny, should be at home in an American +metropolis, be free to fashion my own life, and should dream my dreams +in English phrases. But in the beginning my admiration was spent on more +concrete embodiments of the splendors of America; such as fine houses, +gay shops, electric engines and apparatus, public buildings, +illuminations, and parades. My early letters to my Russian friends were +filled with boastful descriptions of these glories of my new country. No +native citizen of Chelsea took such pride and delight in its +institutions as I did. It required no fife and drum corps, no Fourth of +July procession, to set me tingling with patriotism. Even the common +agents and instruments of municipal life, such as the letter carrier and +the fire engines, I regarded with a measure of respect. I know what I +thought of people who said that Chelsea was a very small, dull, +unaspiring town, with no discernible excuse for a separate name or +existence. + +The apex of my civic pride and personal contentment was reached on the +bright September morning when I entered the public school. That day I +must always remember, even if I live to be so old that I cannot tell my +name. To most people their first day at school is a memorable occasion. +In my case the importance of the day was a hundred times magnified, on +account of the years I had waited, the road I had come, and the +conscious ambitions I entertained. + +I am wearily aware that I am speaking in extreme figures, in +superlatives. I wish I knew some other way to render the mental life of +the immigrant child of reasoning age. I may have been ever so much an +exception in acuteness of observation, powers of comparison, and +abnormal self-consciousness; none the less were my thoughts and conduct +typical of the attitude of the intelligent immigrant child toward +American institutions. And what the child thinks and feels is a +reflection of the hopes, desires, purposes of the parent who brought him +overseas, no matter how precocious and independent the child may be. +Your immigrant inspectors will tell you what poverty the foreigner +brings in his baggage, what want in his pockets. Let the overgrown boy +of twelve, reverently drawing his letters in the baby class, testify to +the noble dreams and high ideals that may be hidden beneath the greasy +caftan of the immigrant. Speaking for the Jews, at least, I know I am +safe in inviting such an investigation. + +Who were my companions on my first day at school? Whose hand was in +mine, as I stood, overcome with awe, by the teacher's desk, and +whispered my name as my father prompted? Was it Frieda's steady, capable +hand? Was it her loyal heart that throbbed, beat for beat with mine, as +it had done through all our childish adventures? Frieda's heart did +throb that day, but not with my emotions. My heart pulsed with joy and +pride and ambition; in her heart longing fought with abnegation. For I +was led to the schoolroom, with its sunshine and its singing and the +teacher's cheery smile; while she was led to the workshop, with its foul +air, care-lined faces, and the foreman's stern command. Our going to +school was the fulfilment of my father's best promises to us, and +Frieda's share in it was to fashion and fit the calico frocks in which +the baby sister and I made our first appearance in a public schoolroom. + +I remember to this day the gray pattern of the calico, so affectionately +did I regard it as it hung upon the wall--my consecration robe awaiting +the beatific day. And Frieda, I am sure, remembers it, too, so +longingly did she regard it as the crisp, starchy breadths of it slid +between her fingers. But whatever were her longings, she said nothing of +them; she bent over the sewing-machine humming an Old-World melody. In +every straight, smooth seam, perhaps, she tucked away some lingering +impulse of childhood; but she matched the scrolls and flowers with the +utmost care. If a sudden shock of rebellion made her straighten up for +an instant, the next instant she was bending to adjust a ruffle to the +best advantage. And when the momentous day arrived, and the little +sister and I stood up to be arrayed, it was Frieda herself who patted +and smoothed my stiff new calico; who made me turn round and round, to +see that I was perfect; who stooped to pull out a disfiguring +basting-thread. If there was anything in her heart besides sisterly love +and pride and good-will, as we parted that morning, it was a sense of +loss and a woman's acquiescence in her fate; for we had been close +friends, and now our ways would lie apart. Longing she felt, but no +envy. She did not grudge me what she was denied. Until that morning we +had been children together, but now, at the fiat of her destiny she +became a woman, with all a woman's cares; whilst I, so little younger +than she, was bidden to dance at the May festival of untroubled +childhood. + +I wish, for my comfort, that I could say that I had some notion of the +difference in our lots, some sense of the injustice to her, of the +indulgence to me. I wish I could even say that I gave serious thought to +the matter. There had always been a distinction between us rather out of +proportion to the difference in our years. Her good health and domestic +instincts had made it natural for her to become my mother's right hand, +in the years preceding the emigration, when there were no more servants +or dependents. Then there was the family tradition that Mary was the +quicker, the brighter of the two, and that hers could be no common lot. +Frieda was relied upon for help, and her sister for glory. And when I +failed as a milliner's apprentice, while Frieda made excellent progress +at the dressmaker's, our fates, indeed, were sealed. It was understood, +even before we reached Boston, that she would go to work and I to +school. In view of the family prejudices, it was the inevitable course. +No injustice was intended. My father sent us hand in hand to school, +before he had ever thought of America. If, in America, he had been able +to support his family unaided, it would have been the culmination of his +best hopes to see all his children at school, with equal advantages at +home. But when he had done his best, and was still unable to provide +even bread and shelter for us all, he was compelled to make us children +self-supporting as fast as it was practicable. There was no choosing +possible; Frieda was the oldest, the strongest, the best prepared, and +the only one who was of legal age to be put to work. + +My father has nothing to answer for. He divided the world between his +children in accordance with the laws of the country and the compulsion +of his circumstances. I have no need of defending him. It is myself that +I would like to defend, and I cannot. I remember that I accepted the +arrangements made for my sister and me without much reflection, and +everything that was planned for my advantage I took as a matter of +course. I was no heartless monster, but a decidedly self-centered child. +If my sister had seemed unhappy it would have troubled me; but I am +ashamed to recall that I did not consider how little it was that +contented her. I was so preoccupied with my own happiness that I did not +half perceive the splendid devotion of her attitude towards me, the +sweetness of her joy in my good luck. She not only stood by approvingly +when I was helped to everything; she cheerfully waited on me herself. +And I took everything from her hand as if it were my due. + +The two of us stood a moment in the doorway of the tenement house on +Arlington Street, that wonderful September morning when I first went to +school. It was I that ran away, on winged feet of joy and expectation; +it was she whose feet were bound in the tread-mill of daily toil. And I +was so blind that I did not see that the glory lay on her, and not on +me. + + * * * * * + +Father himself conducted us to school. He would not have delegated that +mission to the President of the United States. He had awaited the day +with impatience equal to mine, and the visions he saw as he hurried us +over the sun-flecked pavements transcended all my dreams. Almost his +first act on landing on American soil, three years before, had been his +application for naturalization. He had taken the remaining steps in the +process with eager promptness, and at the earliest moment allowed by the +law, he became a citizen of the United States. It is true that he had +left home in search of bread for his hungry family, but he went blessing +the necessity that drove him to America. The boasted freedom of the New +World meant to him far more than the right to reside, travel, and work +wherever he pleased; it meant the freedom to speak his thoughts, to +throw off the shackles of superstition, to test his own fate, unhindered +by political or religious tyranny. He was only a young man when he +landed--thirty-two; and most of his life he had been held in +leading-strings. He was hungry for his untasted manhood. + +Three years passed in sordid struggle and disappointment. He was not +prepared to make a living even in America, where the day laborer eats +wheat instead of rye. Apparently the American flag could not protect him +against the pursuing Nemesis of his limitations; he must expiate the +sins of his fathers who slept across the seas. He had been endowed at +birth with a poor constitution, a nervous, restless temperament, and an +abundance of hindering prejudices. In his boyhood his body was starved, +that his mind might be stuffed with useless learning. In his youth this +dearly gotten learning was sold, and the price was the bread and salt +which he had not been trained to earn for himself. Under the wedding +canopy he was bound for life to a girl whose features were still strange +to him; and he was bidden to multiply himself, that sacred learning +might be perpetuated in his sons, to the glory of the God of his +fathers. All this while he had been led about as a creature without a +will, a chattel, an instrument. In his maturity he awoke, and found +himself poor in health, poor in purse, poor in useful knowledge, and +hampered on all sides. At the first nod of opportunity he broke away +from his prison, and strove to atone for his wasted youth by a life of +useful labor; while at the same time he sought to lighten the gloom of +his narrow scholarship by freely partaking of modern ideas. But his +utmost endeavor still left him far from his goal. In business nothing +prospered with him. Some fault of hand or mind or temperament led him to +failure where other men found success. Wherever the blame for his +disabilities be placed, he reaped their bitter fruit. "Give me bread!" +he cried to America. "What will you do to earn it?" the challenge came +back. And he found that he was master of no art, of no trade; that even +his precious learning was of no avail, because he had only the most +antiquated methods of communicating it. + +So in his primary quest he had failed. There was left him the +compensation of intellectual freedom. That he sought to realize in every +possible way. He had very little opportunity to prosecute his education, +which, in truth, had never been begun. His struggle for a bare living +left him no time to take advantage of the public evening school; but he +lost nothing of what was to be learned through reading, through +attendance at public meetings, through exercising the rights of +citizenship. Even here he was hindered by a natural inability to acquire +the English language. In time, indeed, he learned to read, to follow a +conversation or lecture; but he never learned to write correctly, and +his pronunciation remains extremely foreign to this day. + +If education, culture, the higher life were shining things to be +worshipped from afar, he had still a means left whereby he could draw +one step nearer to them. He could send his children to school, to learn +all those things that he knew by fame to be desirable. The common +school, at least, perhaps high school; for one or two, perhaps even +college! His children should be students, should fill his house with +books and intellectual company; and thus he would walk by proxy in the +Elysian Fields of liberal learning. As for the children themselves, he +knew no surer way to their advancement and happiness. + +So it was with a heart full of longing and hope that my father led us +to school on that first day. He took long strides in his eagerness, the +rest of us running and hopping to keep up. + +At last the four of us stood around the teacher's desk; and my father, +in his impossible English, gave us over in her charge, with some broken +word of his hopes for us that his swelling heart could no longer +contain. I venture to say that Miss Nixon was struck by something +uncommon in the group we made, something outside of Semitic features and +the abashed manner of the alien. My little sister was as pretty as a +doll, with her clear pink-and-white face, short golden curls, and eyes +like blue violets when you caught them looking up. My brother might have +been a girl, too, with his cherubic contours of face, rich red color, +glossy black hair, and fine eyebrows. Whatever secret fears were in his +heart, remembering his former teachers, who had taught with the rod, he +stood up straight and uncringing before the American teacher, his cap +respectfully doffed. Next to him stood a starved-looking girl with eyes +ready to pop out, and short dark curls that would not have made much of +a wig for a Jewish bride. + +All three children carried themselves rather better than the common run +of "green" pupils that were brought to Miss Nixon. But the figure that +challenged attention to the group was the tall, straight father, with +his earnest face and fine forehead, nervous hands eloquent in gesture, +and a voice full of feeling. This foreigner, who brought his children to +school as if it were an act of consecration, who regarded the teacher of +the primer class with reverence, who spoke of visions, like a man +inspired, in a common schoolroom, was not like other aliens, who +brought their children in dull obedience to the law; was not like the +native fathers, who brought their unmanageable boys, glad to be relieved +of their care. I think Miss Nixon guessed what my father's best English +could not convey. I think she divined that by the simple act of +delivering our school certificates to her he took possession of America. + + +NOTES + +=The Promised Land=:--The land of freedom and peace which the Jews have +hoped to attain. See Exodus, 3:8; 6:8; Genesis, 12:5-7; Deuteronomy, +8:7-10; Hebrews, 11:9. + +=his three years of probation=:--Mary Antin's father had spent three +years in America before sending back to Russia for his family. + +=Polotzk=:--Pronounced P[=o]'lotsk; a town in Russia on the Dwina River. + +=seven lean years=:--A reference to the famine in Egypt predicted by +Joseph, Pharaoh's Hebrew favorite. See Genesis, 40. + +=Dvina=:--The Duena or Dwina River, in Russia. + +=originally destined=:--Mr. Antin's parents had intended him to be a +scholar and teacher. + +=Yiddish=:--From the German word _juedisch_, meaning Jewish; a mixed +language made up of German, Hebrew, and Russian words. It is generally +spoken by Jews. + +=Chelsea=:--A suburb of Boston. + +=Nemesis=:--In Greek mythology, a goddess of vengeance or punishment for +sins and errors. + +=the sins of his fathers=:--See Exodus, 20:5; Numbers, 14:18; +Deuteronomy, 5:9. + +=Elysian fields=:--In Greek thought, the home of the happy dead. + +=Semitic=:--Jewish; from the name of Shem, the son of Noah. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This selection gives the experience of a Jewish girl who came from +Polotzk, Russia, to Boston. Read rather slowly, with the help of these +questions: What is meant by "centuries of repression"? Is there no such +repression in America? How is it true that the Jew peddler "was born +thousands of years before the oldest native American"? What are the +educational advantages of a thickly populated neighborhood? What is your +idea of the slums? Why did the children expect every comfort to be +supplied? How much is really free in America? Is education free? How +does one secure an education in Russia? How are American machine-made +garments superior to those made by hand in Russia? Was it a good thing +to change the children's names? What effect does the sea have upon those +who live near it? What effect has a great change of environment on a +growing young person? What kind of person was Mrs. Wilner? What does Mr. +Antin mean when he says, "America is not Polotzk"? Are all men equal in +America? Read carefully the description of Mr. Wilner: How does the +author make it vivid and lively? Why was Mary Antin's first day in +school so important to her? Was it fair that Frieda should not go to +school? Should an older child be sacrificed for a younger? Should a slow +child always give way to a bright one? What do you think of the way in +which Mary accepted the situation when Frieda had to go to work? Read +carefully what Mary says about it. Is it easy to make a living in +America? Why did Mr. Antin not succeed in business? What is meant by +"the compensation of intellectual freedom"? What did Mr. Antin gain from +his life in America? What sort of man was he? In reading the selection, +what idea do you get of the Russian immigrant? Of what America means to +the poor foreigner? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Foreigners in our Town +The "Greenhorn" +The Immigrant Family +The Peddler +Ellis Island +What America Means to the Foreigner +The Statue of Liberty +A Russian Woman +The New Girl at School +The Basement Store +A Large Family +Learning to Speak a New Language +What the Public School can Do +A Russian Brass Shop +The Factory Girl +My Childish Sports +The Refreshment Stand +On the Sea Shore +The Popcorn Man +A Home in the Tenements +Earning a Living +More about Mary Antin[9] +How Children Amuse Themselves +A Fragment of My Autobiography +An Autobiography that I Have Read + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=The Immigrant Family=:--Have you ever seen a family that have just +arrived in America from a foreign land? Tell where you saw them. How +many persons were there? What were they doing? Describe each person, +noting especially anything odd or picturesque in looks, dress, or +behavior. Were they carrying anything? What expressions did they have on +their faces? Did they seem pleased with their new surroundings? Was +anyone trying to help them? Could they speak English? If possible, +report a few fragments of their conversation. Did you have a chance to +find out what they thought of America? Do you know what has become of +them, and how they are getting along? + +=A Fragment of my Autobiography=:--Did you, as a child, move into a +strange town, or make a visit in a place entirely new to you? Tell +rather briefly why you went and what preparations were made. Then give +an account of your arrival. What was the first thing that impressed you? +What did you do or say? What did the grown people say? Was there +anything unusual about the food, or the furniture, or the dress of the +people? Go on and relate your experiences, telling any incidents that +you remember. Try to make your reader share the bewilderment and +excitement you felt. Did anyone laugh at you, or make fun of you, or +hurt your feelings? Were you glad or sorry that you had come? Finish +your story by telling of your departure from the place, or of your +gradually getting used to your new surroundings. + +Try to recall some other experiences of your childhood. Write them out +quite fully, giving space to your feelings as well as to the events. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Promised Land Mary Antin +They Who Knock at Our Gates " " +The Lie " " + (Atlantic Monthly, August, 1913) +Children of the Tenements Jacob A. Riis +The Making of an American " " " +On the Trail of the Immigrant E.A. Steiner +Against the Current " " " +The Immigrant Tide " " " +The Man Farthest Down Booker T. Washington +Up from Slavery " " " +The Woman who Toils Marie and Mrs. John Van Vorst +The Long Day Anonymous +Old Homes of New Americans F.E. Clark +Autobiography S.S. McClure +Autobiography Theodore Roosevelt +A Buckeye Boyhood W.H. Venable +A Tuscan Childhood Lisa Cipriani +An Indian Boyhood Charles Eastman +When I Was Young Yoshio Markino +When I Was a Boy in Japan Sakae Shioya +The Story of my Childhood Clara Barton +The Story of my Boyhood and Youth John Muir +The Biography of a Prairie Girl Eleanor Gates +Autobiography of a Tomboy Jeanette Gilder +The One I Knew Best of All Frances Hodgson Burnett +The Story of my Life Helen Keller +The Story of a Child Pierre Loti +A New England Girlhood Lucy Larcom +Autobiography Joseph Jefferson +Dream Days Kenneth Grahame +The Golden Age " " +The Would-be-Goods E. Nesbit +In the Morning Glow Roy Rolfe Gilson +Chapters from a Life Elizabeth Stuart Phelps-Ward + +Mary Antin: Outlook, 102:482, November 2, 1912; 104:473, June 28, 1913 +(Portrait). Bookman, 35:419-421, June 1912. + + + + +WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME + +WALT WHITMAN + + + Warble me now for joy of lilac-time (returning in reminiscence), + Sort me, O tongue and lips for Nature's sake, souvenirs of + earliest summer, + Gather the welcome signs (as children with pebbles or + stringing shells), + Put in April and May, the hylas croaking in the ponds, the elastic air, + Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes, + Blue-bird and darting swallow, nor forget the high-hole + flashing his golden wings, + The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor, + Shimmer of waters with fish in them, the cerulean above, + All that is jocund and sparkling, the brooks running, + The maple woods, the crisp February days, and the sugar-making, + The robin where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted, + With musical clear call at sunrise and again at sunset, + Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the + nest of his mate, + The melted snow of March, the willow sending forth its + yellow-green sprouts, + For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in + it and from it? + Thou, soul, unloosen'd--the restlessness after I know not what; + Come, let us lag here no longer, let us be up and away! + + O if one could but fly like a bird! + O to escape, to sail forth as in a ship! + To glide with thee, O soul, o'er all, in all, as a ship o'er + the waters; + Gathering these hints, the preludes, the blue sky, the grass, + the morning drops of dew, + The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark-green heart-shaped leaves, + Wood-violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence, + Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere, + To grace the bush I love--to sing with the birds, + A warble for joy of lilac-time, returning in reminiscence. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is the meaning of "sort me"? Why jumble all these signs of summer +together? Does one naturally think in an orderly way when recalling the +details of spring or summer? Can you think of any important points that +the author has left out? Is _samples_ a poetic word? What is meant by +the line "not for themselves alone," etc.? Note the sound-words in the +poem: What is their value here? Read the lines slowly to yourself, or +have some one read them aloud, and see how many of them suggest little +pictures. Note the punctuation: Do you approve? Is this your idea of +poetry? What is poetry? Would this be better if it were in the full form +of verse? Can you see why the critics have disagreed over Whitman's +poetry? + + + + +WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER + +WALT WHITMAN + + + When I heard the learn'd astronomer, + When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, + When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide + and measure them, + When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much + applause in the lecture-room, + How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, + Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself, + In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, + Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why did the listener become tired of the lecturer who spoke with much +applause? What did he learn from the stars when he was alone out of +doors? Does he not think the study of astronomy worth while? What would +be his feeling toward other scientific studies? What do you get out of +this poem? What do you think of the way in which it is written? + + + + +VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT + +WALT WHITMAN + + + Vigil strange I kept on the field one night; + When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day, + One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look + I shall never forget, + One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reach'd up as you lay + on the ground, + Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle, + Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made + my way, + Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body, + son of responding kisses (never again on earth responding), + Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, + cool blew the moderate night-wind, + Long there and then in vigil I stood, + dimly around me the battle-field spreading, + Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, + But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, + Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side + leaning my chin in my hands, + Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest + comrade--not a tear, not a word, + Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, + As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole, + Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was + your death, + I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, + I think we shall surely meet again,) + Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the + dawn appear'd, + My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form, + Folded the blanket well, tucked it carefully over head and + carefully under feet, + And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, + in his rude-dug grave I deposited, + Ending my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim, + Vigil for boy of responding kisses (never again on earth responding), + Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, + how as day brighten'd, + I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, + And buried him where he fell. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is a vigil? Was Whitman ever in battle? Does he mean himself +speaking? Was the boy really his son? Is the man's calmness a sign that +he does not care? Why does he call the vigil "wondrous" and "sweet"? +What does he think about the next life? Read the poem over slowly and +thoughtfully to yourself, or aloud to some one: How does it make you +feel? + +Can you see any reason for calling Whitman a great poet? Has he +broadened your idea of what poetry may be? Read, if possible, in John +Burroughs's book on Whitman, pages 48-53. + + +EXERCISES + +Re-read the _Warble for Lilac-Time_. Can you write of the signs of fall, +in somewhat the same way? Choose the most beautiful and the most +important characteristics that you can think of. Try to use color-words +and sound-words so that they make your composition vivid and musical. +Compare the _Warble for Lilac-Time_ with the first lines of Chaucer's +_Prologue_ to the _Canterbury Tales_. With Lowell's _How Spring Came in +New England_. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Walk in the Woods +A Spring Day +Sugar-Making +My Flower Garden +The Garden in Lilac Time +The Orchard in Spring +On a Farm in Early Summer +A Walk on a Summer Night +Waiting for Morning +The Stars +Walt Whitman and his Poetry + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Poems by Whitman suitable for class reading:-- + On the Beach at Night + Bivouac on a Mountain Side + To a Locomotive in Winter + A Farm Picture + The Runner + I Hear It was Charged against Me + A Sight in Camp + By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame + Song of the Broad-Axe + A Child said _What is the grass?_ (from _A Song of Myself_) + +The Rolling Earth (Selections from Whitman) W.R. Browne (Ed.) +The Life of Walt Whitman H.B. Binns +Walt Whitman John Burroughs +A Visit to Walt Whitman (Portraits) John Johnston +Walt Whitman the Man (Portraits) Thomas Donaldson +Walt Whitman G.R. Carpenter +Walt Whitman (Portraits) I.H. Platt +Whitman Bliss Perry +Early May in New England (poem) Percy Mackaye +Knee-deep in June J.W. Riley +Spring Henry Timrod +Spring Song Bliss Carman + + + + +ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA + +TRANSLATED BY GEORGE HERBERT PALMER + + +Thus long-tried royal Odysseus slumbered here, heavy with sleep and +toil; but Athene went to the land and town of the Phaeacians. This +people once in ancient times lived in the open highlands, near that rude +folk the Cyclops, who often plundered them, being in strength more +powerful than they. Moving them thence, godlike Nausithoues, their +leader, established them at Scheria, far from toiling men. He ran a wall +around the town, built houses there, made temples for the gods, and laid +out farms; but Nausithoues had met his doom and gone to the house of +Hades, and Alcinoues now was reigning, trained in wisdom by the gods. To +this man's dwelling came the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, planning a safe +return for brave Odysseus. She hastened to a chamber, richly wrought, in +which a maid was sleeping, of form and beauty like the immortals, +Nausicaae, daughter of generous Alcinoues. Near by two damsels, dowered +with beauty by the Graces, slept by the threshold, one on either hand. +The shining doors were shut; but Athene, like a breath of air, moved to +the maid's couch, stood by her head, and thus addressed her,--taking the +likeness of the daughter of Dymas, the famous seaman, a maiden just +Nausicaae's age, dear to her heart. Taking her guise, thus spoke +clear-eyed Athene:-- + +"Nausicaae, how did your mother bear a child so heedless? Your gay +clothes lie uncared for, though the wedding time is near, when you must +wear fine clothes yourself and furnish them to those that may attend +you. From things like these a good repute arises, and father and honored +mother are made glad. Then let us go a-washing at the dawn of day, and I +will go to help, that you may soon be ready; for really not much longer +will you be a maid. Already you have for suitors the chief ones of the +land throughout Phaeacia, where you too were born. Come, then, beg your +good father early in the morning to harness the mules and cart, so as to +carry the men's clothes, gowns, and bright-hued rugs. Yes, and for you +yourself it is more decent so than setting forth on foot; the pools are +far from the town." + +Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, off to Olympus, where they +say the dwelling of the gods stands fast forever. Never with winds is it +disturbed, nor by the rain made wet, nor does the snow come near; but +everywhere the upper air spreads cloudless, and a bright radiance plays +over all; and there the blessed gods are happy all their days. Thither +now came the clear-eyed one, when she had spoken with the maid. + +Soon bright-throned morning came, and waked fair-robed Nausicaae. She +marveled at the dream, and hastened through the house to tell it to her +parents, her dear father and her mother. She found them still in-doors: +her mother sat by the hearth among the waiting-women, spinning +sea-purple yarn; she met her father at the door, just going forth to +join the famous princes at the council, to which the high Phaeacians +summoned him. So standing close beside him, she said to her dear +father:-- + +"Papa dear, could you not have the wagon harnessed for me,--the high +one, with good wheels,--to take my nice clothes to the river to be +washed, which now are lying dirty? Surely for you yourself it is but +proper, when you are with the first men holding councils, that you +should wear clean clothing. Five good sons too are here at home,--two +married, and three merry young men still,--and they are always wanting +to go to the dance wearing fresh clothes. And this is all a trouble on +my mind." + +Such were her words, for she was shy of naming the glad marriage to her +father; but he understood it all, and answered thus: + +"I do not grudge the mules, my child, nor anything beside. Go! Quickly +shall the servants harness the wagon for you, the high one, with good +wheels, fitted with rack above." + +Saying this, he called to the servants, who gave heed. Out in the court +they made the easy mule-cart ready; they brought the mules and yoked +them to the wagon. The maid took from her room her pretty clothing, and +stowed it in the polished wagon; her mother put in a chest food the maid +liked, of every kind, put dainties in, and poured some wine into a +goat-skin bottle,--the maid, meanwhile, had got into the wagon,--and +gave her in a golden flask some liquid oil, that she might bathe and +anoint herself, she and the waiting-women. Nausicaae took the whip and +the bright reins, and cracked the whip to start. There was a clatter of +the mules, and steadily they pulled, drawing the clothing and the +maid,--yet not alone; beside her went the waiting-women too. + +When now they came to the fair river's current, where the pools were +always full,--for in abundance clear water bubbles from beneath to +cleanse the foulest stains,--they turned the mules loose from the +wagon, and let them stray along the eddying stream, to crop the honeyed +pasturage. Then from the wagon they took the clothing in their arms, +carried it into the dark water, and stamped it in the pits with rivalry +in speed. And after they had washed and cleansed it of all stains, they +spread it carefully along the shore, just where the waves washed up the +pebbles on the beach. Then bathing and anointing with the oil, they +presently took dinner on the river bank and waited for the clothes to +dry in the sunshine. And when they were refreshed with food, the maids +and she, they then began to play at ball, throwing their wimples off. +White-armed Nausicaae led their sport; and as the huntress Artemis goes +down a mountain, down long Taygetus or Erymanthus, exulting in the boars +and the swift deer, while round her sport the woodland nymphs, daughters +of aegis-bearing Zeus, and glad is Leto's heart, for all the rest her +child o'ertops by head and brow, and easily marked is she, though all +are fair; so did this virgin pure excel her women. + +But when Nausicaae thought to turn toward home once more, to yoke the +mules and fold up the clean clothes, then a new plan the goddess formed, +clear-eyed Athene; for she would have Odysseus wake and see the +bright-eyed maid, who might to the Phaeacian city show the way. Just +then the princess tossed the ball to one of her women, and missing her +it fell in the deep eddy. Thereat they screamed aloud. Royal Odysseus +woke, and sitting up debated in his mind and heart:-- + +"Alas! To what men's land am I come now? Lawless and savage are they, +with no regard for right, or are they kind to strangers and reverent +toward the gods? It was as if there came to me the delicate voice of +maids--nymphs, it may be, who haunt the craggy peaks of hills, the +springs of streams and grassy marshes; or am I now, perhaps, near men of +human speech? Suppose I make a trial for myself, and see." + +So saying, royal Odysseus crept from the thicket, but with his strong +hand broke a spray of leaves from the close wood, to be a covering round +his body for his nakedness. He set off like a lion that is bred among +the hills and trusts its strength; onward it goes, beaten with rain and +wind; its two eyes glare; and now in search of oxen or of sheep it +moves, or tracking the wild deer; its belly bids it make trial of the +flocks, even by entering the guarded folds; so was Odysseus about to +meet those fair-haired maids, for need constrained him. To them he +seemed a loathsome sight, befouled with brine. They hurried off, one +here, one there, over the stretching sands. Only the daughter of +Alcinoues stayed, for in her breast Athene had put courage and from her +limbs took fear. Steadfast she stood to meet him. And now Odysseus +doubted whether to make his suit by clasping the knees of the +bright-eyed maid, or where he stood, aloof, in winning words to make +that suit, and try if she would show the town and give him clothing. +Reflecting thus, it seemed the better way to make his suit in winning +words, aloof; for fear if he should clasp her knees, the maid might be +offended. Forthwith he spoke, a winning and shrewd speech:-- + +"I am your suppliant, princess. Are you some god or mortal? If one of +the gods who hold the open sky, to Artemis, daughter of mighty Zeus, in +beauty, height, and bearing I find you likest. But if you are a mortal, +living on the earth, most happy are your father and your honored +mother, most happy your brothers also. Surely their hearts ever grow +warm with pleasure over you, when watching such a blossom moving in the +dance. And then exceeding happy he, beyond all others, who shall with +gifts prevail and lead you home. For I never before saw such a being +with these eyes--no man, no woman. I am amazed to see. At Delos once, by +Apollo's altar, something like you I noticed, a young palm shoot +springing up; for thither too I came, and a great troop was with me, +upon a journey where I was to meet with bitter trials. And just as when +I looked on that I marveled long within, since never before sprang such +a stalk from earth; so, lady, I admire and marvel now at you, and +greatly fear to touch your knees. Yet grievous woe is on me. Yesterday, +after twenty days, I escaped from the wine-dark sea, and all that time +the waves and boisterous winds bore me away from the island of Ogygia. +Now some god cast me here, that probably here also I may meet with +trouble; for I do not think trouble will cease, but much the gods will +first accomplish. Then, princess, have compassion, for it is you to whom +through many grievous toils I first am come; none else I know of all who +own this city and this land. Show me the town, and give me a rag to +throw around me, if you had perhaps on coming here some wrapper for your +linen. And may the gods grant all that in your thoughts you long for: +husband and home and true accord may they bestow; for a better and +higher gift than this there cannot be, when with accordant aims man and +wife have a home. Great grief it is to foes and joy to friends; but they +themselves best know its meaning." + +Then answered him white-armed Nausicaae: "Stranger, because you do not +seem a common, senseless person,--and Olympian Zeus himself distributes +fortune to mankind and gives to high and low even as he wills to each; +and this he gave to you, and you must bear it therefore,--now you have +reached our city and our land, you shall not lack for clothes nor +anything besides which it is fit a hard-pressed suppliant should find. I +will point out the town and tell its people's name. The Phaeacians own +this city and this land, and I am the daughter of generous Alcinoues, on +whom the might and power of the Phaeacians rests." + +She spoke, and called her fair-haired waiting-women: "My women, stay! +Why do you run because you saw a man? You surely do not think him +evil-minded, The man is not alive, and never will be born, who can come +and offer harm to the Phaeacian land: for we are very dear to the +immortals; and then we live apart, far on the surging sea, no other +tribe of men has dealings with us. But this poor man has come here +having lost his way, and we should give him aid; for in the charge of +Zeus all strangers and beggars stand, and a small gift is welcome. Then +give, my women, to the stranger food and drink, and let him bathe in the +river where there is shelter from the breeze." + +She spoke; the others stopped and called to one another, and down they +brought Odysseus to the place of shelter, even as Nausicaae, daughter of +generous Alcinoues, had ordered. They placed a robe and tunic there for +clothing, they gave him in the golden flask the liquid oil, and bade him +bathe in the stream's currents. + + * * * * * + +The women went away.... And now, with water from the stream, royal +Odysseus washed his skin clean of the salt which clung about his back +and his broad shoulders, and wiped from his head the foam brought by the +barren sea; and when he had thoroughly bathed and oiled himself and had +put on the clothing which the chaste maiden gave, Athene, the daughter +of Zeus, made him taller than before and stouter to behold, and she made +the curling locks to fall around his head as on the hyacinth flower. As +when a man lays gold on silver,--some skillful man whom Hephaestus and +Pallas Athene have trained in every art, and he fashions graceful work; +so did she cast a grace upon his head and shoulders. He walked apart +along the shore, and there sat down, beaming with grace and beauty. The +maid observed; then to her fair-haired waiting-women said:-- + +"Hearken, my white-armed women, while I speak. Not without purpose on +the part of all the gods that hold Olympus is this man's meeting with +the godlike Phaeacians. A while ago, he really seemed to me ill-looking, +but now he is like the gods who hold the open sky. Ah, might a man like +this be called my husband, having his home here, and content to stay! +But give, my women, to the stranger food and drink." + +She spoke, and very willingly they heeded and obeyed, and set beside +Odysseus food and drink. Then long-tried Odysseus eagerly drank and ate, +for he had long been fasting. + +And now to other matters white-armed Nausicaae turned her thoughts. She +folded the clothes and laid them in the beautiful wagon, she yoked the +stout-hoofed mules, mounted herself, and calling to Odysseus thus she +spoke and said:-- + +"Arise now, stranger, and hasten to the town, that I may set you on the +road to my wise father's house, where you shall see, I promise you, the +best of all Phaeacia. Only do this,--you seem to me not to lack +understanding: while we are passing through the fields and farms, here +with my women, behind the mules and cart, walk rapidly along, and I will +lead the way. But as we near the town,--round which is a lofty rampart, +a beautiful harbor on each side and a narrow road between,--there curved +ships line the way; for every man has his own mooring-place. Beyond is +the assembly near the beautiful grounds of Poseidon, constructed out of +blocks of stone deeply imbedded. Further along, they make the black +ships' tackling, cables and canvas, and shape out the oars; for the +Phaeacians do not care for bow and quiver, only for masts and oars of +ships and the trim ships themselves, with which it is their joy to cross +the foaming sea. Now the rude talk of such as these I would avoid, that +no one afterwards may give me blame. For very forward persons are about +the place, and some coarse man might say, if he should meet us: 'What +tall and handsome stranger is following Nausicaae? Where did she find +him? A husband he will be, her very own. Some castaway, perhaps, she +rescued from his vessel, some foreigner; for we have no neighbors here. +Or at her prayer some long-entreated god has come straight down from +heaven, and he will keep her his forever. So much the better, if she has +gone herself and found a husband elsewhere! The people of our own land +here, Phaeacians, she disdains, though she has many high-born suitors.' +So they will talk, and for me it would prove a scandal. I should myself +censure a girl who acted so, who, heedless of friends, while father and +mother were alive, mingled with men before her public wedding. And, +stranger, listen now to what I say, that you may soon obtain assistance +and safe conduct from my father. Near our road you will see a stately +grove of poplar trees, belonging to Athene; in it a fountain flows, and +round it is a meadow. That is my father's park, his fruitful vineyard, +as far from the town as one can call. There sit and wait a while, until +we come to the town and reach my father's palace. But when you think we +have already reached the palace, enter the city of the Phaeacians, and +ask for the palace of my father, generous Alcinoues. Easily is it known; +a child, though young, could show the way; for the Phaeacians do not +build their houses like the dwelling of Alcinoues their prince. But when +his house and court receive you, pass quickly through the hall until you +find my mother. She sits in the firelight by the hearth, spinning +sea-purple yarn, a marvel to behold, and resting against a pillar. Her +handmaids sit behind her. Here too my father's seat rests on the +self-same pillar, and here he sits and sips his wine like an immortal. +Passing him by, stretch out your hands to our mother's knees, if you +would see the day of your return in gladness and with speed, although +you come from far. If she regards you kindly in her heart, then there is +hope that you may see your friends and reach your stately house and +native land." + +Saying this, with her bright whip she struck the mules, and fast they +left the river's streams; and well they trotted, well they plied their +feet, and skillfully she reined them that those on foot might +follow,--the waiting-women and Odysseus,--and moderately she used the +lash. The sun was setting when they reached the famous grove, Athene's +sacred ground where royal Odysseus sat him down. And thereupon he prayed +to the daughter of mighty Zeus:-- + +"Hearken, thou child of aegis-bearing Zeus, unwearied one! O hear me +now, although before thou didst not hear me, when I was wrecked, what +time the great Land-shaker wrecked me. Grant that I come among the +Phaeacians welcomed and pitied by them." + +So spoke he in his prayer, and Pallas Athene heard, but did not yet +appear to him in open presence; for she regarded still her father's +brother, who stoutly strove with godlike Odysseus until he reached his +land. + +Here, then, long-tried royal Odysseus made his prayer; but to the town +the strong mules bore the maid. And when she reached her father's famous +palace, she stopped before the door-way, and round her stood her +brothers, men like immortals, who from the cart unyoked the mules and +carried the clothing in. The maid went to her chamber, where a fire was +kindled for her by an old Apeirean woman, the chamber-servant +Eurymedousa, whom long ago curved ships brought from Apeira; her they +had chosen from the rest to be the gift of honor for Alcinoues, because +he was the lord of all Phaeacians, and people listened to his voice as +if he were a god. She was the nurse of white-armed Nausicaae at the +palace, and she it was who kindled her the fire and in her room prepared +her supper. + +And now Odysseus rose to go to the city; but Athene kindly drew thick +clouds around Odysseus, for fear some bold Phaeacian meeting him might +trouble him with talk and ask him who he was. And just as he was +entering the pleasant town, the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, came to meet +him, disguised as a young girl who bore a water-jar. She paused as she +drew near, and royal Odysseus asked:-- + +"My child, could you not guide me to the house of one Alcinoues, who is +ruler of this people? For I am a toil-worn stranger come from far, out +of a distant land. Therefore I know not one among the men who own this +city and this land." + +Then said to him the goddess, clear-eyed Athene: "Yes, good old +stranger, I will show the house for which you ask, for it stands near my +gentle father's. But follow in silence: I will lead the way. Cast not a +glance at any man and ask no questions, for our people do not well +endure a stranger, nor courteously receive a man who comes from +elsewhere. Yet they themselves trust in swift ships and traverse the +great deep, for the Earth-shaker permits them. Swift are their ships as +wing or thought." + +Saying this, Pallas Athene led the way in haste, and he walked after in +the footsteps of the goddess. So the Phaeacians, famed for shipping, did +not observe him walking through the town among them, because Athene, the +fair-haired powerful goddess, did not allow it, but in the kindness of +her heart drew a marvelous mist around him. And now Odysseus admired the +harbors, the trim ships, the meeting-places of the lords themselves, and +the long walls that were so high, fitted with palisades, a marvel to +behold. Then as they neared the famous palace of the king, the goddess, +clear-eyed Athene, thus began:-- + +"Here, good old stranger, is the house you bade me show. You will see +heaven-descended kings sitting at table here. But enter, and have no +misgivings in your heart; for the courageous man in all affairs better +attains his end, come he from where he may. First you shall find the +Queen within the hall. Arete is her name.... Alcinoues took Arete for his +wife, and he has honored her as no one else on earth is honored among +the women who to-day keep houses for their husbands. Thus has she had a +heartfelt honor, and she has it still, from her own children, from +Alcinoues himself, and from the people also, who gaze on her as on a god +and greet her with welcomes when she walks about the town. For of sound +judgment, woman as she is, she has no lack; and those whom she regards, +though men, find troubles clear away. If she regards you kindly in her +heart, then there is hope that you may see your friends and reach your +high-roofed house and native land." + +Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, over the barren sea. She +turned from pleasant Scheria, and came to Marathon and wide-wayed Athens +and entered there the strong house of Erechtheus. Meanwhile Odysseus +neared the lordly palace of Alcinoues, and his heart was deeply stirred +so that he paused before he crossed the brazen threshold; for a sheen as +of the sun or moon played through the high-roofed house of generous +Alcinoues. On either hand ran walls of bronze from threshold to recess, +and round about the ceiling was a cornice of dark metal. Doors made of +gold closed in the solid building. The door-posts were of silver and +stood on a bronze threshold, silver the lintel overhead, and gold the +handle. On the two sides were gold and silver dogs; these had Hephaestus +wrought with subtle craft to guard the house of generous Alcinoues, +creatures immortal, young forever. Within were seats planted against the +wall on this side and on that, from threshold to recess, in long array; +and over these were strewn light fine-spun robes, the work of women. +Here the Phaeacian leaders used to sit, drinking and eating, holding +constant cheer. And golden youths on massive pedestals stood and held +flaming torches in their hands to light by night the palace for the +feasters. + +In the King's house are fifty serving maids, some grinding at the mill +the yellow corn, some plying looms or twisting yarn, who as they sit are +like the leaves of a tall poplar; and from the close-spun linen drops +the liquid oil. And as Phaeacian men are skilled beyond all others in +speeding a swift ship along the sea, so are their women practiced at the +loom; for Athene has given them in large measure skill in fair works and +noble minds. + +Without the court and close beside its gate is a large garden, covering +four acres; around it runs a hedge on either side. Here grow tall +thrifty trees--pears, pomegranates, apples with shining fruit, sweet +figs and thrifty olives. On them fruit never fails; it is not gone in +winter or in summer, but lasts throughout the year; for constantly the +west wind's breath brings some to bud and mellows others. Pear ripens +upon pear, apple on apple, cluster on cluster, fig on fig. Here too the +teeming vineyard has been planted, one part of which, the drying place, +lying on level ground, is heating in the sun; elsewhere men gather +grapes; and elsewhere still they tread them. In front, the grapes are +green and shed their flower, but a second row are now just turning dark. +And here trim garden-beds, along the outer line, spring up in every kind +and all the year are gay. Near by, two fountains rise, one scattering +its streams throughout the garden, one bounding by another course +beneath the courtyard gate toward the high house; from this the +towns-folk draw their water. Such at the palace of Alcinoues were the +gods' splendid gifts. + +Here long-tried royal Odysseus stood and gazed. Then after he had gazed +his heart's fill on all, he quickly crossed the threshold and came +within the house. + + +NOTES + +=Phaeacia=:--The land of the Phaeacians, on the Island of Scheria, or +Corcyra, the modern Corfu. + +=Athene=:--Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, skill, and science. She was +interested in war, and protected warlike heroes. + +=Cyclops=:--One of a race of uncouth giants, each of whom had but a +single eye, which was in the middle of the forehead. + +=Nausithoues=:--The king of the Phaeacians at the time they entered +Scheria. + +=Hades=:--The realm of souls; not necessarily a place of punishment. + +=Artemis=:--Another name for Diana, goddess of the moon. + +=Taygetus and Erymanthus=:--Mountains in Greece. + +=Leto=:--The mother of Artemis. + +=Delos=:--An island in the Aegean Sea. + +=Ogygia=:--The island of the goddess Calypso, who held Odysseus captive +for seven years. + +=Hephaestus=:--Another name for Vulcan, the god of the under-world. He +was a skilled worker in metal. + +=Poseidon=:--Neptune, god of the ocean. + +=Land-shaker=:--Neptune. + +=Marathon=:--A plain eighteen miles from Athens. It was here that the +Greeks defeated the Persians in 490 B.C. + +=Erectheus=:--The mythical founder of Attica; he was half man and half +serpent. + + +=THE PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES IN THIS SELECTION= + +Al cin' o us ([)a]l sin' [+o] _[)u]_ s) +Ap ei' ra ([.a]p [=i]' r_a_) +Ap ei re' an ([)a]p [=i] r[=e]' _[)a]_n) +A re' te ([.a] r[=e]' t[=e]) +Ar' te mis (aer' t[+e] m[)i]s) +A the' ne ([.a] th[=e]' n[=e]) +Ca lyp' so (k_a_ l[)i]p' s[=o]) +Cir' ce (sur' s[=e]) +Cy' clops (s[=i]' cl[)o]ps) +De' los (d[=e]' l[)o]s) +Dy' mas (d[=i]' m_[.a]_s) +E rech' theus ([+e] r[)e]k' th[=u]s) +E ry man' thus ([)e]r [)i] m[)a]n' th_[=u]_s) +Eu rym e dou' sa ([=u] r[)i]m [+e] d[=oo]' s_[.a]_) +He phaes' tus (h[+e] f[)e]s' t_[)u]_s) +Le' to (l[=e]' t[=o]) +Mar' a thon (m[)a]r' [.a] th[)o]n) +Nau sic' a ae (no s[)i]k' [+a] _[.a]_) +Nau sith' o us (no s[)i]th' [+o] _[)u]_s) +O dys' seus ([+o] d[)i]s' [=u]s) +O gyg' i a ([+o] j[)i]j' _[.a]_) +Phae a' cia (f[+e] [=a]' sh_[.a]_) +Po sei' don (p[+o] s[=i]' d_[)o]_n) +Scher' i a (sk[=e]' r[)i] _[.a]_) +Ta yg' e tus (t[=a] [)i]j' [+e] t_[)u]_s) + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Odysseus (Ulysses) has been cast ashore after a long battle with the +sea, following his attempt to escape on a raft from Calypso's island. He +has been saved by the intervention of the goddess Athene, who often +protects distressed heroes. When Book VI opens, he is sleeping in a +secluded nook under an olive tree. (For Odysseus's adventures on the +sea, consult Book V of the _Odyssey_.) Is Athene's visit to Nausicaae an +unusual sort of thing in Greek story? Does it appear that it was +customary for princesses to do their own washing? Note here that _I_ +refers to the daughter of Dymas, since Athene is not speaking in her own +character. From Nausicaae's conversation with her father and her +preparations for departure, what can you judge of Greek family life? How +does the author make us see vividly the activities of Nausicaae and her +maids? Does the out-door scene appear true to life? _This virgin pure_ +refers to Nausicaae, who is being compared to Artemis (Diana), the +goddess of the hunt. What plan has Athene for assisting Odysseus? From +the hero's speech, what can you tell of his character? Can you find out +what adjectives are usually applied to Odysseus in the _Iliad_ and the +_Odyssey_? Why does he here call Nausicaae "Princess"? What effect is his +speech likely to have? What can you tell of Nausicaae from her reply? +Give her reasons for not taking Odysseus with her to the town. Does she +fail in hospitality? What do her reasons show of the life of Greek +women? What do you judge of the prosperity of the Phaeacians? Why does +Nausicaae tell Odysseus to seek the favor of her mother? _Her father's +brother_ means Neptune (the Sea)--brother of Zeus, Athene's father; +Neptune is enraged at Odysseus and wishes to destroy him. _Here then_: +At this point Book VII begins. From what is said of Arete, what can you +tell of the influence of the Greek women? How does the author make you +feel the richness of Alcinoues's palace? How does it differ from modern +houses? _Corn_ means grain, not Indian corn, which, of course, had not +yet been brought from the New World. Note the vivid description of the +garden. How do you think Odysseus is received at the house of Alcinoues? +You can find out by reading the rest of Book VII of the _Odyssey_. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +One of Ulysses's Adventures +An Escape from the Sea +A Picnic on the Shore +The Character of Nausicaae +My Idea of a Princess +The Life of a Greek Woman +A Group of Girls +The Character of Odysseus +Shipwrecked +A Beautiful Building +Along the Shore +Among Strangers +A Garden +A Story from the Odyssey +Odysseus at the House of Alcinoues +The Lady of the House +The Greek Warrior +The Stranger +Why I Wish to Study Greek + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Story from the Odyssey=:--Read, in a translation of the _Odyssey_, a +story of Odysseus, and tell it in your own words. The following stories +are appropriate: The Departure from Calypso's Island, Book V; The +Cyclops Polyphemus, Book IX; The Palace of Circe, Book X; The Land of +the Dead, Book XI; Scylla and Charybdis, Book XII; The Swineherd, Book +XIV; The Trial of the Bow, Book XXI; The Slaughter of the Suitors, Book +XXII. + +After you have chosen a story, read it through several times, to fix the +details in your mind. Lay the book aside, and write the story simply, +but as vividly as possible. + +=The Stranger=:--Explain the circumstances under which the stranger +appears. Are people startled at seeing him (or her)? Describe him. Is he +bewildered? Does he ask directions? Does he ask help? Quote his words +directly. How are his remarks received? Are people afraid of him? or do +they make sport of him? or do they receive him kindly? Who aids him? +Tell what he does and what becomes of him. Quote what is said of him +after he is gone. + +Perhaps you will like to tell the story of Ulysses's arrival among the +Phaeacians, giving it a modern setting, and using modern names. + +=Odysseus at the House of Alcinoues=:--Without reading Book VII of the +_Odyssey_, write what you imagine to be the conversation between +Alcinoues (or Arete) and Odysseus, when the shipwrecked hero enters the +palace. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Odyssey George Herbert Palmer (Trans.) +The Odyssey of Homer (prose translation) Butcher and Lang +The Iliad of Homer Lang, Leaf, and Myers +The Odyssey (translation in verse) William Cullen Bryant +The Odyssey for Boys and Girls A.J. Church +The Story of the Odyssey " " " +Greek Song and Story " " " +The Adventures of Odysseus Marvin, Mayor, and Stawell +Tanglewood Tales Nathaniel Hawthorne +Home Life of the Ancient Greeks H. Bluemner (trans, by A. + Zimmerman +Classic Myths (chapter 27) C.M. Gayley +The Age of Fable (chapters 22 and 23) Thomas Bulfinch +The Story of the Greek People Eva March Tappan +Greece and the Aegean Isles Philip S. Marden +Greek Lands and Letters F.G. and A.C.E. Allinson +Old Greek Folk Stories J.P. Peabody +Men of Old Greece Jennie Hall +The Lotos-eaters Alfred Tennyson +Ulysses " " +The Strayed Reveller Matthew Arnold +A Song of Phaeacia Andrew Lang +The Voyagers (in _The Fields of Dawn_) Lloyd Mifflin +Alice Freeman Palmer George Herbert Palmer + +See the references for _Moly_ on p. 84, and for Odysseus on p. 140. + + + + +ODYSSEUS + +GEORGE CABOT LODGE + + + He strove with Gods and men in equal mood + Of great endurance: Not alone his hands + Wrought in wild seas and labored in strange lands, + And not alone his patient strength withstood + The clashing cliffs and Circe's perilous sands: + Eager of some imperishable good + He drave new pathways thro' the trackless flood + Foreguarded, fearless, free from Fate's commands. + How shall our faith discern the truth he sought? + We too must watch and wander till our eyes, + Turned skyward from the topmost tower of thought, + Haply shall find the star that marked his goal, + The watch-fire of transcendent liberties + Lighting the endless spaces of the soul. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem through. How did Ulysses strive with gods and men? Why can +it be said that he did not labor alone? Look up the story of Circe and +her palace.[10] What was the imperishable good that Ulysses sought? What +does his experience have to do with our lives? What sort of freedom does +the author speak of in the last few lines? + +This verse-form is called the sonnet. How many lines has it? Make out a +scheme of the rhymes: _a b b a_, etc. Notice the change of thought at +the ninth line. Do all sonnets show this change? + + +EXERCISES + +Read several other sonnets; for instance, the poem _On the Life-Mask of +Abraham Lincoln_, on page 210, or _On First Looking into Chapman's +Homer_, by John Keats, or _The Grasshopper and the Cricket_, by Leigh +Hunt. + +Notice how these other sonnets are constructed. Why are they considered +good? + +If possible, read part of what is said about the sonnet in _English +Verse_, by R.M. Alden or in _Forms of English Poetry_, by C.F. Johnson, +or in _Melodies of English Verse_, by Lewis Kennedy Morse; notice some +of the examples given. + +Look in the good magazines for examples of the sonnet. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +To the Grasshopper and the Cricket Leigh Hunt +The Fish Answers (or, The Fish to the Man)[11] Leigh Hunt +On the Grasshopper and Cricket John Keats +On First Looking into Chapman's Homer John Keats +Ozymandias P.B. Shelley +The Sonnet R.W. Gilder +The Odyssey (sonnet) Andrew Lang +The Wine of Circe (sonnet) Dante Gabriel Rossetti +The Automobile (sonnet)[12] Percy Mackaye +The Sonnet William Wordsworth + +See also references for the _Odyssey_, p. 137, and for _Moly_, p. 84. + + + + +A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + +(In _Suburban Sketches_) + + +It was long past the twilight hour, which has been already mentioned as +so oppressive in suburban places, and it was even too late for visitors, +when a resident, whom I shall briefly describe as a contributor to the +magazines, was startled by a ring at his door. As any thoughtful person +would have done upon the like occasion, he ran over his acquaintance in +his mind, speculating whether it were such or such a one, and dismissing +the whole list of improbabilities, before he laid down the book he was +reading and answered the bell. When at last he did this, he was rewarded +by the apparition of an utter stranger on his threshold,--a gaunt figure +of forlorn and curious smartness towering far above him, that jerked him +a nod of the head, and asked if Mr. Hapford lived there. The face which +the lamplight revealed was remarkable for a harsh two days' growth of +beard, and a single bloodshot eye; yet it was not otherwise a sinister +countenance, and there was something in the strange presence that +appealed and touched. The contributor, revolving the facts vaguely in +his mind, was not sure, after all, that it was not the man's clothes +rather than his expression that softened him toward the rugged visage: +they were so tragically cheap; and the misery of helpless needle-women, +and the poverty and ignorance of the purchaser, were so apparent in +their shabby newness, of which they appeared still conscious enough to +have led the way to the very window, in the Semitic quarter of the +city, where they had lain ticketed, "This nobby suit for $15." + +But the stranger's manner put both his face and his clothes out of mind, +and claimed a deeper interest when, being answered that the person for +whom he asked did not live there, he set his bristling lips hard +together, and sighed heavily. + +"They told me," he said, in a hopeless way, "that he lived on this +street, and I've been to every other house. I'm very anxious to find +him, Cap'n,"--the contributor, of course, had no claim to the title with +which he was thus decorated,--"for I've a daughter living with him, and +I want to see her; I've just got home from a two years' voyage, +and"--there was a struggle of the Adam's-apple in the man's gaunt +throat--"I find she's about all there is left of my family." + +How complex is every human motive! This contributor had been lately +thinking, whenever he turned the pages of some foolish traveller,--some +empty prattler of Southern or Eastern lands, where all sensation was +long ago exhausted, and the oxygen has perished from every sentiment, so +has it been breathed and breathed again,--that nowadays the wise +adventurer sat down beside his own register and waited for incidents to +seek him out. It seemed to him that the cultivation of a patient and +receptive spirit was the sole condition needed to insure the occurrence +of all manner of surprising facts within the range of one's own personal +knowledge; that not only the Greeks were at our doors, but the fairies +and the genii, and all the people of romance, who had but to be +hospitably treated in order to develop the deepest interest of fiction, +and to become the characters of plots so ingenious that the most cunning +invention were poor beside them. I myself am not so confident of this, +and would rather trust Mr. Charles Reade, say, for my amusement than any +chance combination of events. But I should be afraid to say how much his +pride in the character of the stranger's sorrows, as proof of the +correctness of his theory, prevailed with the contributor to ask him to +come in and sit down; though I hope that some abstract impulse of +humanity, some compassionate and unselfish care for the man's +misfortunes as misfortunes, was not wholly wanting. Indeed, the helpless +simplicity with which he had confided his case might have touched a +harder heart. "Thank you," said the poor fellow, after a moment's +hesitation. "I believe I will come in. I've been on foot all day, and +after such a long voyage it makes a man dreadfully sore to walk about so +much. Perhaps you can think of a Mr. Hapford living somewhere in the +neighborhood." + +He sat down, and, after a pondering silence, in which he had remained +with his head fallen upon his breast, "My name is Jonathan Tinker," he +said, with the unaffected air which had already impressed the +contributor, and as if he felt that some form of introduction was +necessary, "and the girl that I want to find is Julia Tinker." Then he +added, resuming the eventful personal history which the listener +exulted, while he regretted, to hear: "You see, I shipped first to +Liverpool, and there I heard from my family; and then I shipped again +for Hong-Kong, and after that I never heard a word: I seemed to miss the +letters everywhere. This morning, at four o'clock, I left my ship as +soon as she had hauled into the dock, and hurried up home. The house +was shut, and not a soul in it; and I didn't know what to do, and I sat +down on the doorstep to wait till the neighbors woke up, to ask them +what had become of my family. And the first one come out he told me my +wife had been dead a year and a half, and the baby I'd never seen, with +her; and one of my boys was dead; and he didn't know where the rest of +the children was, but he'd heard two of the little ones was with a +family in the city." + +The man mentioned these things with the half-apologetical air observable +in a certain kind of Americans when some accident obliges them to +confess the infirmity of the natural feelings. They do not ask your +sympathy, and you offer it quite at your own risk, with a chance of +having it thrown back upon your hands. The contributor assumed the risk +so far as to say, "Pretty rough!" when the stranger paused; and perhaps +these homely words were best suited to reach the homely heart. The man's +quivering lips closed hard again, a kind of spasm passed over his dark +face, and then two very small drops of brine shone upon his weather-worn +cheeks. This demonstration, into which he had been surprised, seemed to +stand for the passion of tears into which the emotional races fall at +such times. He opened his lips with a kind of dry click, and went on:-- + +"I hunted about the whole forenoon in the city, and at last I found the +children. I'd been gone so long they didn't know me, and somehow I +thought the people they were with weren't over-glad I'd turned up. +Finally the oldest child told me that Julia was living with a Mr. +Hapford on this street, and I started out here to-night to look her up. +If I can find her, I'm all right. I can get the family together, then, +and start new." + +"It seems rather odd," mused the listener aloud, "that the neighbors let +them break up so, and that they should all scatter as they did." + +"Well, it ain't so curious as it seems, Cap'n. There was money for them +at the owners', all the time; I'd left part of my wages when I sailed; +but they didn't know how to get at it, and what could a parcel of +children do? Julia's a good girl, and when I find her I'm all right." + +The writer could only repeat that there was no Mr. Hapford living on +that street, and never had been, so far as he knew. Yet there might be +such a person in the neighborhood: and they would go out together and +ask at some of the houses about. But the stranger must first take a +glass of wine; for he looked used up. + +The sailor awkwardly but civilly enough protested that he did not want +to give so much trouble, but took the glass, and, as he put it to his +lips, said formally, as if it were a toast or a kind of grace, "I hope I +may have the opportunity of returning the compliment." The contributor +thanked him; though, as he thought of all the circumstances of the case, +and considered the cost at which the stranger had come to enjoy his +politeness, he felt little eagerness to secure the return of the +compliment at the same price, and added, with the consequence of another +set phrase, "Not at all." But the thought had made him the more anxious +to befriend the luckless soul fortune had cast in his way; and so the +two sallied out together, and rang doorbells wherever lights were still +seen burning in the windows, and asked the astonished people who +answered their summons whether any Mr. Hapford were known to live in the +neighborhood. + +And although the search for this gentleman proved vain, the contributor +could not feel that an expedition which set familiar objects in such +novel lights was altogether a failure. He entered so intimately into the +cares and anxieties of his protege that at times he felt himself in some +inexplicable sort a shipmate of Jonathan Tinker, and almost personally a +partner of his calamities. The estrangement of all things which takes +place, within doors and without, about midnight may have helped to cast +this doubt upon his identity;--he seemed to be visiting now for the +first time the streets and neighborhoods nearest his own, and his feet +stumbled over the accustomed walks. In his quality of houseless +wanderer, and--so far as appeared to others--possibly worthless +vagabond, he also got a new and instructive effect upon the faces which, +in his real character, he knew so well by their looks of neighborly +greeting; and it is his belief that the first hospitable prompting of +the human heart is to shut the door in the eyes of homeless strangers +who present themselves after eleven o'clock. By that time the servants +are all abed, and the gentleman of the house answers the bell, and looks +out with a loath and bewildered face, which gradually changes to one of +suspicion, and of wonder as to what those fellows can possibly want of +_him_, till at last the prevailing expression is one of contrite desire +to atone for the first reluctance by any sort of service. The +contributor professes to have observed these changing phases in the +visages of those whom he that night called from their dreams, or +arrested in the act of going to bed; and he drew the conclusion--very +proper for his imaginable connection with the garroting and other +adventurous brotherhoods--that the most flattering moment for knocking +on the head people who answer a late ring at night is either in their +first selfish bewilderment, or their final self-abandonment to their +better impulses. It does not seem to have occurred to him that he would +himself have been a much more favorable subject for the predatory arts +than any of his neighbors, if his shipmate, the unknown companion of his +researches for Mr. Hapford, had been at all so minded. But the faith of +the gaunt giant upon which he reposed was good, and the contributor +continued to wander about with him in perfect safety. Not a soul among +those they asked had ever heard of a Mr. Hapford,--far less of a Julia +Tinker living with him. But they all listened to the contributor's +explanation with interest and eventual sympathy; and in truth,--briefly +told, with a word now and then thrown in by Jonathan Tinker, who kept at +the bottom of the steps, showing like a gloomy spectre in the night, or, +in his grotesque length and gauntness, like the other's shadow cast +there by the lamplight,--it was a story which could hardly fail to +awaken pity. + +At last, after ringing several bells where there were no lights, in the +mere wantonness of good-will, and going away before they could be +answered (it would be entertaining to know what dreams they caused the +sleepers within), there seemed to be nothing for it but to give up the +search till morning, and go to the main street and wait for the last +horse-car to the city. + +There, seated upon the curbstone, Jonathan Tinker, being plied with a +few leading questions, told in hints and scraps the story of his hard +life, which was at present that of a second mate, and had been that of +a cabin-boy and of a seaman before the mast. The second mate's place he +held to be the hardest aboard ship. You got only a few dollars more than +the men, and you did not rank with the officers; you took your meals +alone, and in everything you belonged by yourself. The men did not +respect you, and sometimes the captain abused you awfully before the +passengers. The hardest captain that Jonathan Tinker ever sailed with +was Captain Gooding of the Cape. It had got to be so that no man could +ship second mate under Captain Gooding; and Jonathan Tinker was with him +only one voyage. When he had been home awhile, he saw an advertisement +for a second mate, and he went round to the owners'. They had kept it +secret who the captain was; but there was Captain Gooding in the owners' +office. "Why, here's the man, now, that I want for a second mate," said +he, when Jonathan Tinker entered; "he knows me."--"Captain Gooding, I +know you 'most too well to want to sail under you," answered Jonathan. +"I might go if I hadn't been with you one voyage too many already." + +"And then the men!" said Jonathan, "the men coming aboard drunk, and +having to be pounded sober! And the hardest of the fight falls on the +second mate! Why, there isn't an inch of me that hasn't been cut over or +smashed into a jell. I've had three ribs broken; I've got a scar from a +knife on my cheek; and I've been stabbed bad enough, half a dozen times, +to lay me up." + +Here he gave a sort of desperate laugh, as if the notion of so much +misery and such various mutilation were too grotesque not to be amusing. +"Well, what can you do?" he went on. "If you don't strike, the men think +you're afraid of them; and so you have to begin hard and go on hard. I +always tell a man, 'Now, my man, I always begin with a man the way I +mean to keep on. You do your duty and you're all right. But if you +don't'--Well, the men ain't Americans any more,--Dutch, Spaniards, +Chinese, Portuguee, and it ain't like abusing a white man." + +Jonathan Tinker was plainly part of the horrible tyranny which we all +know exists on shipboard; and his listener respected him the more that, +though he had heart enough to be ashamed of it, he was too honest not to +own it. + +Why did he still follow the sea? Because he did not know what else to +do. When he was younger, he used to love it, but now he hated it. Yet +there was not a prettier life in the world if you got to be captain. He +used to hope for that once, but not now; though he _thought_ he could +navigate a ship. Only let him get his family together again, and he +would--yes, he would--try to do something ashore. + +No car had yet come in sight, and so the contributor suggested that they +should walk to the car-office, and look in the "Directory," which is +kept there, for the name of Hapford, in search of whom it had already +been arranged that they should renew their acquaintance on the morrow. +Jonathan Tinker, when they had reached the office, heard with +constitutional phlegm that the name of the Hapford for whom he inquired +was not in the "Directory." "Never mind," said the other; "come round to +my house in the morning. We'll find him yet." So they parted with a +shake of the hand, the second mate saying that he believed he should go +down to the vessel and sleep aboard,--if he could sleep,--and murmuring +at the last moment the hope of returning the compliment, while the +other walked homeward, weary as to the flesh, but, in spite of his +sympathy for Jonathan Tinker, very elate in spirit. The truth is,--and +however disgraceful to human nature, let the truth still be told,--he +had recurred to his primal satisfaction in the man as calamity capable +of being used for such and such literary ends, and, while he pitied him, +rejoiced in him as an episode of real life quite as striking and +complete as anything in fiction. It was literature made to his hand. +Nothing could be better, he mused; and once more he passed the details +of the story in review, and beheld all those pictures which the poor +fellow's artless words had so vividly conjured up: he saw him leaping +ashore in the gray summer dawn as soon as the ship hauled into the dock, +and making his way, with his vague sea-legs unaccustomed to the +pavements, up through the silent and empty city streets; he imagined the +tumult of fear and hope which the sight of the man's home must have +caused in him, and the benumbing shock of finding it blind and deaf to +all his appeals; he saw him sitting down upon what had been his own +threshold, and waiting in a sort of bewildered patience till the +neighbors should be awake, while the noises of the streets gradually +arose, and the wheels began to rattle over the stones, and the milk-man +and the ice-man came and went, and the waiting figure began to be stared +at, and to challenge the curiosity of the passing policeman; he fancied +the opening of the neighbor's door, and the slow, cold understanding of +the case; the manner, whatever it was, in which the sailor was told that +one year before his wife had died, with her babe, and that his children +were scattered, none knew where. As the contributor dwelt pityingly upon +these things, but at the same time estimated their aesthetic value one +by one, he drew near the head of his street, and found himself a few +paces behind a boy slouching onward through the night, to whom he called +out, adventurously, and with no real hope of information,-- + +"Do you happen to know anybody on this street by the name of Hapford?" + +"Why, no, not in this town," said the boy; but he added that there was a +street of the same name in a neighboring suburb, and that there was a +Hapford living on it. + +"By Jove!" thought the contributor, "this is more like literature than +ever"; and he hardly knew whether to be more provoked at his own +stupidity in not thinking of a street of the same name in the next +village, or delighted at the element of fatality which the fact +introduced into the story; for Tinker, according to his own account, +must have landed from the cars a few rods from the very door he was +seeking, and so walked farther and farther from it every moment. He +thought the case so curious, that he laid it briefly before the boy, +who, however he might have been inwardly affected, was sufficiently true +to the national traditions not to make the smallest conceivable outward +sign of concern in it. + +At home, however, the contributor related his adventures and the story +of Tinker's life, adding the fact that he had just found out where Mr. +Hapford lived. "It was the only touch wanting," said he; "the whole +thing is now perfect." + +"It's _too_ perfect," was answered from a sad enthusiasm. "Don't speak +of it! I can't take it in." + +"But the question is," said the contributor, penitently taking himself +to task for forgetting the hero of these excellent misfortunes in his +delight at their perfection, "how am I to sleep to-night, thinking of +that poor soul's suspense and uncertainty? Never mind,--I'll be up +early, and run over and make sure that it is Tinker's Hapford, before he +gets out here, and have a pleasant surprise for him. Would it not be a +justifiable _coup de theatre_ to fetch his daughter here, and let her +answer his ring at the door when he comes in the morning?" + +This plan was discouraged. "No, no; let them meet in their own way. Just +take him to Hapford's house and leave him." + +"Very well. But he's too good a character to lose sight of. He's got to +come back here and tell us what he intends to do." + +The birds, next morning, not having had the second mate on their minds +either as an unhappy man or a most fortunate episode, but having slept +long and soundly, were singing in a very sprightly way in the wayside +trees; and the sweetness of their notes made the contributor's heart +light as he climbed the hill and rang at Mr. Hapford's door. + +The door was opened by a young girl of fifteen or sixteen, whom he knew +at a glance for the second mate's daughter, but of whom, for form's +sake, he asked if there were a girl named Julia Tinker living there. + +"My name's Julia Tinker," answered the maid, who had rather a +disappointing face. + +"Well," said the contributor, "your father's got back from his Hong-Kong +voyage." + +"Hong-Kong voyage?" echoed the girl, with a stare of helpless inquiry, +but no other visible emotion. + +"Yes. He had never heard of your mother's death. He came home yesterday +morning, and was looking for you all day." + +Julia Tinker remained open-mouthed but mute; and the other was puzzled +at the want of feeling shown, which he could not account for even as a +national trait. "Perhaps there's some mistake," he said. + +"There must be," answered Julia: "my father hasn't been to sea for a +good many years. _My_ father," she added, with a diffidence +indescribably mingled with a sense of distinction,--"_my_ father 's in +State's Prison. What kind of looking man was this?" + +The contributor mechanically described him. + +Julia Tinker broke into a loud, hoarse laugh. "Yes, it's him, sure +enough." And then, as if the joke were too good to keep: "Mis' Hapford, +Mis' Hapford, father's got out. Do come here!" she called into a back +room. + +When Mrs. Hapford appeared, Julia fell back, and, having deftly caught a +fly on the doorpost, occupied herself in plucking it to pieces, while +she listened to the conversation of the others. + +"It's all true enough," said Mrs. Hapford, when the writer had recounted +the moving story of Jonathan Tinker, "so far as the death of his wife +and baby goes. But he hasn't been to sea for a good many years, and he +must have just come out of State's Prison, where he was put for bigamy. +There's always two sides to a story, you know; but they say it broke his +first wife's heart, and she died. His friends don't want him to find his +children, and this girl especially." + +"He's found his children in the city," said the contributor gloomily, +being at a loss what to do or say, in view of the wreck of his romance. + +"Oh, he's found 'em, has he?" cried Julia, with heightened amusement. +"Then he'll have me next, if I don't pack and go." + +"I'm very, very sorry," said the contributor, secretly resolved never to +do another good deed, no matter how temptingly the opportunity presented +itself. "But you may depend he won't find out from _me_ where you are. +Of course I had no earthly reason for supposing his story was not true." + +"Of course," said kind-hearted Mrs. Hapford, mingling a drop of honey +with the gall in the contributor's soul, "you only did your duty." + +And indeed, as he turned away, he did not feel altogether without +compensation. However Jonathan Tinker had fallen in his esteem as a man, +he had even risen as literature. The episode which had appeared so +perfect in its pathetic phases did not seem less finished as a farce; +and this person, to whom all things of every-day life presented +themselves in periods more or less rounded, and capable of use as facts +or illustrations, could not but rejoice in these new incidents, as +dramatically fashioned as the rest. It occurred to him that, wrought +into a story, even better use might be made of the facts now than +before, for they had developed questions of character and of human +nature which could not fail to interest. The more he pondered upon his +acquaintance with Jonathan Tinker, the more fascinating the erring +mariner became, in his complex truth and falsehood, his delicately +blended shades of artifice and naivete. He must, it was felt, have +believed to a certain point in his own inventions: nay, starting with +that groundwork of truth,--the fact that his wife was really dead, and +that he had not seen his family for two years,--why should he not place +implicit faith in all the fictions reared upon it? It was probable that +he felt a real sorrow for her loss, and that he found a fantastic +consolation in depicting the circumstances of her death so that they +should look like his inevitable misfortunes rather than his faults. He +might well have repented his offence during those two years of prison; +and why should he not now cast their dreariness and shame out of his +memory, and replace them with the freedom and adventure of a two years' +voyage to China,--so probable, in all respects, that the fact should +appear an impossible nightmare? In the experiences of his life he had +abundant material to furnish forth the facts of such a voyage, and in +the weariness and lassitude that should follow a day's walking equally +after a two years' voyage and two years' imprisonment, he had as much +physical proof in favor of one hypothesis as the other. It was doubtless +true, also, as he said, that he had gone to his house at dawn, and sat +down on the threshold of his ruined home; and perhaps he felt the desire +he had expressed to see his daughter, with a purpose of beginning life +anew; and it may have cost him a veritable pang when he found that his +little ones did not know him. All the sentiments of the situation were +such as might persuade a lively fancy of the truth of its own +inventions; and as he heard these continually repeated by the +contributor in their search for Mr. Hapford, they must have acquired an +objective force and repute scarcely to be resisted. At the same time, +there were touches of nature throughout Jonathan Tinker's narrative +which could not fail to take the faith of another. The contributor, in +reviewing it, thought it particularly charming that his mariner had not +overdrawn himself, or attempted to paint his character otherwise than as +it probably was; that he had shown his ideas and practices of life to be +those of a second mate, nor more nor less, without the gloss of regret +or the pretences to refinement that might be pleasing to the supposed +philanthropist with whom he had fallen in. Captain Gooding was of course +a true portrait; and there was nothing in Jonathan Tinker's statement of +the relations of a second mate to his superiors and his inferiors which +did not agree perfectly with what the contributor had just read in "Two +Years before the Mast,"--a book which had possibly cast its glamour upon +the adventure. He admired also the just and perfectly characteristic air +of grief in the bereaved husband and father,--those occasional escapes +from the sense of loss into a brief hilarity and forgetfulness, and +those relapses into the hovering gloom, which every one has observed in +this poor, crazy human nature when oppressed by sorrow, and which it +would have been hard to simulate. But, above all, he exulted in that +supreme stroke of the imagination given by the second mate when, at +parting, he said he believed he would go down and sleep on board the +vessel. In view of this, the State's Prison theory almost appeared a +malign and foolish scandal. + +Yet even if this theory were correct, was the second mate wholly +answerable for beginning his life again with the imposture he had +practised? The contributor had either so fallen in love with the +literary advantages of his forlorn deceiver that he would see no moral +obliquity in him, or he had touched a subtler verity at last in +pondering the affair. It seemed now no longer a farce, but had a pathos +which, though very different from that of its first aspect, was hardly +less tragical. Knowing with what coldness, or at the best, uncandor, he +(representing Society in its attitude toward convicted Error) would have +met the fact had it been owned to him at first, he had not virtue enough +to condemn the illusory stranger, who must have been helpless to make at +once evident any repentance he felt or good purpose he cherished. Was it +not one of the saddest consequences of the man's past,--a dark necessity +of misdoing,--that, even with the best will in the world to retrieve +himself, his first endeavor must involve a wrong? Might he not, indeed, +be considered a martyr, in some sort, to his own admirable impulses? I +can see clearly enough where the contributor was astray in this +reasoning, but I can also understand how one accustomed to value +realities only as they resembled fables should be won with such pensive +sophistry; and I can certainly sympathize with his feeling that the +mariner's failure to reappear according to appointment added its final +and most agreeable charm to the whole affair, and completed the mystery +from which the man emerged and which swallowed him up again. + + +NOTES + +=Mr. Charles Reade=:--An English novelist (1814-1884). + +=protege= (French):--A person under the care of another. The form given +here is masculine; the feminine is _protegee_. + +=coup de theatre=:--(French) A very striking scene, such as might appear +on the stage. + +=Two Years before the Mast=:--A sea story written by R.H. Dana, about +1840. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is a romance? The phrase _already mentioned_ refers to earlier +parts of the book _Suburban Sketches_, from which this story is taken. +What effect does the author gain by the ring at the door-bell? How does +he give you a quick and vivid idea of the visitor? What significance do +the man's clothes have in the story? By means of what devices does the +author interest you in the stranger? Do adventures really happen in +everyday life? Why does the author speak of one's own "register"? Mr. +Howells has written a number of novels in which he pictures ordinary +people, and shows the romance of commonplace events. Why does the +listener "exult"? How does the man's story affect you? What is gained by +having it told in his own words? Is Jonathan Tinker's toast a happy one? +What does the contributor mean by saying that he would have been a good +subject for "the predatory arts"? _The last horse-car_: To Boston; the +scene is probably laid in Cambridge where Mr. Howells lived for some +years. In what way does the sailor's language emphasize the pathetic +quality of his story? How was the man "literature made to the author's +hand"? What are the "national traditions" mentioned in connection with +the boy? Why was the story regarded as "too perfect" when it was related +at home? In what way was Julia Tinker's face "disappointing"? How does +the author feel when he hears the facts in the case? Why does he resolve +never to do a good deed again? The author gives two reasons why Jonathan +Tinker did not tell the truth: what seems to you the real reason? +Characterize Tinker in your own words. Is the ending of the selection +satisfactory? Did you think that Tinker would come back? Can you make a +little drama of this story? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +An Old Sailor +People who do not Tell the Truth +The Forsaken House +Asking Directions +A Tramp +The Lost Address +An Evening at Home +A Sketch of Julia Tinker +The Surprise +A Long-lost Relative +What Becomes of the Ex-Convicts? +The Jail +A Stranger in Town +A Late Visitor +What I Think of Jonathan Tinker +The Disadvantages of a Lively Imagination +Unwelcome +If Jonathan Tinker had Told the Truth +The Lie +A Call at a Stranger's House +An Unfortunate Man +A Walk in Dark Streets +The Sea Captain +Watching the Sailors + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Late Visitor=:--Try to write this in the form of a dialogue or little +play. The host is reading or conversing in the family sitting-room, when +the doorbell rings. There is a conversation at the door, and then the +caller is brought in. Perhaps the stranger has some evil design. Perhaps +he (or she) is lost, or in great need. Perhaps he turns out to be in +some way connected with the family. Think out the plan of the dialogue +pretty thoroughly before you begin to write. It is possible that you +will want to add a second act in which the results of the first are +shown. Plan your stage directions with the help of some other drama, as, +for instance, that given on page 52. + +=The Lie=:[13]--This also may be written in the form of a slight +dramatic composition. There might be a few brief scenes, according to +the following plan:-- + +Scene 1: The lie is told. +Scene 2: It makes trouble. +Scene 3: It is found out. +Scene 4: Complications are untangled, and the lie is atoned for. + (Perhaps this scene can be combined with the preceding.) + +=A Long-lost Relative=:--This may be taken from a real or an imaginary +circumstance. Tell of the first news that the relative is coming. Where +has he (or she) been during the past years? Speak of the period before +the relative arrives: the conjectures as to his appearance; the +preparations made; the conversation regarding him. Tell of his arrival. +Is his appearance such as has been expected? Describe him rather fully. +What does he say and do? Does he make himself agreeable? Are his ideas +in any way peculiar? Do the neighbors like him? Give some of the +incidents of his visit. Tell about his departure. Are the family glad or +sorry to have him go? What is said about him after he has gone? What has +been heard of him since? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Suburban Sketches William Dean Howells +A Boy's Town " " " +The Rise of Silas Lapham " " " +The Minister's Charge " " " +Their Wedding Journey " " " +The Lady of the Aroostook " " " +Venetian Life " " " +Italian Journeys " " " +The Mouse Trap (a play) " " " +Evening Dress (a play) " " " +The Register (a play) " " " +The Elevator (a play) " " " +Unexpected Guests (a play) " " " +The Albany Depot (a play) " " " +Literary Friends and Acquaintances " " " +Their California Uncle Bret Harte +A Lodging for the Night R.L. Stevenson +Kidnapped " " +Ebb Tide " " +Enoch Arden Alfred Tennyson +Rip Van Winkle Washington Irving +Wakefield Nathaniel Hawthorne +Two Years before the Mast R.H. Dana +Out of Gloucester J.B. Connolly +Jean Valjean (from _Les Miserables_) Victor Hugo (Ed. S.E. Wiltse) +Historic Towns of New England + (Cambridge) L.P. Powell (Ed.) +Old Cambridge T.W. Higginson +American Authors at Home, pp. 193-211 J.L. and J.B. Gilder +American Authors and their Homes, + pp. 99-110 F.W. Halsey +American Writers of To-day, pp. 43-68 H.C. Vedder + +Bookman, 17:342 (Portrait); 35:114, April, 1912; Current Literature, +42:49, January, 1907 (Portrait). + + + + +THE WILD RIDE + +LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY + + _I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses + All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, + All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing_. + + Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle, + Weather-worn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion, + With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him. + + The trail is through dolour and dread, over crags and morasses; + There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us: + What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding. + + Thought's self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb, + And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sun-beam: + Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing. + + A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle, + A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty: + We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers. + + (_I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses + All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, + All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing._) + + We spur to a land of no name, out-racing the storm-wind; + We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil. + Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This poem is somewhat like the _Road-Hymn for the Start_, on page 184. +It is about those people who go forward eagerly into the work of the +world, without fearing, and without shrinking from difficulties. Read it +through completely, trying to get its meaning. Regard the lines in +italic as a kind of chorus, and study the meaning of the other stanzas +first. Who are the galloping legions? A _stirrup-cup_ was a draught of +wine, taken just before a rider began his journey; it was usually drunk +to some one's health. Is _dolour_ a common word? Is it good here? Try to +put into your own words the ideas in the "land of no name," and "the +infinite dark," remembering what is said above about the general meaning +of the poem. What picture and what idea do you get from "like sparks +from the anvil"? Now go back to the lines in italic, and look for their +meaning. + +What do you notice about the length of the words in this poem? Why has +the author used this kind of words? Notice carefully how the sound and +the sense are made harmonious. Look for the rhyme. How does the poem +differ from most short poems? + +Bead the verses aloud, trying to make your reading suggest "the hoofs of +invisible horses." + + +OTHER POEMS TO READ + +A Troop of the Guard Hermann Hagedorn +How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix Robert Browning +Through the Metidja to Abd-el-Kadr " " +Reveille Bret Harte +A Song of the Road Richard Watson Gilder +The House and the Road J.P. Peabody +The Mystic Cale Young Rice + (In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, Ed. by J.B. Rittenhouse.) +A Winter Ride Amy Lowell + (In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_.) +The Ride Clinton Scollard + (In _Songs of Sunrise Lands_.) + + + + +CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS + +DALLAS LORE SHARP + +(In _The Lay of the Land_) + + +On the night before this particular Christmas every creature of the +woods that could stir was up and stirring; for over the old snow was +falling swiftly, silently, a soft, fresh covering that might mean a +hungry Christmas unless the dinner were had before morning. + +But when the morning dawned, a cheery Christmas sun broke across the +great gum swamp, lighting the snowy boles and soft-piled limbs of the +giant trees with indescribable glory, and pouring, a golden flood, into +the deep spongy bottoms below. It would be a perfect Christmas in the +woods, clear, mild, stirless, with silent footing for me, and everywhere +the telltale snow. + +And everywhere the Christmas spirit, too. As I paused among the pointed +cedars of the pasture, looking down into the cripple at the head of the +swamp, a clear wild whistle rang in the thicket, followed by a flash +through the alders like a tongue of fire, as a cardinal grosbeak shot +down to the tangle of greenbrier and magnolia under the slope. It was a +fleck of flaming summer. As warm as summer, too, the staghorn sumac +burned on the crest of the ridge against the group of holly +trees,--trees as fresh as April, and all aglow with berries. The woods +were decorated for the holy day. The gentleness of the soft new snow +touched everything; cheer and good-will lighted the unclouded sky and +warmed the thick depths of the evergreens, and blazed in the +crimson-berried bushes of the ilex and alder. The Christmas woods were +glad. + +Nor was the gladness all show, mere decoration. There was real cheer in +abundance; for I was back in the old home woods, back along the +Cohansey, back where you can pick persimmons off the trees at Christmas. +There are persons who say the Lord might have made a better berry than +the strawberry, but He didn't. Perhaps He didn't make the strawberry at +all. But He did make the Cohansey Creek persimmon, and He made it as +good as He could. Nowhere else under the sun can you find such +persimmons as these along the creek, such richness of flavor, such +gummy, candied quality, woodsy, wild, crude,--especially the fruit of +two particular trees on the west bank, near Lupton's Pond. But they +never come to this perfection, never quite lose their pucker, until +midwinter,--as if they had been intended for the Christmas table of the +woods. + +It had been nearly twenty years since I crossed this pasture of the +cedars on my way to the persimmon trees. The cows had been crossing +every year, yet not a single new crook had they worn in the old paths. +But I was half afraid as I came to the fence where I could look down +upon the pond and over to the persimmon trees. Not one of the Luptons, +who owned pasture and pond and trees, had ever been a boy, so far as I +could remember, or had ever eaten of those persimmons. Would they have +left the trees through all these years? + +I pushed through the hedge of cedars and stopped for an instant, +confused. The very pond was gone! and the trees! No, there was the +pond,--but how small the patch of water! and the two persimmon trees? +The bush and undergrowth had grown these twenty years. Which way--Ah, +there they stand, only their leafless tops showing; but see the hard +angular limbs, how closely globed with fruit! how softly etched upon the +sky! + +I hurried around to the trees and climbed the one with the two broken +branches, up, clear up to the top, into the thick of the persimmons. + +Did I say it had been twenty years? That could not be. Twenty years +would have made me a man, and this sweet, real taste in my mouth only a +_boy_ could know. But there was college, and marriage, a Massachusetts +farm, four boys of my own, and--no matter! it could not have been +_years_--twenty years--since. It was only yesterday that I last climbed +this tree and ate the rich rimy fruit frosted with a Christmas snow. + +And yet, could it have been yesterday? It was storming, and I clung here +in the swirling snow and heard the wild ducks go over in their hurry +toward the bay. Yesterday, and all this change in the vast treetop +world, this huddled pond, those narrowed meadows, that shrunken creek! I +should have eaten the persimmons and climbed straight down, not stopped +to gaze out upon the pond, and away over the dark ditches to the creek. +But reaching out quickly I gathered another handful,--and all was +yesterday again. + +I filled both pockets of my coat and climbed down. I kept those +persimmons and am tasting them to-night. Lupton's Pond may fill to a +puddle, the meadows may shrivel, the creek dry up and disappear, and old +Time may even try his wiles on me. But I shall foil him to the +end; for I am carrying still in my pocket some of yesterday's +persimmons,--persimmons that ripened in the rime of a winter when I was +a boy. + +High and alone in a bare persimmon tree for one's dinner hardly sounds +like a merry Christmas. But I was not alone. I had noted the fresh +tracks beneath the tree before I climbed up, and now I saw that the snow +had been partly brushed from several of the large limbs as the 'possum +had moved about in the tree for his Christmas dinner. We were guests at +the same festive board, and both of us at Nature's invitation. It +mattered not that the 'possum had eaten and gone this hour or more. Such +is good form in the woods. He was expecting me, so he came early, out of +modesty; and, that I too might be entirely at my ease, he departed +early, leaving his greetings for me in the snow. + +Thus I was not alone; here was good company and plenty of it. I never +lack a companion in the woods when I can pick up a trail. The 'possum +and I ate together. And this was just the fellowship I needed, this +sharing the persimmons with the 'possum. I had broken bread, not with +the 'possum only, but with all the out-of-doors. I was now fit to enter +the woods, for I was filled with good-will and persimmons, as full as +the 'possum; and putting myself under his gentle guidance, I got down +upon the ground, took up his clumsy trail, and descended toward the +swamp. Such an entry is one of the particular joys of the winter. To go +in with a fox, a mink, or a 'possum through the door of the woods is to +find yourself at home. Any one can get inside the out-of-doors, as the +grocery boy or the census man gets inside our houses. You can bolt in at +any time on business. A trail, however, is Nature's invitation. There +may be other, better beaten paths for mere feet. But go softly with the +'possum, and at the threshold you are met by the spirit of the wood, you +are made the guest of the open, silent, secret out-of-doors. + +I went down with the 'possum. He had traveled home in leisurely fashion +and without fear, as his tracks plainly showed. He was full of +persimmons. A good happy world this, where such fare could be had for +the picking! What need to hurry home, except one were in danger of +falling asleep by the way? So I thought, too, as I followed his winding +path; and if I was tracking him to his den, it was only to wake him for +a moment with the compliments of the season. But it was not even a +momentary disturbance; for when I finally found him in his hollow gum, +he was sound asleep, and only half realized that some one was poking him +gently in the ribs and wishing him a merry Christmas. + +The 'possum had led me to the center of the empty, hollow swamp, where +the great-boled gums lifted their branches like a timbered, unshingled +roof between me and the wide sky. Far away through the spaces of the +rafters I saw a pair of wheeling buzzards and, under them, in lesser +circles, a broad-winged hawk. Here, at the feet of the tall, clean +trees, looking up through the leafless limbs, I had something of a +measure for the flight of the birds. The majesty and the mystery of the +distant buoyant wings were singularly impressive. + +I have seen the turkey-buzzard sailing the skies on the bitterest winter +days. To-day, however, could hardly be called winter. Indeed, nothing +yet had felt the pinch of the cold. There was no hunger yet in the +swamp, though this new snow had scared the raccoons out, and their +half-human tracks along the margin of the swamp stream showed that, if +not hungry, they at least feared that they might be. + +For a coon hates snow. He will invariably sleep off the first light +snowfalls, and even in the late winter he will not venture forth in +fresh snow unless driven by hunger or some other dire need. Perhaps, +like a cat or a hen, he dislikes the wetting of his feet. Or it may be +that the soft snow makes bad hunting--for him. The truth is, T believe, +that such a snow makes too good hunting for the dogs and the gunner. The +new snow tells too clear a story. His home is no inaccessible den among +the ledges; only a hollow in some ancient oak or tupelo. Once within, he +is safe from the dogs; but the long fierce fight for life taught him +generations ago that the nest-tree is a fatal trap when behind the dogs +come the axe and the gun. So he has grown wary and enduring. He waits +until the snow grows crusty, when, without sign, and almost without +scent, he can slip forth among the long shadows and prowl to the edge of +dawn. + +Skirting the stream out toward the higher back woods, I chanced to spy a +bunch of snow in one of the great sour gums, that I thought was an old +nest. A second look showed me tiny green leaves, then white berries, +then mistletoe. + +It was not a surprise, for I had found it here before,--a long, long +time before. It was back in my school-boy days, back beyond those twenty +years, that I first stood here under the mistletoe and had my first +romance. There was no chandelier, no pretty girl, in that romance,--only +a boy, the mistletoe, the giant trees, and the somber, silent swamp. +Then there was his discovery, the thrill of deep delight, and the wonder +of his knowledge of the strange unnatural plant! All plants had been +plants to him until, one day, he read the life of the mistletoe. But +that was English mistletoe; so the boy's wonder world of plant life was +still as far away as Mars, when, rambling alone through the swamp along +the creek, he stopped under a big curious bunch of green, high up in one +of the gums, and--made his first discovery. + +So the boy climbed up again this Christmas Day at the peril of his +precious neck, and brought down a bit of that old romance. + +I followed the stream along through the swamp to the open meadows, and +then on under the steep wooded hillside that ran up to the higher land +of corn and melon fields. Here at the foot of the slope the winter sun +lay warm, and here in the sheltered briery border I came upon the +Christmas birds. + +There was a great variety of them, feeding and preening and chirping in +the vines. The tangle was a-twitter with their quiet, cheery talk. Such +a medley of notes you could not hear at any other season outside a city +bird store. How far the different species understood one another I +should like to know, and whether the hum of voices meant sociability to +them, as it certainly meant to me. Doubtless the first cause of their +flocking here was the sheltered warmth and the great numbers of +berry-laden bushes, for there was no lack either of abundance or variety +on the Christmas table. + +In sight from where I stood hung bunches of withering chicken or frost +grapes, plump clusters of blue-black berries of the greenbrier, and +limbs of the smooth winterberry bending with their flaming fruit. There +were bushes of crimson ilex, too, trees of fruiting dogwood and holly, +cedars in berry, dwarf sumac and seedy sedges, while patches on the +wood slopes uncovered by the sun were spread with trailing partridge +berry and the coral-fruited wintergreen. I had eaten part of my dinner +with the 'possum; I picked a quantity of these wintergreen berries, and +continued my meal with the birds. And they also had enough and to spare. + +Among the birds in the tangle was a large flock of northern fox +sparrows, whose vigorous and continuous scratching in the bared spots +made a most lively and cheery commotion. Many of them were splashing +about in tiny pools of snow-water, melted partly by the sun and partly +by the warmth of their bodies as they bathed. One would hop to a +softening bit of snow at the base of a tussock keel over and begin to +flop, soon sending up a shower of sparkling drops from his rather chilly +tub. A winter snow-water bath seemed a necessity, a luxury indeed; for +they all indulged, splashing with the same purpose and zest that they +put into their scratching among the leaves. + +A much bigger splashing drew me quietly through the bushes to find a +marsh hawk giving himself a Christmas souse. The scratching, washing, +and talking of the birds; the masses of green in the cedars, holly, and +laurels; the glowing colors of the berries against the snow; the blue of +the sky, and the golden warmth of the light made Christmas in the heart +of the noon that the very swamp seemed to feel. + +Three months later there was to be scant picking here, for this was the +beginning of the severest winter I ever knew. From this very ridge, in +February, I had reports of berries gone, of birds starving, of whole +coveys of quail frozen dead in the snow; but neither the birds nor I +dreamed to-day of any such hunger and death. A flock of robins whirled +into the cedars above me; a pair of cardinals whistled back and forth; +tree sparrows, juncos, nuthatches, chickadees, and cedar-birds cheeped +among the trees and bushes; and from the farm lands at the top of the +slope rang the calls of meadowlarks. + +Halfway up the hill I stopped under a blackjack oak where, in the thin +snow, there were signs of something like a Christmas revel. The ground +was sprinkled with acorn shells and trampled over with feet of several +kinds and sizes,--quail, jay, and partridge feet; rabbit, squirrel, and +mice feet, all over the snow as the feast of acorns had gone on. +Hundreds of the acorns were lying about, gnawed away at the cup end, +where the shell was thinnest, many of them further broken and cleaned +out by the birds. + +As I sat studying the signs in the snow, my eye caught a tiny trail +leading out from the others straight away toward a broken pile of cord +wood. The tracks were planted one after the other, so directly in line +as to seem like the prints of a single foot. "That's a weasel's trail," +I said, "the death's-head at this feast," and followed it slowly to the +wood. A shiver crept over me as I felt, even sooner than I saw, a pair +of small sinister eyes fixed upon mine. The evil pointed head, heavy but +alert, and with a suggestion of fierce strength out of all relation to +the slender body, was watching me from between the sticks of cordwood. +And so he had been watching the mice and birds and rabbits feasting +under the tree! + +I packed a ball of snow round and hard, slipped forward upon my knees, +and hurled it. "Spat!" it struck the end of a stick within an inch of +the ugly head, filling the crevice with snow. Instantly the head +appeared at another crack, and another ball struck viciously beside it. +Now it was back where it first appeared, and did not flinch for the +next, or the next ball. The third went true, striking with a "chug" and +packing the crack. But the black, hating eyes were still watching me a +foot lower down. + +It is not all peace and good-will in the Christmas woods. But there is +more of peace and good-will than of any other spirit. The weasels are +few. More friendly and timid eyes were watching me than bold and +murderous. It was foolish to want to kill--even the weasel. For one's +woods are what one makes them; and so I let the man with the gun, who +chanced along, think that I had turned boy again, and was snowballing +the woodpile, just for the fun of trying to hit the end of the biggest +stick. + +I was glad he had come. As he strode off with his stained bag, I felt +kindlier toward the weasel. There were worse in the woods than +he,--worse, because all of their killing was pastime. The weasel must +kill to live, and if he gloated over the kill, why, what fault of his? +But the other weasel, the one with the blood-stained bag, he killed for +the love of killing. I was glad he was gone. + +The crows were winging over toward their great roost in the pines when I +turned toward the town. They, too, had had good picking along the creek +flats and ditches of the meadows. Their powerful wing-beats and constant +play told of full crops and no fear for the night, already softly gray +across the white silent fields. The air was crisper; the snow began to +crackle under foot; the twigs creaked and rattled as I brushed along; a +brown beech leaf wavered down and skated with a thin scratch over the +crust; and pure as the snow-wrapped crystal world, and sweet as the +soft gray twilight, came the call of a quail. + +The voices, colors, odors, and forms of summer were gone. The very face +of things had changed; all had been reduced, made plain, simple, single, +pure! There was less for the senses, but how much keener now their joy! +The wide landscape, the frosty air, the tinkle of tiny icicles, and, out +of the quiet of the falling twilight, the voice of the quail! + +There is no day but is beautiful in the woods; and none more beautiful +than one like this Christmas Day,--warm and still and wrapped, to the +round red berries of the holly, in the magic of the snow. + + +NOTES + +=cripple=:--A dense thicket in swampy land. + +=good-will=:--See the Bible, Luke 2:13, 14. + +=Cohansey=:--A creek in southern New Jersey. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the selection through once without stopping. Afterward, go through +it with these questions:-- + +Why might the snow mean a "hungry Christmas"? Note the color words in +paragraph three: Of what value are they? Why does the pond seem small to +the visitor? Does the author mean anything more than persimmons in the +last part of the paragraph beginning "I filled both pockets"? What sort +of man do you think he is? What is the meaning of "broken bread"? What +is meant by entering the woods "at Nature's invitation"? What do you +understand by "the long fierce fight for life"? What was it that the +coon learned "generations ago"? What does the author mean here? Do you +know anything of the Darwinian theory of life? What has it to do with +what is said here about the coon? How does the author make you feel the +variety and liveliness of the bird life which he observes? What shows +his keenness of sight? What do you know about weasels? Is it, true that +"one's woods are what one makes them"? Do you think the author judges +the hunter too harshly? How does the author make you feel the charm of +the late afternoon? Go through the selection and see how many different +subjects are discussed! How is the unity of the piece preserved? Notice +the pictures in the piece. What feeling prevails in the selection? How +can you tell whether the author really loves nature? Could you write a +sketch somewhat like this, telling what you saw during a walk in the +woods? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Walk in the Winter Woods +An Outdoor Christmas Tree +A Lumber Camp at Christmas +The Winter Birds +Tracking a Rabbit +Hunting Deer in Winter +A Winter Landscape +Home Decorations from the Winter Fields +Wild Apples +Fishing through the Ice +A Winter Camp +A Strange Christmas +Playing Santa Claus +A Snow Picnic +Making Christmas Gifts +Feeding the Birds +The Christmas Guest +Turkey and Plum Pudding +The Children's Christmas Party +Christmas on the Farm +The Christmas Tree at the Schoolhouse +What he Found in his Stocking +Bringing Home the Christmas Tree +Christmas in the South +Christmas away from Home +A "Sensible" Christmas +Christmas at our House + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Walk in the Winter Woods=:--Tell of a real or imaginary stroll in the +woods when the snow is on the ground. If possible, plan the theme some +time before you write, and obtain your material through actual and +recent observation. In everything you say, be careful and accurate. You +might speak first of the time of day at which your walk was taken; the +weather; the condition of the snow. Speak of the trees: the kinds; how +they looked. Were any of the trees weighted with snow? Describe the +bushes, and the berries and grasses; use color words, if possible, as +Mr. Sharp does. What sounds did you hear in the woods? Did you see any +tracks of animals? If so, tell about these tracks, and show what they +indicated. Describe the animals that you saw, and tell what they were +doing. What did you gather regarding the way in which the animals live +in winter? Speak in the same way of the birds. Re-read what Mr. Sharp +says about the birds he saw, and try to make your own account clear and +full of action. Did you see any signs of human inhabitants or visitors? +If so, tell about them. Did you find anything to eat in the woods? Speak +briefly of your return home. Had the weather changed since your entering +the woods? Was there any alteration in the landscape? How did you feel +after your walk? + +=The Winter Birds=:--For several days before writing this theme, prepare +material for it by observation and reading. Watch the birds, and see +what they are doing and how they live. Use a field glass if you can get +one, and take careful notes on what you see. Make especial use of any +interesting incidents that come under your observation. + +When you write, take up each kind of bird separately, and tell what you +have found out about its winter life: how it looks; where you have seen +it; what it was doing. Speak also of its food and shelter; the perils it +endures; its intelligence; anecdotes about it. Make your theme simple +and lively, as if you were talking to some one about the birds. Try to +use good color words and sound words, and expressions that give a vivid +idea of the activities and behavior of the birds. + +When you have finished, lay the theme aside for a time; then read it +again and see how you can touch it up to make it clearer and more +straightforward. + +=Christmas at our House=:--Write as if you were telling of some +particular occasion, although you may perhaps be combining the events of +several Christmas days. Tell of the preparations for Christmas: the +planning; the cooking; the whispering of secrets. Make as much use of +conversation as possible, and do not hesitate to use even very small +details and little anecdotes. Perhaps you will wish to tell of the +hanging of the stockings on Christmas Eve; if there are children in the +family, tell what they did and said. Write as vividly as possible of +Christmas morning, and the finding of the gifts; try to bring out the +confusion and the happiness of opening the parcels and displaying the +presents. Quote some of the remarks directly, and speak of particularly +pleasing or absurd gifts. Go on and tell of the sports and pleasures of +the day. Speak of the guests, describing some of them, and telling what +they said and did. Try to bring out contrasts here. Put as much emphasis +as you wish upon the dinner, and the quantities of good things consumed. +Try to quote the remarks of some of the people at the table. If your +theme has become rather long, you might close it by a brief account of +the dispersing of the family after dinner. You might, however, complete +your account of the day by telling of the evening, with its enjoyments +and its weariness. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Wild Life Near Home D.L. Sharp +A Watcher in the Woods " " +The Lay of the Land " " +Winter " " +The Face of the Fields " " +The Fall of the Year " " +Roof and Meadow " " +Wild Life in the Rockies Enos A. Mills +Kindred of the Wild C.G.D. Roberts +Watchers of the Trail " " " +Haunters of the Silences " " " +The Ways of Wood Folk W.J. Long +Eye Spy W.H. Gibson +Sharp Eyes " " +Birds in the Bush Bradford Torrey +Everyday Birds " " +Nature's Invitation " " +Bird Stories from Burroughs (selections) John Burroughs +Winter Sunshine " " +Pepacton " " +Riverby " " +Wake-Robin " " +Signs and Seasons " " +How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar Bret Harte +Santa Claus's Partner T.N. Page +The First Christmas Tree Henry Van Dyke +The Other Wise Man " " +The Old Peabody Pew K.D. Wiggin +Miss Santa Claus of the Pullman Annie F. Johnson +Christmas Zona Gale +A Christmas Mystery W.J. Locke +Christmas Eve on Lonesome John Fox, Jr. +By the Christmas Fire S.M. Crothers +Colonel Carter's Christmas F.H. Smith +Christmas Jenny (in _A New England Nun_) Mary E. Wilkins +A Christmas Sermon R.L. Stevenson +The Boy who Brought Christmas Alice Morgan +Christmas Stories Charles Dickens +The Christmas Guest Selma Lagerloef +The Legend of the Christmas Rose " " + + + + +GLOUCESTER MOORS + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + A mile behind is Gloucester town + Where the fishing fleets put in, + A mile ahead the land dips down + And the woods and farms begin. + Here, where the moors stretch free + In the high blue afternoon, + Are the marching sun and talking sea, + And the racing winds that wheel and flee + On the flying heels of June. + + Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue, + Blue is the quaker-maid, + The wild geranium holds its dew + Long in the boulder's shade. + Wax-red hangs the cup + From the huckleberry boughs, + In barberry bells the grey moths sup, + Or where the choke-cherry lifts high up + Sweet bowls for their carouse. + + Over the shelf of the sandy cove + Beach-peas blossom late. + By copse and cliff the swallows rove + Each calling to his mate. + Seaward the sea-gulls go, + And the land birds all are here; + That green-gold flash was a vireo, + And yonder flame where the marsh-flags grow + Was a scarlet tanager. + + This earth is not the steadfast place + We landsmen build upon; + From deep to deep she varies pace, + And while she comes is gone. + Beneath my feet I feel + Her smooth bulk heave and dip; + With velvet plunge and soft upreel + She swings and steadies to her keel + Like a gallant, gallant ship. + + These summer clouds she sets for sail, + The sun is her masthead light, + She tows the moon like a pinnace frail + Where her phospher wake churns bright, + Now hid, now looming clear, + On the face of the dangerous blue + The star fleets tack and wheel and veer, + But on, but on does the old earth steer + As if her port she knew. + + God, dear God! Does she know her port, + Though she goes so far about? + Or blind astray, does she make her sport + To brazen and chance it out? + I watched where her captains passed: + She were better captainless. + Men in the cabin, before the mast, + But some were reckless and some aghast, + And some sat gorged at mess. + + By her battered hatch I leaned and caught + Sounds from the noisome hold,-- + Cursing and sighing of souls distraught + And cries too sad to be told. + Then I strove to go down and see; + But they said, "Thou art not of us!" + I turned to those on the deck with me + And cried, "Give help!" But they said, "Let be: + Our ship sails faster thus." + + Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue, + Blue is the quaker-maid, + The alder clump where the brook comes through + Breeds cresses in its shade. + To be out of the moiling street + With its swelter and its sin! + Who has given to me this sweet, + And given my brother dust to eat? + And when will his wage come in? + + Scattering wide or blown in ranks, + Yellow and white and brown, + Boats and boats from the fishing banks + Come home to Gloucester town. + There is cash to purse and spend, + There are wives to be embraced, + Hearts to borrow and hearts to lend, + And hearts to take and keep to the end,-- + O little sails, make haste! + + But thou, vast outbound ship of souls, + What harbor town for thee? + What shapes, when thy arriving tolls, + Shall crowd the banks to see? + Shall all the happy shipmates then + Stand singing brotherly? + Or shall a haggard ruthless few + Warp her over and bring her to, + While the many broken souls of men + Fester down in the slaver's pen, + And nothing to say or do? + + +NOTES + +=Gloucester town=: Gloucester is a seaport town in Massachusetts, the +chief seat of the cod and mackerel fisheries of the coast. + +=Jill-o'er-the-ground=: Ground ivy; usually written +_Gill-over-the-ground_. + +=Quaker-maid=: Quaker ladies; small blue flowers growing low on the +ground. + +=wax-red=: The huckleberry blossom is red and waxy. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the poem slowly through to yourself, getting what you can out of +it, without trying too hard. Note that after the third stanza the earth +is compared to a ship. After you have read the poem through, go back and +study it with the help of the following questions and suggestions:-- + +The author is out on the moors not far from the sea: What details does +he select to make you feel the beauty of the afternoon? What words in +the first stanza suggest movement and freedom? Why does the author stop +to tell about the flowers, when he has so many important things to say? +Note a change of tone at the beginning of the fourth stanza. What +suggests to the author that the earth is like a ship? Why does he say +that it is not a steadfast place? How does the fifth stanza remind you +of _The Ancient Mariner_? Why does the author speak so passionately at +the beginning of the sixth stanza? Here he wonders whether there is +really any plan in the universe, or whether things all go by chance. Who +are the captains of whom he speaks? What different types of people are +represented in the last two lines of stanza six? What is the "noisome +hold" of the Earth ship? Who are those cursing and sighing? Who are +_they_ in the line, "But they said, 'Thou art not of us!'"? Who are +_they_ in the next line but one? Why does the author turn back to the +flowers in the next few lines? What is omitted from the line beginning +"To be out"? Explain the last three lines of stanza eight. How do the +ships of Gloucester differ from the ship _Earth_? What is the "arriving" +spoken of in the last stanza? What two possibilities does the author +suggest as to the fate of the ship? Why does he end his poem with a +question? What is the purpose of the poem? Why is it considered good? +What do you think was the author's feeling about the way the poor and +helpless are treated? Read the poem through aloud, thinking what each +line means. + + + + +ROAD-HYMN FOR THE START + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + Leave the early bells at chime, + Leave the kindled hearth to blaze, + Leave the trellised panes where children linger out the waking-time, + Leave the forms of sons and fathers trudging through the misty ways, + Leave the sounds of mothers taking up their sweet laborious days. + + Pass them by! even while our soul + Yearns to them with keen distress. + Unto them a part is given; we will strive to see the whole. + Dear shall be the banquet table where their singing spirits press; + Dearer be our sacred hunger, and our pilgrim loneliness. + + We have felt the ancient swaying + Of the earth before the sun, + On the darkened marge of midnight heard sidereal rivers playing; + Rash it was to bathe our souls there, but we plunged and all was done. + That is lives and lives behind us--lo, our journey is begun! + + Careless where our face is set, + Let us take the open way. + What we are no tongue has told us: Errand-goers who forget? + Soldiers heedless of their harry? Pilgrim people gone astray? + We have heard a voice cry "Wander!" That was all we heard it say. + + Ask no more: 'tis much, 'tis much! + Down the road the day-star calls; + Touched with change in the wide heavens, like a leaf the + frost winds touch, + Flames the failing moon a moment, ere it shrivels white and falls; + Hid aloft, a wild throat holdeth sweet and sweeter intervals. + + Leave him still to ease in song + Half his little heart's unrest: + Speech is his, but we may journey toward the life for which we long. + God, who gives the bird its anguish, maketh nothing manifest, + But upon our lifted foreheads pours the boon of endless quest. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Do not be alarmed if you find this a little hard to understand. It is +expressed in rather figurative language, and one has to study it to get +its meaning. The poem is about those people who look forward constantly +to something better, and feel that they must always be pressing forward +at any cost. Who is represented as speaking? What sort of life are the +travelers leaving behind them? Why do they feel a keen distress? What is +the "whole" that they are striving to see? What is their "sacred +hunger"? Why is it "dearer" than the feasting of those who stay at home? +Notice how the third stanza reminds one of _Gloucester Moors_. Look up +the word _sidereal_: Can you tell what it means here? "Lives and lives +behind us" means _a long time ago_; you will perhaps have to ask your +teacher for its deeper meaning. Do the travelers know where they are +going? Why do they set forth? Note the description of the dawn in the +fifth stanza. What is the boon of "endless quest"? Why is it spoken of +as a gift (boon)? Compare the last line of this poem with the last line +of _The Wild Ride_, on page 161. Perhaps you will be interested to +compare the _Road-Hymn_ with Whitman's _The Song of the Open Road_. + +Do the meter and verse-form seem appropriate here? Is anything gained by +the difference in the length of the lines? + + + + +ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILIPPINES + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY + + + Streets of the roaring town, + Hush for him, hush, be still! + He comes, who was stricken down + Doing the word of our will. + Hush! Let him have his state, + Give him his soldier's crown. + The grists of trade can wait + Their grinding at the mill, + But he cannot wait for his honor, now the trumpet has been blown; + Wreathe pride now for his granite brow, lay love on his breast + of stone. + + Toll! Let the great bells toll + Till the clashing air is dim. + Did we wrong this parted soul? + We will make it up to him. + Toll! Let him never guess + What work we set him to. + Laurel, laurel, yes; + He did what we bade him do. + Praise, and never a whispered hint but the fight he fought was good; + Never a word that the blood on his sword was his country's + own heart's-blood. + + A flag for the soldier's bier + Who dies that his land may live; + O, banners, banners here, + That he doubt not nor misgive! + That he heed not from the tomb + The evil days draw near + When the nation, robed in gloom, + With its faithless past shall strive. + Let him never dream that his bullet's scream went wide of its + island mark, + Home to the heart of his darling land where she stumbled + and sinned in the dark. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What is "his state," in line five? How has the soldier been "wronged"? +Does the author think that the fight in the Philippines has not been +"good"? Why? What does he mean by the last line of stanza two? What +"evil days" are those mentioned in stanza three? Have they come yet? +What "faithless past" is meant? Do you think that the United States has +treated the Philippines unfairly?[14] + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Gloucester Moors and Other Poems William Vaughn Mood +Poems and Plays of William Vaughn + Moody (2 vols. Biographical introduction) John M. Manley (Ed.) +Letters of William Vaughn Moody Daniel Mason (Ed.) +Out of Gloucester J.B. Connolly + +For biography, criticism, and portraits of William Vaughn Moody, +consult: Atlantic Monthly, 98:326, September, 1906; World's Work, 13: +8258, December, 1906 (Portrait); Century, 73:431 (Portrait); Reader, +10:173; Bookman, 32:253 (Portrait.) + + + + +THE COON DOG + +SARAH ORNE JEWETT + +(In _The Queen's Twin and Other Stories_) + + +I + +In the early dusk of a warm September evening the bats were flitting to +and fro, as if it were still summer, under the great elm that +overshadowed Isaac Brown's house, on the Dipford road. Isaac Brown +himself, and his old friend and neighbor John York, were leaning against +the fence. + +"Frost keeps off late, don't it?" said John York. "I laughed when I +first heard about the circus comin'; I thought 'twas so unusual late in +the season. Turned out well, however. Everybody I noticed was returnin' +with a palm-leaf fan. Guess they found 'em useful under the tent; 'twas +a master hot day. I saw old lady Price with her hands full o' those free +advertising fans, as if she was layin' in a stock against next summer. +Well, I expect she'll live to enjoy 'em." + +"I was right here where I'm standin' now, and I see her as she was goin' +by this mornin'," said Isaac Brown, laughing, and settling himself +comfortably against the fence as if they had chanced upon a welcome +subject of conversation. "I hailed her, same's I gener'lly do. 'Where +are you bound to-day, ma'am?' says I. + +"'I'm goin' over as fur as Dipford Centre,' says she. 'I'm goin' to see +my poor dear 'Liza Jane. I want to 'suage her grief; her husband, Mr. +'Bijah Topliff, has passed away.' + +"'So much the better,' says I. + +"'No; I never l'arnt about it till yisterday,' says she;' an' she looked +up at me real kind of pleasant, and begun to laugh. + +"'I hear he's left property,' says she, tryin' to pull her face down +solemn. I give her the fifty cents she wanted to borrow to make up her +car-fare and other expenses, an' she stepped off like a girl down tow'ds +the depot. + +"This afternoon, as you know, I'd promised the boys that I'd take 'em +over to see the menagerie, and nothin' wouldn't do none of us any good +but we must see the circus too; an' when we'd just got posted on one o' +the best high seats, mother she nudged me, and I looked right down front +two, three rows, an' if there wa'n't Mis' Price, spectacles an' all, +with her head right up in the air, havin' the best time you ever see. I +laughed right out. She hadn't taken no time to see 'Liza Jane; she +wa'n't 'suagin' no grief for nobody till she'd seen the circus. 'There,' +says I, 'I do like to have anybody keep their young feelin's!'" + +"Mis' Price come over to see our folks before breakfast," said John +York. "Wife said she was inquirin' about the circus, but she wanted to +know first if they couldn't oblige her with a few trinkets o' mournin', +seein' as how she'd got to pay a mournin' visit. Wife thought't was a +bosom-pin, or somethin' like that, but turned out she wanted the skirt +of a dress; 'most anything would do, she said." + +"I thought she looked extra well startin' off," said Isaac, with an +indulgent smile. "The Lord provides very handsome for such, I do +declare! She ain't had no visible means o' support these ten or fifteen +years back, but she don't freeze up in winter no more than we do." + +"Nor dry up in summer," interrupted his friend; "I never did see such an +able hand to talk." + +"She's good company, and she's obliging an' useful when the women folks +have their extra work progressin'," continued Isaac Brown kindly. +"'Tain't much for a well-off neighborhood like this to support that old +chirpin' cricket. My mother used to say she kind of helped the work +along by 'livenin' of it. Here she comes now; must have taken the last +train, after she had supper with 'Lizy Jane. You stay still; we're goin' +to hear all about it." + +The small, thin figure of Mrs. Price had to be hailed twice before she +could be stopped. + +"I wish you a good evenin', neighbors," she said. "I have been to the +house of mournin'." + +"Find 'Liza Jane in, after the circus?" asked Isaac Brown, with equal +seriousness. "Excellent show, wasn't it, for so late in the season?" + +"Oh, beautiful; it was beautiful, I declare," answered the pleased +spectator readily. "Why, I didn't see you, nor Mis' Brown. Yes; I felt +it best to refresh my mind an' wear a cheerful countenance. When I see +'Liza Jane I was able to divert her mind consid'able. She was glad I +went. I told her I'd made an effort, knowin' 'twas so she had to lose +the a'ternoon. 'Bijah left property, if he did die away from home on a +foreign shore." + +"You don't mean that 'Bijah Topliff's left anything!" exclaimed John +York with interest, while Isaac Brown put both hands deep into his +pockets, and leaned back in a still more satisfactory position against +the gatepost. + +"He enjoyed poor health," answered Mrs. Price, after a moment of +deliberation, as if she must take time to think. "'Bijah never was one +that scattereth, nor yet increaseth. 'Liza Jane's got some memories o' +the past that's a good deal better than others; but he died somewheres +out in Connecticut, or so she heard, and he's left a very val'able coon +dog,--one he set a great deal by. 'Liza Jane said, last time he was to +home, he priced that dog at fifty dollars. 'There, now, 'Liza Jane,' +says I, right to her, when she told me, 'if I could git fifty dollars +for that dog, I certain' would. Perhaps some o' the circus folks would +like to buy him; they've taken in a stream o' money this day.' But 'Liza +Jane ain't never inclined to listen to advice. 'Tis a dreadful +poor-spirited-lookin' creatur'. I don't want no right o' dower in him, +myself." + +"A good coon dog's worth somethin', certain," said John York handsomely. + +"If he _is_ a good coon dog," added Isaac Brown. "I wouldn't have parted +with old Rover, here, for a good deal of money when he was right in his +best days; but a dog like him's like one of the family. Stop an' have +some supper, won't ye, Mis' Price?"--as the thin old creature was +flitting off again. At that same moment this kind invitation was +repeated from the door of the house; and Mrs. Price turned in, +unprotesting and always sociably inclined, at the open gate. + + +II + +It was a month later, and a whole autumn's length colder, when the two +men were coming home from a long tramp through the woods. They had been +making a solemn inspection of a wood-lot that they owned together, and +had now visited their landmarks and outer boundaries, and settled the +great question of cutting or not cutting some large pines. When it was +well decided that a few years' growth would be no disadvantage to the +timber, they had eaten an excellent cold luncheon and rested from their +labors. + +"I don't feel a day older'n ever I did when I get out in the woods this +way," announced John York, who was a prim, dusty-looking little man, a +prudent person, who had been selectman of the town at least a dozen +times. + +"No more do I," agreed his companion, who was large and jovial and +open-handed, more like a lucky sea-captain than a farmer. After pounding +a slender walnut-tree with a heavy stone, he had succeeded in getting +down a pocketful of late-hanging nuts which had escaped the squirrels, +and was now snapping them back, one by one, to a venturesome chipmunk +among some little frost-bitten beeches. Isaac Brown had a wonderfully +pleasant way of getting on with all sorts of animals, even men. After a +while they rose and went their way, these two companions, stopping here +and there to look at a possible woodchuck's hole, or to strike a few +hopeful blows at a hollow tree with the light axe which Isaac had +carried to blaze new marks on some of the line-trees on the farther edge +of their possessions. Sometimes they stopped to admire the size of an +old hemlock, or to talk about thinning out the young pines. At last they +were not very far from the entrance to the great tract of woodland. The +yellow sunshine came slanting in much brighter against the tall trunks, +spotting them with golden light high among the still branches. + +Presently they came to a great ledge, frost-split and cracked into +mysterious crevices. + +"Here's where we used to get all the coons," said John York. "I haven't +seen a coon this great while, spite o' your courage knocking on the +trees up back here. You know that night we got the four fat ones? We +started 'em somewheres near here, so the dog could get after 'em when +they come out at night to go foragin'." + +"Hold on, John;" and Mr. Isaac Brown got up from the log where he had +just sat down to rest, and went to the ledge, and looked carefully all +about. When he came back he was much excited, and beckoned his friend +away, speaking in a stage whisper. + +"I guess you'll see a coon before you're much older," he proclaimed. +"I've thought it looked lately as if there'd been one about my place, +and there's plenty o' signs here, right in their old haunts. Couple o' +hens' heads an' a lot o' feathers"-- + +"Might be a fox," interrupted John York. + +"Might be a coon," answered Mr. Isaac Brown. "I'm goin' to have him, +too. I've been lookin' at every old hollow tree I passed, but I never +thought o' this place. We'll come right off to-morrow night, I guess, +John, an' see if we can't get him. 'Tis an extra handy place for 'em to +den; in old times the folks always called it a good place; they've been +so sca'ce o' these late years that I've thought little about 'em. +Nothin' I ever liked so well as a coon-hunt. Gorry! he must be a big old +fellow, by his tracks! See here, in this smooth dirt; just like a baby's +footmark." + +"Trouble is, we lack a good dog," said John York anxiously, after he had +made an eager inspection. "I don't know where in the world to get one, +either. There ain't no such a dog about as your Rover, but you've let +him get spoilt; these days I don't see him leave the yard. You ought to +keep the women folks from overfeedin' of him so. He ought to've lasted a +good spell longer. He's no use for huntin' now, that's certain." + +Isaac accepted the rebuke meekly. John York was a calm man, but he now +grew very fierce under such a provocation. Nobody likes to be hindered +in a coon-hunt. + +"Oh, Rover's too old, anyway," explained the affectionate master +regretfully. "I've been wishing all this afternoon I'd brought him; but +I didn't think anything about him as we came away, I've got so used to +seeing him layin' about the yard. 'Twould have been a real treat for old +Rover, if he could have kept up. Used to be at my heels the whole time. +He couldn't follow us, anyway, up here." + +"I shouldn't wonder if he could," insisted John, with a humorous glance +at his old friend, who was much too heavy and huge of girth for quick +transit over rough ground. John York himself had grown lighter as he had +grown older. + +"I'll tell you one thing we could do," he hastened to suggest. "There's +that dog of 'Bijah Topliff's. Don't you know the old lady told us, that +day she went over to Dipford, how high he was valued? Most o' 'Bijah's +important business was done in the fall, goin' out by night, gunning +with fellows from the mills. He was just the kind of a worthless +do-nothing that's sure to have an extra knowin' smart dog. I expect +'Liza Jane's got him now. Perhaps we could get him by to-morrow night. +Let one o' my boys go over!" + +"Why, 'Liza Jane's come, bag an' baggage, to spend the winter with her +mother," exclaimed Isaac Brown, springing to his feet like a boy. "I've +had it in mind to tell you two or three times this afternoon, and then +something else has flown it out of my head. I let my John Henry take the +long-tailed wagon an' go down to the depot this mornin' to fetch her an' +her goods up. The old lady come in early, while we were to breakfast, +and to hear her lofty talk you'd thought 't would taken a couple o' +four-horse teams to move her. I told John Henry he might take that wagon +and fetch up what light stuff he could, and see how much else there was, +an' then I'd make further arrangements. She said 'Liza Jane'd see me +well satisfied, an' rode off, pleased to death. I see 'em returnin' +about eight, after the train was in. They'd got 'Liza Jane with 'em, +smaller'n ever; and there was a trunk tied up with a rope, and a small +roll o' beddin' and braided mats, and a quilted rockin'-chair. The old +lady was holdin' on tight to a bird-cage with nothin' in it. Yes; an' I +see the dog, too, in behind. He appeared kind of timid. He's a yaller +dog, but he ain't stump-tailed. They hauled up out front o' the house, +and mother an' I went right out; Mis' Price always expects to have +notice taken. She was in great sperits. Said 'Liza Jane concluded to +sell off most of her stuff rather 'n have the care of it. She'd told the +folks that Mis' Topliff had a beautiful sofa and a lot o' nice chairs, +and two framed pictures that would fix up the house complete, and +invited us all to come over and see 'em. There, she seemed just as +pleased returnin' with the bird-cage. Disappointments don't appear to +trouble her no more than a butterfly. I kind of like the old creator'; I +don't mean to see her want." + +"They'll let us have the dog," said John York. "I don't know but I'll +give a quarter for him, and we'll let 'em have a good piece o' the +coon." + +"You really comin' 'way up here by night, coon-huntin'?" asked Isaac +Brown, looking reproachfully at his more agile comrade. + +"I be," answered John York. + +"I was dre'tful afraid you was only talking, and might back out," +returned the cheerful heavy-weight, with a chuckle. "Now we've got +things all fixed, I feel more like it than ever. I tell you there's just +boy enough left inside of me. I'll clean up my old gun to-morrow +mornin', and you look right after your'n. I dare say the boys have took +good care of 'em for us, but they don't know what we do about huntin', +and we'll bring 'em all along and show 'em a little fun." + +"All right," said John York, as soberly as if they were going to look +after a piece of business for the town; and they gathered up the axe and +other light possessions, and started toward home. + + +III + +The two friends, whether by accident or design, came out of the woods +some distance from their own houses, but very near to the low-storied +little gray dwelling of Mrs. Price. They crossed the pasture, and +climbed over the toppling fence at the foot of her small sandy piece of +land, and knocked at the door. There was a light already in the kitchen. +Mrs. Price and Eliza Jane Topliff appeared at once, eagerly hospitable. + +"Anybody sick?" asked Mrs. Price, with instant sympathy. "Nothin' +happened, I hope?" + +"Oh, no," said both the men. + +"We came to talk about hiring your dog to-morrow night," explained +Isaac Brown, feeling for the moment amused at his eager errand. "We got +on track of a coon just now, up in the woods, and we thought we'd give +our boys a little treat. You shall have fifty cents, an' welcome, and a +good piece o' the coon." + +"Yes, Square Brown; we can let you have the dog as well as not," +interrupted Mrs. Price, delighted to grant a favor. "Poor departed +'Bijah, he set everything by him as a coon dog. He always said a dog's +capital was all in his reputation." + +"You'll have to be dreadful careful an' not lose him," urged Mrs. +Topliff "Yes, sir; he's a proper coon dog as ever walked the earth, but +he's terrible weak-minded about followin' 'most anybody. 'Bijah used to +travel off twelve or fourteen miles after him to git him back, when he +wa'n't able. Somebody'd speak to him decent, or fling a whip-lash as +they drove by, an' off he'd canter on three legs right after the wagon. +But 'Bijah said he wouldn't trade him for no coon dog he ever was +acquainted with. Trouble is, coons is awful sca'ce." + +"I guess he ain't out o' practice," said John York amiably; "I guess +he'll know when he strikes the coon. Come, Isaac, we must be gittin' +along tow'ds home. I feel like eatin' a good supper. You tie him up +to-morrow afternoon, so we shall be sure to have him," he turned to say +to Mrs. Price, who stood smiling at the door. + +"Land sakes, dear, he won't git away; you'll find him right there +betwixt the wood-box and the stove, where he is now. Hold the light, +'Liza Jane; they can't see their way out to the road. I'll fetch him +over to ye in good season," she called out, by way of farewell; "'twill +save ye third of a mile extra walk. No, 'Liza Jane; you'll let me do it, +if you please. I've got a mother's heart. The gentlemen will excuse us +for showin' feelin'. You're all the child I've got, an' your prosperity +is the same as mine." + + +IV + +The great night of the coon-hunt was frosty and still, with only a dim +light from the new moon. John York and his boys, and Isaac Brown, whose +excitement was very great, set forth across the fields toward the dark +woods. The men seemed younger and gayer than the boys. There was a burst +of laughter when John Henry Brown and his little brother appeared with +the coon dog of the late Mr. Abijah Topliff, which had promptly run away +home again after Mrs. Price had coaxed him over in the afternoon. The +captors had tied a string round his neck, at which they pulled +vigorously from time to time to urge him forward. Perhaps he found the +night too cold; at any rate, he stopped short in the frozen furrows +every few minutes, lifting one foot and whining a little. Half a dozen +times he came near to tripping up Mr. Isaac Brown and making him fall at +full length. + +"Poor Tiger! poor Tiger!" said the good-natured sportsman, when somebody +said that the dog didn't act as if he were much used to being out by +night. "He'll be all right when he once gets track of the coon." But +when they were fairly in the woods, Tiger's distress was perfectly +genuine. The long rays of light from the old-fashioned lanterns of +pierced tin went wheeling round and round, making a tall ghost of every +tree, and strange shadows went darting in and out behind the pines. The +woods were like an interminable pillared room where the darkness made a +high ceiling. The clean frosty smell of the open fields was changed for +a warmer air, damp with the heavy odor of moss and fallen leaves. There +was something wild and delicious in the forest in that hour of night. +The men and boys tramped on silently in single file, as if they followed +the flickering light instead of carrying it. The dog fell back by +instinct, as did his companions, into the easy familiarity of forest +life. He ran beside them, and watched eagerly as they chose a safe place +to leave a coat or two and a basket. He seemed to be an affectionate +dog, now that he had made acquaintance with his masters. + +"Seems to me he don't exactly know what he's about," said one of the +York boys scornfully; "we must have struck that coon's track somewhere, +comin' in." + +"We'll get through talkin' an' heap up a little somethin' for a fire, if +you'll turn to and help," said his father. "I've always noticed that +nobody can give so much good advice about a piece o' work as a new hand. +When you've treed as many coons as your Uncle Brown an' me, you won't +feel so certain. Isaac, you be the one to take the dog up round the +ledge, there. He'll scent the coon quick enough then. We'll tend to this +part o' the business." + +"You may come too, John Henry," said the indulgent father, and they set +off together silently with the coon dog. He followed well enough now; +his tail and ears were drooping even more than usual, but he whimpered +along as bravely as he could, much excited, at John Henry's heels, like +one of those great soldiers who are all unnerved until the battle is +well begun. + +A minute later the father and son came hurrying back, breathless, and +stumbling over roots and bushes. The fire was already lighted, and +sending a great glow higher and higher among the trees. + +"He's off! He's struck a track! He was off like a major!" wheezed Mr. +Isaac Brown. + +"Which way'd he go?" asked everybody. + +"Right out toward the fields. Like's not the old fellow was just +starting after more of our fowls. I'm glad we come early,--he can't have +got far yet. We can't do nothin' but wait now, boys. I'll set right down +here." + +"Soon as the coon trees, you'll hear the dog sing, now I tell you!" said +John York, with great enthusiasm. "That night your father an' me got +those four busters we've told you about, they come right back here to +the ledge. I don't know but they will now. 'Twas a dreadful cold night, +I know. We didn't get home till past three o'clock in the mornin', +either. You remember, don't you, Isaac?" + +"I do," said Isaac. "How old Rover worked that night! Couldn't see out +of his eyes, nor hardly wag his clever old tail, for two days; thorns in +both his fore paws, and the last coon took a piece right out of his off +shoulder." + +"Why didn't you let Rover come to-night, father?" asked the younger boy. +"I think he knew somethin' was up. He was jumpin' round at a great rate +when I come out of the yard." + +"I didn't know but he might make trouble for the other dog," answered +Isaac, after a moment's silence. He felt almost disloyal to the faithful +creature, and had been missing him all the way. "Sh! there's a bark!" +And they all stopped to listen. + +The fire was leaping higher; they all sat near it, listening and +talking by turns. There is apt to be a good deal of waiting in a +coon-hunt. + +"If Rover was young as he used to be, I'd resk him to tree any coon that +ever run," said the regretful master. "This smart creature o' Topliff's +can't beat him, I know. The poor old fellow's eyesight seems to be +going. Two--three times he's run out at me right in broad day, an' +barked when I come up the yard toward the house, and I did pity him +dreadfully; he was so 'shamed when he found out what he'd done. Rover's +a dog that's got an awful lot o' pride. He went right off out behind the +long barn the last time, and wouldn't come in for nobody when they +called him to supper till I went out myself and made it up with him. No; +he can't see very well now, Rover can't." + +"He's heavy, too; he's got too unwieldy to tackle a smart coon, I +expect, even if he could do the tall runnin'" said John York, with +sympathy. "They have to get a master grip with their teeth through a +coon's thick pelt this time o' year. No; the young folks get all the +good chances after a while;" and he looked round indulgently at the +chubby faces of his boys, who fed the fire, and rejoiced in being +promoted to the society of their elders on equal terms. "Ain't it time +we heard from the dog?" And they all listened, while the fire snapped +and the sap whistled in some green sticks. + +"I hear him," said John Henry suddenly; and faint and far away there +came the sound of a desperate bark. There is a bark that means attack, +and there is a bark that means only foolish excitement. + +"They ain't far off!" said Isaac. "My gracious, he's right after him! I +don't know's I expected that poor-looking dog to be so smart. You can't +tell by their looks. Quick as he scented the game up here in the rocks, +off he put. Perhaps it ain't any matter if they ain't stump-tailed, +long's they're yaller dogs. He didn't look heavy enough to me. I tell +you, he means business. Hear that bark!" + +"They all bark alike after a coon." John York was as excited as anybody. +"Git the guns laid out to hand, boys; I told you we'd ought to follow!" +he commanded. "If it's the old fellow that belongs here, he may put in +any minute." But there was again a long silence and state of suspense; +the chase had turned another way. There were faint distant yaps. The +fire burned low and fell together with a shower of sparks. The smaller +boys began to grow chilly and sleepy, when there was a thud and rustle +and snapping of twigs close at hand, then the gasp of a breathless dog. +Two dim shapes rushed by; a shower of bark fell, and a dog began to sing +at the foot of the great twisted pine not fifty feet away. + +"Hooray for Tiger!" yelled the boys; but the dog's voice filled all the +woods. It might have echoed to the mountain-tops. There was the old +coon; they could all see him half-way up the tree, flat to the great +limb. They heaped the fire with dry branches till it flared high. Now +they lost him in a shadow as he twisted about the tree. John York fired, +and Isaac Brown fired, and the boys took a turn at the guns, while John +Henry started to climb a neighboring oak; but at last it was Isaac who +brought the coon to ground with a lucky shot, and the dog stopped his +deafening bark and frantic leaping in the underbrush, and after an +astonishing moment of silence crept out, a proud victor, to his prouder +master's feet. + +"Goodness alive, who's this? Good for you, old handsome! Why, I'll be +hanged if it ain't old Rover, boys; _it's old Rover_!" But Isaac could +not speak another word. They all crowded round the wistful, clumsy old +dog, whose eyes shone bright, though his breath was all gone. Each man +patted him, and praised him and said they ought to have mistrusted all +the time that it could be nobody but he. It was some minutes before +Isaac Brown could trust himself to do anything but pat the sleek old +head that was always ready to his hand. + +"He must have overheard us talkin'; I guess he'd have come if he'd +dropped dead half-way," proclaimed John Henry, like a prince of the +reigning house; and Rover wagged his tail as if in honest assent, as he +lay at his master's side. They sat together, while the fire was +brightened again to make a good light for the coon-hunt supper; and +Rover had a good half of everything that found its way into his master's +hand. It was toward midnight when the triumphal procession set forth +toward home, with the two lanterns, across the fields. + + +V + +The next morning was bright and warm after the hard frost of the night +before. Old Rover was asleep on the doorstep in the sun, and his master +stood in the yard, and saw neighbor Price come along the road in her +best array, with a gay holiday air. + +"Well, now," she said eagerly, "you wa'n't out very late last night, was +you? I got up myself to let Tiger in. He come home, all beat out, about +a quarter past nine. I expect you hadn't no kind o' trouble gittin' the +coon. The boys was tellin' me he weighed 'most thirty pounds." + +"Oh, no kind o' trouble," said Isaac, keeping the great secret +gallantly. "You got the things I sent over this mornin'?" + +"Bless your heart, yes! I'd a sight rather have all that good pork an' +potatoes than any o' your wild meat," said Mrs. Price, smiling with +prosperity. "You see, now, 'Liza Jane she's given in. She didn't re'lly +know but 'twas all talk of 'Bijah 'bout that dog's bein' wuth fifty +dollars. She says she can't cope with a huntin' dog same's he could, an' +she's given me the money you an' John York sent over this mornin'; an' I +didn't know but what you'd lend me another half a dollar, so I could +both go to Dipford Centre an' return, an' see if I couldn't make a sale +o' Tiger right over there where they all know about him. It's right in +the coon season; now's my time, ain't it?" + +"Well, gettin' a little late," said Isaac, shaking with laughter as he +took the desired sum of money out of his pocket. "He seems to be a +clever dog round the house." + +"I don't know's I want to harbor him all winter," answered the +excursionist frankly, striking into a good traveling gait as she started +off toward the railroad station. + + +NOTES + +=Dipford=:--The New England town in which the scenes of some of Miss +Jewett's stories are laid. + +=master hot=:--In the New England dialect, _master_ is used in the sense +of _very_ or _extremely_. + +=bosom-pin=:--Mourning pins of jet or black enamel were much worn in +times past. + +='suage=:--Assuage, meaning to soften or decrease. + +=selectman=:--One of a board chosen in New England towns to transact +the business of the community. + +=scattereth nor yet increaseth=:--See Proverbs, 11:24. + +=right o' dower=:--The right to claim a part of a deceased husband's +property. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The action takes place in a country district in New England. Judging by +the remarks about the fans, what kind of person do you suppose Old Lady +Price to be? Is there any particular meaning in the word _to-day_? How +is 'Liza Jane related to Mrs. Price? What was the character of Mr. +'Bijah Topliff? Does the old lady feel grieved at his death? What does +Isaac mean by _such_, in the last line, page 190? How does the old lady +live? What is shown of her character when she is called "a chirpin' old +cricket"? Does she feel ashamed of having gone to the circus? How does +she explain her going? What can you tell of 'Bijah from what is said of +'Liza's "memories"? Would the circus people have cared to buy the dog? +Notice how the author makes you feel the pleasantness of the walk in the +woods. Do you know where coons have their dens? How does Isaac show his +affection for old Rover? Is it true that "worthless do-nothings" usually +have "smart" dogs? Why does the author stop to tell all about 'Liza +Jane's arrival? What light is thrown on the old lady's character by +Isaac's words beginning, "Disappointments don't appear to trouble her"? +Are the men very anxious to "give the boys a treat"? Why does the old +lady call Mr. York "dear"? What is meant by the last five lines of Part +III? What sort of dog is Tiger? What is meant by "soon as the coon +trees"? How does the author tell you of old Rover's defects? What person +would you like to have shoot the coon at last? Why could Isaac Brown not +"trust himself to speak"? Do you think old Rover "overheard them +talking," as John Henry suggests? How does the author let you into the +secret of Tiger's behavior? Why does Isaac not tell the old lady which +dog treed the coon? What does he mean by saying that Tiger is "a clever +dog round the house"? Do you think that Mrs. Price succeeded in getting +fifty dollars for the dog? Why does the author not tell whether she does +or not? Try to put into your own words a summing up of the old lady's +character. Tell what you think of the two old men. Do you like the use +of dialect in this story? Would it have been better if the people had +all spoken good English? Why, or why not? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Hunting for Squirrels +An Intelligent Dog +A Night in the Woods +An Old Man +Tracking Rabbits +Borrowers +The Circus +Old Lady Price +A Group of Odd Characters +Raccoons +Opossums +The Tree-dwellers +Around the Fire +How to Make a Camp Fire +The Picnic Lunch +An Interesting Old Lady + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +Try to write a theme in which uneducated people talk as they do in real +life; as far as possible, fit every person's speech to his character. +Below are given some suggestions for this work: + +Mrs. Wicks borrows Mrs. Hall's flat-irons. +Two or three country children quarrel over a hen's nest. +The family get ready to go to the Sunday School picnic. +Sammie tells his parents that he has been whipped at school. +Two old men talk about the crops. +One of the pigs gets out of the pen. +Two boys go hunting. +The farmer has just come back from town. +Mrs. Robbins describes the moving-picture show. + +=An Intelligent Dog=:--Tell who owns the dog, and how much you have had +opportunity to observe him. Describe him as vividly as possible. Give +some incidents that show his intelligence. + +Perhaps you can make a story out of this, giving the largest amount of +space to an event in which the dog accomplished some notable thing, as +protecting property, bringing help in time of danger, or saving his +master's life. In this case, try to tell some of the story by means of +conversation, as Miss Jewett does. + +=An Interesting Old Lady=:--Tell where you saw the old lady; or, if you +know her well, explain the nature of your acquaintance with her. +Describe her rather fully, telling how she looks and what she wears. How +does she walk and talk? What is her chief occupation? If possible, quote +some of her remarks in her own words. Tell some incidents in which she +figures. Try to bring out her most interesting qualities, so that the +reader can see them for himself. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Dogs and Men H.C. Merwin +Stickeen: The Story of John Muir +Another Dog (in _A Gentleman Vagabond_) F.H. Smith +The Sporting Dog Joseph A. Graham +Dogtown Mabel Osgood Wright +Bob, Son of Battle Alfred Ollivant +A Boy I Knew and Four Dogs Laurence Hutton +A Boy I Knew and Some More Dogs " " +A Dog of Flanders Louise de la Ramee +The Call of the Wild Jack London +White Fang " " +My Dogs in the Northland E.R. Young +Dogs of all Nations C.J. Miller +Leo (poem) R.W. Gilder +Greyfriar's Bobby Eleanor Atkinson +The Biography of a Silver Fox E.S. Thompson +Our Friend the Dog (trans.) Maurice Maeterlinck +Following the Deer W.J. Long +The Trail of the Sand-hill Stag Ernest Thompson Seton +Lives of the Hunted " " " +The Wilderness Hunter Theodore Roosevelt +A Watcher in the Woods Dallas Lore Sharp +Wild Life near Home " " " +The Watchers of the Trails C.G.D. Roberts +Kindred of the Wild " " +Little People of the Sycamore " " +The Haunters of the Silences " " +Squirrels and other Fur-bearers John Burroughs +My Woodland Intimates E. Bignell + + +Stories of old people:-- + +Aged Folk (in _Letters from my Mill_) Alphonse Daudet +Green Island (chapter 8 of + _The Country of the Pointed Firs_) Sarah Orne Jewett +Aunt Cynthy Dallett " " " +The Failure of David Berry " " " +A Church Mouse Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman +A White Heron and Other Stories Sarah Orne Jewett +Tales of New England " " " +The Country of the Pointed Firs " " " +A Country Doctor " " " +Deephaven " " " +The Queen's Twin and Other Stories " " " +The King of Folly Island and Other People " " " +A Marsh Island " " " +The Tory Lover " " " +A Native of Winby and Other Tales " " " +Betty Leicester's Christmas " " " +Betty Leicester " " " +Country By-ways " " " +Letters of Sarah Orne Jewett Mrs. James T. Fields (Ed.) + +For Biographies and criticisms of Miss Jewett, see: Atlantic Monthly, +94:485; Critic, 39:292, October, 1901 (Portrait); New England Magazine, +22:737, August, 1900; Outlook, 69:423; Bookman, 34:221 (Portrait). + + + + +ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN + +RICHARD WATSON GILDER + + + This bronze doth keep the very form and mold + Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he: + That brow all wisdom, all benignity; + That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold + Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold; + That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea + For storms to beat on; the lone agony + Those silent, patient lips too well foretold. + Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men + As might some prophet of the elder day-- + Brooding above the tempest and the fray + With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken. + A power was his beyond the touch of art + Or armed strength--his pure and mighty heart. + + +NOTES + +=the life-mask=:--The life-mask of Abraham Lincoln was made by Leonard +W. Volk, in Chicago, in April, 1860. A good picture of it is given as +the frontispiece to Volume 4 of Nicolay and Hay's _Abraham Lincoln, A +History_. + +=this bronze=:--A life-mask is made of plaster first; then usually it is +cast in bronze. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This is not difficult to understand. Read it over slowly, trying first +to get the meaning of each sentence as if it were prose. You may have +to read it several times before you see the exact meaning of each part. +When you have mastered it, read it through consecutively, thinking of +what it tells about Lincoln. + +This poem is, as you may know, a sonnet. Notice the number of lines, the +meter, and the rhyme-scheme, referring to page 139 for a review of the +sonnet form. Notice how the thought changes at the ninth line. Find a +sonnet in one of the good current magazines. How can you recognize it? +Read it carefully. If it is appropriate, bring it to class, and read and +explain it to your classmates. Why has the sonnet form been used so much +by poets? + +If you can find it, read the sonnet on _The Sonnet_, by Richard Watson +Gilder. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +For references on Lincoln, see pages 50 and 51. + +For portraits of Richard Watson Gilder, and biographical material, +consult: Current Literature, 41:319 (Portrait); Review of Reviews, 34: +491 (Portrait); Nation, 89:519; Dial, 47:441; Harper's Weekly, 53:6; +World's Work, 17:11293 (Portrait); Craftsman, 16:130, May, 1909 +(Portrait); Outlook, 93:689 (Portrait). + +For references to material on the sonnet, see page 140. + + + + +A FIRE AMONG THE GIANTS + +JOHN MUIR + +(From _Our National Parks_) + + +In the forest between the Middle and East forks of the Kaweah, I met a +great fire, and as fire is the master scourge and controller of the +distribution of trees, I stopped to watch it and learn what I could of +its works and ways with the giants. It came racing up the steep +chaparral-covered slopes of the East Fork canon with passionate +enthusiasm in a broad cataract of flames, now bending down low to feed +on the green bushes, devouring acres of them at a breath, now towering +high in the air as if looking abroad to choose a way, then stooping to +feed again,--the lurid flapping surges and the smoke and terrible +rushing and roaring hiding all that is gentle and orderly in the work. +But as soon as the deep forest was reached, the ungovernable flood +became calm like a torrent entering a lake, creeping and spreading +beneath the trees where the ground was level or sloped gently, slowly +nibbling the cake of compressed needles and scales with flames an inch +high, rising here and there to a foot or two on dry twigs and clumps of +small bushes and brome grass. Only at considerable intervals were fierce +bonfires lighted, where heavy branches broken off by snow had +accumulated, or around some venerable giant whose head had been stricken +off by lightning. + +I tethered Brownie on the edge of a little meadow beside a stream a good +safe way off, and then cautiously chose a camp for myself in a big +stout hollow trunk not likely to be crushed by the fall of burning +trees, and made a bed of ferns and boughs in it. The night, however, and +the strange wild fireworks were too beautiful and exciting to allow much +sleep. There was no danger of being chased and hemmed in; for in the +main forest belt of the Sierra, even when swift winds are blowing, fires +seldom or never sweep over the trees in broad all-embracing sheets as +they do in the dense Rocky Mountain woods and in those of the Cascade +Mountains of Oregon and Washington. Here they creep from tree to tree +with tranquil deliberation, allowing close observation, though caution +is required in venturing around the burning giants to avoid falling +limbs and knots and fragments from dead shattered tops. Though the day +was best for study, I sauntered about night after night, learning what I +could, and admiring the wonderful show vividly displayed in the lonely +darkness, the ground-fire advancing in long crooked lines gently grazing +and smoking on the close-pressed leaves, springing up in thousands of +little jets of pure flame on dry tassels and twigs, and tall spires and +flat sheets with jagged flapping edges dancing here and there on grass +tufts and bushes, big bonfires blazing in perfect storms of energy where +heavy branches mixed with small ones lay smashed together in hundred +cord piles, big red arches between spreading root-swells and trees +growing close together, huge fire-mantled trunks on the hill slopes +glowing like bars of hot iron, violet-colored fire running up the tall +trees, tracing the furrows of the bark in quick quivering rills, and +lighting magnificent torches on dry shattered tops, and ever and anon, +with a tremendous roar and burst of light, young trees clad in +low-descending feathery branches vanishing in one flame two or three +hundred feet high. + +One of the most impressive and beautiful sights was made by the great +fallen trunks lying on the hillsides all red and glowing like colossal +iron bars fresh from a furnace, two hundred feet long some of them, and +ten to twenty feet thick. After repeated burnings have consumed the bark +and sapwood, the sound charred surface, being full of cracks and +sprinkled with leaves, is quickly overspread with a pure, rich, furred, +ruby glow almost flameless and smokeless, producing a marvelous effect +in the night. Another grand and interesting sight are the fires on the +tops of the largest living trees flaming above the green branches at a +height of perhaps two hundred feet, entirely cut off from the +ground-fires, and looking like signal beacons on watch towers. From one +standpoint I sometimes saw a dozen or more, those in the distance +looking like great stars above the forest roof. At first I could not +imagine how these Sequoia lamps were lighted, but the very first night, +strolling about waiting and watching, I saw the thing done again and +again. The thick fibrous bark of old trees is divided by deep, nearly +continuous furrows, the sides of which are bearded with the bristling +ends of fibres broken by the growth swelling of the trunk, and when the +fire comes creeping around the feet of the trees, it runs up these +bristly furrows in lovely pale blue quivering, bickering rills of flame +with a low, earnest whispering sound to the lightning-shattered top of +the trunk, which, in the dry Indian summer, with perhaps leaves and +twigs and squirrel-gnawed cone-scales and seed-wings lodged in it, is +readily ignited. These lamp-lighting rills, the most beautiful +fire-streams I ever saw, last only a minute or two, but the big lamps +burn with varying brightness for days and weeks, throwing off sparks +like the spray of a fountain, while ever and anon a shower of red coals +comes sifting down through the branches, followed at times with +startling effect by a big burned-off chunk weighing perhaps half a ton. + +The immense bonfires where fifty or a hundred cords of peeled, split, +smashed wood has been piled around some old giant by a single stroke of +lightning is another grand sight in the night. The light is so great I +found I could read common print three hundred yards from them, and the +illumination of the circle of onlooking trees is indescribably +impressive. Other big fires, roaring and booming like waterfalls, were +blazing on the upper sides of trees on hillslopes, against which limbs +broken off by heavy snow had rolled, while branches high overhead, +tossed and shaken by the ascending air current, seemed to be writhing in +pain. Perhaps the most startling phenomenon of all was the quick death +of childlike Sequoias only a century or two of age. In the midst of the +other comparatively slow and steady fire work one of these tall, +beautiful saplings, leafy and branchy, would be seen blazing up +suddenly, all in one heaving, booming, passionate flame reaching from +the ground to the top of the tree, and fifty to a hundred feet or more +above it, with a smoke column bending forward and streaming away on the +upper, free-flowing wind. To burn these green trees a strong fire of dry +wood beneath them is required, to send up a current of air hot enough to +distill inflammable gases from the leaves and sprays; then instead of +the lower limbs gradually catching fire and igniting the next and the +next in succession, the whole tree seems to explode almost +simultaneously, and with awful roaring and throbbing a round, tapering +flame shoots up two or three hundred feet, and in a second or two is +quenched, leaving the green spire a black, dead mast, bristled and +roughened with down-curling boughs. Nearly all the trees that have been +burned down are lying with their heads up hill, because they are burned +far more deeply on the upper side, on account of broken limbs rolling +down against them to make hot fires, while only leaves and twigs +accumulate on the lower side and are quickly consumed without injury to +the tree. But green, resinless Sequoia wood burns very slowly, and many +successive fires are required to burn down a large tree. Fires can run +only at intervals of several years, and when the ordinary amount of +fire-wood that has rolled against the gigantic trunk is consumed, only a +shallow scar is made, which is slowly deepened by recurring fires until +far beyond the centre of gravity, and when at last the tree falls, it of +course falls up hill. The healing folds of wood layers on some of the +deeply burned trees show that centuries have elapsed since the last +wounds were made. + +When a great Sequoia falls, its head is smashed into fragments about as +small as those made by lightning, which are mostly devoured by the first +running, hunting fire that finds them, while the trunk is slowly wasted +away by centuries of fire and weather. One of the most interesting +fire-actions on the trunk is the boring of those great tunnel-like +hollows through which horsemen may gallop. All of these famous hollows +are burned out of the solid wood, for no Sequoia is ever hollowed by +decay. When the tree falls, the brash trunk is often broken straight +across into sections as if sawed; into these joints the fire creeps, +and, on account of the great size of the broken ends, burns for weeks or +even months without being much influenced by the weather. After the +great glowing ends fronting each other have burned so far apart that +their rims cease to burn, the fire continues to work on in the centres, +and the ends become deeply concave. Then heat being radiated from side +to side, the burning goes on in each section of the trunk independent of +the other, until the diameter of the bore is so great that the heat +radiated across from side to side is not sufficient to keep them +burning. It appears, therefore, that only very large trees can receive +the fire-auger and have any shell-rim left. + +Fire attacks the large trees only at the ground, consuming the fallen +leaves and humus at their feet, doing them but little harm unless +considerable quantities of fallen limbs happen to be piled about them, +their thick mail of spongy, unpitchy, almost unburnable bark affording +strong protection. Therefore the oldest and most perfect unscarred trees +are found on ground that is nearly level, while those growing on +hillsides, against which fallen branches roll, are always deeply scarred +on the upper side, and as we have seen are sometimes burned down. The +saddest thing of all was to see the hopeful seedlings, many of them +crinkled and bent with the pressure of winter snow, yet bravely aspiring +at the top, helplessly perishing, and young trees, perfect spires of +verdure and naturally immortal, suddenly changed to dead masts. Yet the +sun looked cheerily down the openings in the forest roof, turning the +black smoke to a beautiful brown as if all was for the best. + + +NOTES + +=Kaweah=:--A river in California, which runs through the Sequoia +National Park. + +=Brownie=:--A small donkey which Mr. Muir had brought along to carry his +pack of blankets and provisions. (See pp. 285, 286 of _Our National +Parks_.) + +=humus=:--Vegetable mold. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +In 1875, Mr. Muir spent some weeks in the Sequoia forests, learning what +he could of the life and death of the giant trees. This selection is +from his account of his experiences. How does the author make you feel +the fierceness of the fire? Why does it become calmer when it enters the +forest? Would most people care to linger in a burning forest? What is +shown by Mr. Muir's willingness to stay? Note the vividness of the +passage beginning "Though the day was best": How does the author manage +to make it so clear? Might this passage be differently punctuated, with +advantage? What is the value of the figure "like colossal iron bars"? +Note the vivid words in the passage beginning "The thick" and ending +with "half a ton." What do you think of the expressions _onlooking +trees_, and _childlike Sequoias_? Explain why the burned trees fall up +hill. Go through the selection and pick out the words that show action; +color; sound. Try to state clearly the reasons why this selection is +clear and picturesque. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +The Forest Fire +A Group of Large Trees +Felling a Tree +A Fire in the Country +A Fire in the City +Alone in the Woods +The Woodsman +In the Woods +Camping Out for the Night +By-products of the Forest +A Tree Struck by Lightning +A Famous Student of Nature +Planting Trees +The Duties of a Forest Ranger +The Lumber Camp +A Fire at Night +Learning to Observe +The Conservation of the Forests +The Pine +Ravages of the Paper Mill + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=A Fire at Night=:--If possible, found this theme on actual observation +and experience. Tell of your first knowledge of the fire--the smoke and +the flame, or the ringing of bells and the shouting. From what point of +view did you see the fire? Tell how it looked when you first saw it. Use +words of color and action, as Mr. Muir does. Perhaps you can make your +description vivid by means of sound-words. Tell what people did and what +they said. Did you hear anything said by the owners of the property that +was burning? Go on and trace the progress of the fire, describing its +change in volume and color. Try at all times to make your reader see the +beauty and fierceness and destructiveness of the fire. You might close +your theme with the putting out of the fire, or perhaps you will prefer +to speak of the appearance of the ruins by daylight. When you have +finished your theme, read it over, and see where you can touch it up to +make it clearer and more impressive. Read again some of the most +brilliant passages in Mr. Muir's description, and see how you can profit +by the devices he uses. + +=In the Woods=:--Give an account of a long or a short trip in the woods, +and tell what you observed. It might be well to plan this theme a number +of days before writing it, and in the interim to take a walk in the +woods to get mental notes. In writing the theme, give your chief +attention to the trees--their situation, appearance, height, manner of +growth from the seedling up, peculiarities. Make clear the differences +between the kinds of trees, especially between varieties of the same +species. You can make good use of color-words in your descriptions of +leaves, flowers, seed-receptacles (cones, keys, wings, etc.), and +berries. Keep your work simple, almost as if you were talking to some +one who wishes information about the forest trees. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Our National Parks John Muir +My First Summer in the Sierra " " +The Mountains of California " " +The Story of my Boyhood and Youth " " +Stickeen: The Story of a Dog " " +The Yosemite John Muir +The Giant Forest (chapter 18 of _The Mountains_) Stewart Edward White +The Pines (chapter 8 of _The Mountains_) " " " +The Blazed Trail " " " +The Forest " " " +The Heart of the Ancient Wood C.G.D. Roberts +The Story of a Thousand-year Pine + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) Enos A. Mills +The Lodge-pole Pine + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) " " +Rocky Mountain Forests + (in _Wild Life on the Rockies_) " " +The Spell of the Rockies " " +Under the Sky in California C.F. Saunders +Field Days in California Bradford Torrey +The Snowing of the Pines (poem) T.W. Higginson +A Young Fir Wood (poem) D.G. Rossetti +The Spirit of the Pine (poem) Bayard Taylor +To a Pine Tree J.R. Lowell +Silverado Squatters Robert Louis Stevenson +Travels with a Donkey " " " +A Forest Fire (in _The Old Pacific Capital_) " " " +The Two Matches (in _Fables_) " " " +In the Maine Woods Henry D. Thoreau +Yosemite Trails J.S. Chase +The Conservation of Natural Resources Charles R. Van Hise +Getting Acquainted with the Trees J.H. McFarland +The Trees (poem) Josephine Preston Peabody + +For biographical material relating to John Muir, consult: With John o' +Birds and John o' Mountains, Century, 80:521 (Portraits); At Home with +Muir, Overland Monthly (New Series), 52:125, August, 1908; Craftsman, +7:665 (page 637 for portrait), March, 1905; Craftsman, 23:324 +(Portrait); Outlook, 80:303, January 3, 1905; Bookman, 26:593, +February, 1908; World's Work, 17:11355, March, 1909; 19:12529, +February, 1910. + + + + +WAITING + +JOHN BURROUGHS + + + Serene, I fold my hands and wait, + Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; + I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, + For lo! my own shall come to me. + + I stay my haste, I make delays, + For what avails this eager pace? + I stand amid the eternal ways, + And what is mine shall know my face. + + Asleep, awake, by night or day, + The friends I seek are seeking me; + No wind can drive my bark astray + Nor change the tide of destiny. + + What matter if I stand alone? + I wait with joy the coming years; + My heart shall reap where it has sown, + And garner up its fruit of tears. + + The law of love binds every heart + And knits it to its utmost kin, + Nor can our lives flow long apart + From souls our secret souls would win. + + The stars come nightly to the sky, + The tidal wave comes to the sea; + Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high + Can keep my own away from me. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +This poem is so easy that it needs little explanation. It shows the +calmness and confidence of one who feels that the universe is right, and +that everything comes out well sooner or later. Read the poem through +slowly. _Its utmost kin_ means its most distant relations or +connections. _The tidal wave_ means the regular and usual flow of the +tide. _Nor time nor space_:--Perhaps Mr. Burroughs was thinking of the +Bible, Romans 8:38, 39. + +Does the poem mean to encourage mere waiting, without action? Does it +discourage effort? Just how much is it intended to convey? Is the theory +expressed here a good one? Do you believe it to be true? Read the verses +again, slowly and carefully, thinking what they mean. If you like them, +take time to learn them. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +For a list of Mr. Burrough's books, see page 177. + +Song: The year's at the spring Robert Browning +The Building of the Chimney Richard Watson Gilder + +With John o'Birds and John o'Mountains (Century Magazine, 80:521) + +A Day at Slabsides (Outlook, 66:351) Washington Gladden + +Century, 86:884, October, 1915 (Portrait); Outlook, 78:878, December 3, +1904. + + +EXERCISES + +Try writing a stanza or two in the meter and with the rhyme that Mr. +Burroughs uses. Below are given lines that may prove suggestive:-- + +1. One night when all the sky was clear +2. The plum tree near the garden wall +3. I watched the children at their play +4. The wind swept down across the plain +5. The yellow leaves are drifting down +6. Along the dusty way we sped (In an Automobile) +7. I looked about my garden plot (In my Garden) +8. The sky was red with sudden flame +9. I walked among the forest trees +10. He runs to meet me every day (My Dog) + + + + +THE PONT DU GARD + +HENRY JAMES + +(Chapter XXVI of _A Little Tour in France_) + + +It was a pleasure to feel one's self in Provence again,--the land where +the silver-gray earth is impregnated with the light of the sky. To +celebrate the event, as soon as I arrived at Nimes I engaged a caleche +to convey me to the Pont du Gard. The day was yet young, and it was +perfectly fair; it appeared well, for a longish drive, to take +advantage, without delay, of such security. After I had left the town I +became more intimate with that Provencal charm which I had already +enjoyed from the window of the train, and which glowed in the sweet +sunshine and the white rocks, and lurked in the smoke-puffs of the +little olives. The olive-trees in Provence are half the landscape. They +are neither so tall, so stout, nor so richly contorted as I have seen +them beyond the Alps; but this mild colorless bloom seems the very +texture of the country. The road from Nimes, for a distance of fifteen +miles, is superb; broad enough for an army, and as white and firm as a +dinner-table. It stretches away over undulations which suggest a kind of +harmony; and in the curves it makes through the wide, free country, +where there is never a hedge or a wall, and the detail is always +exquisite, there is something majestic, almost processional. Some twenty +minutes before I reached the little inn that marks the termination of +the drive, my vehicle met with an accident which just missed being +serious, and which engaged the attention of a gentleman, who, followed +by his groom and mounted on a strikingly handsome horse, happened to +ride up at the moment. This young man, who, with his good looks and +charming manner, might have stepped out of a novel of Octave Feuillet, +gave me some very intelligent advice in reference to one of my horses +that had been injured, and was so good as to accompany me to the inn, +with the resources of which he was acquainted, to see that his +recommendations were carried out. The result of our interview was that +he invited me to come and look at a small but ancient chateau in the +neighborhood, which he had the happiness--not the greatest in the world, +he intimated--to inhabit, and at which I engaged to present myself after +I should have spent an hour at the Pont du Gard. For the moment, when we +separated, I gave all my attention to that great structure. You are very +near it before you see it; the ravine it spans suddenly opens and +exhibits the picture. The scene at this point grows extremely beautiful. +The ravine is the valley of the Gardon, which the road from Nimes has +followed some time without taking account of it, but which, exactly at +the right distance from the aqueduct, deepens and expands, and puts on +those characteristics which are best suited to give it effect. The gorge +becomes romantic, still, and solitary, and, with its white rocks and +wild shrubbery, hangs over the clear, colored river, in whose slow +course there is here and there a deeper pool. Over the valley, from side +to side, and ever so high in the air, stretch the three tiers of the +tremendous bridge. They are unspeakably imposing, and nothing could well +be more Roman. The hugeness, the solidity, the unexpectedness, the +monumental rectitude of the whole thing leave you nothing to say--at the +time--and make you stand gazing. You simply feel that it is noble and +perfect, that it has the quality of greatness. A road, branching from +the highway, descends to the level of the river and passes under one of +the arches. This road has a wide margin of grass and loose stones, which +slopes upward into the bank of the ravine. You may sit here as long as +you please, staring up at the light, strong piers; the spot is extremely +natural, though two or three stone benches have been erected on it. I +remained there an hour and got a complete impression; the place was +perfectly soundless, and for the time, at least, lonely; the splendid +afternoon had begun to fade, and there was a fascination in the object I +had come to see. It came to pass that at the same time I discovered in +it a certain stupidity, a vague brutality. That element is rarely absent +from great Roman work, which is wanting in the nice adaptation of the +means to the end. The means are always exaggerated; the end is so much +more than attained. The Roman rigidity was apt to overshoot the mark, +and I suppose a race which could do nothing small is as defective as a +race that can do nothing great. Of this Roman rigidity the Pont du Gard +is an admirable example. It would be a great injustice, however, not to +insist upon its beauty,--a kind of manly beauty, that of an object +constructed not to please but to serve, and impressive simply from the +scale on which it carries out this intention. The number of arches in +each tier is different; they are smaller and more numerous as they +ascend. The preservation of the thing is extraordinary; nothing has +crumbled or collapsed; every feature remains; and the huge blocks of +stone, of a brownish-yellow (as if they had been baked by the Provencal +sun for eighteen centuries), pile themselves, without mortar or cement, +as evenly as the day they were laid together. All this to carry the +water of a couple of springs to a little provincial city! The conduit on +the top has retained its shape and traces of the cement with which it +was lined. When the vague twilight began to gather, the lonely valley +seemed to fill itself with the shadow of the Roman name, as if the +mighty empire were still as erect as the supports of the aqueduct; and +it was open to a solitary tourist, sitting there sentimental, to believe +that no people has ever been, or will ever be, as great as that, +measured, as we measure the greatness of an individual, by the push they +gave to what they undertook. The Pont du Gard is one of the three or +four deepest impressions they have left; it speaks of them in a manner +with which they might have been satisfied. + +I feel as if it were scarcely discreet to indicate the whereabouts of +the chateau of the obliging young man I had met on the way from Nimes; I +must content myself with saying that it nestled in an enchanting +valley,--_dans le fond_, as they say in France,--and that I took my +course thither on foot, after leaving the Pont du Gard. I find it noted +in my journal as "an adorable little corner." The principal feature of +the place is a couple of very ancient towers, brownish-yellow in hue, +and mantled in scarlet Virginia-creeper. One of these towers, reputed to +be of Saracenic origin, is isolated, and is only the more effective; the +other is incorporated in the house, which is delightfully fragmentary +and irregular. It had got to be late by this time, and the lonely +_castel_ looked crepuscular and mysterious. An old housekeeper was sent +for, who showed me the rambling interior; and then the young man took me +into a dim old drawing-room, which had no less than four +chimney-pieces, all unlighted, and gave me a refection of fruit and +sweet wine. When I praised the wine and asked him what it was, he said +simply, "C'est du vin de ma mere!" Throughout my little journey I had +never yet felt myself so far from Paris; and this was a sensation I +enjoyed more than my host, who was an involuntary exile, consoling +himself with laying out a _manege_, which he showed me as I walked away. +His civility was great, and I was greatly touched by it. On my way back +to the little inn where I had left my vehicle, I passed the Pont du +Gard, and took another look at it. Its great arches made windows for the +evening sky, and the rocky ravine, with its dusky cedars and shining +river, was lonelier than before. At the inn I swallowed, or tried to +swallow, a glass of horrible wine with my coachman; after which, with my +reconstructed team, I drove back to Nimes in the moonlight. It only +added a more solitary whiteness to the constant sheen of the Provencal +landscape. + + +NOTES + +=The Pont du Gard=:--A famous aqueduct built by the Romans many years +ago. + +=Provence=:--One of the old provinces in southeast France. + +=Nimes=:--(N[=e][=e]m) A town in southeast France, noted for its Roman +ruins. + +=caleche=:--(ka l[=a]sh') The French term for a light covered carriage +with seats for four besides the driver. + +=Octave Feuillet=:--A French writer, the author of _The Romance of a +Poor Young Man_; Feuillet's heroes are young, dark, good-looking, and +poetic. + +=chateau=:--The country residence of a wealthy or titled person. + +=Gardon=:--A river in France flowing into the Rhone. + +=nice=:--Look up the meaning of this word. + +=dans le fond=:--In the bottom. + +=Saracenic=:--The Saracen invaders of France were vanquished at Tours in +732 A.D. + +=castel=:--A castle. + +=C'est=, etc.:--It is some of my mother's wine. + +=manege=:--A place where horses are kept and trained. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Can you find out anything about Provence and its history? By means of +what details does Mr. James give you an idea of the country? What is +meant by _processional_? Why is the episode of the young man +particularly pleasing at the point at which it is related? How does the +author show the character of the aqueduct? What does _monumental +rectitude_ mean? Why is it a good term? What is meant here by "a certain +stupidity, a vague brutality"? Can you think of any great Roman works of +which Mr. James's statement is true? What did the Romans most commonly +build? Can you find out something of their style of building? Are there +any reasons why the arches at the top should be smaller and lighter than +those below? What does this great aqueduct show of the Roman people and +the Roman government? Notice what Mr. James says of the way in which we +measure greatness: Is this a good way? Why would the Romans like the way +in which the Pont du Gard speaks of them? Why is it not "discreet" to +tell where the young man's chateau is? Why does the traveler feel so far +from Paris? Why does the young man treat the traveler with such +unnecessary friendliness? See how the author closes his chapter by +bringing the description round to the Pont du Gard again and ending with +the note struck in the first lines. Is this a good method? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Bridge +Country Roads +An Accident on the Road +A Remote Dwelling +The Stranger +At a Country Hotel +Roman Roads +A Moonlight Scene +A Picturesque Ravine +What I should Like to See in Europe +Traveling in Europe +Reading a Guide Book +The Baedeker +A Ruin +The Character of the Romans +The Romans in France +Level Country +A Sunny Day +The Parlor + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=At a Country Hotel=:--Tell how you happened to go to the hotel (this +part may be true or merely imagined). Describe your approach, on foot or +in some conveyance. Give your first general impression of the building +and its surroundings. What persons were visible when you reached the +entrance? What did they say and do? How did you feel? Describe the room +that you entered, noting any striking or amusing things. Tell of any +particularly interesting person, and what he (or she) said. Did you have +something to eat? If so, describe the dining-room, and tell about the +food. Perhaps you will have something to say about the waiter. How long +did you stay at the hotel? What incident was connected with your +departure? Were you glad or sorry to leave? + +=The Bridge=:--Choose a large bridge that you have seen. Where is it, +and what stream or ravine does it span? When was it built? Clearly +indicate the point of view of your description. If you change the point +of view, let the reader know of your doing so. Give a general idea of +the size of the bridge: You need not give measurements; try rather to +make the reader feel the size from the comparisons that you use. +Describe the banks at each end of the bridge, and the effect of the +water or the abyss between. How is the bridge supported? Try to make the +reader feel its solidity and safety. Is it clumsy or graceful? Why? Give +any interesting details in its appearance. What conveyances or persons +are passing over it? How does the bridge make you feel? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +A Little Tour in France Henry James +A Small Boy and Others " " +Portraits of Places " " +Travels with a Donkey R.L. Stevenson +An Inland Voyage " " +Along French Byways Clifton Johnson +Seeing France with Uncle John Anne Warner +The Story of France Mary Macgregor +The Reds of the Midi Felix Gras +A Wanderer in Paris E.V. Lucas +An American in Europe (poem) Henry Van Dyke +Home Thoughts from Abroad Robert Browning +In and Out of Three Normandy Inns Anna Bowman Dodd +Cathedral Days " " " +From Ponkapog to Pesth T.B. Aldrich +Our Hundred Days in Europe O.W. Holmes +One Year Abroad Blanche Willis Howard +Well-worn Roads F.H. Smith +Gondola Days " " +Saunterings C.D. Warner +By Oak and Thorn Alice Brown +Fresh Fields John Burroughs +Our Old Home Nathaniel Hawthorne +Penelope's Progress Kate Douglas Wiggin +Penelope's Experiences " " " +A Cathedral Courtship " " " +Ten Days in Spain Kate Fields +Russian Rambles Isabel F. Hapgood + +For biography and criticism of Mr. James, see: American Writers of +To-day, pp. 68-86, H.C. Vedder; American Prose Masters, pp. 337-400, +W.C. Brownell; and (for the teacher), Century, 84:108 (Portrait) and +87:150 (Portrait); Scribners, 48:670 (Portrait); Chautauquan, 64:146 +(Portrait). + + + + +THE YOUNGEST SON OF HIS FATHER'S HOUSE + +ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH + + + The eldest son of his father's house, + His was the right to have and hold; + He took the chair before the hearth, + And he was master of all the gold. + + The second son of his father's house, + He took the wheatfields broad and fair, + He took the meadows beside the brook, + And the white flocks that pastured there. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Along the way + From dawn till eve I needs must sing! + Who has a song throughout the day, + He has no need of anything!_" + + The youngest son of his father's house + Had neither gold nor flocks for meed. + He went to the brook at break of day, + And made a pipe out of a reed. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Each wind that blows + Is comrade to my wandering. + Who has a song wherever he goes, + He has no need of anything!_" + + His brother's wife threw open the door. + "Piper, come in for a while," she said. + "Thou shalt sit at my hearth since thou art so poor + And thou shalt give me a song instead!" + + Pipe high--pipe low--all over the wold! + "Lad, wilt thou not come in?" asked she. + "Who has a song, he feels no cold! + My brother's hearth is mine own," quoth he. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! For what care I + Though there be no hearth on the wide gray plain? + I have set my face to the open sky, + And have cloaked myself in the thick gray rain._" + + Over the hills where the white clouds are, + He piped to the sheep till they needs must come. + They fed in pastures strange and far, + But at fall of night he brought them home. + + They followed him, bleating, wherever he led: + He called his brother out to see. + "I have brought thee my flocks for a gift," he said, + "For thou seest that they are mine," quoth he. + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! wherever I go + The wide grain presses to hear me sing. + Who has a song, though his state be low, + He has no need of anything._" + + "Ye have taken my house," he said, "and my sheep, + But ye had no heart to take me in. + I will give ye my right for your own to keep, + But ye be not my kin. + + "To the kind fields my steps are led. + My people rush across the plain. + My bare feet shall not fear to tread + With the cold white feet of the rain. + + "My father's house is wherever I pass; + My brothers are each stock and stone; + My mother's bosom in the grass + Yields a sweet slumber to her son. + + "Ye are rich in house and flocks," said he, + "Though ye have no heart to take me in. + There was only a reed that was left for me, + And ye be not my kin." + + "_Pipe high--pipe low! Though skies be gray, + Who has a song, he needs must roam! + Even though ye call all day, all day, + 'Brother, wilt thou come home?_'" + + Over the meadows and over the wold, + Up to the hills where the skies begin, + The youngest son of his father's house + Went forth to find his kin. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The stanzas in italic are a kind of refrain; they represent the music of +the youngest son. + +Why does the piper not go into the house when his brother's wife invites +him? What does he mean when he says, "My brother's hearth is mine own"? +Why does he say that the sheep are his? What does he mean when he says, +"I will give ye my right," etc.? Why are his brothers not his kin? Who +are the people that "rush across the plain"? Explain the fourteenth +stanza. Why did the piper go forth to find his kin? Whom would he claim +as his kindred? Why? Does the poem have a deeper meaning than that which +first appears? What kind of person is represented by the youngest son? +What are meant by his pipe and the music? Who are those who cast him +out? Re-read the whole poem with the deeper meaning in mind. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Prophet Josephine Preston Peabody +The Piper: Act I " " " +The Shepherd of King Admetus James Russell Lowell +The Shoes that Danced Anna Hempstead Branch +The Heart of the Road and Other Poems " " " +Rose of the Wind and Other Poems " " " + + + + +TENNESSEE'S PARTNER + +BRET HARTE + + +I do not think that we ever knew his real name. Our ignorance of it +certainly never gave us any social inconvenience, for at Sandy Bar in +1854 most men were christened anew. Sometimes these appellatives were +derived from some distinctiveness of dress, as in the case of "Dungaree +Jack"; or from some peculiarity of habit, as shown in "Saleratus Bill," +so called from an undue proportion of that chemical in his daily bread; +or from some unlucky slip, as exhibited in "The Iron Pirate," a mild, +inoffensive man, who earned that baleful title by his unfortunate +mispronunciation of the term "iron pyrites." Perhaps this may have been +the beginning of a rude heraldry; but I am constrained to think that it +was because a man's real name in that day rested solely upon his own +unsupported statement. "Call yourself Clifford, do you?" said Boston, +addressing a timid newcomer with infinite scorn; "hell is full of such +Cliffords!" He then introduced the unfortunate man, whose name happened +to be really Clifford, as "Jaybird Charley,"--an unhallowed inspiration +of the moment that clung to him ever after. + +But to return to Tennessee's Partner, whom we never knew by any other +than this relative title. That he had ever existed as a separate and +distinct individuality we only learned later. It seems that in 1853 he +left Poker Flat to go to San Francisco, ostensibly to procure a wife. He +never got any farther than Stockton. At that place he was attracted by a +young person who waited upon the table at the hotel where he took his +meals. One morning he said something to her which caused her to smile +not unkindly, to somewhat coquettishly break a plate of toast over his +upturned, serious, simple face, and to retreat to the kitchen. He +followed her, and emerged a few moments later, covered with more toast +and victory. That day week they were married by a justice of the peace, +and returned to Poker Flat. I am aware that something more might be made +of this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at Sandy +Bar,--in the gulches and bar-rooms,--where all sentiment was modified by +a strong sense of humor. + +Of their married felicity but little is known, perhaps for the reason +that Tennessee, then living with his partner, one day took occasion to +say something to the bride on his own account, at which, it is said, she +smiled not unkindly and chastely retreated,--this time as far as +Marysville, where Tennessee followed her, and where they went to +housekeeping without the aid of a justice of the peace. Tennessee's +Partner took the loss of his wife simply and seriously, as was his +fashion. But to everybody's surprise, when Tennessee one day returned +from Marysville, without his partner's wife,--she having smiled and +retreated with somebody else,--Tennessee's Partner was the first man to +shake his hand and greet him with affection. The boys who had gathered +in the canon to see the shooting were naturally indignant. Their +indignation might have found vent in sarcasm but for a certain look in +Tennessee's Partner's eye that indicated a lack of humorous +appreciation. In fact, he was a grave man, with a steady application to +practical detail which was unpleasant in a difficulty. + +Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had grown up on the Bar. +He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief. In these +suspicions Tennessee's Partner was equally compromised; his continued +intimacy with Tennessee after the affair above quoted could only be +accounted for on the hypothesis of a copartnership of crime. At last +Tennessee's guilt became flagrant. One day he overtook a stranger on his +way to Red Dog. The stranger afterward related that Tennessee beguiled +the time with interesting anecdote and reminiscence, but illogically +concluded the interview in the following words: "And now, young man, +I'll trouble you for your knife, your pistols, and your money. You see +your weppings might get you into trouble at Red Dog, and your money's a +temptation to the evilly disposed. I think you said your address was San +Francisco. I shall endeavor to call." It may be stated here that +Tennessee had a fine flow of humor, which no business preoccupation +could wholly subdue. + +This exploit was his last. Red Dog and Sandy Bar made common cause +against the highwayman. Tennessee was hunted in very much the same +fashion as his prototype, the grizzly. As the toils closed around him, +he made a desperate dash through the Bar, emptying his revolver at the +crowd before the Arcade Saloon, and so on up Grizzly Canon; but at its +farther extremity he was stopped by a small man on a gray horse. The men +looked at each other a moment in silence. Both were fearless, both +self-possessed and independent, and both types of a civilization that in +the seventeenth century would have been called heroic, but in the +nineteenth simply "reckless." + +"What have you got there?--I call," said Tennessee quietly. + +"Two bowers and an ace," said the stranger as quietly, showing two +revolvers and a bowie-knife. + +"That takes me," returned Tennessee; and, with this gambler's epigram, +he threw away his useless pistol and rode back with his captor. + +It was a warm night. The cool breeze which usually sprang up with the +going down of the sun behind the chaparral-crested mountain was that +evening withheld from Sandy Bar. The little canon was stifling with +heated resinous odors, and the decaying driftwood on the Bar sent forth +faint sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day and its fierce +passions still filled the camp. Lights moved restlessly along the bank +of the river, striking no answering reflection from its tawny current. +Against the blackness of the pines the windows of the old loft above the +express-office stood out staringly bright; and through their curtainless +panes the loungers below could see the forms of those who were even then +deciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on the dark +firmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned with remoter +passionless stars. + +The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was consistent with a +judge and jury who felt themselves to some extent obliged to justify, in +their verdict, the previous irregularities of arrest and indictment. The +law of Sandy Bar was implacable, but not vengeful. The excitement and +personal feeling of the chase were over; with Tennessee safe in their +hands, they were ready to listen patiently to any defense, which they +were already satisfied was insufficient. There being no doubt in their +own minds, they were willing to give the prisoner the benefit of any +that might exist. Secure in the hypothesis that he ought to be hanged +on general principles, they indulged him with more latitude of defense +than his reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The Judge appeared to be more +anxious than the prisoner, who, otherwise unconcerned, evidently took a +grim pleasure in the responsibility he had created. "I don't take any +hand in this yer game," had been his invariable but good-humored reply +to all questions. The Judge--who was also his captor--for a moment +vaguely regretted that he had not shot him "on sight" that morning, but +presently dismissed this human weakness as unworthy of the judicial +mind. Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was said +that Tennessee's Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he was +admitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger members of the +jury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailed +him as a relief. For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. Short +and stout, with a square face, sunburned into a preternatural redness, +clad in a loose duck "jumper" and trousers streaked and splashed with +red soil, his aspect under any circumstances would have been quaint, and +was now even ridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy +carpetbag he was carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed +legends and inscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had +been patched had been originally intended for a less ambitious covering. +Yet he advanced with great gravity, and after shaking the hand of each +person in the room with labored cordiality, he wiped his serious +perplexed face on a red bandana handkerchief, a shade lighter than his +complexion, laid his powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, and +thus addressed the Judge:-- + +"I was passin' by," he began, by way of apology, "and I thought I'd just +step in and see how things was gittin' on with Tennessee thar,--my +pardner. It's a hot night. I disremember any sich weather before on the +Bar." + +He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorological +recollection, he again had recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and for +some moments mopped his face diligently. + +"Have you anything to say on behalf of the prisoner?" said the Judge +finally. + +"Thet's it," said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief. "I come yar +as Tennessee's pardner,--knowing him nigh on four year, off and on, wet +and dry, in luck and, out o' luck. His ways ain't aller my ways, but +thar ain't any p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness as +he's been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sez +you,--confidential-like, and between man and man,--sez you, 'Do you know +anything in his behalf?' and I sez to you, sez I,--confidential-like, as +between man and man,--'What should a man know of his pardner?'" + +"Is this all you have to say?" asked the Judge impatiently, feeling, +perhaps, that a dangerous sympathy of humor was beginning to humanize +the court. + +"Thet's so," continued Tennessee's Partner. "It ain't for me to say +anything agin' him. And now, what's the case? Here's Tennessee wants +money, wants it bad, and doesn't like to ask it of his old pardner. +Well, what does Tennessee do? He lays for a stranger, and he fetches +that stranger; and you lays for _him_, and you fetches _him_; and the +honors is easy. And I put it to you, bein' a fa'r-minded man, and to +you, gentlemen all, as fa'r-minded men, ef this isn't so." + +"Prisoner," said the Judge, interrupting, "have you any questions to ask +this man?" + +"No! no!" continued Tennessee's Partner hastily. "I play this yer hand +alone. To come down to the bed-rock, it's just this: Tennessee, thar, +has played it pretty rough and expensive-like on a stranger, and on this +yer camp. And now, what's the fair thing? Some would say more, some +would say less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars in coarse gold and a +watch,--it's about all my pile,--and call it square!" And before a hand +could be raised to prevent him, he had emptied the contents of the +carpetbag upon the table. + +For a moment his life was in jeopardy. One or two men sprang to their +feet, several hands groped for hidden weapons, and a suggestion to +"throw him from the window" was only overridden by a gesture from the +Judge. Tennessee laughed. And apparently oblivious of the excitement, +Tennessee's Partner improved the opportunity to mop his face again with +his handkerchief. + +When order was restored, and the man was made to understand, by the use +of forcible figures and rhetoric, that Tennessee's offense could not be +condoned by money, his face took a more serious and sanguinary hue, and +those who were nearest to him noticed that his rough hand trembled +slightly on the table. He hesitated a moment as he slowly returned the +gold to the carpetbag, as if he had not yet entirely caught the elevated +sense of justice which swayed the tribunal, and was perplexed with the +belief that he had not offered enough. Then he turned to the Judge, and +saying, "This yer is a lone hand, played alone, and without my pardner," +he bowed to the jury and was about to withdraw, when the Judge called +him back:-- + +"If you have anything to say to Tennessee, you had better say it now." + +For the first time that evening the eyes of the prisoner and his strange +advocate met. Tennessee smiled, showed his white teeth, and saying, +"Euchred, old man!" held out his hand. Tennessee's Partner took it in +his own, and saying, "I just dropped in as I was passin' to see how +things was gettin' on," let the hand passively fall, and adding that "it +was a warm night," again mopped his face with his handkerchief, and +without another word withdrew. + +The two men never again met each other alive. For the unparalleled +insult of a bribe offered to Judge Lynch--who, whether bigoted, weak, or +narrow, was at least incorruptible--firmly fixed in the mind of that +mythical personage any wavering determination of Tennessee's fate; and +at the break of day he was marched, closely guarded, to meet it at the +top of Marley's Hill. + +How he met it, how cool he was, how he refused to say anything, how +perfect were the arrangements of the committee, were all duly reported, +with the addition of a warning moral and example to all future +evil-doers, in the "Red Dog Clarion," by its editor, who was present, +and to whose vigorous English I cheerfully refer the reader. But the +beauty of that midsummer morning, the blessed amity of earth and air and +sky, the awakened life of the free woods and hills, the joyous renewal +and promise of Nature, and above all, the infinite serenity that +thrilled through each, was not reported, as not being a part of the +social lesson. And yet, when the weak and foolish deed was done, and a +life, with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed out of the +misshapen thing that dangled between earth and sky, the birds sang, the +flowers bloomed, the sun shone, as cheerily as before; and possibly the +"Red Dog Clarion" was right. + +Tennessee's Partner was not in the group that surrounded the ominous +tree. But as they turned to disperse, attention was drawn to the +singular appearance of a motionless donkey-cart halted at the side of +the road. As they approached, they at once recognized the venerable +"Jenny" and the two-wheeled cart as the property of Tennessee's Partner, +used by him in carrying dirt from his claim; and a few paces distant the +owner of the equipage himself, sitting under a buckeye-tree, wiping the +perspiration from his glowing face. In answer to an inquiry, he said he +had come for the body of the "diseased," "if it was all the same to the +committee." He didn't wish to "hurry anything"; he could "wait." He was +not working that day; and when the gentlemen were done with the +"diseased," he would take him. "Ef thar is any present," he added, in +his simple, serious way, "as would care to jine in the fun'l, they kin +come." Perhaps it was from a sense of humor, which I have already +intimated was a feature of Sandy Bar,--perhaps it was from something +even better than that, but two thirds of the loungers accepted the +invitation at once. + +It was noon when the body of Tennessee was delivered into the hands of +his partner. As the cart drew up to the fatal tree, we noticed that it +contained a rough oblong box,--apparently made from a section of +sluicing,--and half filled with bark and the tassels of pine. The cart +was further decorated with slips of willow and made fragrant with +buckeye-blossoms. When the body was deposited in the box, Tennessee's +Partner's drew over it a piece of tarred canvas, and gravely mounting +the narrow seat in front, with his feet upon the shafts, urged the +little donkey forward. The equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous +pace which was habitual with Jenny even under less solemn +circumstances. The men--half curiously, half jestingly, but all +good-humoredly--strolled along beside the cart, some in advance, some a +little in the rear of the homely catafalque. But whether from the +narrowing of the road or some present sense of decorum, as the cart +passed on, the company fell to the rear in couples, keeping step, and +otherwise assuming the external show of a formal procession. Jack +Folinsbee, who had at the outset played a funeral march in dumb show +upon an imaginary trombone, desisted from a lack of sympathy and +appreciation,--not having, perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be +content with the enjoyment of his own fun. + +The way led through Grizzly Canon, by this time clothed in funereal +drapery and shadows. The redwoods, burying their moccasined feet in the +red soil, stood in Indian file along the track, trailing an uncouth +benediction from their bending boughs upon the passing bier. A hare, +surprised into helpless inactivity, sat upright and pulsating in the +ferns by the roadside as the cortege went by. Squirrels hastened to gain +a secure outlook from higher boughs; and the blue-jays, spreading their +wings, fluttered before them like outriders, until the outskirts of +Sandy Bar were reached, and the solitary cabin of Tennessee's Partner. + +Viewed under more favorable circumstances, it would not have been a +cheerful place. The unpicturesque site, the rude and unlovely outlines, +the unsavory details, which distinguish the nest-building of the +California miner, were all here with the dreariness of decay superadded. +A few paces from the cabin there was a rough inclosure, which, in the +brief days of Tennessee's Partner's matrimonial felicity, had been used +as a garden, but was now overgrown with fern. As we approached it, we +were surprised to find that what we had taken for a recent attempt at +cultivation was the broken soil about an open grave. + +The cart was halted before the inclosure, and rejecting the offers of +assistance with the same air of simple self-reliance he had displayed +throughout, Tennessee's Partner lifted the rough coffin on his back, and +deposited it unaided within the shallow grave. He then nailed down the +board which served as a lid, and mounting the little mound of earth +beside it, took off his hat and slowly mopped his face with his +handkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary to speech, and they +disposed themselves variously on stumps and boulders, and sat expectant. + +"When a man," began Tennessee's Partner slowly, "has been running free +all day, what's the natural thing for him to do? Why, to come home. And +if he ain't in a condition to go home, what can his best friend do? Why, +bring him home. And here's Tennessee has been running free, and we +brings him home from his wandering." He paused and picked up a fragment +of quartz, rubbed it thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on: "It ain't +the first time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd me now. It +ain't the first time that I brought him to this yer cabin when he +couldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and Jinny have +waited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so fetched him home, +when he couldn't speak and didn't know me. And now that it's the last +time, why"--he paused and rubbed the quartz gently on his sleeve--"you +see it's sort of rough on his pardner. And now, gentlemen," he added +abruptly, picking up his long-handled shovel, "the fun'l's over; and my +thanks, and Tennessee's thanks, to you for your trouble." + +Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the grave, +turning his back upon the crowd, that after a few moments' hesitation +gradually withdrew. As they crossed the little ridge that hid Sandy Bar +from view, some, looking back, thought they could see Tennessee's +Partner, his work done, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between his +knees, and his face buried in his red bandana handkerchief. But it was +argued by others that you couldn't tell his face from his handkerchief +at that distance, and this point remained undecided. + +In the reaction that followed the feverish excitement of that day, +Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret investigation had +cleared him of any complicity in Tennessee's guilt, and left only a +suspicion of his general sanity. Sandy Bar made a point of calling on +him, and proffering various uncouth but well-meant kindnesses. But from +that day his rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline; +and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-blades were +beginning to peep from the rocky mound above Tennessee's grave, he took +to his bed. + +One night, when the pines beside the cabin were swaying in the storm and +trailing their slender fingers over the roof, and the roar and rush of +the swollen river were heard below, Tennessee's Partner lifted his head +from the pillow, saying, "It is time to go for Tennessee; I must put +Jinny in the cart"; and would have risen from his bed but for the +restraint of his attendant. Struggling, he still pursued his singular +fancy: "There, now, steady, Jinny,--steady, old girl. How dark it is! +Look out for the ruts,--and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes, +you know, when he's blind drunk, he drops down right in the trail. Keep +on straight up to the pine on the top of the hill. Thar! I told you +so!--thar he is,--coming this way, too,--all by himself, sober, and his +face a-shining. Tennessee! Pardner!" + +And so they met. + + +NOTES + +=Sandy Bar=:--The imaginary mining-camp in which Bret Harte laid the +scenes of many of his stories. + +=dungaree=:--A coarse kind of unbleached cotton cloth. + +=I call=:--An expression used in the game of euchre. + +=bowers=:--_Bower_ is from the German word _bauer_, meaning a +peasant,--so called from the jack or knave; the right bower, in the game +of euchre, is the jack of trumps, and the left bower is the other jack +of the same color. + +=chaparral=:--A thicket of scrub-oaks or thorny shrubs. + +=euchred=:--Defeated, as in the game of euchre. + +=Judge Lynch=:--A name used for the hurried judging and executing of a +suspected person, by private citizens, without due process of law. A +Virginian named Lynch is said to have been connected with the origin of +the expression. + +"=diseased=":--Tennessee's Partner means _deceased_. + +=sluicing=:--A trough for water, fitted with gates and valves; it is +used in washing out gold from the soil. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Why is the first sentence a good introduction? Compare it with the first +sentence of _Quite So_, page 21. In this selection, why does the author +say so much about names? Of what value is the first paragraph? Why is it +necessary to tell about Tennessee's Partner's earlier experiences? Who +were "the boys" who gathered to see the shooting? Why did they think +there would be shooting? Why was there not? Why does the author not give +us a fuller picture of Tennessee? What is the proof that he had "a fine +flow of humor"? Try in a few words to sum up his character. Read +carefully the paragraph beginning "It was a warm night": How does the +author give us a good picture of Sandy Bar? Tell in your own words the +feelings of the judge, the prisoner, and the jury, as explained in the +paragraph beginning "The trial of Tennessee." What does the author gain +by such expressions as "a less ambitious covering," "meteorological +recollection"? What does Tennessee's Partner mean when he says "What +should a man know of his pardner"? Why did the judge think that humor +would be dangerous? Why are the people angry when Tennessee's Partner +offers his seventeen hundred dollars for Tennessee's release? Why does +Tennessee's Partner take its rejection so calmly? What effect does his +offer have on the jury? What does the author mean by "the weak and +foolish deed"? Does he approve the hanging? Why does Tennessee's Partner +not show any grief? What do you think of Jack Folinsbee? What is gained +by the long passage of description? What does Tennessee's Partner's +speech show about the friendship of the two men? About friendship in +general? Do men often care so much for each other? Is it possible that +Tennessee's Partner died of grief? Is the conclusion good? Comment on +the kind of men who figure in the story. Are there any such men now? Why +is this called a very good story? + +Some time after you have read the story, run through it and see how many +different sections or scenes there are in it. How are these sections +linked together? Look carefully at the beginning of each paragraph and +see how the connection is made with the paragraph before. + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Two Friends +A Miner's Cabin +The Thief +The Road through the Woods +The Trial +A Scene in the Court Room +Early Days in our County +Bret Harte's Best Stories +The Escaped Convict +The Highwayman +A Lumber Camp +Roughing It +The Judge +The Robbers' Rendezvous +An Odd Character +Early Days in the West +A Mining Town +Underground with the Miners +Capturing the Thieves +The Sheriff + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=Two Friends=:--Tell where these two friends lived and how long they had +known each other. Describe each one, explaining his peculiarities; +perhaps you can make his character clear by telling some incident +concerning him. What seemed to be the attraction between the two +friends? Were they much together? What did people say of them? What did +they do for each other? Did they talk to others about their friendship? +Did either make a sacrifice for the other? If so, tell about it rather +fully. Was there any talk about it? What was the result of the +sacrifice? Was the friendship ever broken? + +=Early Days in our County=:--Perhaps you can get material for this from +some old settlers, or from a county history. Tell of the first +settlement: Who was first on the ground, and why did he choose this +particular region? What kind of shelter was erected? How fast did the +settlement grow? Tell some incidents of the early days. You might speak +also of the processes of clearing the land and of building; of primitive +methods of living, and the difficulty of getting supplies. Were there +any dangers? Speak of several prominent persons, and tell what they did. +Go on and tell of development of the settlements and the surrounding +country. Were there any strikingly good methods of making money? Was +there any excitement over land, or gold, or high prices of products? +Were there any misfortunes, such as floods, or droughts, or fires, or +cyclones? When did the railroad reach the region? What differences did +it make? What particular influences have brought about recent +conditions? + +=The Sheriff=:--Describe the sheriff--his physique, his features, his +clothes, his manner. Does he look the part? Do you know, or can you +imagine, one of his adventures? Perhaps you will wish to tell his story +in his own words. Think carefully whether it would be better to do this, +or to tell the story in the third person. Make the tale as lively and +stirring as possible. Remember that when you are reporting the talk of +the persons involved, it is better to quote their words directly. See +that everything you say helps in making the situation clear or in +actually telling the story. Close the story rather quickly after its +outcome has been made quite clear. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar Bret Harte +The Outcasts of Poker Flat " " +The Luck of Roaring Camp " " +Baby Sylvester " " +A Waif of the Plains " " +How I Went to the Mines " " +M'liss " " +Frontier Stories " " +Tales of the Argonauts " " +A Sappho of Green Springs and Other Stories " " +Pony Tracks Frederic Remington +Crooked Trails " " +Coeur d'Alene Mary Hallock Foote +The Led-Horse Claim " " " +Wolfville Days Alfred Henry Lewis +Wolfville Nights " " " +The Sunset Trail " " " +Pathfinders of the West Agnes C. Laut +The Old Santa Fe Trail H. Inman +Stories of the Great West Theodore Roosevelt +California and the Californians D.S. Jordan +Our Italy C.D. Warner +California Josiah Royce +The West from a Car Window R.H. Davis +The Story of the Railroad Cy Warman +Roughing It S.L. Clemens +Poems Joaquin Miller + + +Appropriate poems by Bret Harte:-- + +John Burns of Gettysburg +In the Tunnel +The Lost Galleon +Grizzly +Battle Bunny +The Wind in the Chimney +Reveille +Plain Language from Truthful James (The Heathen Chinee) + +Highways and Byways in the Rocky Mountains Clifton Johnson +Trails of the Pathfinders G.B. Grinnell +Stories of California E.M. Sexton +Glimpses of California Helen Hunt Jackson +California: Its History and Romance J.S. McGroarty +Heroes of California G.W. James +Recollections of an Old Pioneer P.H. Bennett +The Mountains of California John Muir +Romantic California E.C. Peixotto +Silverado Squatters R.L. Stevenson +Jimville: A Bret Harte Town + (in _Atlantic Monthly_, November, 1902) Mary Austin +The Prospector (poem) Robert W. Service +The Rover " " " +The Life of Bret Harte H.C. Merwin +Bret Harte Henry W. Boynton +Bret Harte T.E. Pemberton +American Writers of To-day, pp. 212-229 H.C. Vedder +Bookman, 15:312 (see also map on page 313). + +For stories of famous friendships, look up:-- + +Damon and Pythias (any good encyclopedia). +Patroclus and Achilles (the Iliad). +David and Jonathan (the Bible: 1st Samuel 18:1-4; 19:1-7; chapter 20, + entire; 23:16-18; chapter 31, entire; 2d Samuel, chapter 1, entire). +The Substitute (Le Remplacant) Francois Coppee + (In _Modern Short-stories_ edited by M. Ashmun.) + + + + +THE COURSE OF AMERICAN HISTORY + +WOODROW WILSON + +(In _Mere Literature_) + + +Our national history has been written for the most part by New England +men. All honor to them! Their scholarship and their characters alike +have given them an honorable enrollment amongst the great names of our +literary history; and no just man would say aught to detract, were it +never so little, from their well-earned fame. They have written our +history, nevertheless, from but a single point of view. From where they +sit, the whole of the great development looks like an Expansion of New +England. Other elements but play along the sides of the great process by +which the Puritan has worked out the development of nation and polity. +It is he who has gone out and possessed the land: the man of destiny, +the type and impersonation of a chosen people. To the Southern writer, +too, the story looks much the same, if it be but followed to its +culmination,--to its final storm and stress and tragedy in the great +war. It is the history of the Suppression of the South. Spite of all her +splendid contributions to the steadfast accomplishment of the great task +of building the nation; spite of the long leadership of her statesmen in +the national counsels; spite of her joint achievements in the conquest +and occupation of the West, the South was at last turned upon on every +hand, rebuked, proscribed, defeated. The history of the United States, +we have learned, was, from the settlement at Jamestown to the surrender +at Appomattox, a long-drawn contest for mastery between New England and +the South,--and the end of the contest we know. All along the parallels +of latitude ran the rivalry, in those heroical days of toil and +adventure during which population crossed the continent, like an army +advancing its encampments, Up and down the great river of the continent, +too, and beyond, up the slow incline of the vast steppes that lift +themselves toward the crowning towers of the Rockies,--beyond that, +again, in the gold-fields and upon the green plains of California, the +race for ascendency struggled on,--till at length there was a final +coming face to face, and the masterful folk who had come from the loins +of New England won their consummate victory. + +It is a very dramatic form for the story. One almost wishes it were +true. How fine a unity it would give our epic! But perhaps, after all, +the real truth is more interesting. The life of the nation cannot be +reduced to these so simple terms. These two great forces, of the North +and of the South, unquestionably existed,--were unquestionably projected +in their operation out upon the great plane of the continent, there to +combine or repel, as circumstances might determine. But the people that +went out from the North were not an unmixed people; they came from the +great Middle States as well as from New England. Their transplantation +into the West was no more a reproduction of New England or New York or +Pennsylvania or New Jersey than Massachusetts was a reproduction of old +England, or New Netherland a reproduction of Holland. The Southern +people, too, whom they met by the western rivers and upon the open +prairies, were transformed, as they themselves were, by the rough +fortunes of the frontier. A mixture of peoples, a modification of mind +and habit, a new round of experiment and adjustment amidst the novel +life of the baked and untilled plain, and the far valleys with the +virgin forests still thick upon them: a new temper, a new spirit of +adventure, a new impatience of restraint, a new license of life,--these +are the characteristic notes and measures of the time when the nation +spread itself at large upon the continent, and was transformed from a +group of colonies into a family of States. + +The passes of these eastern mountains were the arteries of the nation's +life. The real breath of our growth and manhood came into our nostrils +when first, like Governor Spotswood and that gallant company of +Virginian gentlemen that rode with him in the far year 1716, the Knights +of the Order of the Golden Horseshoe, our pioneers stood upon the ridges +of the eastern hills and looked down upon those reaches of the continent +where lay the untrodden paths of the westward migration. There, upon the +courses of the distant rivers that gleamed before them in the sun, down +the farther slopes of the hills beyond, out upon the broad fields that +lay upon the fertile banks of the "Father of Waters," up the long tilt +of the continent to the vast hills that looked out upon the +Pacific--there were the regions in which, joining with people from every +race and clime under the sun, they were to make the great compounded +nation whose liberty and mighty works of peace were to cause all the +world to stand at gaze. Thither were to come Frenchmen, Scandinavians, +Celts, Dutch, Slavs,--men of the Latin races and of the races of the +Orient, as well as men, a great host, of the first stock of the +settlements: English, Scots, Scots-Irish,--like New England men, but +touched with the salt of humor, hard, and yet neighborly too. For this +great process of growth by grafting, of modification no less than of +expansion, the colonies,--the original thirteen States,--were only +preliminary studies and first experiments. But the experiments that most +resembled the great methods by which we peopled the continent from side +to side and knit a single polity across all its length and breadth, were +surely the experiments made from the very first in the Middle States of +our Atlantic seaboard. + +Here from the first were mixture of population, variety of element, +combination of type, as if of the nation itself in small. Here was never +a simple body, a people of but a single blood and extraction, a polity +and a practice brought straight from one motherland. The life of these +States was from the beginning like the life of the country: they have +always shown the national pattern. In New England and the South it was +very different. There some of the great elements of the national life +were long in preparation: but separately and with an individual +distinction; without mixture,--for long almost without movement. That +the elements thus separately prepared were of the greatest importance, +and run everywhere like chief threads of the pattern through all our +subsequent life, who can doubt? They give color and tone to every part +of the figure. The very fact that they are so distinct and separately +evident throughout, the very emphasis of individuality they carry with +them, but proves their distinct origin. The other elements of our life, +various though they be, and of the very fibre, giving toughness and +consistency to the fabric, are merged in its texture, united, confused, +almost indistinguishable, so thoroughly are they mixed, intertwined, +interwoven, like the essential strands of the stuff itself: but these +of the Puritan and the Southerner, though they run everywhere with the +rest and seem upon a superficial view themselves the body of the cloth, +in fact modify rather than make it. + +What in fact has been the course of American history? How is it to be +distinguished from European history? What features has it of its own, +which give it its distinctive plan and movement? We have suffered, it is +to be feared, a very serious limitation of view until recent years by +having all our history written in the East. It has smacked strongly of a +local flavor. It has concerned itself too exclusively with the origins +and Old-World derivations of our story. Our historians have made their +march from the sea with their heads over shoulder, their gaze always +backward upon the landing-places and homes of the first settlers. In +spite of the steady immigration, with its persistent tide of foreign +blood, they have chosen to speak often and to think always of our people +as sprung after all from a common stock, bearing a family likeness in +every branch, and following all the while old, familiar, family ways. +The view is the more misleading because it is so large a part of the +truth without being all of it. The common British stock did first make +the country, and has always set the pace. There were common institutions +up and down the coast; and these had formed and hardened for a +persistent growth before the great westward migration began which was to +re-shape and modify every element of our life. The national government +itself was set up and made strong by success while yet we lingered for +the most part upon the eastern coast and feared a too distant frontier. + +But, the beginnings once safely made, change set in apace. Not only so: +there had been slow change from the first. We have no frontier now, we +are told,--except a broken fragment, it may be, here and there in some +barren corner of the western lands, where some inhospitable mountain +still shoulders us out, or where men are still lacking to break the +baked surface of the plains and occupy them in the very teeth of hostile +nature. But at first it was all frontier,--a mere strip of settlements +stretched precariously upon the sea-edge of the wilds: an untouched +continent in front of them, and behind them an unfrequented sea that +almost never showed so much as the momentary gleam of a sail. Every step +in the slow process of settlement was but a step of the same kind as the +first, an advance to a new frontier like the old. For long we lacked, it +is true, that new breed of frontiersmen born in after years beyond the +mountains. Those first frontiersmen had still a touch of the timidity of +the Old World in their blood: they lacked the frontier heart. They were +"Pilgrims" in very fact,--exiled, not at home. Fine courage they had: +and a steadfastness in their bold design which it does a faint-hearted +age good to look back upon. There was no thought of drawing back. +Steadily, almost calmly, they extended their seats. They built homes, +and deemed it certain their children would live there after them. But +they did not love the rough, uneasy life for its own sake. How long did +they keep, if they could, within sight of the sea! The wilderness was +their refuge; but how long before it became their joy and hope! Here was +their destiny cast; but their hearts lingered and held back. It was only +as generations passed and the work widened about them that their thought +also changed, and a new thrill sped along their blood. Their life had +been new and strange from their first landing in the wilderness. Their +houses, their food, their clothing, their neighborhood dealings were all +such as only the frontier brings. Insensibly they were themselves +changed. The strange life became familiar; their adjustment to it was at +length unconscious and without effort; they had no plans which were not +inseparably a part and a product of it. But, until they had turned their +backs once for all upon the sea; until they saw their western borders +cleared of the French; until the mountain passes had grown familiar, and +the lands beyond the central and constant theme of their hope, the goal +and dream of their young men, they did not become an American people. + +When they did, the great determining movement of our history began. The +very visages of the people changed. That alert movement of the eye, that +openness to every thought of enterprise or adventure, that nomadic habit +which knows no fixed home and has plans ready to be carried any +whither,--all the marks of the authentic type of the "American" as we +know him came into our life. The crack of the whip and the song of the +teamster, the heaving chorus of boatmen poling their heavy rafts upon +the rivers, the laughter of the camp, the sound of bodies of men in the +still forests, became the characteristic notes in our air. A roughened +race, embrowned in the sun, hardened in manner by a coarse life of +change and danger, loving the rude woods and the crack of the rifle, +living to begin something new every day, striking with the broad and +open hand, delicate in nothing but the touch of the trigger, leaving +cities in its track as if by accident rather than design, settling again +to the steady ways of a fixed life only when it must: such was the +American people whose achievement it was to be to take possession of +their continent from end to end ere their national government was a +single century old. The picture is a very singular one! Settled life and +wild side by side: civilization frayed at the edges,--taken forward in +rough and ready fashion, with a song and a swagger,--not by statesmen, +but by woodsmen and drovers, with axes and whips and rifles in their +hands, clad in buckskin, like huntsmen. + +It has been said that we have here repeated some of the first processes +of history; that the life and methods of our frontiersmen take us back +to the fortunes and hopes of the men who crossed Europe when her +forests, too, were still thick upon her. But the difference is really +very fundamental, and much more worthy of remark than the likeness. +Those shadowy masses of men whom we see moving upon the face of the +earth in the far-away, questionable days when states were forming: even +those stalwart figures we see so well as they emerge from the deep +forests of Germany, to displace the Roman in all his western provinces +and set up the states we know and marvel upon at this day, show us men +working their new work at their own level. They do not turn back a long +cycle of years from the old and settled states, the ordered cities, the +tilled fields, and the elaborated governments of an ancient +civilization, to begin as it were once more at the beginning. They carry +alike their homes and their states with them in the camp and upon the +ordered march of the host. They are men of the forest, or else men +hardened always to take the sea in open boats. They live no more roughly +in the new lands than in the old. The world has been frontier for them +from the first. They may go forward with their life in these new seats +from where they left off in the old. How different the circumstances of +our first settlement and the building of new states on this side the +sea! Englishmen, bred in law and ordered government ever since the +Norman lawyers were followed a long five hundred years ago across the +narrow seas by those masterful administrators of the strong Plantagenet +race, leave an ancient realm and come into a wilderness where states +have never been; leave a land of art and letters, which saw but +yesterday "the spacious times of great Elizabeth," where Shakespeare +still lives in the gracious leisure of his closing days at Stratford, +where cities teem with trade and men go bravely dight in cloth of gold, +and turn back six centuries,--nay, a thousand years and more,--to the +first work of building states in a wilderness! They bring the steadied +habits and sobered thoughts of an ancient realm into the wild air of an +untouched continent. The weary stretches of a vast sea lie, like a full +thousand years of time, between them and the life in which till now all +their thought was bred. Here they stand, as it were, with all their +tools left behind, centuries struck out of their reckoning, driven back +upon the long dormant instincts and forgotten craft of their race, not +used this long age. Look how singular a thing: the work of a primitive +race, the thought of a civilized! Hence the strange, almost grotesque +groupings of thought and affairs in that first day of our history. +Subtle politicians speak the phrases and practice the arts of intricate +diplomacy from council chambers placed within log huts within a +clearing. Men in ruffs and lace and polished shoe-buckles thread the +lonely glades of primeval forests. The microscopical distinctions of the +schools, the thin notes of a metaphysical theology are woven in and out +through the labyrinths of grave sermons that run hours long upon the +still air of the wilderness. Belief in dim refinements of dogma is made +the test for man or woman who seeks admission to a company of pioneers. +When went there by an age since the great flood when so singular a thing +was seen as this: thousands of civilized men suddenly rusticated and +bade do the work of primitive peoples,--Europe _frontiered_! + +Of course there was a deep change wrought, if not in these men, at any +rate in their children; and every generation saw the change deepen. It +must seem to every thoughtful man a notable thing how, while the change +was wrought, the simples of things complex were revealed in the clear +air of the New World: how all accidentals seemed to fall away from the +structure of government, and the simple first principles were laid bare +that abide always; how social distinctions were stripped off, shown to +be the mere cloaks and masks they were, and every man brought once again +to a clear realization of his actual relations to his fellows! It was as +if trained and sophisticated men had been rid of a sudden of their +sophistication and of all the theory of their life, and left with +nothing but their discipline of faculty, a schooled and sobered +instinct. And the fact that we kept always, for close upon three hundred +years, a like element in our life, a frontier people always in our van, +is, so far, the central and determining fact of our national history. +"East" and "West," an ever-changing line, but an unvarying experience +and a constant leaven of change working always within the body of our +folk. Our political, our economic, our social life has felt this potent +influence from the wild border all our history through. The "West" is +the great word of our history. The "Westerner" has been the type and +master of our American life. Now at length, as I have said, we have lost +our frontier; our front lies almost unbroken along all the great coast +line of the western sea. The Westerner, in some day soon to come, will +pass out of our life, as he so long ago passed out of the life of the +Old World. Then a new epoch will open for us. Perhaps it has opened +already. Slowly we shall grow old, compact our people, study the +delicate adjustments of an intricate society, and ponder the niceties, +as we have hitherto pondered the bulks and structural framework, of +government. Have we not, indeed, already come to these things? But the +past we know. We can "see it steady and see it whole"; and its central +movement and motive are gross and obvious to the eye. + +Till the first century of the Constitution is rounded out we stand all +the while in the presence of that stupendous westward movement which has +filled the continent: so vast, so various, at times so tragical, so +swept by passion. Through all the long time there has been a line of +rude settlements along our front wherein the same tests of power and of +institutions were still being made that were made first upon the sloping +banks of the rivers of old Virginia and within the long sweep of the Bay +of Massachusetts. The new life of the West has reacted all the +while--who shall say how powerfully?--upon the older life of the East; +and yet the East has moulded the West as if she sent forward to it +through every decade of the long process the chosen impulses and +suggestions of history. The West has taken strength, thought, training, +selected aptitudes out of the old treasures of the East,--as if out of +a new Orient; while the East has itself been kept fresh, vital, alert, +originative by the West, her blood quickened all the while, her youth +through every age renewed. Who can say in a word, in a sentence, in a +volume, what destinies have been variously wrought, with what new +examples of growth and energy, while, upon this unexampled scale, +community has passed beyond community across the vast reaches of this +great continent! + + +NOTES + +=Jamestown=:--A town in Virginia, the site of the first English +settlement in America (1607). + +=Appomattox=:--In 1865 Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox, Virginia. + +=epic=:--A long narrative poem recounting in a stirring way some great +series of events. + +=Governor Spotswood=:--Governor of Virginia in the early part of the +eighteenth century. + +=Knights of the Golden Horseshoe=:--In 1716 an exploring expedition +under Governor Spotswood made a journey across the Blue Ridge. The +Governor gave each member of the party a gold horseshoe, as a souvenir. + +=Celts=:--One of the early Aryan races of southwestern Europe; the Welsh +and the Highland Scotch are descended from the Celts. + +=Slavs=:--The race of people inhabiting Russia, Poland, Bohemia, and +Servia. + +=Latin races=:--The French, Spanish, and Italian people, whose languages +are derived chiefly from the Latin. + +=Orient=:--The far East--India, China, Japan, etc. + +=Norman=:--The Norman-French from northern France had been in possession +of England for the greater part of a century (1066-1154) when Henry, son +of a Saxon princess and a French duke (Geoffrey of Anjou) came to +England as Henry II, the first of the Plantagenet line of English kings. + +=Stratford=:--A small town on the Avon River in England; the birthplace +of Shakespeare. + +=dight=:--Clothed. (What does an unabridged dictionary say about this +word? Is it commonly used nowadays? Was it used in Shakespeare's time? +Why does the author use it here?) + +=see it steady and see it whole=:--A quotation from the works of Matthew +Arnold, an English poet and critic. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +What has been the disadvantage of having our history written by New +England men? Do you know what particular New England men have written of +American history? What state is President Wilson from? What is meant by +the "Suppression of the South"? Why does the author put in the phrase +"we have learned"? Does he believe what he is saying? Show where he +makes his own view clear. What "story" is it that one "almost wishes" +were true? _Went out from the North_: Where? How are the Northerners and +the Southerners changed after they have gone West? What "new temper" do +they have? How do they show their "impatience of restraint"? What +eastern mountains are meant here? How did our nation gain new life when +the pioneers looked westward from the eastern ridges? Why are we spoken +of as a "great compounded nation"? What are our "mighty works of peace"? +The author now shows how the Middle Seaboard States were a type of the +later form of the nation, because they had a mixed population. What does +he think about the influence of the Puritan and the Southerner? Note the +questions that he asks regarding the course of American history. See how +he answers them in the pages that follow. Why does he say that the first +frontiersmen were "timid"? When, according to the author, did the "great +determining movement" of our history begin? Why does he call the picture +that he draws a "singular" one? What is meant by "civilization frayed at +the edges"? How do the primitive conditions of our nation differ from +the earliest beginnings of the European nations? (See the long passage +beginning "How different.") What is meant by "Europe frontiered"? Look +carefully on page 261, to see what the author says is "the central and +determining fact of our national history." What is the "great word" of +our history? Has the author answered the questions he set for himself on +page 256? What is happening to us as a nation now that we have lost our +frontier? What is the relation between the East and the West? Perhaps +you will like to go on and read some more of this essay, from which we +have here only a selection. Do you like what the author has said? What +do you think of the way in which he has said it? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +Life in the Wilderness +The Log Cabin +La Salle +My Friend from the West +My Friend from the East +Crossing the Mountains +Early Days in our State +An Encounter with the Indians +The Coming of the Railroad +Daniel Boone +A Home on the Prairies +Cutting down the Forest +The Homesteader +A Frontier Town +Life on a Western Ranch +The Old Settler +Some Stories of the Early Days +Moving West +Lewis and Clark +The Pioneer +The Old Settlers' Picnic +"Home-coming Day" in our Town +An Explorer +My Trip through the West (or the East) +The President + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=La Salle=:--Look up, in Parkman's _La Salle_ or elsewhere, the facts of +La Salle's life. Make very brief mention of his life in France. Contrast +it with his experiences in America. What were his reasons for becoming +an explorer? Give an account of one of his expeditions: his plans; his +preparations; his companions; his hardships; his struggles to establish +a fort; his return to Canada for help; his failure or success. Perhaps +you will want to write of his last expedition, and its unfortunate +ending. Speak of his character as a man and an explorer. Show briefly +the results of his endeavors. + +=Daniel Boone=:--Look up the adventures of Daniel Boone, and tell some +of them in a lively way. Perhaps you can imagine his telling them in his +own words to a settler or a companion. In that case, try to put in the +questions and the comments of the other person. This will make a kind of +dramatic conversation. + +=Early Days in our State=:--With a few changes, you can use the outline +given on page 249 for "Early Days in our County." + +=An Encounter with the Indians=:--Tell a story that you have heard or +imagined, about some one's escape from the Indians. How did the hero +happen to get into such a perilous situation? Briefly describe his +surroundings. Tell of his first knowledge that the Indians were about to +attack him. What did he do? How did he feel? Describe the Indians. Tell +what efforts the hero made to get away or to protect himself. Make the +account of his action brief and lively. Try to keep him before the +reader all the time. Now and then explain what was going on in his mind. +This is often a good way to secure suspense. Tell very clearly how the +hero succeeded in escaping, and what his difficulties were in getting +away from the spot. Condense the account of what took place after his +actual escape. Where did he take refuge? Was he much the worse for his +adventure? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Course of American History + (in _Mere Literature_) Woodrow Wilson +The Life of George Washington " " +The Winning of the West Theodore Roosevelt +Stories of the Great West " " +Hero Tales from American History Roosevelt and Lodge +The Great Salt Lake Trail Inman and Cody +The Old Santa Fe Trail H. Inman +Rocky Mountain Exploration Reuben G. Thwaites +Daniel Boone " " " +How George Rogers Clark Won the Northwest " " " +Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road H.A. Bruce +The Crossing Winston Churchill +The Conquest of Arid America W.E. Smythe +The Last American Frontier F.L. Paxon +Northwestern Fights and Fighters Cyrus Townsend Brady +Western Frontier Stories The Century Company +The Story of Tonty Mary Hartwell Catherwood +Heroes of the Middle West " " " +Pony Tracks Frederic Remington +The Different West A.E. Bostwick +The Expedition of Lewis and Clark J.K. Hosmer +The Trail of Lewis and Clark O.D. Wheeler +The Discovery of the Old Northwest James Baldwin +Boots and Saddles Elizabeth Custer +La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West Francis Parkman +The Oregon Trail " " +Samuel Houston Henry Bruce +The Story of the Railroad Cy Warman +The Pioneers Walt Whitman +The Story of the Cowboy Emerson Hough +Woodrow Wilson W.B. Hale +Recollections of Thirteen Presidents John S. Wise +Presidential Problems Grover Cleveland +The Story of the White House Esther Singleton + + + + +WHAT I KNOW ABOUT GARDENING + +CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER + +(From _My Summer in a Garden_) + + +NINTH WEEK + +I am more and more impressed with the moral qualities of vegetables, and +contemplate forming a science which shall rank with comparative anatomy +and comparative philology,--the science of comparative vegetable +morality. We live in an age of protoplasm. And, if life-matter is +essentially the same in all forms of life, I purpose to begin early, and +ascertain the nature of the plants for which I am responsible. I will +not associate with any vegetable which is disreputable, or has not some +quality that can contribute to my moral growth. I do not care to be seen +much with the squashes or the dead-beets.... + +This matter of vegetable rank has not been at all studied as it should +be. Why do we respect some vegetables, and despise others, when all of +them come to an equal honor or ignominy on the table? The bean is a +graceful, confiding, engaging vine; but you never can put beans into +poetry, nor into the highest sort of prose. There is no dignity in the +bean. Corn, which in my garden grows alongside the bean, and, so far as +I can see, with no affectation of superiority, is, however, the child of +song. It waves in all literature. But mix it with beans, and its high +tone is gone. Succotash is vulgar. It is the bean in it. The bean is a +vulgar vegetable, without culture, or any flavor of high society among +vegetables. Then there is the cool cucumber, like so many people,--good +for nothing when it is ripe and the wildness has gone out of it. How +inferior in quality it is to the melon, which grows upon a similar vine, +is of a like watery consistency, but is not half so valuable! The +cucumber is a sort of low comedian in a company where the melon is a +minor gentleman. I might also contrast the celery with the potato. The +associations are as opposite as the dining-room of the duchess and the +cabin of the peasant. I admire the potato, both in vine and blossom; but +it is not aristocratic. I began digging my potatoes, by the way, about +the 4th of July; and I fancy I have discovered the right way to do it. I +treat the potato just as I would a cow. I do not pull them up, and shake +them out, and destroy them; but I dig carefully at the side of the hill, +remove the fruit which is grown, leaving the vine undisturbed: and my +theory is that it will go on bearing, and submitting to my exactions, +until the frost cuts it down. It is a game that one would not undertake +with a vegetable of tone. + +The lettuce is to me a most interesting study. Lettuce is like +conversation: it must be fresh and crisp, so sparkling that you scarcely +notice the bitter in it. Lettuce, like most talkers, is, however, apt to +run rapidly to seed. Blessed is that sort which comes to a head, and so +remains, like a few people I know; growing more solid and satisfactory +and tender at the same time, and whiter at the centre, and crisp in +their maturity. Lettuce, like conversation, requires a good deal of oil, +to avoid friction, and keep the company smooth; a pinch of attic salt; a +dash of pepper; a quantity of mustard and vinegar, by all means, but so +mixed that you will notice no sharp contrasts; and a trifle of sugar. +You can put anything, and the more things the better, into salad, as +into a conversation; but everything depends upon the skill of mixing. I +feel that I am in the best society when I am with lettuce. It is in the +select circle of vegetables. The tomato appears well on the table; but +you do not want to ask its origin. It is a most agreeable _parvenu_. Of +course, I have said nothing about the berries. They live in another and +more ideal region: except, perhaps, the currant. Here we see that, even +among berries, there are degrees of breeding. The currant is well +enough, clear as truth, and exquisite in color; but I ask you to notice +how far it is from the exclusive _hauteur_ of the aristocratic +strawberry, and the native refinement of the quietly elegant raspberry. + +I do not know that chemistry, searching for protoplasm, is able to +discover the tendency of vegetables. It can only be found out by outward +observation. I confess that I am suspicious of the bean, for instance. +There are signs in it of an unregulated life. I put up the most +attractive sort of poles for my Limas. They stand high and straight, +like church-spires, in my theological garden,--lifted up; and some of +them have even budded, like Aaron's rod. No church-steeple in a New +England village was ever better fitted to draw to it the rising +generation on Sunday than those poles to lift up my beans towards +heaven. Some of them did run up the sticks seven feet, and then +straggled off into the air in a wanton manner; but more than half of +them went galivanting off to the neighboring grape-trellis, and wound +their tendrils with the tendrils of the grape, with a disregard of the +proprieties of life which is a satire upon human nature. And the grape +is morally no better. I think the ancients, who were not troubled with +the recondite mystery of protoplasm, were right in the mythic union of +Bacchus and Venus. + +Talk about the Darwinian theory of development and the principle of +natural selection! I should like to see a garden let to run in +accordance with it. If I had left my vegetables and weeds to a free +fight, in which the strongest specimens only should come to maturity, +and the weaker go to the wall, I can clearly see that I should have had +a pretty mess of it. It would have been a scene of passion and license +and brutality. The "pusley" would have strangled the strawberry; the +upright corn, which has now ears to hear the guilty beating of the +hearts of the children who steal the raspberries, would have been +dragged to the earth by the wandering bean; the snake-grass would have +left the place for the potatoes under ground; and the tomatoes would +have been swamped by the lusty weeds. With a firm hand, I have had to +make my own "natural selection." Nothing will so well bear watching as a +garden except a family of children next door. Their power of selection +beats mine. If they could read half as well as they can steal a while +away, I should put up a notice, "_Children, beware! There is Protoplasm +here._" But I suppose it would have no effect. I believe they would eat +protoplasm as quick as anything else, ripe or green. I wonder if this is +going to be a cholera-year. Considerable cholera is the only thing that +would let my apples and pears ripen. Of course I do not care for the +fruit; but I do not want to take the responsibility of letting so much +"life-matter," full of crude and even wicked vegetable-human tendencies, +pass into the composition of the neighbors' children, some of whom may +be as immortal as snake-grass. + +There ought to be a public meeting about this, and resolutions, and +perhaps a clambake. At least, it ought to be put into the catechism, and +put in strong. + + +TENTH WEEK + +I THINK I have discovered the way to keep peas from the birds. +I tried the scarecrow plan, in a way which I thought would outwit the +shrewdest bird. The brain of the bird is not large; but it is all +concentrated on one object, and that is the attempt to elude the devices +of modern civilization which injure his chances of food. I knew that, if +I put up a complete stuffed man, the bird would detect the imitation at +once; the perfection of the thing would show him that it was a trick. +People always overdo the matter when they attempt deception. I therefore +hung some loose garments, of a bright color, upon a rake-head, and set +them up among the vines. The supposition was, that the bird would think +there was an effort to trap him, that there was a man behind, holding up +these garments, and would sing, as he kept at a distance, "You can't +catch me with any such double device." The bird would know, or think he +knew, that I would not hang up such a scare, in the expectation that it +would pass for a man, and deceive a bird; and he would therefore look +for a deeper plot. I expected to outwit the bird by a duplicity that was +simplicity itself. I may have over-calculated the sagacity and reasoning +power of the bird. At any rate, I did over-calculate the amount of peas +I should gather. + +But my game was only half played. In another part of the garden were +other peas, growing and blowing. To these I took good care not to +attract the attention of the bird by any scarecrow whatever! I left the +old scarecrow conspicuously flaunting above the old vines; and by this +means I hope to keep the attention of the birds confined to that side of +the garden. I am convinced that this is the true use of a scarecrow: it +is a lure, and not a warning. If you wish to save men from any +particular vice, set up a tremendous cry of warning about some other, +and they will all give their special efforts to the one to which +attention is called. This profound truth is about the only thing I have +yet realized out of my pea-vines. + +However, the garden does begin to yield. I know of nothing that makes +one feel more complacent, in these July days, than to have his +vegetables from his own garden. What an effect it has on the market-man +and the butcher! It is a kind of declaration of independence. The +market-man shows me his peas and beets and tomatoes, and supposes he +shall send me out some with the meat. "No, I thank you," I say +carelessly: "I am raising my own this year." Whereas I have been wont to +remark, "Your vegetables look a little wilted this weather," I now say, +"What a fine lot of vegetables you've got!" When a man is not going to +buy, he can afford to be generous. To raise his own vegetables makes a +person feel, somehow, more liberal. I think the butcher is touched by +the influence, and cuts off a better roast for me. The butcher is my +friend when he sees that I am not wholly dependent on him. + +It is at home, however, that the effect is most marked, though sometimes +in a way that I had not expected. I have never read of any Roman supper +that seemed to me equal to a dinner of my own vegetables, when +everything on the table is the product of my own labor, except the +clams, which I have not been able to raise yet, and the chickens, which +have withdrawn from the garden just when they were most attractive. It +is strange what a taste you suddenly have for things you never liked +before. The squash has always been to me a dish of contempt; but I eat +it now as if it were my best friend. I never cared for the beet or the +bean; but I fancy now that I could eat them all, tops and all, so +completely have they been transformed by the soil in which they grew. I +think the squash is less squashy, and the beet has a deeper hue of rose, +for my care of them. + +I had begun to nurse a good deal of pride in presiding over a table +whereon was the fruit of my honest industry. But woman!--John Stuart +Mill is right when he says that we do not know anything about women. Six +thousand years is as one day with them. I thought I had something to do +with those vegetables. + +But when I saw Polly seated at her side of the table, presiding over the +new and susceptible vegetables, flanked by the squash and the beans, and +smiling upon the green corn and the new potatoes, as cool as the +cucumbers which lay sliced in ice before her, and when she began to +dispense the fresh dishes, I saw at once that the day of my destiny was +over. You would have thought that she owned all the vegetables, and had +raised them all from their earliest years. Such quiet, vegetable airs! +Such gracious appropriation! + +At length I said,-- + +"Polly, do you know who planted that squash, or those squashes?" + +"James, I suppose." + +"Well, yes, perhaps James did plant them to a certain extent. But who +hoed them?" + +"We did." + +"_We_ did!" I said in the most sarcastic manner. "And I suppose _we_ put +on the sackcloth and ashes, when the striped bug came at four o'clock, +A.M., and we watched the tender leaves, and watered night and +morning the feeble plants. I tell you, Polly," said I, uncorking the +Bordeaux raspberry vinegar, "there is not a pea here that does not +represent a drop of moisture wrung from my brow, not a beet that does +not stand for a backache, not a squash that has not caused me untold +anxiety, and I did hope--but I will say no more." + +_Observation._--In this sort of family discussion, "I will say no more" +is the most effective thing you can close up with. + +I am not an alarmist. I hope I am as cool as anybody this hot summer. +But I am quite ready to say to Polly or any other woman, "You can have +the ballot; only leave me the vegetables, or, what is more important, +the consciousness of power in vegetables." I see how it is. Woman is now +supreme in the house. She already stretches out her hand to grasp the +garden. She will gradually control everything. Woman is one of the +ablest and most cunning creatures who have ever mingled in human +affairs. I understand those women who say they don't want the ballot. +They purpose to hold the real power while we go through the mockery of +making laws. They want the power without the responsibility. (Suppose my +squash had not come up, or my beans--as they threatened at one time--had +gone the wrong way: where would I have been?) We are to be held to all +the responsibilities. Woman takes the lead in all the departments, +leaving us politics only. And what is politics? Let me raise the +vegetables of a nation, says Polly, and I care not who makes its +politics. Here I sat at the table, armed with the ballot, but really +powerless among my own vegetables. While we are being amused by the +ballot, woman is quietly taking things into her own hands. + + +NOTES + +=comparative philology=:--The comparison of words from different +languages, for the purpose of seeing what relationships can be found. + +=protoplasm=:--"The physical basis of life"; the substance which passes +life on from one vegetable or animal to another. + +=attic salt=:--The delicate wit of the Athenians, who lived in the state +of Attica, in Greece. + +=parvenu=:--A French word meaning an upstart who tries to force himself +into good society. + +=Aaron's rod=:--See Numbers, 17:1-10. + +=Bacchus and Venus=:--Bacchus was the Greek god of wine; Venus was the +Greek goddess of love. + +=Darwinian theory=:--Charles R. Darwin (1809-1882) was a great English +scientist who proved that the higher forms of life have developed from +the lower. + +=natural selection=:--One of Darwin's theories, to the effect that +nature weeds out the weak and unfit, leaving the others to continue the +species; the result is called "the survival of the fittest." + +=steal a while away=:--A quotation from a well known hymn beginning,-- + + I love to steal a while away + From every cumbering care. + +It was written in 1829, by Deodatus Dutton. + +=Roman supper=:--The Romans were noted for the extravagance of their +evening meals, at which all sorts of delicacies were served. + +=John Stuart Mill=:--An English philosopher (1806-1873). He wrote about +theories of government. + +=Polly=:--The author's wife. + +=the day of my destiny=:--A quotation from Lord Byron's poem, _Stanzas +to Augusta_ [his sister]. The lines run:-- + + Though the day of my destiny's over, + And the star of my fate hath declined, + Thy soft heart refused to discover + The faults that so many could find. + +=sack-cloth and ashes=:--In old Jewish times, a sign of grief or +mourning. See Esther, 4:1; Isaiah, 58:5. + +=Bordeaux=:--A province in France noted for its wine. + + +QUESTIONS FOR STUDY + +The author is writing of the ninth and tenth weeks of his work; he now +has time to stop and moralize about his garden. Do not take what he says +too seriously; look for the fun in it. Is he in earnest about the moral +qualities of vegetables? Why cannot the bean figure in poetry and +romance? Can you name any prose or verse in which corn does? Explain +what is said about the resemblance of some people to cucumbers. Why is +celery more aristocratic than potato? Is "them" the right word in the +sentence: "I do not pull them up"? Explain what is meant by the +paragraph on salads. Why is the tomato a "_parvenu_"? Does the author +wish to cast a slur on the Darwinian theory? Is it true that moral +character is influenced by what one eats? What is the catechism? What do +you think of the author's theories about scarecrows? About "saving men +from any particular vice"? Why does raising one's own vegetables make +one feel generous? How does the author pass from vegetables to woman +suffrage? Is he in earnest in what he says? What does one get out of a +selection like this? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +My Summer on a Farm +A Garden on the Roof +The Truck Garden +My First Attempt at Gardening +Raspberrying +Planting Time +The Watermelon Patch +Weeding the Garden +Visiting in the Country +Getting Rid of the Insects +School Gardens +A Window-box Garden +Some Weeds of our Vicinity +The Scarecrow +Going to Market +"Votes for Women" +How Women Rule +A Suffrage Meeting +Why I Believe [or do not Believe] in Woman's Suffrage +The "Militants" + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=My First Attempt at Gardening=:--Tell how you came to make the garden. +Was there any talk about it before it was begun? What were your plans +concerning it? Did you spend any time in consulting seed catalogues? +Tell about buying (or otherwise securing) the seeds. If you got them +from some more experienced gardener than yourself, report the talk about +them. Tell how you made the ground ready; how you planted the seeds. +Take the reader into your confidence as to your hopes and uncertainties +when the sprouts began to appear. Did the garden suffer any misfortunes +from the frost, or the drought, or the depredations of the hens? Can you +remember any conversation about it? Tell about the weeding, and what was +said when it became necessary. Trace the progress of the garden; tell of +its success or failure as time went on. What did you do with the +products? Did any one praise or make fun of you? How did you feel? Did +you want to have another garden? + +=The Scarecrow=:--You might speak first about the garden--its prosperity +and beauty, and the fruit or vegetables that it was producing. Then +speak about the birds, and tell how they acted and what they did. Did +you try driving them away? What was said about them? Now tell about the +plans for the scarecrow. Give an account of how it was set up, and what +clothes were put on it. How did it look? What was said about it? Give +one or two incidents (real or imaginary) in which it was concerned. Was +it of any use? How long did it remain in its place? + +=Votes for Women=:--There are several ways in which you could deal with +this subject:-- + +(_a_) If you have seen a suffrage parade, you might describe it and tell +how it impressed you. (_b_) Perhaps you could write of some particular +person who was interested in votes for women: How did she [or he] look, +and what did she say? (_c_) Report a lecture on suffrage. (_d_) Give two +or three arguments for or against woman's suffrage; do not try to take +up too many, but deal with each rather completely. (_e_) Imagine two +people talking together about suffrage--for instance, two old men; a man +and a woman; a young woman and an old one; a child and a grown person; +two children. (_f_) Imagine the author of the selection and his wife +Polly talking about suffrage at the dinner table. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +My Summer in a Garden Charles Dudley Warner +Being a Boy " " " +In the Wilderness " " " +My Winter on the Nile " " " +On Horseback " " " +Back-log Studies " " " +A Journey to Nature A.C. Wheeler +The Making of a Country Home " " +A Self-supporting Home Kate V. St. Maur +Folks back Home Eugene Wood +Adventures in Contentment David Grayson +Adventures in Friendship " " +The Friendly Road " " +New Lives for Old William Carleton +A Living without a Boss Anonymous +The Fat of the Land J.W. Streeter +The Jonathan Papers Elizabeth Woodbridge +Adopting an Abandoned Farm Kate Sanborn +Out-door Studies T.W. Higginson +The Women of America Elizabeth McCracken +The Country Home E.P. Powell +Blessing the Cornfields (in _Hiawatha_) H.W. Longfellow +The Corn Song (in _The Huskers_) J.G. Whittier +Charles Dudley Warner + (in _American Writers of To-day_, pp. 89-103) H.C. Vedder + + + + +THE SINGING MAN + +JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + + +I + + He sang above the vineyards of the world. + And after him the vines with woven hands + Clambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled + Triumphing green above the barren lands; + Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood, + Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil, + And looked upon his work; and it was good: + The corn, the wine, the oil. + + He sang above the noon. The topmost cleft + That grudged him footing on the mountain scars + He planted and despaired not; till he left + His vines soft breathing to the host of stars. + He wrought, he tilled; and even as he sang, + The creatures of his planting laughed to scorn + The ancient threat of deserts where there sprang + The wine, the oil, the corn! + + He sang not for abundance.--Over-lords + Took of his tilth. Yet was there still to reap, + The portion of his labor; dear rewards + Of sunlit day, and bread, and human sleep. + He sang for strength; for glory of the light. + He dreamed above the furrows, 'They are mine!' + When all he wrought stood fair before his sight + With corn, and oil, and wine. + + _Truly, the light is sweet_ + _Yea, and a pleasant thing_ + _It is to see the Sun._ + _And that a man should eat_ + _His bread that he hath won_;-- + (_So is it sung and said_), + _That he should take and keep_, + _After his laboring_, + _The portion of his labor in his bread_, + _His bread that he hath won_; + _Yea, and in quiet sleep_, + _When all is done._ + + He sang; above the burden and the heat, + Above all seasons with their fitful grace; + Above the chance and change that led his feet + To this last ambush of the Market-place. + 'Enough for him,' they said--and still they say-- + 'A crust, with air to breathe, and sun to shine; + He asks no more!'--Before they took away + The corn, the oil, the wine. + + He sang. No more he sings now, anywhere. + Light was enough, before he was undone. + They knew it well, who took away the air, + --Who took away the sun; + Who took, to serve their soul-devouring greed, + Himself, his breath, his bread--the goad of toil;-- + Who have and hold, before the eyes of Need, + The corn, the wine,--the oil! + + + _Truly, one thing is sweet_ + _Of things beneath the Sun_; + _This, that a man should earn his bread and eat_, + _Rejoicing in his work which he hath done._ + _What shall be sung or said_ + _Of desolate deceit_, + _When others take his bread_; + _His and his children's bread?_-- + _And the laborer hath none._ + _This, for his portion now, of all that he hath done._ + _He earns; and others eat._ + _He starves;--they sit at meat_ + _Who have taken away the Sun._ + + +II + + Seek him now, that singing Man. + Look for him, + Look for him + In the mills, + In the mines; + Where the very daylight pines,-- + He, who once did walk the hills! + You shall find him, if you scan + Shapes all unbefitting Man, + Bodies warped, and faces dim. + In the mines; in the mills + Where the ceaseless thunder fills + Spaces of the human brain + Till all thought is turned to pain. + Where the skirl of wheel on wheel, + Grinding him who is their tool, + Makes the shattered senses reel + To the numbness of the fool. + Perisht thought, and halting tongue-- + (Once it spoke;--once it sung!) + Live to hunger, dead to song. + Only heart-beats loud with wrong + Hammer on,--_How long?_ + ... _How long?_--_How long?_ + + Search for him; + Search for him; + Where the crazy atoms swim + Up the fiery furnace-blast. + You shall find him, at the last,-- + He whose forehead braved the sun,-- + Wreckt and tortured and undone. + Where no breath across the heat + Whispers him that life was sweet; + But the sparkles mock and flare, + Scattering up the crooked air. + (Blackened with that bitter mirk,-- + Would God know His handiwork?) + + Thought is not for such as he; + Naught but strength, and misery; + Since, for just the bite and sup, + Life must needs be swallowed up. + Only, reeling up the sky, + Hurtling flames that hurry by, + Gasp and flare, with _Why_--_Why_, + ... _Why?_... + + Why the human mind of him + Shrinks, and falters and is dim + When he tries to make it out: + What the torture is about.-- + Why he breathes, a fugitive + Whom the World forbids to live. + Why he earned for his abode, + Habitation of the toad! + Why his fevered day by day + Will not serve to drive away + Horror that must always haunt:-- + ... _Want_ ... _Want!_ + Nightmare shot with waking pangs;-- + Tightening coil, and certain fangs, + Close and closer, always nigh ... + ... _Why?_... _Why?_ + + Why he labors under ban + That denies him for a man. + Why his utmost drop of blood + Buys for him no human good; + Why his utmost urge of strength + Only lets Them starve at length;-- + Will not let him starve alone; + He must watch, and see his own + Fade and fail, and starve, and die. + . . . . . . . + ... _Why?_... _Why?_ + . . . . . . . + Heart-beats, in a hammering song, + Heavy as an ox may plod, + Goaded--goaded--faint with wrong, + Cry unto some ghost of God + ... _How long_?... _How long?_ + ... _How long?_ + + +III + + Seek him yet. Search for him! + You shall find him, spent and grim; + In the prisons, where we pen + These unsightly shards of men. + Sheltered fast; + Housed at length; + Clothed and fed, no matter how!-- + Where the householders, aghast, + Measure in his broken strength + Nought but power for evil, now. + Beast-of-burden drudgeries + Could not earn him what was his: + He who heard the world applaud + Glories seized by force and fraud, + He must break,--he must take!-- + Both for hate and hunger's sake. + He must seize by fraud and force; + He must strike, without remorse! + Seize he might; but never keep. + Strike, his once!--Behold him here. + (Human life we buy so cheap, + Who should know we held it dear?) + + No denial,--no defence + From a brain bereft of sense, + Any more than penitence. + But the heart-beats now, that plod + Goaded--goaded--dumb with wrong, + Ask not even a ghost of God + ... _How long_? + + _When the Sea gives up its dead,_ + _Prison caverns, yield instead_ + _This, rejected and despised;_ + _This, the Soiled and Sacrificed!_ + _Without form or comeliness;_ + _Shamed for us that did transgress_ + _Bruised, for our iniquities,_ + _With the stripes that are all his!_ + _Face that wreckage, you who can._ + _It was once the Singing Man._ + + +IV + + Must it be?--Must we then + Render back to God again + This His broken work, this thing, + For His man that once did sing? + Will not all our wonders do? + Gifts we stored the ages through, + (Trusting that He had forgot)-- + Gifts the Lord required not? + + Would the all-but-human serve! + Monsters made of stone and nerve; + Towers to threaten and defy + Curse or blessing of the sky; + Shafts that blot the stars with smoke; + Lightnings harnessed under yoke; + Sea-things, air-things, wrought with steel, + That may smite, and fly, and feel! + Oceans calling each to each; + Hostile hearts, with kindred speech. + Every work that Titans can; + Every marvel: save a man, + Who might rule without a sword.-- + Is a man more precious, Lord? + + Can it be?--Must we then + Render back to Thee again + Million, million wasted men? + Men, of flickering human breath, + Only made for life and death? + + Ah, but see the sovereign Few, + Highly favored, that remain! + These, the glorious residue, + Of the cherished race of Cain. + These, the magnates of the age, + High above the human wage, + Who have numbered and possesst + All the portion of the rest! + + What are all despairs and shames, + What the mean, forgotten names + Of the thousand more or less, + For one surfeit of success? + + For those dullest lives we spent, + Take these Few magnificent! + For that host of blotted ones, + Take these glittering central suns. + Few;--but how their lustre thrives + On the million broken lives! + Splendid, over dark and doubt, + For a million souls gone out! + These, the holders of our hoard,-- + Wilt thou not accept them, Lord? + + +V + + Oh in the wakening thunders of the heart, + --The small lost Eden, troubled through the night, + Sounds there not now,--forboded and apart, + Some voice and sword of light? + Some voice and portent of a dawn to break?-- + Searching like God, the ruinous human shard + Of that lost Brother-man Himself did make, + And Man himself hath marred? + + It sounds!--And may the anguish of that birth + Seize on the world; and may all shelters fail, + Till we behold new Heaven and new Earth + Through the rent Temple-vail! + When the high-tides that threaten near and far + To sweep away our guilt before the sky,-- + Flooding the waste of this dishonored Star, + Cleanse, and o'ewhelm, and cry! + + Cry, from the deep of world-accusing waves, + With longing more than all since Light began, + Above the nations,--underneath the graves,-- + 'Give back the Singing Man!' + + +NOTES + +=and it was good=:--Genesis, 1:31: "And God saw all that he had made, +and, behold, it was very good." + +=the ancient threat of deserts=:--Isaiah, 35:1-2: "The desert shall +rejoice and blossom as the rose." + +=after his laboring=:--Luke, 10:7, and 1st Timothy, 5:18: "The laborer +is worthy of his hire." + +=portion of his labor=:--Ecclesiastes, 2:10: "For my heart rejoiced in +my labor; and this was my portion of all my labor." + +=the light is sweet=:--Ecclesiastes, 11:7: "Truly the light is sweet, +and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun." + +=How long=:--Revelation, 6:10: "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost +thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" + +=when the sea=:--Revelation, 20:13: "And the sea gave up the dead which +were in it." + +=rejected and despised=:--For this and the remainder of the stanza, see +Isaiah, 53. + +=Titans=:--In Greek mythology, powerful and troublesome giants. + +=Cain=:--See the story of Cain, Genesis, 4:2-16. + +=searching like God=:--Genesis, 4:9: "And the Lord said unto Cain, Where +is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not! Am I my brother's keeper?" + +=Temple-vail=:--At the death of Christ, the vail of the temple was rent; +see Matthew, 27:51. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY[15] + +Read the poem slowly and thoughtfully. The "singing man" is the laborer +who, in days gone by, was happy in his work. People were not crowded +into great cities, and there was more simple out-door labor than there +is now, and less strife for wealth. + +_Above the vineyards_: In Europe, vineyards are often planted on the +slopes of hills and mountains. What ancient country do you think of in +connection with "the corn [grain], the oil, the wine"? Were the laborers +happy in that country? What were the "creatures" of man's planting +(second stanza)? What was the "ancient threat" of deserts? Of what kind +of deserts, as described here? Of what deserts would this be true after +the rainy season? _Laughed to scorn_: Does this mean "outdid"? Mentally +insert the word _something_ after _still_ in the second line of the +third stanza. If the laborer in times gone by did not sing for +abundance, what did he sing for (stanza three)? The verses in italics +are a kind of refrain, as if the laborer were singing to himself. _So is +it said and sung_ refers to the fact that these lines are adapted from +passages in the Bible. _This last ambush_: What does the author mean +here by suggesting that the laborer has been entrapped? Who are "they" +in the line "'Enough for him,' they said"? How did they take away "the +corn, the oil, the wine"? How did they take away "the air and the sun"? +Who now has the product of the workman's toil? What are "the eyes of +Need"? Is it true that one may work hard and still be in need? If it is +true, who is to blame? What are "dim" faces? Why does the author begin +the word _Man_ with a capital? What effect does too much hard work have +upon the laborer? What is "the crooked air"? Who is represented as +saying _Why_? How does the world forbid the laborer to live? Why are +there dotted lines before and after _Why_ and _What_ and _How long_? Who +are meant by _Them_ in the line beginning "Only lets"? Why does the +author say that the prisons are filled with ill-used laborers? What does +she mean by saying that the prisoners are "bruised for our iniquities"? +What is gained here by using the language of the Bible? _The +all-but-human_ means "almost intelligent"--referring to machinery. Does +the author mean to praise the "sovereign Few"? Who are these "Few +magnificent"? Are they really to blame for the sufferings of the poor? +_Himself_ in the line beginning "Of that lost," refers to God. What is +meant here by "a new Heaven and a new Earth"? What is "this dishonored +Star"? What conditions does the author think will bring back the singing +man? Are they possible conditions? + +Re-read the poem, thinking of the author's protest against the +sufferings of the poor and the selfishness of the rich. What do you +think of the poem? + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +The Singing Man and Other Poems Josephine Preston Peabody +The Piper " " " +The Singing Leaves " " " +Fortune and Men's Eyes " " " +The Wolf of Gubbio " " " +The Man with the Hoe Edwin Markham + + + + +THE DANCE OF THE BON-ODORI + +LAFCADIO HEARN + +(From _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_, Volume I, Chapter VI) + + +I + +At last, from the verge of an enormous ridge, the roadway suddenly +slopes down into a vista of high peaked roofs of thatch and green-mossed +eaves--into a village like a colored print out of old Hiroshige's +picture-books, a village with all its tints and colors precisely like +the tints and colors of the landscape in which it lies. This is +Kami-Ichi, in the land of Hoki. + +We halt before a quiet, dingy little inn, whose host, a very aged man, +comes forth to salute me; while a silent, gentle crowd of villagers, +mostly children and women, gather about the kuruma to see the stranger, +to wonder at him, even to touch his clothes with timid smiling +curiosity. One glance at the face of the old inn-keeper decides me to +accept his invitation. I must remain here until to-morrow: my runners +are too wearied to go farther to-night. + +Weather-worn as the little inn seemed without, it is delightful within. +Its polished stairway and balconies are speckless, reflecting like +mirror-surfaces the bare feet of the maid-servants; its luminous rooms +are fresh and sweet-smelling as when their soft mattings were first laid +down. The carven pillars of the alcove (toko) in my chamber, leaves and +flowers chiseled in some black rich wood, are wonders; and the kakemono +or scroll-picture hanging there is an idyl, Hotei, God of Happiness, +drifting in a bark down some shadowy stream into evening mysteries of +vapory purple. Far as this hamlet is from all art-centres, there is no +object visible in the house which does not reveal the Japanese sense of +beauty in form. The old gold-flowered lacquer-ware, the astonishing box +in which sweetmeats (kwashi) are kept, the diaphanous porcelain +wine-cups dashed with a single tiny gold figure of a leaping shrimp, the +tea-cup holders which are curled lotus-leaves of bronze, even the iron +kettle with its figurings of dragons and clouds, and the brazen hibachi +whose handles are heads of Buddhist lions, delight the eye and surprise +the fancy. Indeed, wherever to-day in Japan one sees something totally +uninteresting in porcelain or metal, something commonplace and ugly, one +may be almost sure that detestable something has been shaped under +foreign influence. But here I am in ancient Japan; probably no European +eyes ever looked upon these things before. + +A window shaped like a heart peeps out upon the garden, a wonderful +little garden with a tiny pond and miniature bridges and dwarf trees, +like the landscape of a tea-cup; also some shapely stones of course, and +some graceful stone lanterns, or t[=o]r[=o], such as are placed in the +courts of temples. And beyond these, through the warm dusk, I see +lights, colored lights, the lanterns of the Bonku, suspended before each +home to welcome the coming of beloved ghosts; for by the antique +calendar, according to which in this antique place the reckoning of time +is still made, this is the first night of the Festival of the Dead. + +As in all other little country villages where I have been stopping, I +find the people here kind to me with a kindness and a courtesy +unimaginable, indescribable, unknown in any other country, and even in +Japan itself only in the interior. Their simple politeness is not an +art; their goodness is absolutely unconscious goodness; both come +straight from the heart. And before I have been two hours among these +people, their treatment of me, coupled with the sense of my utter +inability to repay such kindness, causes a wicked wish to come into my +mind. I wish these charming folk would do me some unexpected wrong, +something surprisingly evil, something atrociously unkind, so that I +should not be obliged to regret them, which I feel sure I must begin to +do as soon as I go away. + +While the aged landlord conducts me to the bath, the wife prepares for +us a charming little repast of rice, eggs, vegetables, and sweetmeats. +She is painfully in doubt about her ability to please me, even after I +have eaten enough for two men, and apologizes too much for not being +able to offer me more. + +"There is no fish," she says, "for to-day is the first day of the Bonku, +the Festival of the Dead; being the thirteenth day of the month. On the +thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth of the month nobody may eat fish. +But on the morning of the sixteenth day, the fishermen go out to catch +fish; and everybody who has both parents living may eat of it. But if +one has lost one's father or mother then one must not eat fish, even +upon the sixteenth day." + +While the good soul is thus explaining I become aware of a strange +remote sound from without, a sound I recognize through memory of +tropical dances, a measured clapping of hands. But this clapping is very +soft and at long intervals. And at still longer intervals there comes to +us a heavy muffled booming, the tap of a great drum, a temple drum. + +"Oh! we must go to see it," cries Akira; "it is the Bon-odori, the +Dance of the Festival of the Dead. And you will see the Bon-odori danced +here as it is never danced in cities--the Bon-odori of ancient days. For +customs have not changed here; but in the cities all is changed." + +So I hasten out, wearing only, like the people about me, one of those +light wide-sleeved summer robes--yukata--which are furnished to male +guests at all Japanese hotels; but the air is so warm that even thus +lightly clad, I find myself slightly perspiring. And the night is +divine,--still, clear, vaster than the nights of Europe, with a big +white moon flinging down queer shadows of tilted eaves and horned +gables, and delightful silhouettes of robed Japanese. A little boy, the +grandson of our host, leads the way with a crimson paper lantern; and +the sonorous echoing of geta, the _koro-koro_ of wooden sandals, fills +all the street, for many are going whither we are going, to see the +dance. + +A little while we proceed along the main street; then, traversing a +narrow passage between two houses, we find ourselves in a great open +space flooded by moonlight. This is the dancing-place; but the dance has +ceased for a time. Looking about me, I perceive that we are in the court +of an ancient Buddhist temple. The temple building itself remains +intact, a low, long peaked silhouette against the starlight; but it is +void and dark and unhallowed now; it has been turned, they tell me, into +a schoolhouse. The priests are gone; the great bell is gone; the Buddhas +and the Bodhisattvas have vanished, all save one,--a broken-handed Jizo +of stone, smiling with eyelids closed, under the moon. + +In the centre of the court is a framework of bamboo supporting a great +drum; and about it benches have been arranged, benches from the +schoolhouse, on which the villagers are resting. There is a hum of +voices, voices of people speaking very low, as if expecting something +solemn; and cries of children betimes, and soft laughter of girls. And +far behind the court, beyond a low hedge of sombre evergreen shrubs, I +see soft white lights and a host of tall gray shapes throwing long +shadows; and I know that the lights are the _white_ lanterns of the dead +(those hung in cemeteries only), and that the gray shapes are the shapes +of tombs. + +Suddenly a girl rises from her seat, and taps the huge drum once. It is +the signal for the Dance of Souls. + + +II + +Out of the shadow of the temple a professional line of dancers files +into the moonlight and as suddenly halts,--all young women or girls, +clad in their choicest attire; the tallest leads; her comrades follow in +order of stature. Little maids of ten or twelve years compose the end of +the procession. Figures lightly poised as birds,--figures that somehow +recall the dreams of shapes circling about certain antique vases; those +charming Japanese robes, close-clinging about the knees, might seem, but +for the great fantastic drooping sleeves, and the curious broad girdles +confining them, designed after the drawing of some Greek or Etruscan +artist. And, at another tap of the drum, there begins a performance +impossible to picture in words, something unimaginable, phantasmal,--a +dance, an astonishment. + +All together glide the right foot forward one pace, without lifting the +sandal from the ground, and extend both hands to the right, with a +strange floating motion and a smiling, mysterious obeisance. Then the +right foot is drawn back, with a repetition of the waving of hands and +the mysterious bow. Then all advance the left foot and repeat the +previous movements, half-turning to the left. Then all take two gliding +paces forward, with a single simultaneous soft clap of the hands, and +the first performance is reiterated, alternately to the right and left; +all the sandaled feet gliding together, all the supple hands waving +together, all the pliant bodies bowing and swaying together. And so +slowly, weirdly, the processional movement changes into a great round, +circling about the moon-lit court and around the voiceless crowd of +spectators. + +And always the white hands sinuously wave together, as if weaving +spells, alternately without and within the round, now with palms upward, +now with palms downward; and all the elfish sleeves hover duskily +together, with a shadowing as of wings; and all the feet poise together +with such a rhythm of complex motion, that, in watching it, one feels a +sensation of hypnotism--as while striving to watch a flowing and +shimmering of water. + +And this soporous allurement is intensified by a dead hush. No one +speaks, not even a spectator. And, in the long intervals between the +soft clapping of hands, one hears only the shrilling of the crickets in +the trees, and the _shu-shu_ of sandals, lightly stirring the dust. Unto +what, I ask myself, may this be likened? Unto nothing; yet it suggests +some fancy of somnambulism,--dreamers, who dream themselves flying, +dreaming upon their feet. + +And there comes to me the thought that I am looking at something +immemorially old, something belonging to the unrecorded beginning of +this Oriental life, perhaps to the crepuscular Kamiyo itself, to the +magical Age of the Gods; a symbolism of motion whereof the meaning has +been forgotten for innumerable years. Yet more and more unreal the +spectacle appears, with silent smilings, with its silent bowings, as if +obeisance to watchers invisible; and I find myself wondering whether, +were I to utter but a whisper, all would not vanish forever, save the +gray mouldering court and the desolate temple, and the broken statue of +Jizo, smiling always the same mysterious smile I see upon the faces of +the dancers. + +Under the wheeling moon, in the midst of the round, I feel as one within +the circle of a charm. And verily, this is enchantment; I am bewitched, +by the ghostly weaving of hands, by the rhythmic gliding of feet, above +all by the flittering of the marvellous sleeves--apparitional, +soundless, velvety as a flitting of great tropical bats. No; nothing I +ever dreamed of could be likened to this. And with the consciousness of +the ancient hakaba behind me, and the weird invitation of its lanterns, +and the ghostly beliefs of the hour and the place, there creeps upon me +a nameless, tingling sense of being haunted. But no! these gracious, +silent, waving, weaving shapes are not of the Shadowy Folk, for whose +coming the white fires were kindled: a strain of song, full of sweet, +clear quavering, like the call of a bird, gushes from some girlish +mouth, and fifty soft voices join the chant:-- + + _Sorota soroimashita odorikoga sorota, + Soroikita, kita hare yukata._ + +"Uniform to view [as ears of young rice ripening in the field] all clad +alike in summer festal robes, the company of dancers have assembled." + +Again only the shrilling of the crickets, the _shu-shu_ of feet, the +gentle clapping; and the wavering hovering measure proceeds in silence, +with mesmeric lentor,--with a strange grace, which by its very naivete, +seems as old as the encircling hills. + +Those who sleep the sleep of centuries out there, under the gray stones +where the white lanterns are, and their fathers, and the fathers of +their fathers' fathers, and the unknown generations behind them, buried +in cemeteries of which the place has been forgotten for a thousand +years, doubtless looked upon a scene like this. Nay! the dust stirred by +those young feet was human life, and so smiled and so sang under this +self-same moon, "with woven paces and with waving hands." + +Suddenly a deep male chant breaks the hush. Two giants have joined the +round, and now lead it, two superb young mountain peasants nearly nude, +towering head and shoulders above the whole of the assembly. Their +kimono are rolled about their waists like girdles, leaving their bronzed +limbs and torsos naked to the warm air; they wear nothing else save +their immense straw hats, and white tabi, donned expressly for the +festival. Never before among these people saw I such men, such thews; +but their smiling beardless faces are comely and kindly as those of +Japanese boys. They seem brothers, so like in frame, in movement, in the +timbre of their voices, as they intone the same song:-- + + _No demo yama demo ko wa umiokeyo, + Sen ryo kura yori ko ga takara._ + +"Whether brought forth upon the mountain or in the field, it matters +nothing: more than a treasure of one thousand ryo, a baby precious is." + +And Jizo, the lover of children's ghosts, smiles across the silence. + +Souls close to nature's Soul are these; artless and touching their +thought, like the worship of that Kishibojin to whom wives pray. And +after the silence, the sweet thin voices of the women answer:-- + + _Oomu otoko ni sowa sanu oya wa, + Oyade gozaranu ko no kataki._ + +"The parents who will not allow their girl to be united with her lover; +they are not the parents, but the enemies of their child." + +And song follows song; and the round ever becomes larger; and the hours +pass unfelt, unheard, while the moon wheels slowly down the blue steeps +of the night. + +A deep low boom rolls suddenly across the court, the rich tone of some +temple bell telling the twelfth hour. Instantly the witchcraft ends, +like the wonder of some dream broken by a sound; the chanting ceases; +the round dissolves in an outburst of happy laughter, and chatting, and +softly-voweled callings of flower-names which are names of girls, and +farewell cries of "Sayonara!" as dancers and spectators alike betake +themselves homeward, with a great _koro-koro_ of getas. + +And I, moving with the throng, in the bewildered manner of one suddenly +roused from sleep, know myself ungrateful. These silvery-laughing folk +who now toddle along beside me upon their noisy little clogs, stepping +very fast to get a peep at my foreign face, these but a moment ago were +visions of archaic grace, illusions of necromancy, delightful phantoms; +and I feel a vague resentment against them for thus materializing into +simple country-girls. + + +NOTES + +Lafcadio Hearn, the author of this selection, took a four days' journey +in a jinrikisha to the remote country district which he describes. He is +almost the only foreigner who has ever entered the village. + +=Bon-odori=:--The dance in honor of the dead. + +=Hiroshige=:--A Japanese landscape painter of an early date. + +=kuruma=:--A jinrikisha; a two-wheeled cart drawn by a man. + +=hibachi=:--(hi bae' chi) A brazier. + +=Bonku=:--The Festival of the Dead. + +=The memory of tropical dances=:--Lafcadio Hearn had previously spent +some years in the West Indies. + +=Akira=:--The name of the guide who has drawn the kuruma in which the +foreigner has come to the village. (See page 18 of _Glimpses of +Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=yukata=:--Pronounced _yu kae' ta._ + +=geta=:--Pronounced _g[=e][=e]' ta_, not _j[=e][=e]' ta;_ high noisy +wooden clogs. (See page 10 of _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=Buddhist=:--One who believes in the doctrines of Gautama Siddartha, a +religious teacher of the sixth century before Christ. + +=Buddha=:--A statue representing the Buddha Siddartha in a very calm +position, usually sitting cross-legged. + +=Bodhisattvas=:--Pronounced _b[=o] di saeht' vas;_ gods who have almost +attained the perfection of Buddha (Gautama Siddartha). + +=Jizo=:--A Japanese God. See page 297. + +=Etruscan=:--Relating to Etruria, a division of ancient Italy. Etruscan +vases have graceful figures upon them. + +=soporous=:--Drowsy; sleep-producing. + +=crepuscular=:--Relating to twilight. + +=Kamiyo=:--The Age of the Gods in Japan. + +=hakaba=:--Cemetery. + +=lentor=:--Slowness. + +="with woven paces,"= etc. See Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_: "With +woven paces and with waving arms." + +=tabi=:--White stockings with a division for the great toe. + +=ryo=:--About fifty cents. + +=Kishibojin=:--Pronounced _ki shi b[=o]' jin._ (See page 96 of _Glimpses +of Unfamiliar Japan_.) + +=Sayonara=:--Good-bye. + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY + +Read the selection through rather slowly. Do not be alarmed at the +Japanese names: they are usually pronounced as they are spelled. Perhaps +your teacher will be able to show you a Japanese print; at least you can +see on a Japanese fan quaint villages such as are here described. What +sort of face has the host? How does this Japanese inn differ from the +American hotel? Does there seem to be much furniture? If the Americans +had the same sense of beauty that the Japanese have, what changes would +be made in most houses? Why does the foreign influence make the Japanese +manufactures "uninteresting" and "detestable"? If you have been in a +shop where Japanese wares are sold, tell what seemed most striking about +the objects and their decoration. What is meant by "the landscape of a +tea-cup"? Why does the author say so much about the remoteness of the +village? See how the author uses picture-words and sound-words to make +his description vivid. Note his use of contrasts. Why does he preface +his account of the dance by the remark that it cannot be described in +words? Is this a good method? How does the author make you feel the +swing and rhythm of the dance? Do not try to pronounce the Japanese +verses: Notice that they are translated. Why are the Japanese lines put +in at all? Why does the author say that he is ungrateful at the last? +Try to tell in a few sentences what are the good qualities of this +selection. Make a little list of the devices that the author has used in +order to make his descriptions vivid and his narration lively. Can you +apply some of his methods to a short description of your own? + + +THEME SUBJECTS + +A Flower Festival +A Pageant +The May Fete +Dancing out of Doors +A Lawn Social +The Old Settlers' Picnic +The Russian Dancers +A Moonlight Picnic +Children's Games in the Yard +Some Japanese People that I have Seen +Japanese Students in our Schools +Japanese Furniture +An Oriental Store in our Town +My Idea of Japan +Japanese Pictures +A Street Carnival +An Old-fashioned Square Dance +The Revival of Folk-Dancing +The Girls' Drill +A Walk in the Village at Night +Why We have Ugly Things in our Houses +Do we have too much Furniture in our Houses? +What we can Learn from the Japanese + + +SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING + +=An Evening Walk in the Village=:--Imagine yourself taking a walk +through the village at nightfall. Tell of the time of day, the season, +and the weather. Make your reader feel the approach of darkness, and the +heat, or the coolness, or the chill of the air. What signs do you see +about you, of the close of day? Can you make the reader feel the +contrast of the lights and the surrounding darkness? As you walk along, +what sounds do you hear? What activities are going on? Can you catch any +glimpses, through the windows, of the family life inside the houses? Do +you see people eating or drinking? Do you see any children? Are the +scenes about you quiet and restful, or are they confused and irritating? +Make use of any incidents that you can to complete your description of +the village as you see it in your walk. Perhaps you will wish to close +your theme with your entering a house, or your advance into the dark +open country beyond the village. + +=My Idea of Japan=:--Suppose that you were suddenly transported to a +small town in Japan: What would be your first impression? Tell what you +would expect to see. Speak of the houses, the gardens, and the temples. +Tell about the shops, and booths, and the wares that are for sale. +Describe the dress and appearance of the Japanese men; of the women; the +children. Speak of the coolies, or working-people; the foreigners. +Perhaps you can imagine yourself taking a ride in a _jinrikisha_. Tell +of the amusing or extraordinary things that you see, and make use of +incidents and conversation. Bring out the contrasts between Japan and +your own country. + +=A Dance or Drill=:--Think of some drill or dance or complicated game +that you have seen, which lends itself to the kind of description in the +selection. In your work, try to emphasize the contrast between the +background and the moving figures; the effects of light and darkness; +the sound of music and voices; the sway and rhythm of the action. +Re-read parts of _The Dance of the Bon-odori_, to see what devices the +author has used in order to bring out effects of sound and rhythm. + + +COLLATERAL READINGS + +Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan Lafcadio Hearn +Out of the East " " +Kokoro " " +Kwaidan " " +A Japanese Miscellany " " +Two Years in the French West Indies " " +Japanese Life in Town and Country G.W. Knox +Our Neighbors the Japanese J.K. Goodrich +When I Was Young Yoshio Markino +Miss John Bull " " +When I Was a Boy in Japan Sakae Shioya +Japanese Girls and Women Alice M. Bacon +A Japanese Interior " " +Japonica Sir Edwin Arnold +Japan W.E. Griffis +Human Bullets Tadayoshy Sukurai +The Story of Japan R. Van Bergen +A Boy in Old Japan " " +Letters from Japan Mrs. Hugh Frazer +Unbeaten Tracks in Japan Isabella Bird (Bishop) +The Lady of the Decoration Frances Little +Little Sister Snow " " +Japan in Pictures Douglas Sladen +Old and New Japan (good illustrations in color) Clive Holland +Nogi Stanley Washburn +Japan, the Eastern Wonderland D.C. Angus +Peeps at Many Lands: Japan John Finnemore +Japan Described by Great Writers Esther Singleton +The Flower of Old Japan [verse] Alfred Noyes +Dancing and Dancers of To-day Caroline and Chas. H. +Coffin +The Healthful Art of Dancing L.H. Gulick +The Festival Book J.E.C. Lincoln +Folk Dances Caroline Crawford +Lafcadio Hearn Nina H. Kennard +Lafcadio Hearn (Portrait) Edward Thomas +The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Elizabeth Bisland +The Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn " " +Lafcadio Hearn in Japan Yone Noguchi +Lafcadio Hearn (Portraits) Current Literature 42:50 + + + + +LETTERS + + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + + PONKAPOG, MASS., Dec. 13, 1875. + +DEAR HOWELLS,--We had so charming a visit at your house that I +have about made up my mind to reside with you permanently. I am tired of +writing. I would like to settle down in just such a comfortable home as +yours, with a man who can work regularly four or five hours a day, +thereby relieving one of all painful apprehensions in respect to clothes +and pocket-money. I am easy to get along with. I have few unreasonable +wants and never complain when they are constantly supplied. I think I +could depend on you. + + Ever yours, + T.B.A. + +P.S.--I should want to bring my two mothers, my two boys (I seem to have +everything in twos), my wife, and her sister. + + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO E.S. MORSE + + + DEAR MR. MORSE: + +It was very pleasant to me to get a letter from you the other day. +Perhaps I should have found it pleasanter if I had been able to decipher +it. I don't think that I mastered anything beyond the date (which I +knew) and the signature (at which I guessed). + +There's a singular and perpetual charm in a letter of yours--it never +grows old; it never loses its novelty. One can say to one's self every +morning: "There's that letter of Morse's. I haven't read it yet. I think +I'll take another shy at it to-day, and maybe I shall be able in the +course of a few days to make out what he means by those _t_'s that look +like _w_'s, and those _i_'s that haven't any eyebrows." + +Other letters are read, and thrown away, and forgotten; but yours are +kept forever--unread. One of them will last a reasonable man a lifetime. + + Admiringly yours, + T.B. ALDRICH. + + + + +WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TO JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY + + + THE QUADRANGLE CLUB, + CHICAGO, September 30, '99. + +Your generous praise makes me rather shamefaced: you ought to keep it +for something that counts. At least other people ought: you would find a +bright ringing word, and the proportion of things would be kept. As for +me, I am doing my best to keep the proportion of things, in the midst of +no-standards and a dreary dingy fog-expanse of darkened counsel. Bah! +here I am whining in my third sentence, and the purpose of this note was +not to whine, but to thank you for heart new-taken. I take the friendly +words (for I need them cruelly) and forget the inadequate occasion of +them. I am looking forward with almost feverish pleasure to the new +year, when I shall be among friendships which time and absence and +half-estrangements have only made to shine with a more inward light; and +when, so accompanied, I can make shift to think and live a little. Do +not wait till then to say Welcome. + + W.V.M. + + + + +BRET HARTE TO HIS WIFE + + + LAWRENCE, KANSAS, + October 24, 1873. + + MY DEAR ANNA,-- + +I left Topeka--which sounds like a name Franky might have +invented--early yesterday morning, but did not reach Atchison, only +sixty miles distant, until seven o'clock at night--an hour before the +lecture. The engine as usual had broken down, and left me at four +o'clock fifteen miles from Atchison, on the edge of a bleak prairie with +only one house in sight. But I got a saddle-horse--there was no vehicle +to be had--and strapping my lecture and blanket to my back I gave my +valise to a little yellow boy--who looked like a dirty terra-cotta +figure--with orders to follow me on another horse, and so tore off +towards Atchison. I got there in time; the boy reached there two hours +after. + +I make no comment; you can imagine the half-sick, utterly disgusted man +who glared at that audience over his desk that night.... And yet it was +a good audience, thoroughly refined and appreciative, and very glad to +see me. I was very anxious about this lecture, for it was a venture of +my own, and I had been told that Atchison was a rough place--energetic +but coarse. I think I wrote you from St. Louis that I had found there +were only three actual engagements in Kansas, and that my list which +gave Kansas City twice was a mistake. So I decided to take Atchison. I +made a hundred dollars by the lecture, and it is yours, for yourself, +Nan, to buy "Minxes" with, if you want, for it is over and above the +amount Eliza and I footed up on my lecture list. I shall send it to you +as soon as the bulk of the pressing claims are settled. + +Everything thus far has gone well; besides my lecture of to-night I have +one more to close Kansas, and then I go on to St. Joseph. I've been +greatly touched with the very honest and sincere liking which these +Western people seem to have for me. They seem to have read everything I +have written--and appear to appreciate the best. Think of a rough fellow +in a bearskin coat and blue shirt repeating to me _Concepcion de +Arguello_! Their strange good taste and refinement under that rough +exterior--even their tact--are wonderful to me. They are "Kentucks" and +"Dick Bullens" with twice the refinement and tenderness of their +California brethren.... + +I've seen but one [woman] that interested me--an old negro wench. She +was talking and laughing outside my door the other evening, but her +laugh was so sweet and unctuous and musical--so full of breadth and +goodness that I went outside and talked to her while she was scrubbing +the stones. She laughed as a canary bird sings--because she couldn't +help it. It did me a world of good, for it was before the lecture, at +twilight, when I am very blue and low-toned. She had been a slave. + +I expected to have heard from you here. I've nothing from you or Eliza +since last Friday, when I got yours of the 12th. I shall direct this to +Eliza's care, as I do not even know where you are. + + Your affectionate + FRANK. + + + + +LAFCADIO HEARN TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN + + + [KUMAMOTO, JAPAN] + January 17, 1893. + + DEAR CHAMBERLAIN,-- + +I'm writing just because I feel lonesome; isn't that selfish? However, +if I can amuse you at all, you will forgive me. You have been away a +whole year,--so perhaps you would like to hear some impressions of mine +during that time. Here goes. + +The illusions are forever over; but the memory of many pleasant things +remains. I know much more about the Japanese than I did a year ago; and +still I am far from understanding them well. Even my own little wife is +somewhat mysterious still to me, though always in a lovable way. Of +course a man and woman know each other's hearts; but outside of personal +knowledge, there are race tendencies difficult to understand. Let me +tell one. In Oki we fell in love with a little Samurai boy, who was +having a hard time of it, and we took him with us. He is now like an +adopted son,--goes to school and all that. Well, I wished at first to +pet him a little, but I found that was not in accordance with custom, +and that even the boy did not understand it. At home, I therefore +scarcely spoke to him at all; he remained under the control of the women +of the house. They treated him kindly,--though I thought coldly. The +relationship I could not quite understand. He was never praised and +rarely scolded. A perfect code of etiquette was established between him +and all the other persons in the house, according to degree and rank. He +seemed extremely cold-mannered, and perhaps not even grateful, that was, +so far as I could see. Nothing seemed to move his young +placidity,--whether happy or unhappy his mien was exactly that of a +stone Jizo. One day he let fall a little cup and broke it. According to +custom, no one noticed the mistake, for fear of giving him pain. +Suddenly I saw tears streaming down his face. The muscles of the face +remained quite smilingly placid as usual, but even the will could not +control tears. They came freely. Then everybody laughed, and said kind +things to him, till he began to laugh too. Yet that delicate +sensitiveness no one like me could have guessed the existence of. + +But what followed surprised me more. As I said, he had been (in my idea) +distantly treated. One day he did not return from school for three hours +after the usual time. Then to my great surprise, the women began to +cry,--to cry passionately. I had never been able to imagine alarm for +the boy could have affected them so. And the servants ran over town in +real, not pretended, anxiety to find him. He had been taken to a +teacher's house for something relating to school matters. As soon as his +voice was heard at the door, everything was quiet, cold, and amiably +polite again. And I marvelled exceedingly. + +Sensitiveness exists in the Japanese to an extent never supposed by the +foreigners who treat them harshly at the open ports.... The Japanese +master is never brutal or cruel. How Japanese can serve a certain class +of foreigners at all, I can't understand.... + +This Orient knows not our deeper pains, nor can it even rise to our +larger joys; but it has its pains. Its life is not so sunny as might be +fancied from its happy aspect. Under the smile of its toiling millions +there is suffering bravely hidden and unselfishly borne; and a lower +intellectual range is counterbalanced by a childish sensitiveness to +make the suffering balance evenly in the eternal order of things. + +Therefore I love the people very much, more and more, the more I know +them.... + +And with this, I say good-night. + + Ever most truly, + LAFCADIO HEARN. + + + + +CHARLES ELIOT NORTON TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + + SHADY HILL, 2 May, 1902. + +"The Kentons" have been a great comfort to me. I have been in my +chamber, with a slight attack of illness, for two or three weeks, and I +received them one morning. I could not have had kinder or more +entertaining visitors, and I was sorry when, after two or three days, I +had to say Good-bye to them. They are very "natural" people, "just +Western." I am grateful to you for making me acquainted with them. + +"Just Western" is the acme of praise. I think I once told you what +pleasure it gave me as a compliment. Several years ago at the end of one +of our Christmas Eve receptions, a young fellow from the West, taking my +hand and bidding me Good-night, said with great cordiality, "Mr. Norton, +I've had a delightful time; it's been _just Western_"! + +"The Kentons" is really, my dear Howells, an admirable study of life, +and as it was read to me my chief pleasure in listening was in your +sympathetic, creative imagination, your insight, your humour, and all +your other gifts, which make your stories, I believe, the most faithful +representations of actual life that were ever written. Other stories +seem unreal after them, and so when we had finished "The Kentons," +nothing would do for entertainment but another of your books: so now we +are almost at the end of "Silas Lapham," which I find as good as I found +it fifteen or sixteen years ago. As Gray's idea of pleasure was to lie +on a sofa and have an endless succession of stories by Crebillon,--mine +is to have no end of Howells!... + + +NOTES + +Letter from William Vaughn Moody:-- + +=darkened counsel=:--See Job, 38:2. Moody seems to be referring here to +the uncertainty of his plans for the future. + + +Letter from Bret Harte:-- + +=Franky=:--Francis King Harte, Bret Harte's second son, who was eight +years old at this time. + +=Concepcion de Arguello=:--One of Bret Harte's longer poems. + +=Kentuck=:--A rough but kindly character in Harte's _The Luck of Roaring +Camp_. + +=Dick Bullen=:--The chief character in _How Santa Claus Came to +Simpson's Bar_. + +=Frank=:--Bret Harte's name was Francis Brett Hart(e), and his family +usually called him Frank. + + +Letter from Lafcadio Hearn:.-- + +=Chamberlain=:--Professor Chamberlain had lived for some years in Japan, +when Hearn, in 1890, wrote to him, asking assistance in securing a +position as teacher in the Japanese Government Schools. The friendship +between the two men continued until Hearn's death. + +=Samurai=:--Pronounced _sae' m[)oo] r[=i]_; a member of the lesser +nobility of Japan. + +=Jizo=:--A Japanese god, said to be the playmate of the ghosts of +children. Stone images of Jizo are common in Japan. (See page 19 of _The +Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn_.) + + +EXERCISES IN LETTER WRITING + +You are planning a camping trip with several of your friends; write to a +friend who lives in another town, asking him or her to join the camping +party. + +Write to a friend asking him, or her, to come to your house for dinner +and to go with you afterward to see the moving pictures. + +Write a letter to accompany a borrowed book, which you are returning. +Speak of the contents of the book, and the parts that you have +particularly enjoyed. Express your thanks for the use of the volume. + +Write a letter to an intimate friend, telling of the occurrences of the +last week. Do not hesitate to recount trifling events; but make your +letter as varied and lively and interesting as possible. + +Write to a friend about the new house or apartment that your family has +lately moved into. + +Write to a friend or a relative who is visiting in a large city, asking +him or her to purchase some especial article that you cannot get in your +home town. Explain exactly what you want and tell how much you are +willing to pay. Speak of enclosing the money, and do not fail to express +the gratitude that you will feel if your friend will make the purchase +for you. + +You have been invited to spend the week-end in a town not far from your +home. Write explaining why you cannot accept the invitation. Make your +letter personal and pleasant. + +Write to some member of your family explaining how you have altered your +room to make it more to your taste than it has been. If you have not +really changed the room, imagine that you have done so, and that it is +now exactly as you want it to be. + +You have heard of a family that is in great need. Write to one of your +friends, telling the circumstances and asking her to help you in +providing food and clothing for the children in the family. + +You have just heard some startling news about an old friend whom you +have not seen for some time. Write to another friend who you know will +be interested, and relate the news that you have heard. + +Write to one of your teachers explaining why you are late in handing in +a piece of work. + +Your uncle has made you a present of a sum of money. Thank him for the +money and tell him what you think you will do with it. + +A schoolmate is kept at home by illness. Write, offering your sympathy +and services, and telling the school news. + +You have had an argument with a friend on a subject of interest to you +both. Since seeing this friend, you have run across an article in a +magazine, which supports your view of the question. Write to your friend +and tell him about the substance of the article. + +Your mother has hurt her hand and cannot write; she has asked you to +write to a friend of hers about some business connected with the Woman's +Club. + +You have arrived at home after a week's visit with a friend. Write your +friend's mother, expressing the pleasure that the visit has given you. +Speak particularly of the incidents of the visit, and show a lively +appreciation of the kindness of your friends. + +A friend whom you have invited to visit you has written saying that she +(or he) is unable to accept your invitation. Write expressing your +regret. You might speak of the plans you had made in anticipation of the +visit; you might also make a more or less definite suggestion regarding +a later date for the arrival of your friend. + +You are trying to secure a position. Write to some one for whom you have +worked, or some one who knows you well, asking for a recommendation that +you can use in applying for a position. + +Write to your brother (or some other near relative), telling about a +trip that you have recently taken. + +Write to one of your friends who is away at school, telling of the +athletic situation in the high school you are attending. Assume that +your friend is acquainted with many of the students in the high school. + +You are sending some kodak films to be developed by a professional +photographer. Explain to him what you are sending and what you want +done. Speak of the price that he asks for his work, and the money that +you are enclosing. + +Write a letter applying for a position. If possible, tell how you have +heard of the vacancy. State your qualifications, especially the +education and training that you have had; if you have had any +experience, tell definitely what it has been. Mention the +recommendations that you are enclosing, or give references to several +persons who will write concerning your character and ability. Do not +urge your qualifications, or make any promises, but tell about yourself +as simply and impersonally as possible. Close your letter without any +elaborate expressions of "hoping" or "trusting" or "thanking." "Very +truly yours," or "Very respectfully yours," will be sufficient. + +You have secured the position for which you applied. Write expressing +your pleasure in obtaining the situation. Ask for information as to the +date on which you are to begin work. + +Write to a friend or a relative, telling about your new position: how +you secured it; what your work will be; what you hope will come of it. + +Write a brief respectful letter asking for money that is owed you. + +Write to a friend considerably older than yourself, asking for advice as +to the appropriate college or training school for you to enter when you +have finished the high school course. + + +BOOKS FOR READING AND STUDY + +Letters and Letter-writing Charity Dye +Success in Letter-writing Sherwin Cody +How to do Business by Letter " " +Charm and Courtesy in Letter-writing Frances B. Callaway +Studies for Letters " " " +The Gentlest Art E.V. Lucas +The Second Post " " " +The Friendly Craft F.D. Hanscom +Life and Letters of Miss Alcott E.D. Cheney (Ed.) +Vailima Letters R.L. Stevenson +Letters of William Vaughn Moody Daniel Mason (Ed.) +Letters from Colonial Children Eva March Tappan +Woman as Letter-writers A.M. Ingpen. +The Etiquette of Correspondence Helen E. Gavit + + +EXERCISES IN DRAMATIC COMPOSITION + +I. Write a conversation suggested by one of the following situations. +Wherever it seems desirable to do so, give, in parentheses, directions +for the action, and indicate the gestures and the facial expressions of +the speakers. + + 1. Tom has had trouble at school; he is questioned at home + about the matter. + + 2. Two girls discuss a party that has taken place the night + before. + + 3. A child and his mother are talking about Christmas. + + 4. Clayton Wells is running for the presidency of the Senior + class in the high school; he talks with some of his + schoolmates, and is talked about. + + 5. There has been a fire at the factory; some of the men talk + about its origin. + + 6. A girl borrows her sister's pearl pin and loses it. + + 7. Unexpected guests have arrived; while they are removing + their wraps in the hall, a conversation takes place in the + kitchen. + + 8. Anna wishes to go on a boating expedition, but her father + and mother object. + + 9. The crops in a certain district have failed; two young + farmers talk over the situation. + + 10. Two girls are getting dinner; their mother is away, and + they are obliged to plan and do everything themselves. + + 11. A boy has won a prize, and two or three other boys are + talking with him. + + 12. The prize-winning student has gone, and the other boys are + talking about him. + + 13. The furnace fire has gone out; various members of the + family express their annoyance, and the person who is to blame + defends himself. + + 14. Grandfather has lost his spectacles. + + 15. Laura has seen a beautiful hat in a shop window, and talks + with her mother about it. + + 16. Two men talk of the coming election of city officers. + + 17. A boy has been removed from the football team on account of + his low standings; members of the team discuss the situation. + + 18. Sylvia asks her younger brother to go on an errand for her; + he does not wish to go; the conversation becomes spirited. + + 19. Grandmother entertains another old lady at afternoon tea. + + 20. A working man is accused of stealing a dollar bill from the + cook in the house where he is temporarily employed. + + 21. Mary Sturgis talks with her mother about going away to + college. + + 22. A young man talks with his sister about woman's suffrage; + they become somewhat excited. + + 23. A middle-aged couple talk about adopting a child. + + 24. There is a strike at the mills; some of the employees + discuss it; the employers discuss it among themselves. + + 25. An aunt in the city has written asking Louise to visit her; + Louise talks with several members of her family about going. + + 26. Two boys talk about the ways in which they earn money, and + what they do with it. + + 27. Albert Gleason has had a run-away; his neighbors talk about + it. + + 28. Two brothers quarrel over a horse. + + 29. Ruth's new dress does not satisfy her. + + 30. The storekeeper discusses neighborhood news with some of + his customers. + + 31. Will has had a present of a five-dollar gold-piece; his + sisters tell him what he ought to do with it; his ideas on the + subject are not the same as theirs. + + 32. An old house, in which a well-to-do family have lived for + many years, is to be torn down; a group of neighbors talk about + the house and the family. + + 33. A young man talks with a business man about a position. + + 34. Harold buys a canoe; he converses with the boy who sells it + to him, and also with some of the members of his own family. + + 35. Two old men talk about the pranks they played when they + were boys. + + 36. Several young men talk about a recent baseball game. + + 37. Several young men talk about a coming League game. + + 38. Breakfast is late. + + 39. A mysterious stranger has appeared in the village; a group + of people talk about him. + + 40. Herbert Elliott takes out his father's automobile without + permission, and damages it seriously; he tries to explain. + + 41. Jerome Connor has just "made" the high school football + team. + + 42. Two boys plan a camping trip. + + 43. Several boys are camping, and one of the number does not + seem willing to do his share of the work. + + 44. Several young people consider what they are going to do + when they have finished school. + + 45. Two women talk about the spring fashions. + + +II. Choose some familiar fairy-tale or well known children's story, and +put it into the form of a little play for children. Find a story that is +rather short, and that has a good deal of dialogue in it. In writing the +play, try to make the conversation simple and lively. + + +III. In a story book for children, find a short story and put it into +dialogue form. It will be wise to select a story that already contains a +large proportion of conversation. + + +IV. From a magazine or a book of short stories (not for children), +select a very brief piece of narration, and put it into dramatic form. +After you have finished, write out directions for the setting of the +stage, if you have not already done so, and give your idea of what the +costuming ought to be. + + + + +MODERN BOOKS FOR HOME READING + +Not included in the lists of Collateral Readings + + +BOOKS OF FICTION + +Two Gentlemen of Kentucky James Lane Allen +Standish of Standish Jane G. Austin +D'ri and I Irving Bacheller +Eben Holden " " +The Halfback R.H. Barbour +For King or Country James Barnes +A Loyal Traitor " " +A Bow of Orange Ribbon Amelia E. Barr +Jan Vedder's Wife " " " +Remember the Alamo " " " +The Little Minister J.M. Barrie +The Little White Bird " " " +Sentimental Tommy " " " +Wee MacGregor J.J. Bell. +Looking Backward Edward Bellamy +Master Skylark John Bennett +A Princess of Thule William Black +Lorne Doone R.D. Blackmore +Mary Cary K.L. Bosher +Miss Gibbie Gault " " " +Jane Eyre Charlotte Bronte +Villette " " +Meadow Grass Alice Brown +Tiverton Tales " " +The Story of a Ploughboy James Bryce +My Robin F.H. Burnett +The Secret Garden " " " +T. Tembarom " " " +The Jackknife Man Ellis Parker Butler +The Begum's Daughter E.L. Bynner +Bonaventure G.W. Cable +Dr. Sevier " " " +The Golden Rule Dollivers Margaret Cameron +The Lady of Fort St. John Mary Hartwell Catherwood +Lazarre " " " +Old Kaskaskia " " " +The Romance of Dollard " " " +The Story of Tonty " " " +The White Islander " " " +Richard Carvel Winston Churchill +A Connecticut Yankee in King + Arthur's Court Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) +Pudd'nhead Wilson " " " +The Prince and the Pauper " " " +Tom Sawyer " " " +John Halifax, Gentleman D.M. Craik (Miss Mulock) +The Red Badge of Courage Stephen Crane +Whilomville Stories " " +A Roman Singer F.M. Crawford +Saracinesca " " " +Zoroaster " " " +The Lilac Sunbonnet S.R. Crockett +The Stickit Minister " " " +Smith College Stories J.D. Daskam [Bacon] +Gallegher R.H. Davis +The Princess Aline " " " +Soldiers of Fortune " " " +Old Chester Tales Margaret Deland +The Story of a Child " " +Hugh Gwyeth B.M. Dix +Soldier Rigdale " " " +Rebecca Mary Annie Hamilton Donnell +The Very Small Person " " " +The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes A. Conan Doyle +Micah Clarke " " " +The Refugees " " " +Uncle Bernac " " " +The Black Tulip Alexander Dumas +The Three Musketeers " " +Doctor Luke of the Labrador Norman Duncan +The Story of Sonny Sahib Sara J. Duncan +The Hoosier Schoolboy Edward Eggleston +The Hoosier Schoolmaster " " +The Honorable Peter Stirling P.L. Ford +Janice Meredith " " +In the Valley Harold Frederic +A New England Nun M.E. Wilkins Freeman +The Portion of Labor " " " +Six Trees " " " +Friendship Village Zona Gale +Boy Life on the Prairie Hamlin Garland +Prairie Folks " " +Toby: The Story of a Dog Elizabeth Goldsmith +College Girls Abby Carter Goodloe +Glengarry School Days Charles W. Gordon (Ralph Connor) +The Man from Glengarry " " " +The Prospector " " " +The Sky Pilot " " " +The Man Without a Country E.E. Hale +Nights with Uncle Remus J.C. Harris +The Log of a Sea Angler C.F. Holder +Phroso Anthony Hope [Hawkins] +The Prisoner of Zenda " " " +Rupert of Hentzau " " " +One Summer B.W. Howard +The Flight of Pony Baker W.D. Howells +Tom Brown at Oxford Thomas Hughes +Tom Brown's School Days " " +The Lady of the Barge W.W. Jacobs +Odd Craft " " +Ramona H.H. Jackson +Little Citizens Myra Kelly +Wards of Liberty " " +Horseshoe Robinson J.P. Kennedy +The Brushwood Boy Rudyard Kipling +Captains Courageous " " +The Jungle Book " " +Kim " " +Puck of Pook's Hill " " +Tales of the Fish Patrol Jack London +The Slowcoach E.V. Lucas +Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush Ian Maclaren (John Watson) +A Doctor of the Old School " " " " +Peg o' my Heart J.H. Manners +Emmy Lou G.M. Martin +Tilly: A Mennonite Maid H.R. Martin +Jim Davis John Masefield +Four Feathers A.E.W. Mason +The Adventures of Francois S.W. Mitchell +Hugh Wynne " " +Anne of Avonlea L.M. Montgomery +Anne of Green Gables " " +The Chronicles of Avonlea " " +Down the Ravine Mary N. Murfree + (Charles Egbert Craddock) +In the Tennessee Mountains Mary N. Murfree +The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain " " " +The Prophet of the Great Smoky + Mountains " " " +The House of a Thousand Candles Meredith Nicholson +Mother Kathleen Norris +Peanut A.B. Paine +Judgments of the Sea Ralph D. Paine +The Man with the Iron Hand John C. Parish +Pierre and his People Gilbert Parker +Seats of the Mighty " " +When Valmond Came to Pontiac " " +A Madonna of the Tubs E.S. Phelps [Ward] +A Singular Life E.S. Phelps [Ward] +Freckles G.S. Porter +Ezekiel Lucy Pratt +Ezekiel Expands " " +November Joe Hesketh Prichard +Men of Iron Howard Pyle +The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood " " +The Splendid Spur A.T. Quiller-Couch +Lovey Mary Alice Hegan Rice +Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch " " " +Sandy " " " +The Feet of the Furtive C.G.D. Roberts +The Heart of an Ancient Wood C.G.D. Roberts +The Wreck of the Grosvenor W.C. Russell +Two Girls of Old New Jersey Agnes C. Sage +Little Jarvis Molly Elliot Seawell +A Virginia Cavalier " " " +The Quest of the Fish-Dog Skin J.W. Schultz +The Black Arrow Robert Louis Stevenson +David Balfour " " " +The Master of Ballantrae " " " +St. Ives " " " +The Fugitive Blacksmith C.D. Stewart +The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks + and Mrs. Aleshine Frank R. Stockton +The Dusantes " " " +The Lady or the Tiger " " " +The Merry Chanter " " " +Rudder Grange " " " +Napoleon Jackson Ruth McE. Stuart +Sonny " " " +Monsieur Beaucaire Booth Tarkington +Expiation Octave Thanet (Alice French) +Stories of a Western Town " " " " +The Golden Book of Venice F.L. Turnbull +W.A.G.'s Tale Margaret Turnbull +Ben Hur Lew Wallace +A Fair God " " +My Rag Picker Mary E. Waller +The Wood Carver of 'Lympus " " " +The Story of Ab Stanley Waterloo +Daddy Long-Legs Jean Webster +A Gentleman of France Stanley J. Weyman +Under the Red Robe " " " +The Blazed Trail Stewart Edward White +The Conjuror's House " " " +The Silent Places " " " +The Westerners " " " +A Certain Rich Man William Allen White +The Court of Boyville " " " +Stratagems and Spoils " " " +The Gayworthys A.D.T. Whitney +Mother Carey's Chickens K.D. Wiggin [Riggs] +Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm " " +The Chronicles of Rebecca " " +The Story of Waitstill Baxter " " +Princeton Stories J.L. Williams +Philosophy Four Owen Wister +The Virginian " " +Bootles' Baby John Strange Winter (H.E. Stannard) +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys Gulielma Zollinger (W.Z. Gladwin) + + +NON-FICTION BOOKS + +The Klondike Stampede E.T. Adney +The Land of Little Rain Mary Austin +Camps in the Rockies W.A. Baillie-Grohman +The Boys' Book of Inventions R.S. Baker +A Second Book of Inventions " " +My Book of Little Dogs F.T. Barton +The Lighter Side of Irish Life G.A. Birmingham (J.O. Hannay) +Wonderful Escapes by Americans W.S. Booth +The Training of Wild Animals Frank Bostock +Confederate Portraits Gamaliel Bradford +American Fights and Fighters Cyrus T. Brady +Commodore Paul Jones " " +The Conquest of the Southwest " " +The Every-Day Life of Abraham Lincoln F.F. Browne +The Boyhood and Youth of Napoleon Oscar Browning +The New North Agnes Cameron +The Boys' Book of Modern Marvels C.L.J. Clarke +The Boys' Book of Airships " " +Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc Samuel L. Clemens +The Wireless Man F.A. Collins +Old Boston Days and Ways M.C. Crawford +Romantic Days in Old Boston " " +Harriet Beecher Stowe M.F. Crowe +Wild Animals and the Camera W.P. Dando +Football P.H. Davis +Stories of Inventors Russell Doubleday +Navigating the Air Doubleday Page and Co. +Mr. Dooley's Opinions F.P. Dunne +Mr. Dooley's Philosophy " " +Edison: His Life and Inventions Dyer and Martin +Child Life in Colonial Days Alice Morse Earle +Colonial Days in Old New York " " " +Stage Coach and Tavern Days " " " +Two Centuries of Costume in America " " " +Old Indian Days Charles Eastman +The Life of the Fly J.H. Fabre +The Life of the Spider " " +The Wonders of the Heavens Camille Flammarion +Boys and Girls: A Book of Verse J.W. Foley +Following the Sun Flag John Fox, Jr. +Four Months Afoot in Spain Harry A. Franck +A Vagabond Journey around the World " " " +Zone Policeman 88 " " " +The Trail of the Gold Seeker Hamlin Garland +In Eastern Wonder Lands C.E. Gibson +The Hearth of Youth: Poems for Young People Jeannette Gilder (Ed.) +Heroes of the Elizabethan Ago Edward Gilliat +Camping on Western Trails E.R. Gregor +Camping in the Winter Woods " " +American Big Game G.B. Grinnell (Ed.) +Trail and Camp Fire Grinnell and Roosevelt (Ed.) +Life at West Point H.I. Hancock +Camp Kits and Camp Life C.S. Hanks +The Boys' Parkman L.S. Hasbrouck (Ed.) +Historic Adventures R.S. Holland +Camp Fires in the Canadian Rockies W.T. Hornaday +Our Vanishing Wild Life " " +Taxidermy and Zooelogical Collecting " " +Two Years in the Jungle " " +My Mark Twain W.D. Howells +A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador Mrs. Leonidas Hubbard +Animal Competitors Ernest Ingersoll +My Lady of the Chimney Corner Alexander Irvine +The Indians of the Painted Desert Region G.W. James +The Boys' Book of Explorations Tudor Jenks +Through the South Sea with Jack London Martin Johnson +A Wayfarer in China Elizabeth Kendall +The Tragedy of Pelee George Kennan +Recollections of a Drummer Boy H.M. Kieffer +The Story of the Trapper A.C. Laut +Animals of the Past F.A. Lucas +Marjorie Fleming L. Macbean (Ed.) +From Sail to Steam A.T. Mahan +AEegean Days and Other Sojourns J. Irving Manatt +The Story of a Piece of Coal E.A. Martin +The Friendly Stars Martha E. Martin +The Boys' Life of Edison W.H. Meadowcroft +Serving the Republic Nelson A. Miles +In Beaver World Enos A. Mills +Mosquito Life E.G. Mitchell +The Childhood of Animals P.C. Mitchell +The Youth of Washington S.W. Mitchell +Lewis Carroll Belle Moses +Charles Dickens " " +Louisa M. Alcott " " +The Country of Sir Walter Scott C.S. Olcott +Storytelling Poems F.J. Olcott (Ed.) +Mark Twain: A Biography A.B. Paine +The Man with the Iron Hand John C. Parish +Nearest the Pole Robert E. Peary +A Book of Famous Verse Agnes Repplier (Ed.) +Florence Nightingale Laura E. Richards +Children of the Tenements Jacob A. Riis +The Wilderness Hunter Theodore Roosevelt +American Big Game Hunting Roosevelt and Grinnell (Ed.) +Hunting in Many Lands " " " " +My Air Ships Alberto Santos-Dumont +Paul Jones Molly Elliott Seawell +With the Indians in the Rockies J.W. Schultz +Curiosities of the Sky Garrett P. Serviss +Where Rolls the Oregon Dallas Lore Sharp +Nature in a City Yard C.M. Skinner +The Wild White Woods Russell D. Smith +The Story of the New England Whalers J.R. Spears +Camping on the Great Lakes R.S. Spears +My Life with the Eskimos Vilhjalmar Stefansson +With Kitchener to Khartum G.W. Stevens +Across the Plains R.L. Stevenson +Letters of a Woman Homesteader Elinore P. Stewart +Hunting the Elephant in Africa C.H. Stigand +The Black Bear W.H. Wright +The Grizzly Bear " " +George Washington Woodrow Wilson +The Workers: The East W.A. Wyckoff +The Workers: The West " " + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] See Bleyer, W.G.: Introduction to _Prose Literature for Secondary +Schools._ + +[2] See also _American Magazine_, 63:339. + +[3] See _Scribner's Magazine_, 40:17. + +[4] See _Harper's Monthly Magazine_, 116:3. + +[5] In: _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, edited by J.B. Rittenhouse. + +[6] See page 41 for magazine reference. + +[7] See _Collier's Magazine_, 42:11. + +[8] Additional suggestions for dramatic work are given on page 316. + +[9] If a copy of _The Promised Land_ is available, some of the students +might look up material on this subject. + +[10] See references for _Moly_, on p. 84. + +[11] In Alden's _English Verse_. + +[12] In _The Little Book of Modern Verse_, edited by J.B. Rittenhouse. + +[13] If this is thought too difficult, some of the exercises on pages +316-318 may be used. + +[14] Note: The teacher might read aloud a part of the _Ode in Time of +Hesitation_, by Moody. In its entirety it is almost too difficult for +the pupils to get much out of; but it has some vigorous things to say +about the war in the Philippines. + +[15] TO THE TEACHER: It will probably be better for the pupils to study +this poem in class than to begin it by themselves. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary +Schools, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PROSE AND POETRY *** + +***** This file should be named 17160.txt or 17160.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/6/17160/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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