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+Project Gutenberg's The Ontario Readers, by Ontario Ministry of Education
+
+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: The Ontario Readers
+       Third Book
+
+Author: Ontario Ministry of Education
+
+Release Date: June 12, 2006 [EBook #18561]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ONTARIO READERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Karina Aleksandrova and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: One Flag
+One Fleet
+One Throne
+
+The Union Jack]
+
+
+
+
+                  THE ONTARIO READERS
+
+                      THIRD BOOK
+
+
+                     AUTHORIZED BY
+
+              THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION
+
+
+
+The price of this book to the purchaser is not the total cost.
+    During the present period of abnormal and fluctuating
+     trade conditions, an additional sum, which may vary
+        from time to time, is paid to the Publisher
+              by the Department of Education.
+
+
+
+Entered, according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year 1909,
+       in the office of the Minister of Agriculture by the
+              Minister of Education for Ontario.
+
+
+
+                      TORONTO:
+               THE T. EATON Co LIMITED
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
+
+
+THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION is indebted to Rudyard Kipling, Henry
+Newbolt, Beckles Willson, E. B. Osborn, F. T. Bullen, Flora Annie Steel;
+Charles G. D. Roberts, W. Wilfred Campbell, Ethelwyn Wetherald, Jean
+Blewett, Robert Reid, "Ralph Connor," John Waugh, S. T. Wood; Henry Van
+Dyke, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward, and Richard Watson Gilder for
+special permission to reproduce, in this Reader, selections from their
+writings.
+
+He is indebted to Lord Tennyson for special permission to reproduce the
+poems from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson; to Lloyd Osbourne for
+permission to reproduce the selection from the works of Robert Louis
+Stevenson; and to J. F. Edgar for permission to reproduce one of Sir
+James D. Edgar's poems.
+
+He is also indebted to Macmillan & Co., Limited, for special permission,
+to reproduce selections from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Rudyard
+Kipling, and Flora Annie Steel; to Smith, Elder & Co., for the extract
+from F. T. Bullen's "The Cruise of the Cachalot"; to Elkin Mathews for
+Henry Newbolt's poem from "The Island Race"; to Sampson Low, Marston &
+Company for the extract from R. D. Blackmore's "Lorna Doone"; to Thomas
+Nelson & Sons for the extract from W. F. Collier's "History of the
+British Empire"; to Chatto and Windus for the extract from E. B. Osborn's
+"Greater Canada"; to Houghton Mifflin Company for "The Chase" from
+Charles Dudley Warner's "A-Hunting of the Deer," "Mary Elizabeth" by
+Mrs. Phelps Ward, and the poems by Celia Thaxter and by Richard Watson
+Gilder; to The Century Company for Jacob A. Riis' "The Story of a Fire"
+from "_The Century Magazine_"; to The Copp Clark Co., Limited, for the
+selections from Charles G. D. Roberts' works; to The Westminster Co.,
+Limited, for the extract from "Ralph Connor's" "The Man from Glengarry."
+
+The Minister is grateful to these authors and publishers and to others,
+not mentioned here, through whose courtesy he has been able to include
+in this Reader so many copyright selections.
+
+Toronto, May, 1909.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+              PAGE
+
+_To-day_
+       _Thomas Carlyle_
+              1
+
+Fortune and the Beggar
+       _Ivan Kirloff_
+              2
+
+_The Lark and the Rook_
+       _Unknown_
+              4
+
+The Pickwick Club on the Ice
+       _Charles Dickens_
+              6
+
+_Tubal Cain_
+       _Charles Mackay_
+              11
+
+Professor Frog's Lecture
+       _M. A. L. Lane_
+              14
+
+_A Song for April_
+       _Charles G. D. Roberts_
+              25
+
+How the Crickets Brought Good Fortune
+       _P. J. Stahl_
+              26
+
+_The Battle of Blenheim_
+       _Robert Southey_
+              31
+
+The Ride for Life
+       _"Ralph Connor"_
+              34
+
+_Iagoo, the Boaster_
+       _Henry W. Longfellow_
+              39
+
+The Story of a Fire
+       _Jacob A. Riis_
+              40
+
+_The Quest_
+       _Eudora S. Bumstead_
+              43
+
+The Jackal and the Partridge
+       _Flora Annie Steel_
+              44
+
+_Hide and Seek_
+       _Henry Van Dyke_
+              50
+
+The Burning of the "Goliath"
+       _Dean Stanley_
+              52
+
+_Hearts of Oak_
+       _David Garrick_
+              55
+
+_A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea_
+       _Allan Cunningham_
+              56
+
+The Talents
+       _Bible_
+              57
+
+_A Farewell_
+       _Charles Kingsley_
+              59
+
+_An Apple Orchard in the Spring_
+       _William Martin_
+              60
+
+The Bluejay
+       _"Mark Twain"_
+              61
+
+_A Canadian Camping Song_
+       _Sir James David Edgar_
+              65
+
+The Argonauts
+       _John Waugh_
+              66
+
+_The Minstrel-Boy_
+       _Thomas Moore_
+              71
+
+Mary Elizabeth
+       _Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward_
+              72
+
+_The Frost_
+       _Hannah Flagg Gould_
+              83
+
+_Corn-fields_
+       _Mary Howitt_
+              84
+
+South-West Wind, Esq.
+       _John Ruskin_
+              86
+
+_The Meeting of the Waters_
+       _Thomas Moore_
+              97
+
+Love
+       _Bible_
+              98
+
+_The Robin's Song_
+       _Unknown_
+              99
+
+Work or Play
+       _"Mark Twain"_
+              100
+
+_Burial of Sir John Moore_
+       _Charles Wolfe_
+              106
+
+The Whistle
+       _Benjamin Franklin_
+              108
+
+_A Canadian Boat Song_
+       _Thomas Moore_
+              109
+
+The Little Hero of Haarlem
+       _Sharpe's London Magazine_
+              110
+
+_Father William_
+       _"Lewis Carroll"_
+              115
+
+David and Goliath
+       _Bible_
+              117
+
+_Charge of the Light Brigade_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              123
+
+Maggie Tulliver
+       _George Eliot_
+              125
+
+_The Corn Song_
+       _John G. Whittier_
+              134
+
+Sports in Norman England
+       _William Fitzstephen_
+              136
+
+_A Song of Canada_
+       _Robert Reid_
+              140
+
+A Mad Tea Party
+       _"Lewis Carroll"_
+              142
+
+_The Slave's Dream_
+       _Henry W. Longfellow_
+              149
+
+The Chase
+       _Charles Dudley Warner_
+              152
+
+_The Inchcape Rock_
+       _Robert Southey_
+              158
+
+A Rough Ride
+       _Richard D. Blackmore_
+              161
+
+_The Arab and His Steed_
+       _The Honourable Mrs. Norton_
+              169
+
+_The Poet's Song_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              173
+
+Adventure with a Whale
+       _Frank T. Bullen_
+              174
+
+_The Maple_
+       _H. F. Darnell_
+              179
+
+Damon and Pythias
+       _Charlotte M. Yonge_
+              181
+
+_The Wreck of the Orpheus_
+       _C. A. L._
+              184
+
+_The Tide River_
+       _Charles Kingsley_
+              185
+
+Wisdom the Supreme Prize
+       _Bible_
+              187
+
+_The Orchard_
+       _Jean Blewett_
+              188
+
+Inspired by the Snow
+       _Samuel T. Wood_
+              189
+
+_The Squirrel_
+       _William Cowper_
+              192
+
+_Soldier, Rest_
+       _Sir Walter Scott_
+              192
+
+Fishing
+       _Thomas Hughes_
+              193
+
+_The Fountain_
+       _James Russell Lowell_
+              199
+
+_Break, Break, Break_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              201
+
+The Bed of Procrustes
+       _Charles Kingsley_
+              202
+
+_"Bob White"_
+       _George Cooper_
+              208
+
+Radisson and the Indians
+       _Beckles Willson_
+              209
+
+_The Brook_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              212
+
+"Do Seek Their Meat From God"
+       _Charles G. D. Roberts_
+              215
+
+_A Song of the Sea_
+       _"Barry Cornwall"_
+              222
+
+Little Daffydowndilly
+       _Nathaniel Hawthorne_
+              223
+
+_The Sandpiper_
+       _Celia Thaxter_
+              234
+
+From "The Sermon on the Mount"
+       _Bible_
+              236
+
+_The Legend of Saint Christopher_
+       _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+              237
+
+William Tell and His Son
+       _Chamber's "Tracts"_
+              241
+
+_A Midsummer Song_
+       _Richard Watson Gilder_
+              244
+
+The Relief of Lucknow
+       _"Letter from an officer's wife"_
+              246
+
+_The Song in Camp_
+       _Bayard Taylor_
+              250
+
+_Afterglow_
+       _William Wilfred Campbell_
+              252
+
+King Richard and Saladin
+       _Sir Walter Scott_
+              253
+
+_England's Dead_
+       _Felicia Hemans_
+              258
+
+_Hohenlinden_
+       _Thomas Campbell_
+              260
+
+The Dream of the Oak Tree
+       _Hans Christian Andersen_
+              262
+
+A Prayer
+       _Robert Louis Stevenson_
+              266
+
+_The Death of the Flowers_
+       _William Cullen Bryant_
+              267
+
+_'Tis the Last Rose of Summer_
+       _Thomas Moore_
+              269
+
+A Roman's Honour
+       _Charlotte M. Yonge_
+              270
+
+_The Fighting Téméraire_
+       _Henry Newbolt_
+              273
+
+Don Quixote's Fight with the Windmills
+       _Miguel de Cervantes_
+              275
+
+_The Romance of the Swan's Nest_
+       _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
+              281
+
+Moonlight Sonata
+       _Unknown_
+              285
+
+_The Red-Winged Blackbird_
+       _Ethelwyn Wetherald_
+              290
+
+_To the Cuckoo_
+       _John Logan_
+              291
+
+The Story of a Stone
+       _D. B._
+              293
+
+_The Snow-Storm_
+       _John G. Whittier_
+              298
+
+The Heroine of Verchères
+       _Francis Parkman_
+              301
+
+_Jacques Cartier_
+       _Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee_
+              307
+
+Ants and Their Slaves
+       _Jules Michelet_
+              310
+
+_Lead, Kindly Light_
+       _John Henry Newman_
+              315
+
+The Jolly Sandboys
+       _Charles Dickens_
+              316
+
+_The Gladness of Nature_
+       _William Cullen Bryant_
+              324
+
+Old English Life
+       _William F. Collier_
+              325
+
+_Puck's Song_
+       _Rudyard Kipling_
+              330
+
+The Battle of Queenston Heights
+       _Unknown_
+              332
+
+_The Bugle Song_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              337
+
+Charity
+       _Bible_
+              338
+
+_A Christmas Carol_
+       _James Russell Lowell_
+              339
+
+The Barren Lands
+       _E. B. Osborn_
+              341
+
+_A Spring Morning_
+       _William Wordsworth_
+              345
+
+_Crossing the Bar_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              346
+
+
+
+
+EMPIRE DAY
+
+
+I want you to remember what Empire Day means. Empire Day is the festival
+on which every British subject should reverently remember that the
+British Empire stands out before the whole world as the fearless
+champion of freedom, fair play and equal rights; that its watchwords are
+responsibility, duty, sympathy and self-sacrifice, and that a special
+responsibility rests with you individually to be true to the traditions
+and to the mission of your race.
+
+I also want you to remember that one day Canada will become, if her
+people are faithful to their high British traditions, the most powerful
+of all the self-governing nations, not excluding the people of the
+United Kingdom, which make up the British Empire, and that it rests with
+each one of you individually to do your utmost by your own conduct and
+example to make Canada not only the most powerful, but the noblest of
+all the self-governing nations that are proud to owe allegiance to the
+King.
+
+Earl Grey.
+Governor-General of Canada
+
+
+
+
+THIRD READER
+
+
+
+
+TO-DAY
+
+
+    So here hath been dawning
+      Another blue day;
+    Think, wilt thou let it
+      Slip useless away?
+
+    Out of Eternity
+      This new day is born;
+    Into Eternity
+      At night will return.
+
+    Behold it aforetime
+      No eye ever did;
+    So soon it forever
+      From all eyes is hid.
+
+    Here hath been dawning
+      Another blue day;
+    Think, wilt thou let it
+      Slip useless away?
+
+CARLYLE
+
+
+
+
+FORTUNE AND THE BEGGAR
+
+
+One day a ragged beggar was creeping along from house to house. He
+carried an old wallet in his hand, and was asking at every door for a
+few cents to buy something to eat. As he was grumbling at his lot, he
+kept wondering why it was that folks who had so much money were never
+satisfied but were always wanting more.
+
+"Here," said he, "is the master of this house--I know him well. He was
+always a good business man, and he made himself wondrously rich a long
+time ago. Had he been wise he would have stopped then. He would have
+turned over his business to some one else, and then he could have spent
+the rest of his life in ease. But what did he do instead? He built ships
+and sent them to sea to trade with foreign lands. He thought he would
+get mountains of gold.
+
+"But there were great storms on the water; his ships were wrecked, and
+his riches were swallowed up by the waves. Now all his hopes lie at the
+bottom of the sea, and his great wealth has vanished.
+
+"There are many such cases. Men seem to be never satisfied unless they
+gain the whole world.
+
+"As for me, if I had only enough to eat and to wear, I would not want
+anything more."
+
+Just at that moment Fortune came down the street. She saw the beggar and
+stopped. She said to him:
+
+"Listen! I have long wished to help you. Hold your wallet and I will
+pour this gold into it, but only on this condition: all that falls into
+the wallet shall be pure gold; but every piece that falls upon the
+ground shall become dust. Do you understand?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I understand," said the beggar.
+
+"Then have a care," said Fortune. "Your wallet is old, so do not load it
+too heavily."
+
+The beggar was so glad that he could hardly wait. He quickly opened his
+wallet, and a stream of yellow dollars poured into it. The wallet grew
+heavy.
+
+"Is that enough?" asked Fortune.
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Isn't it cracking?"
+
+"Never fear."
+
+The beggar's hands began to tremble. Ah, if the golden stream would only
+pour for ever!
+
+"You are the richest man in the world now!"
+
+"Just a little more, add just a handful or two."
+
+"There, it's full. The wallet will burst."
+
+"But it will hold a little, just a little more!"
+
+Another piece was added, and the wallet split. The treasure fell upon
+the ground and was turned to dust. Fortune had vanished. The beggar had
+now nothing but his empty wallet, and it was torn from top to bottom. He
+was as poor as before.
+
+IVAN KIRLOFF
+
+
+
+
+THE LARK AND THE ROOK
+
+
+    "Good-night, Sir Rook!" said a little lark,
+    "The daylight fades; it will soon be dark;
+    I've bathed my wings in the sun's last ray;
+    I've sung my hymn to the parting day;
+    So now I haste to my quiet nook
+    In yon dewy meadow--good-night, Sir Rook!"
+
+    "Good-night, poor Lark," said his titled friend
+    With a haughty toss and a distant bend;
+    "I also go to my rest profound,
+    But not to sleep on the cold, damp ground.
+    The fittest place for a bird like me
+    Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine tree.
+
+    "I opened my eyes at peep of day
+    And saw you taking your upward way,
+    Dreaming your fond romantic dreams,
+    An ugly speck in the sun's bright beams,
+    Soaring too high to be seen or heard;
+    And I said to myself: 'What a foolish bird!'
+
+    "I trod the park with a princely air;
+    I filled my crop with the richest fare;
+    I cawed all day 'mid a lordly crew,
+    And I made more noise in the world than you!
+    The sun shone forth on my ebon wing;
+    I looked and wondered--good-night, poor thing!"
+
+    "Good-night, once more," said the lark's sweet voice,
+    "I see no cause to repent my choice;
+    You build your nest in the lofty pine,
+    But is your slumber more sweet than mine?
+    You make more noise in the world than I,
+    But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy?"
+
+UNKNOWN
+
+
+
+
+    What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?
+    Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just;
+    And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
+    Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
+
+SHAKESPEARE
+
+
+
+
+THE PICKWICK CLUB ON THE ICE
+
+
+"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.
+
+"Ye-yes; oh, yes," replied Mr. Winkle. "I--I--am _rather_ out of
+practice."
+
+"Oh, _do_ skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to see it so much."
+
+"Oh, it is _so_ graceful," said another young lady. A third young lady
+said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her opinion that it was
+"swan-like."
+
+"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening; "but I
+have no skates."
+
+This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had got a couple of pair,
+and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more downstairs,
+whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely
+uncomfortable.
+
+Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boy
+and Mr. Weller, having shovelled and swept away the snow which had
+fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a
+dexterity which to Mr. Winkle seemed perfectly marvellous, and described
+circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon
+the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant
+and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick,
+Mr. Tupman, and the ladies; which reached a pitch of positive
+enthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by the
+aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions, which they
+called a reel.
+
+All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,
+had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his
+skates on with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very
+complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass,
+who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however,
+with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly
+screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.
+
+"Now, then, sir," said Sam in an encouraging tone; "off vith you, and
+show 'em how to do it."
+
+"Stop, Sam, stop," said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching
+hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. "How slippery it
+is, Sam!"
+
+"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Hold up,
+sir."
+
+This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstration
+Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet
+into the air and dash the back of his head on the ice.
+
+"These--these--are very awkward skates; ain't they, Sam?" inquired Mr.
+Winkle, staggering.
+
+"I'm afeerd there's an orkard gen'lm'n in 'em, sir," replied Sam.
+
+"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was
+anything the matter. "Come, the ladies are all anxiety."
+
+"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. "I'm coming."
+
+"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavouring to disengage himself.
+"Now, sir, start off."
+
+"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately
+to Mr. Weller. "I find I've a couple of coats at home that I don't want,
+Sam. You may have them, Sam."
+
+"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
+
+"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You
+needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five
+shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it to you
+this afternoon, Sam."
+
+"You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
+
+"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr. Winkle. "There--that's
+right. I shall soon get into the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not
+too fast."
+
+Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled up, was being
+assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like
+manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite
+bank--
+
+"Sam!"
+
+"Sir?" said Mr. Weller.
+
+"Here. I want you."
+
+"Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor a-callin'? Let go,
+sir!"
+
+With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of
+the agonized Pickwickian; and, in so doing, administered a considerable
+impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of
+dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman
+bore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, at the very moment when
+Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr.
+Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell
+heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his
+feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind in
+skates. He was seated on the ice making spasmodic efforts to smile; but
+anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.
+
+"Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.
+
+"Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard.
+
+"I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin, with great
+eagerness.
+
+"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly.
+
+"I really think you had better," said Allen.
+
+"Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle "I'd rather not."
+
+"What do _you_ think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob Sawyer.
+
+Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and
+said in a stern voice:
+
+"Take his skates off."
+
+The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in
+silence.
+
+"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.
+
+Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and,
+beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and
+uttered in a low but distinct and emphatic tone these remarkable words:
+
+"You're a humbug, sir."
+
+"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.
+
+"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir."
+
+With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel and rejoined
+his friends.
+
+DICKENS: "The Pickwick Papers."
+
+
+
+
+TUBAL CAIN
+
+
+    Old Tubal Cain was a man of might,
+      In the days when earth was young;
+    By the fierce red light of his furnace bright,
+      The strokes of his hammer rung:
+    And he lifted high his brawny hand
+      On the iron glowing clear,
+    Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers,
+      As he fashioned the sword and spear.
+    And he sang--"Hurrah for my handiwork!
+      Hurrah for the spear and sword!
+    Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,
+      For he shall be king and lord!"
+
+    To Tubal Cain came many a one,
+      As he wrought by his roaring fire;
+    And each one prayed for a strong steel blade,
+      As the crown of his desire;
+    And he made them weapons sharp and strong,
+      Till they shouted loud for glee;
+    And they gave him gifts of pearls and gold,
+      And spoils of the forest free.
+    And they sang--"Hurrah for Tubal Cain,
+      Who hath given us strength anew!
+    Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire,
+      And hurrah for the metal true!"
+
+    But a sudden change came o'er his heart,
+      Ere the setting of the sun;
+    And Tubal Cain was filled with pain
+      For the evil he had done:
+    He saw that men, with rage and hate,
+      Made war upon their kind,
+    That the land was red with the blood they shed,
+      In their lust for carnage blind.
+    And he said--"Alas! that I ever made,
+      Or that skill of mine should plan,
+    The spear and the sword for men whose joy
+      Is to slay their fellow-man!"
+
+    And for many a day old Tubal Cain
+      Sat brooding o'er his woe;
+    And his hand forbore to smite the ore,
+      And his furnace smouldered low.
+    But he rose at last with a cheerful face,
+      And a bright courageous eye,
+    And bared his strong right arm for work,
+      While the quick flames mounted high.
+    And he sang--"Hurrah for my handiwork!"
+      And the red sparks lit the air;
+    "Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made,"
+      And he fashioned the first ploughshare.
+
+    And men, taught wisdom from the past,
+      In friendship joined their hands;
+    Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,
+      And ploughed the willing lands:
+    And sang--"Hurrah for Tubal Cain!
+      Our stanch good friend is he;
+    And for the ploughshare and the plough,
+      To him our praise shall be.
+    But while oppression lifts its head,
+      Or a tyrant would be lord;
+    Though we may thank him for the plough,
+      We'll not forget the sword!"
+
+CHARLES MACKAY
+
+
+
+
+PROFESSOR FROG'S LECTURE
+
+
+Bobby was not quite sure that he was awake, but when he opened his eyes
+there was the blue sky, with the soft, white clouds drifting across it,
+the big pine waving its spicy branches over his head, and beyond, the
+glint of sunshine on the waters of the pond. Presently Bobby heard
+voices talking softly.
+
+"This is a good specimen," said one voice. "See how stout and strong he
+looks!"
+
+"I wonder who that is, and what he has found," thought Bobby. "I wish it
+wasn't such hard work to keep my eyes open." He made a great effort,
+however, and raised his heavy lids. At first he could see nothing. Then
+he caught a glimpse of a mossy log, with a row of frogs and toads
+sitting upon it. They were looking solemnly at him. Bobby felt a little
+uncomfortable under that steady gaze.
+
+"The toads are making their spring visit to the pond to lay their eggs,"
+thought the boy. "I forgot that they were due this week."
+
+"He must have done a good deal of mischief in his day," said an old
+bull-frog, gravely. A chill crept over Bobby. "In his day."--What did
+that mean?
+
+A toad hopped out from the line and came so close to Bobby that he could
+have touched her but for the strange spell which held him fast.
+
+"Yes," said she; "this is one of the species. We are very fortunate to
+have caught him. Now we shall be ready to listen to Professor Rana's
+remarks."
+
+Still Bobby could not move. What were they going to do? In a moment
+there was a rustling among the dry leaves and dozens of frogs and toads
+were seen hurrying towards the pine tree. Among them was a ponderous
+frog, carrying a roll of manuscript under his arm. He wore huge goggles,
+and looked so wise that Bobby did not dare to laugh.
+
+"I am very sleepy," murmured a portly toad near Bobby's left ear. "I
+laid over eight thousand eggs last night, and I have a long journey
+before me. But I must stay to hear this. We may never have such a chance
+again."
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," began the professor, in a sonorous tone that was
+easily heard for several feet, "this is a specimen of the creature known
+to us as the human tadpole. You will kindly observe his long legs. They
+were doubtless given to him for the purpose of protection. Being
+possessed of a most mischievous and reckless spirit, the species is
+always getting into difficulties, and would probably become extinct if
+it had not the power to run away."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Bobby under his breath. There was a murmur of interest
+and curiosity among the crowd. Bobby felt his legs twitch nervously, but
+his power over them was gone.
+
+"Otherwise," went on the lecturer, "he is not at all adapted to his
+surroundings. Observe how carefully we are dressed. The frogs have the
+green and brown tints of their homes by the water-side. The toads look
+like lumps of dirt, so that they may not be too readily snapped up by
+birds of prey. But the Boy--to call him by his scientific name--has no
+such protection. Look at this red shirt and these white trousers, and
+this hat as big as a trout pool! Could anything be more ridiculous? Even
+a giraffe does not look so absurd as this."
+
+A red flush mounted to Bobby's freckled cheeks, but this time he did not
+try to speak.
+
+"Now," said the professor, "as far as we have been able to learn, the
+human tadpole is absolutely useless. We are, therefore, doing no harm in
+experimenting upon this specimen. There are plenty of them, and this one
+will not be a serious loss."
+
+"Stop!" said Bobby, so unexpectedly that everybody jumped. "What are you
+going to do with me?"
+
+"You will be so kind as to lie still," said the professor severely. "At
+present you are only a specimen."
+
+There was no help for it. Bobby found it impossible to move hand or
+foot. He could wriggle a little,--but that was all.
+
+"Not only is the Boy entirely useless," went on the professor, "but he
+is often what might be called a pest, even to his own kind. He is
+endured in the world for what he may become when he is full-grown, and
+even then he is sometimes disappointing. You are familiar with many of
+his objectionable ways towards the animal world, but I am sure you would
+be surprised if you knew what a care and trouble he frequently is to his
+own people. He can be trusted to do few kinds of work. It is difficult
+to keep him clean. He doesn't know how to get his own dinner. He has a
+genius for making weaker things miserable. He likes fishing, and he
+longs for a gun; he collects birds' eggs; he puts butterflies on pins;
+he teases his little sisters."
+
+"Why isn't the species exterminated?" asked another frog angrily.
+
+Then the toad near Bobby's ear spoke timidly: "I think you are a little
+unjust, Professor. I have known boys who were comparatively harmless."
+
+"It is true there may be a few, Mrs. Bufo," said the professor with
+great politeness, "but as a class they may be fairly set down as of very
+doubtful value. Speak up, Tadpole, and say if I have made any false
+statements so far."
+
+Bobby fairly shouted in his eagerness to be heard.
+
+"We do work," he said. "We have to go to school every day."
+
+"What a help that must be to your parents and to the world at large!"
+said the frog with sarcasm. "I am surprised that we never see the
+results of such hard labour. Do you know how useful even our smallest
+tadpoles are? Without them this pond would be no longer beautiful, but
+foul and ill-smelling. As for what we do when we are grown up, modesty
+forbids me to praise the frogs, but you know what a toad is worth to
+mankind?"
+
+"No," said Bobby. "About two cents, I guess." Bobby didn't intend to be
+rude. He thought this a liberal valuation.
+
+"Twenty dollars a year, as estimated by the Department of Agriculture!"
+cried the frog triumphantly. "What do you think of that?"
+
+"I should like to know why," said Bobby, looking as if he thought
+Professor Rana was making fun of him.
+
+"What are the greatest enemies of mankind?" asked the professor, peering
+over his goggles at poor Bobby.
+
+"Tigers," said Bobby, promptly; "or wolves."
+
+"Wrong," said the lecturer. "Insects. Insects destroy property on this
+continent to the amount of over four hundred million dollars annually.
+Insects destroy the crops upon which man depends for his food. Going to
+school hasn't made you very wise, has it? Well, the toads are insect
+destroyers. That's their business. If the State only knew enough to make
+use of them, millions of dollars might be saved every year. Does it seem
+to you that the human animal is so clever as it might be, when it allows
+such numbers of toads to be destroyed?"
+
+"It's a shame!" chimed in a voice from the front seats. "We keep out of
+the way as much as we can; we eat every kind of troublesome worm and
+insect,--the cutworm, canker-worm, tent caterpillar, army-worm,
+rose-beetle, and the common house-fly; we ask for no wages or food or
+care,--and what do we get in return? Not even protection and common
+kindness. If we had places where we could live in safety, who could tell
+the amount of good we might do? Yet I would not have this poor boy hurt
+if a word of mine could prevent it."
+
+"This is a scientific meeting," observed the professor; "and benevolent
+sentiments are quite out of place. We will now proceed to notice the
+delicate nervous system of the creature. Stand closer, my friends, if
+you please."
+
+"Nervous system, indeed!" said Bobby. "Boys don't have such silly things
+as nerves!"
+
+Suddenly Bobby felt a multitude of tiny pin pricks over the entire
+surface of his body. The suffering was not intense, but the irritation
+made him squirm and wince. He could not discover the cause of his
+discomfort, but at the professor's command it suddenly ceased.
+
+"That will do," said the frog. "Each hair on his head is also connected
+with a nerve. Pull his hair, please!"
+
+"Oh, don't!" said Bobby. "That hurts!"
+
+Nobody listened to him. It did hurt, more than you would think, for tiny
+hands were pulling each hair separately. When the ordeal was over,
+Bobby heard a faint noise in the grass as if some very small creatures
+were scurrying away, but he could see nothing. He was winking his eyes
+desperately to keep from crying.
+
+"The assistants may go now," said the professor; and the sound of little
+feet died away in the distance.
+
+"How interesting this is!" murmured a plain-looking toad who had been
+watching the experiments attentively.
+
+"I think it's mean," protested poor Bobby, "to keep a fellow fastened up
+like this, and then torment him."
+
+"Does it hurt as much as being skinned, or having your legs cut off?"
+demanded the professor.
+
+"Or should you prefer to be stepped on, or burned up in a rubbish pile?"
+asked Mrs. Bufo.
+
+"How should you like to be stoned or kicked, for a change?" said another
+toad sharply.
+
+"Perhaps you would choose a fish-hook in the corner of your mouth?" said
+a voice from the pond.
+
+"Or one run the entire length of your body?" came a murmur from the
+ground under Bobby's head.
+
+"Wait a minute," said the professor, more gently. "We will give you a
+chance to defend yourself. It is not customary to inquire into the moral
+character of specimens, but we do not wish to be unjust. Perhaps you can
+explain why you made a bonfire the very week after the toads came out of
+their winter-quarters. Dozens of lives were destroyed before that fire
+was put out."
+
+"I forgot about the toads," began Bobby.
+
+"Carelessness!" said the professor. "Now you may tell us why you like to
+throw stones at us."
+
+"To see you jump," said Bobby, honestly.
+
+"Thoughtlessness!" said the professor. "That's worse."
+
+"Why do you kick us, instead of lifting us gently when we are in your
+way?" inquired a toad in a stern voice.
+
+"Because you will give me warts if I touch you," said Bobby, pleased to
+think that he had a good reason at last.
+
+"Ignorance!" cried the professor. "The toad is absolutely harmless. It
+has about it a liquid that might cause pain to a cut finger or a
+sensitive tissue like that of the mouth or eye, but the old story that a
+toad is poisonous is a silly fable."
+
+"Will you tell me, please," asked a toad in a plaintive voice, "if you
+are the boy who, last year, carried home some of my babies in a tin pail
+and let them die?"
+
+"I'm afraid I am," said Bobby, sorrowfully.
+
+"Do explain why you dislike us!" said Mrs. Bufo in such a frank fashion
+that Bobby felt that he must tell the truth.
+
+"I suppose it's your looks," said the boy, unable to frame his answer in
+more polite terms.
+
+"Well, upon my word!" interrupted the professor. "I thought better of a
+boy than that. So you prefer boys with pretty faces and soft, curling
+hair, and nice clothes, to those who can climb and jump and who are not
+afraid of a day's tramp in the woods."
+
+"Of course I don't," said indignant Bobby. "I hate boys who are always
+thinking about their clothes."
+
+"Oh, you do!" said the frog. "Now answer me a few more questions. Have
+you ever stolen birds' eggs?"
+
+"Yes," said truthful Bobby.
+
+"Have you collected butterflies?"
+
+"Yes," said Bobby.
+
+"Have you taken nuts from the squirrels' cupboards?"
+
+"Yes," said Bobby.
+
+"Do you think we ought to have a very friendly feeling towards you?"
+went on the questioner.
+
+"No," said Bobby; "I don't."
+
+"We have shown that you are not only useless, but careless and
+thoughtless and ignorant," said the frog. "Is there any very good reason
+why we should let you go?"
+
+Poor Bobby racked his brains to think of something that should appeal to
+his captors.
+
+"I have a right to live, haven't I?" he said at last.
+
+"Because you are so pretty?" suggested the professor, and Bobby's eyes
+fell with shame.
+
+"Any better right than we have?" came a chorus of voices. Bobby was
+silent. He felt very helpless and insignificant. There was a long pause.
+Then the frog professor smiled broadly at Bobby.
+
+"Come," he said; "I like you. You are not afraid to be honest, and
+that's something."
+
+"If you will let me go," said Bobby, "I'll see that the boys don't hurt
+you any more."
+
+"I felt pretty sure that we'd converted you," said the professor; "and
+I'm going to let you go back and preach to the heathen, as the grown
+people say. You can see for yourself how much harm a boy can do if he
+doesn't think."
+
+Bobby felt that he was free, and scrambled to his feet, rubbing first
+one arm and then the other to take the prickly feeling out of them. The
+frogs had vanished; there was only the blue sky, the waving pine tree,
+and the quiet pond.
+
+"Well!" said Bobby with a long breath of amazement.
+
+"Kerjunk!" came the warning voice of a frog, somewhere near the water's
+edge.
+
+"Yes sir, I'll remember," said Bobby in the meekest of meek tones.
+
+M. A. L. LANE
+
+
+
+
+A SONG FOR APRIL
+
+
+    List! list! The buds confer.
+    This noonday they've had news of her;
+    The south bank has had views of her;
+    The thorn shall exact his dues of her;
+      The willows adream
+      By the freshet stream
+    Shall ask what boon they choose of her.
+
+    Up! up! The world's astir;
+    The would-be green has word of her;
+    Root and germ have heard of her,
+      Coming to break
+      Their sleep and wake
+    Their hearts with every bird of her.
+
+    See! see! How swift concur
+    Sun, wind, and rain at the name of her,
+    A-wondering what became of her;
+    The fields flower at the flame of her;
+      The glad air sings
+      With dancing wings
+    And the silvery shrill acclaim of her.
+
+CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS
+
+
+[Illustration: ALEXANDRA THE QUEEN MOTHER]
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE CRICKETS BROUGHT GOOD FORTUNE
+
+
+My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
+which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
+appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
+He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
+waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
+perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop.
+
+[Illustration: UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO]
+
+"Ma'am," said he to the baker's wife, "Mother sent me for a loaf of
+bread." The woman took from the shelf a four-pound loaf, the best one
+she could find, and put it into the arms of the little boy.
+
+My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
+the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
+countenance of the large loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.
+
+"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.
+
+The little boy's eyes grew sad.
+
+"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
+mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.
+
+My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
+into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
+big loaf, whom he had supposed to be half-way home, standing stock-still
+behind him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
+also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"
+
+"Oh, yes, ma'am!" said the child.
+
+"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
+longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
+scolding."
+
+The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.
+
+The baker's wife went up to him and gave him a friendly tap on the
+shoulder. "What are you thinking about?" said she.
+
+"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is that that sings?"
+
+"There is no singing," said she.
+
+"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"
+
+My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
+unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers
+houses.
+
+"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
+bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"
+
+"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
+They sing in the bake-house because we are lighting the oven, and they
+like to see the fire."
+
+"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said she, good-humouredly. The child's face lighted
+up.
+
+"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
+it very much if you would give me a cricket."
+
+"A cricket," said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
+you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
+there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."
+
+"O, ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
+clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
+crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
+mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."
+
+"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
+joining in the conversation.
+
+"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
+and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."
+
+My friend took the child, and with him the large loaf, into his arms,
+and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
+who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
+bake-house. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box
+with holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to
+the child, who went away perfectly happy.
+
+When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
+squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
+she took down her account-book, and, finding the page where the mother's
+charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
+wrote at the bottom, "Paid."
+
+Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
+in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
+begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
+cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
+that she had a son who would one day be her pride and joy.
+
+They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
+haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
+short legs, could not run very fast, so that when he reached home, he
+found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
+from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
+
+The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
+which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
+Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
+have taken place in his mother's fortunes?
+
+P. J. STAHL
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM
+
+
+    It was a summer evening,
+      Old Kaspar's work was done,
+    And he before his cottage door
+      Was sitting in the sun,
+    And by him sported on the green
+    His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
+
+    She saw her brother Peterkin
+      Roll something large and round,
+    Which he beside the rivulet
+      In playing there had found:
+    He came to ask what he had found,
+    That was so large, and smooth, and round.
+
+    Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
+      Who stood expectant by:
+    And then the old man shook his head,
+      And, with a natural sigh,
+    "'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
+    "Who fell in the great victory.
+
+    "I find them in the garden,
+      For there's many here about;
+    And often when I go to plough,
+      The ploughshare turns them out!
+    For many thousand men," said he,
+    "Were slain in that great victory."
+
+    "Now tell me what 'twas all about,"
+      Young Peterkin, he cries;
+    And little Wilhelmine looks up
+      With wonder-waiting eyes;
+    "Now tell us all about the war,
+    And what they fought each other for."
+
+    "It was the English," Kaspar cried,
+      "Who put the French to rout;
+    But what they fought each other for,
+      I could not well make out;
+    But everybody said," quoth he,
+    "That 'twas a famous victory.
+
+    "My father lived at Blenheim then,
+      Yon little stream hard by;
+    They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
+      And he was forced to fly;
+    So with his wife and child he fled,
+    Nor had he where to rest his head.
+
+    "They say it was a shocking sight
+      After the field was won;
+    For many thousand bodies here
+      Lay rotting in the sun;
+    But things like that, you know, must be
+    After a famous victory.
+
+    "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
+      And our good prince Eugene."
+    "Why 'twas a very wicked thing!"
+      Said little Wilhelmine.
+    "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,
+    "It was a famous victory.
+
+    "And everybody praised the Duke
+      Who this great fight did win."
+    "But what good came of it at last?"
+      Quoth little Peterkin.
+    "Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
+    "But 'twas a famous victory."
+
+SOUTHEY
+
+
+
+
+THE RIDE FOR LIFE
+
+
+Away off towards the swamp, which they were avoiding, the long,
+heart-chilling cry of a mother-wolf quavered on the still night air. In
+spite of herself, Mrs. Murray shivered, and the boys looked at each
+other.
+
+"There is only one," said Ranald in a low voice to Don, but they both
+knew that where the she-wolf is there is a pack not far off. "And we
+will be through the bush in five minutes."
+
+"Come, Ranald! Come away, you can talk to Don any time. Good-night,
+Don." And so saying she headed her pony toward the clearing and was off
+at a gallop, and Ranald, shaking his head at his friend, ejaculated:
+
+"Man alive! what do you think of that?" and was off after the pony.
+
+Together they entered the bush. The road was well beaten and the horses
+were keen to go, so that before many minutes were over they were half
+through the bush. Ranald's spirits rose and he began to take some
+interest in his companion's observations upon the beauty of the lights
+and shadows falling across their path.
+
+"Look at that very dark shadow from the spruce there, Ranald," she
+cried, pointing to a deep, black turn in the road. For answer there came
+from behind them the long, mournful hunting-cry of the wolf. He was on
+their track. Immediately it was answered by a chorus of howls from the
+bush on the swamp side, but still far away. There was no need of
+command; the pony sprang forward with a snort and the colt followed, and
+after a few minutes' running, passed her.
+
+"Whow-oo-oo-oo-ow," rose the long cry of the pursuer, summoning help,
+and drawing nearer.
+
+"Whw-ee-wow," came the shorter, sharper answer from the swamp, but much
+nearer than before and more in front. They were trying to head off their
+prey.
+
+Ranald tugged at his colt till he got him back with the pony.
+
+"It is a good road," he said, quietly; "you can let the pony go. I will
+follow you." He swung in behind the pony, who was now running for dear
+life and snorting with terror at every jump.
+
+"God preserve us!" said Ranald to himself. He had caught sight of a dark
+form as it darted through the gleam of light in front.
+
+"What did you say, Ranald?" The voice was quiet and clear.
+
+"It is a great pony to run," said Ranald, ashamed of himself.
+
+"Is she not?"
+
+Ranald glanced over his shoulder. Down the road, running with silent,
+awful swiftness, he saw the long, low body of the leading wolf flashing
+through the bars of moonlight across the road, and the pack following
+hard.
+
+"Let her go, Mrs. Murray," cried Ranald. "Whip her and never stop." But
+there was no need; the pony was wild with fear, and was doing her best
+running.
+
+Ranald meantime was gradually holding in the colt, and the pony drew
+away rapidly. But as rapidly the wolves were closing in behind him. They
+were not more than a hundred yards away, and gaining every second.
+Ranald, remembering the suspicious nature of the brutes, loosened his
+coat and dropped it on the road; with a chorus of yelps they paused,
+then threw themselves upon it, and in another minute took up the chase.
+
+But now the clearing was in sight. The pony was far ahead, and Ranald
+shook out his colt with a yell. He was none too soon, for the pursuing
+pack, now uttering short, shrill yelps, were close at the colt's heels.
+Lizette, fleet as the wind, could not shake them off. Closer and ever
+closer they came, snapping and snarling. Ranald could see them over his
+shoulder. A hundred yards more and he would reach his own back lane. The
+leader of the pack seemed to feel that his chances were slipping swiftly
+away. With a spurt he gained upon Lizette, reached the saddle-girths,
+gathered himself into two short jumps, and sprang for the colt's throat.
+Instinctively Ranald stood up in his stirrups, and kicking his foot
+free, caught the wolf under the jaw. The brute fell with a howl under
+the colt's feet, and next moment they were in the lane and safe.
+
+The savage brutes, discouraged by their leader's fall, slowed down their
+fierce pursuit, and hearing the deep bay of the Macdonalds' great
+deer-hound, Bugle, up at the house, they paused, sniffed the air a few
+minutes, then turned and swiftly and silently slid into the dark
+shadows. Ranald, knowing that they would hardly dare enter the lane,
+checked the colt, and wheeling, watched them disappear.
+
+"I'll have some of your hides some day," he cried, shaking his fist
+after them. He hated to be made to run.
+
+He had hardly set the colt's face homeward when he heard something
+tearing down the lane to meet him. The colt snorted, swerved, and then
+dropping his ears, stood still. It was Bugle, and after him came Mrs.
+Murray on the pony.
+
+"Oh, Ranald!" she panted, "thank God you are safe. I was afraid
+you--you--" Her voice broke in sobs. Her hood had fallen back from her
+white face, and her eyes were shining like two stars. She laid her hand
+on Ranald's arm, and her voice grew steady as she said: "Thank God, my
+boy, and thank you with all my heart. You risked your life for mine. You
+are a brave fellow! I can never forget this!"
+
+"Oh, pshaw!" said Ranald, awkwardly. "You are better stuff than I am.
+You came back with Bugle. And I knew Liz could beat the pony." Then they
+walked their horses quietly to the stable, and nothing more was said by
+either of them; but from that hour Ranald had a friend ready to offer
+life for him, though he did not know it then nor till years afterward.
+
+RALPH CONNOR: "The Man from Glengarry."
+
+
+
+
+Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his
+friends.
+
+ST. JOHN, XV. 13
+
+
+
+
+IAGOO, THE BOASTER
+
+
+      And Iagoo, the great boaster,
+    He the marvellous story-teller,
+    He the friend of old Nokomis,
+    Saw in all the eyes around him,
+    Saw in all their looks and gestures,
+    That the wedding guests assembled,
+    Longed to hear his pleasant stories,
+    His immeasurable falsehoods.
+
+      Very boastful was Iagoo;
+    Never heard he an adventure
+    But himself had met a greater;
+    Never any deed of daring
+    But himself had done a bolder;
+    Never any marvellous story
+    But himself could tell a stranger.
+
+      Would you listen to his boasting,
+    Would you only give him credence,
+    No one ever shot an arrow
+    Half so far and high as he had;
+    Ever caught so many fishes,
+    Ever killed so many reindeer,
+    Ever trapped so many beaver!
+
+      None could run so fast as he could,
+    None could dive so deep as he could,
+    None could swim so far as he could;
+    None had made so many journeys,
+    None had seen so many wonders,
+    As this wonderful Iagoo,
+    As this marvellous story-teller!
+
+      Thus his name became a by-word
+    And a jest among the people;
+    And whene'er a boastful hunter
+    Praised his own address too highly,
+    Or a warrior, home returning,
+    Talked too much of his achievements,
+    All his hearers cried: "Iagoo!
+    Here's Iagoo come among us!"
+
+LONGFELLOW: "Hiawatha."
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF A FIRE
+
+
+Thirteen years have passed since, but it is all to me as if it had
+happened yesterday,--the clanging of the fire-bells, the hoarse shouts
+of the firemen, the wild rush and terror of the streets; then the great
+hush that fell upon the crowd; the sea of upturned faces with the fire
+glow upon it; and up there, against the background of black smoke that
+poured from roof to attic, the boy clinging to the narrow ledge, so far
+up that it seemed humanly impossible that help could ever come.
+
+But even then it was coming. Up from the street, while the crew of the
+truck company were labouring with the heavy extension ladder that at its
+longest stretch was many feet too short, crept four men upon long,
+slender poles with cross-bars, iron-hooked at the end. Standing in one
+window, they reached up and thrust the hook through the next one above,
+then mounted a story higher. Again the crash of glass, and again the
+dizzy ascent. Straight up the wall they crept, looking like human flies
+on the ceiling, and clinging as close, never resting, reaching one
+recess only to set out for the next; nearer and nearer in the race for
+life, until but a single span separated the foremost from the boy. And
+now the iron hook fell at his feet, and the fireman stood upon the step
+with the rescued lad in his arms, just as the pent-up flames burst lurid
+from the attic window, reaching with impotent fury for their prey. The
+next moment they were safe upon the great ladder waiting to receive them
+below.
+
+Then such a shout went up! Men fell on each other's necks, and cried and
+laughed at once. Strangers slapped one another on the back with
+glistening faces, shook hands, and behaved generally like men gone
+suddenly mad. Women wept in the street. The driver of a car stalled in
+the crowd, who had stood through it all speechless, clutching the reins,
+whipped his horses into a gallop and drove away, yelling like a
+Comanche, to relieve his feelings. The boy and his rescuer were carried
+across the street without anyone knowing how. Policemen forgot their
+dignity and shouted with the rest. Fire, peril, terror, and loss were
+alike forgotten in the one touch of nature that makes the whole world
+kin.
+
+Fireman John Binns was made captain of his crew, and the Bennett medal
+was pinned on his coat on the next parade day.
+
+JACOB A. RIIS
+
+
+
+
+    Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
+    Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,
+      Our hearts in glad surprise
+      To higher levels rise.
+
+LONGFELLOW
+
+
+
+
+THE QUEST
+
+
+        There once was a restless boy
+          Who dwelt in a home by the sea,
+        Where the water danced for joy,
+          And the wind was glad and free;
+    But he said: "Good mother, O let me go!
+    For the dullest place in the world, I know,
+          Is this little brown house,
+          This old brown house,
+          Under the apple tree.
+
+        "I will travel east and west;
+          The loveliest homes I'll see;
+        And when I have found the best,
+          Dear mother, I'll come for thee.
+    I'll come for thee in a year and a day,
+    And joyfully then we'll haste away
+          From this little brown house,
+          This old brown house,
+          Under the apple tree."
+
+        So he travelled here and there,
+          But never content was he,
+        Though he saw in lands most fair
+          The costliest homes there be.
+    He something missed from the sea or sky,
+    Till he turned again with a wistful sigh
+          To the little brown house,
+          The old brown house,
+          Under the apple tree.
+
+        Then the mother saw and smiled,
+          While her heart grew glad and free.
+        "Hast thou chosen a home, my child?
+          Ah, where shall we dwell?" quoth she.
+    And he said: "Sweet mother, from east to west,
+    The loveliest home, and the dearest and best,
+          Is a little brown house,
+          An old brown house,
+          Under an apple tree."
+
+EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD
+
+
+
+
+THE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE
+
+
+A Jackal and a Partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was
+very exacting and jealous. "You don't do half as much for me as I do for
+you," he used to say, "and yet you talk a great deal of your friendship.
+Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me laugh or cry,
+give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You couldn't do that!"
+
+"Let us see," answered the Partridge; "follow me at a little distance,
+and if I don't make you laugh soon you may eat me!"
+
+So she flew on till she met two travellers trudging along, one behind
+the other. They were both foot-sore and weary, and the first carried his
+bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his shoes in
+his hand.
+
+Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveller's
+stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on; but the second traveller, seeing
+the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to himself:
+"What a chance for a supper!" and immediately flung his shoes at it,
+they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the
+shoes knocked off the first traveller's turban.
+
+"What a plague do you mean?" cried he, angrily turning on his companion.
+"Why did you throw your shoes at my head?"
+
+"Brother!" replied the other, mildly, "do not be vexed. I didn't throw
+them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick."
+
+"On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?" shouted the injured man, in a
+great rage. "Don't tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you insult
+me, and then you lie like a coward; but I'll teach you manners!"
+
+Then he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they fought
+until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were
+bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of
+laughing.
+
+"Are you satisfied?" asked the Partridge of her friend.
+
+"Well," answered the Jackal, "you have certainly made me laugh, but I
+doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is
+more difficult to excite the higher emotions."
+
+"Let us see," retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; "there is a
+huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that
+hollow tree and watch me; if you don't weep scalding tears, you must
+have no feeling in you!"
+
+The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began
+fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she
+flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs
+smelled him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the
+huntsman came up and, seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the
+tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts' content, and
+finally left him for dead.
+
+By and by he opened his eyes--for he was only foxing--and saw the
+Partridge sitting on a branch above him.
+
+"Did you cry?" she asked anxiously. "Did I rouse your higher emo--"
+
+"Be quiet, will you!" snarled the Jackal; "I'm half-dead with fear!"
+
+So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his
+bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.
+
+"Now is the time for friendship!" said he to the Partridge. "Get me a
+good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend."
+
+"Very well!" replied the Partridge; "only watch me, and help yourself
+when the time comes."
+
+Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners to
+the harvest-field.
+
+The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along
+from bush to bush as if she were wounded.
+
+"A wounded bird!--a wounded bird!" cried the women; "we can easily catch
+it!"
+
+Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a
+thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they
+put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The
+Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with
+a good dinner.
+
+"Are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.
+
+"Well," returned the Jackal, "I confess you have given me a very good
+dinner; you have also made me laugh--and cry--ahem! But, after all, the
+great test of friendship is beyond you--you couldn't save my life!"
+
+"Perhaps not," acquiesced the Partridge, mournfully. "I am so small and
+weak. But it grows late--we should be going home; and as it is a long
+way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend, the
+crocodile, will carry us over."
+
+Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly
+consented to carry them across; so they sat on his broad back, and he
+ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the
+Partridge remarked: "I believe the crocodile intends to play us a trick.
+How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!"
+
+"Awkward for you, too!" replied the Jackal, turning pale.
+
+"Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven't."
+
+On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the crocodile,
+in a grewsome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted a good meal,
+the wretched creature hadn't a word to say.
+
+"Pooh!" cried the Partridge, airily, "don't try tricks on us--I should
+fly away, and as for my friend, the Jackal, you couldn't hurt _him_. He
+is not such a fool as to take his life with him on these little
+excursions; he leaves it at home locked up in the cupboard."
+
+"Is that a fact?" asked the crocodile, surprised.
+
+"Certainly!" retorted the Partridge. "Try to eat him if you like, but
+you will only tire yourself to no purpose."
+
+"Dear me! how very odd!" gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken aback
+that he carried the Jackal safe to shore.
+
+"Well, are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.
+
+"My dear madam!" quoth the Jackal, "you have made me laugh, you have
+made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my
+life; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend: so,
+good-bye!"
+
+And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.
+
+FLORA ANNIE STEEL: "Tales from the Punjab."
+
+
+
+
+HIDE AND SEEK
+
+
+    All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still,
+    All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill;
+    Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June,
+    Hark! a little hunter's voice comes running with a tune.
+
+                "Hide and seek!
+                "When I speak,
+                "You must answer me:
+                "Call again,
+                "Merry men,
+              "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
+
+    Now I hear his footsteps, rustling through the grass:
+    Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass?
+    Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns,
+    Leaps upon me laughing, rolls me in the ferns.
+
+                "Hold him fast,
+                "Caught at last!
+                "Now you're it, you see.
+                "Hide your eye,
+                "Till I cry,
+              "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
+
+    Long ago he left me, long and long ago:
+    Now I wander through the world and seek him high and low;
+    Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,--
+    Ah, if I could hear his voice, I soon should find his face.
+
+                Far away,
+                Many a day,
+                Where can Barney be?
+                Answer, dear,
+                Don't you hear?
+              "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
+
+    Birds that in the spring-time thrilled his heart with joy,
+    Flowers he loved to pick for me, 'mind me of my boy.
+    Surely he is waiting till my steps come nigh;
+    Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.
+
+                Heart be glad,
+                The little lad
+                Will call some day to thee:
+                "Father dear,
+                "Heaven is here,
+              "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
+
+HENRY VAN DYKE
+
+
+
+
+THE BURNING OF THE "GOLIATH"
+
+     (Owing to the excellent discipline which Captain Bourchier had
+     established, and to the courage of the boys, only twelve lives
+     were lost out of the crew of five hundred).
+
+
+Let me give you an example of self-denial which comes from near home. I
+will speak to you of what has been done by little boys of seven, of
+eight, of twelve, of thirteen;--little English boys, and English boys
+with very few advantages of birth; not brought up, as most of you are,
+in quiet, orderly homes, but taken from the London workhouses. I will
+speak to you of what such little boys have done, not fifteen hundred, or
+even two hundred years ago, but last week--last Wednesday, on the river
+Thames.
+
+Do you know of whom I am thinking? I am thinking of the little boys,
+nearly five hundred, who were taken from different workhouses in London,
+and put to school to be trained as sailors on board the ship which was
+called after the name of the giant whom David slew--the training-ship
+Goliath.
+
+About eight o'clock on Wednesday morning that great ship suddenly caught
+fire, from the upsetting of a can of oil in the lamp-room. It was hardly
+daylight. In a very few minutes the ship was on fire from one end to the
+other, and the fire-bell rang to call the boys to their posts. What did
+they do? Think of the sudden surprise, the sudden danger--the flames
+rushing all around them, and the dark, cold water below them! Did they
+cry, or scream, or fly about in confusion? No; they ran each to his
+proper place.
+
+They had been trained to do that--they knew that it was their duty; and
+no one forgot himself; no one lost his presence of mind. They all, as
+the captain said: "behaved like men." Then, when it was found impossible
+to save the ship, those who could swim jumped into the water by order of
+the captain, and swam for their lives. Some, also at his command, got
+into a boat; and then, when the sheets of flame and the clouds of smoke
+came pouring out of the ship, the smaller boys for a moment were
+frightened, and wanted to push away.
+
+But there was one among them--the little mate: his name was William
+Bolton: we are proud that he came from Westminster: a quiet boy, much
+loved by his comrades--who had the sense and courage to say: "No; we
+must stay and help those that are still in the ship." He kept the barge
+alongside the ship as long as possible, and was thus the means of saving
+more than one hundred lives!
+
+There were others who were still in the ship while the flames went on
+spreading. They were standing by the good captain, who had been so kind
+to them all, and whom they all loved so much. In that dreadful crisis
+they thought more of him than of themselves. One threw his arms round
+his neck and said: "You'll be burnt, Captain;" and another said: "Save
+yourself before the rest." But the captain gave them the best of all
+lessons for that moment. He said: "That's not the way at sea, my boys."
+
+He meant to say--and they quite understood what he meant--that the way
+at sea is to prepare for danger beforehand, to meet it manfully when it
+comes, and to look at the safety, not of oneself, but of others. The
+captain had not only learned that good old way himself, but he also knew
+how to teach it to the boys under his charge.
+
+DEAN STANLEY
+
+
+
+
+HEARTS OF OAK
+
+
+    Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
+    To add something more to this wonderful year,
+    To honour we call you, not press you like slaves,
+    For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
+    Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men,
+            We always are ready,
+            Steady, boys, steady,
+    We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
+
+    Still Britain shall triumph, her ships plough the sea,
+    Her standard be justice, her watchword "Be free;"
+    Then, cheer up, my lads, with one heart let us sing
+    Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen, our king.
+    Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men,
+            We always are ready,
+            Steady, boys, steady,
+    We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
+
+DAVID GARRICK
+
+
+
+
+A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA
+
+
+    A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
+      A wind that follows fast,
+    And fills the white and rustling sail,
+      And bends the gallant mast;
+    And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
+      While, like the eagle free,
+    Away the good ship flies, and leaves
+      Old England on the lee!
+
+    "O for a soft and gentle wind!"
+      I heard a fair one cry;
+    But give to me the snoring breeze
+      And white waves heaving high;
+    And white waves heaving high, my boys,
+      The good ship tight and free,--
+    The world of waters is our home,
+      And merry men are we.
+
+    There's tempest in yon hornèd moon,
+      And lightning in yon cloud;
+    And hark the music, mariners,
+      The wind is piping loud!
+    The wind is piping loud, my boys,
+      The lightning flashes free,--
+    While the hollow oak our palace is,
+      Our heritage the sea.
+
+ALLAN CUNNINGHAM
+
+
+
+
+THE TALENTS
+
+
+The kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who
+called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one
+he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one; to every man
+according to his several ability; and straightway took his journey.
+
+Then he that had received the five talents went and traded with the
+same, and made them other five talents. And likewise he that had
+received two, he also gained other two. But he that had received one
+went and digged in the earth, and hid his lord's money. After a long
+time the lord of those servants cometh, and reckoneth with them.
+
+And so he that had received five talents came and brought other five
+talents saying, "Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents: behold, I
+have gained beside them five talents more." His lord said unto him,
+"Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over
+a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into
+the joy of thy lord."
+
+He also that had received two talents came and said, "Lord, thou
+deliveredst unto me two talents: behold, I have gained two other talents
+beside them." His lord said unto him, "Well done, good and faithful
+servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee
+ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord."
+
+Then he which had received the one talent came and said, "Lord, I knew
+thee that thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and
+gathering where thou hast not strawed; and I was afraid, and went and
+hid thy talent in the earth: lo, there thou hast that is thine." His
+lord answered and said unto him, "Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou
+knewest that I reap where I sowed not, and gather where I have not
+strawed: thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the
+exchangers, and then at my coming I should have received mine own with
+usury. Take therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him which
+hath ten talents. For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he
+shall have abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away
+even that which he hath. And cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer
+darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."
+
+ST. MATTHEW, XXV. 14-30
+
+
+
+
+A FAREWELL
+
+
+    My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
+      No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
+    Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
+            For every day.
+
+    I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol
+      Than lark who hails the dawn or breezy down,
+    To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel
+            Than Shakespeare's crown.
+
+    Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
+      Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
+    And so make life, death, and that vast forever,
+            One grand, sweet song.
+
+KINGSLEY
+
+
+
+
+AN APPLE ORCHARD IN THE SPRING
+
+
+    Have you seen an apple orchard in the spring?
+            In the spring?
+    An English apple orchard in the spring?
+      When the spreading trees are hoary
+      With their wealth of promised glory,
+      And the mavis sings its story,
+            In the spring.
+
+    Have you plucked the apple blossoms in the spring?
+            In the spring?
+    And caught their subtle odours in the spring?
+      Pink buds pouting at the light,
+      Crumpled petals baby white
+      Just to touch them a delight--
+            In the spring.
+
+    Have you walked beneath the blossoms in the spring?
+            In the spring?
+    Beneath the apple blossoms in the spring?
+      When the pink cascades are falling,
+      And the silver brooklets brawling,
+      And the cuckoo bird soft calling,
+            In the spring.
+
+    If you have not, then you know not, in the spring,
+            In the spring,
+    Half the colour, beauty, wonder of the spring,
+      No sweet sight can I remember
+      Half so precious, half so tender,
+      As the apple blossoms render,
+            In the spring.
+
+WILLIAM MARTIN
+
+
+
+
+THE BLUEJAY
+
+
+Said Jim Baker: "There's more to a bluejay than to any other creature.
+He has more kinds of feeling than any other creature; and mind you,
+whatever a bluejay feels, he can put into words. No common words either,
+but out-and-out book-talk. You never see a jay at a loss for a word.
+
+"You may call a jay a bird. Well, so he is, because he has feathers on
+him. Otherwise, he is just as human as you are.
+
+"Yes, sir; a jay is everything that a man is. A jay can laugh, a jay can
+gossip, a jay can feel ashamed, just as well as you do, maybe better.
+And there's another thing: in good, clean, out-and-out scolding, a
+bluejay can beat anything alive.
+
+"Seven years ago the last man about here but me moved away. There stands
+his house--a log house with just one big room and no more: no ceiling,
+nothing between the rafters and the floor.
+
+"Well, one Sunday morning I was sitting out here in front of my cabin,
+with my cat, taking the sun, when a bluejay flew down on that house with
+an acorn in his mouth.
+
+"'Hello,' says he, 'I reckon here's something.' When he spoke, the acorn
+fell out of his mouth and rolled down on the roof. He didn't care; his
+mind was on the thing he had found.
+
+"It was a knot-hole in the roof. He cocked his head to one side, shut
+one eye, and put the other to the hole, like a 'possum looking down a
+jug.'
+
+"Then he looked up, gave a wink or two with his wings, and says: 'It
+looks like a hole, it's placed like a hole--and--if I don't think it is
+a hole!'
+
+"Then he cocked his head down and took another look. He looked up with
+joy, this time winked his wings and his tail both, and says: 'If I ain't
+in luck! Why it's an elegant hole!'
+
+"So he flew down and got that acorn and dropped it in, and was tilting
+his head back with a smile when a queer look of surprise came over his
+face. Then he says: 'Why, I didn't hear it fall.'
+
+"He cocked his eye at the hole again and took a long look; rose up and
+shook his head; went to the other side of the hole and took another look
+from that side; shook his head again. No use.
+
+"So after thinking awhile, he says: 'I reckon it's all right. I'll try
+it, anyway.'
+
+"So he flew off and brought another acorn and dropped it in, and tried
+to get his eye to the hole quick enough to see what became of it. He was
+too late. He got another acorn and tried to see where it went, but he
+couldn't.
+
+"He says: 'Well, I never saw such a hole as this before. I reckon it's a
+new kind.' Then he got angry and walked up and down the roof. I never
+saw a bird take on so.
+
+"When he got through, he looked in the hole for half a minute; then he
+says: 'Well, you're a long hole, and a deep hole, and a queer hole, but
+I have started to fill you, and I'll do it if it takes a hundred
+years.'
+
+"And with that away he went. For two hours and a half you never saw a
+bird work so hard. He did not stop to look in any more, but just threw
+acorns in and went for more.
+
+"Well, at last he could hardly flap his wings he was so tired out. So he
+bent down for a look. He looked up, pale with rage. He says: 'I've put
+in enough acorns to keep the family thirty years, and I can't see a sign
+of them.'
+
+"Another jay was going by and heard him. So he stopped to ask what was
+the matter. Our jay told him the whole story. Then he went and looked
+down the hole and came back and said: 'How many tons did you put in
+there?' 'Not less than two,' said our jay.
+
+"The other jay looked again, but could not make it out; so he gave a
+yell and three more jays came. They all talked at once for awhile, and
+then called in more jays.
+
+"Pretty soon the air was blue with jays, and every jay put his eye to
+the hole and told what he thought. They looked the house all over, too.
+The door was partly open, and at last one old jay happened to look in.
+There lay the acorns all over the floor.
+
+"He flapped his wings and gave a yell: 'Come here, everybody! Ha! Ha!
+He's been trying to fill a house with acorns!'
+
+"As each jay took a look, the fun of the thing struck him, and how he
+did laugh. And for an hour after they roosted on the housetop and trees,
+and laughed like human beings. It isn't any use to tell me a bluejay
+hasn't any fun in him. I know better."
+
+SAMUEL L. CLEMENS (Mark Twain)
+
+
+
+
+A CANADIAN CAMPING SONG
+
+
+    A white tent pitched by a glassy lake,
+      Well under a shady tree,
+    Or by rippling rills from the grand old hills,
+      Is the summer home for me.
+    I fear no blaze of the noontide rays,
+      For the woodland glades are mine,
+    The fragrant air, and that perfume rare,
+      The odour of forest pine.
+
+    A cooling plunge at the break of day,
+      A paddle, a row, or sail,
+    With always a fish for a mid-day dish,
+      And plenty of Adam's ale.
+    With rod or gun, or in hammock swung,
+      We glide through the pleasant days;
+    When darkness falls on our canvas walls,
+      We kindle the camp fire's blaze.
+
+    From out the gloom sails the silv'ry moon,
+      O'er forests dark and still,
+    Now far, now near, ever sad and clear,
+      Comes the plaint of the whip-poor-will;
+    With song and laugh, and with kindly chaff,
+      We startle the birds above,
+    Then rest tired heads on our cedar beds,
+      To dream of the ones we love.
+
+SIR J. D. EDGAR: "This Canada of Ours."
+
+
+
+
+THE ARGONAUTS
+
+
+Now, when the building of the ship Argo was finished, the fifty heroes
+came to look upon her, and joy filled their hearts. "Surely," said they,
+"this is the greatest ship that ever sailed the sea."
+
+So eager were they to make trial of the long oars that some, leaping on
+the shoulders of their comrades and grasping the shrouds, clambered over
+the bulwarks upon the thwarts and drew the rest in after them. Orpheus,
+upon the mighty shoulders of Jason the leader of the expedition, seized
+hold of the arm of the azure-eyed goddess, the figure-head of the ship,
+and, as he climbed on board, her whisper reached his ear. "Orpheus, sing
+me something." This was the song:
+
+    "How sweet upon the surge to ride,
+    And leap from wave to wave,
+    While oars flash fast above the tide
+    And lordly tempests rave.
+    How sweet it is across the main,
+    In wonder-land to roam,
+    To win rich treasure, endless fame,
+    And earn a welcome home."
+
+Then the good ship Argo stirred in all her timbers and longing for the
+restless sea came upon her and she rushed headlong down the grooves till
+the lips of the goddess tasted the salt sea spray.
+
+Many a day they sailed through laughing seas and ever they spoke
+together of the glory of the Golden Fleece which they hoped to bring
+home from far off Colchis.
+
+When they were come to the land of Colchis, King Æetes summoned them to
+his palace. Beside him was seated his daughter, the beautiful witch
+maiden, Medea. She looked upon the Greeks and upon Jason, fairest and
+noblest of them all, and her spirit leaped forth to meet his. And
+knowing what lay before them, "surely," she thought, "it were an evil
+thing that men so bold and comely should perish."
+
+When Jason demanded the Golden Fleece, the rage of the King rushed up
+like a whirlwind, but he curbed his speech and spake a fair word.
+"Choose ye now him who is boldest among you and let him perform the
+labours I shall set."
+
+That night Medea stole from the palace to warn the hero of the toils and
+dangers that awaited him,--to tame a span of brazen-footed
+fire-breathing bulls, with them to plough four acres of unbroken land in
+the field of Ares, to sow the tilth with serpents' teeth, to slay its
+crop of warriors, to cross a river, and climb a lofty wall, to snatch
+the Fleece from a tree round which lay coiled the sleepless dragon. "How
+can these things be accomplished and that before the setting of another
+sun?" But Jason used flattering words, singing the song of Chiron:
+
+    "No river so deep but an arm may swim,
+    No wall so steep but a foot may climb,
+    No dragon so dread but a sword may slay,
+    No fiend so fierce but your charms may stay."
+
+Medea, seeing that he knew not fear, gave him a magic ointment which
+should give him the strength of seven men and protect him from fire and
+steel.
+
+All the people assembled at sunrise in the field of Ares. When the
+fire-breathing bulls saw Jason standing in the middle of the field, fury
+shot from their eyes. Fierce was their onset and the multitude waited
+breathless to see what the end would be. As the bulls came on with
+lowered heads, and tails in air, Jason leaped nimbly to one side, and
+the monsters shot past him with bellowings that shook the earth. They
+turned and Jason poised for the leap. As they passed a second time, he
+grasped the nearest by the horn and lightly vaulted upon its back. The
+bull, unused to the burden, sank cowering to the ground. Jason patted
+its neck caressing it, and gladly it shared the yoke with its fellow.
+
+When the ground was ploughed and sown with the teeth of the serpent, a
+thousand warriors sprang full-armed from the brown earth. Then King
+Æetes greatly rejoiced, but Medea, trembling at the sight, laid a spell
+upon them that they might not clearly distinguish friend from foe.
+
+One among them came forth and Jason advanced to meet him, walking with a
+halt. His adversary laughed aloud, but Jason with a mighty bound sprang
+upon the shoulders of his enemy and bore him helmetless to the ground.
+The hero quickly replaced the fallen helmet with his own, giving a
+golden helmet for a brazen. The other rose and fled back among his
+fellows who, thinking it was Jason come among them, fell upon and slew
+him and strove with each other for the golden helmet until all were
+slain but one who, wounded unto death, rose up from the fray and
+shouting "Victory" sank upon knee and elbow never to rise again.
+
+The rest of the task was quickly accomplished, for Medea by her spells
+cast a deep sleep upon the dragon. So the Golden Fleece was won and
+brought once more to Iolchos with a prize still more precious, for Jason
+bore home with him Medea, the beautiful witch maiden, who became his
+bride and ruled with him, let us hope, many happy years.
+
+JOHN WAUGH
+
+
+
+
+    In the elder days of Art,
+      Builders wrought with greatest care
+    Each minute and unseen part;
+      For the Gods see everywhere.
+    Let us do our work as well,
+      Both the unseen and the seen;
+    Make the house, where Gods may dwell,
+      Beautiful, entire and clean.
+
+LONGFELLOW
+
+
+
+
+THE MINSTREL-BOY
+
+
+    The Minstrel-boy to the war is gone,
+      In the ranks of death you'll find him;
+    His father's sword he has girded on,
+      And his wild harp slung behind him.
+    "Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,
+      "Tho' all the world betrays thee,
+    _One_ sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
+      _One_ faithful harp shall praise thee!"
+
+    The Minstrel fell! but the foeman's chain
+      Could not bring his proud soul under;
+    The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
+      For he tore its chords asunder;
+    And said: "No chains shall sully thee,
+      Thou soul of love and bravery!
+    Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
+      They shall never sound in slavery."
+
+MOORE
+
+
+
+
+    Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,
+    In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side;
+    Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside.
+
+LOWELL
+
+
+
+
+MARY ELIZABETH
+
+
+Mary Elizabeth was a little girl with a long name. She was poor, she was
+sick, she was ragged, she was dirty, she was cold, she was hungry, she
+was frightened. She had no home, she had no mother, she had no father.
+She had no supper, she had had no dinner, she had had no breakfast. She
+had no place to go and nobody to care where she went.
+
+In fact, Mary Elizabeth had not much of anything but a short pink calico
+dress, a little red cotton-and-wool shawl, and her long name. Besides
+this, she had a pair of old rubbers, too large for her.
+
+She was walking up Washington Street. It was late in the afternoon of a
+bitter January day.
+
+"God made so many people," thought Mary Elizabeth, "He must have made so
+many suppers. Seems as if there'd ought to be one for one extry little
+girl."
+
+But she thought this in a gentle way. She was a very gentle little girl.
+All girls who hadn't anything were not like Mary Elizabeth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So now she was shuffling up Washington Street, not knowing exactly what
+to do next,--peeping into people's faces, timidly looking away from
+them, heart-sick (for a very little girl can be very heart-sick),
+colder, she thought, every minute, and hungrier each hour than she was
+the hour before.
+
+The child left Washington Street at last, where everybody had homes and
+suppers without one extra one to spare for a little girl, and turned
+into a short, bright, showy street, where stood a great hotel.
+
+Whether the door-keeper was away, or busy, or sick, or careless, or
+whether the head-waiter at the dining-room was so tall that he couldn't
+see so short a beggar, or whether the clerk at the desk was so noisy
+that he couldn't hear so still a beggar, or however it was, Mary
+Elizabeth did get in; by the door-keeper, past the head-waiter, under
+the shadow of the clerk, over the smooth, slippery marble floor the
+child crept on.
+
+She came to the office door and stood still. She looked around her with
+wide eyes. She had never seen a place like that. Lights flashed over it,
+many and bright. Gentlemen sat in it smoking and reading. They were all
+warm. Not one of them looked as if he had had no dinner and no
+breakfast and no supper.
+
+"How many extry suppers," thought the little girl, "it must ha' taken to
+feed 'em all. I guess maybe there'll be one for me in here."
+
+Mary Elizabeth stood in the middle of it, in her pink calico dress and
+red plaid shawl. The shawl was tied over her head and about her neck
+with a ragged tippet. Her bare feet showed in the old rubbers. She began
+to shuffle about the room, holding out one purple little hand.
+
+One or two of the gentlemen laughed; some frowned; more did nothing at
+all; most did not notice, or did not seem to notice, the child. One
+said: "What's the matter here?"
+
+Mary Elizabeth shuffled on. She went from one to the other, less
+timidly; a kind of desperation had taken possession of her. The odours
+from the dining-room came in, of strong, hot coffee, and strange roast
+meats. Mary Elizabeth thought of Jo.
+
+It seemed to her she was so hungry that, if she could not get a supper,
+she should jump up and run and rush about and snatch something and steal
+like Jo. She held out her hand, but only said: "I'm hungry!"
+
+A gentleman called her. He was the gentleman who had asked: "What's the
+matter here?" He called her in behind his daily paper which was big
+enough to hide three of Mary Elizabeth, and when he saw that nobody was
+looking he gave her a five-cent piece in a hurry, as if he had committed
+a sin, and said quickly: "There, there, child! go now, go!"
+
+Then he began to read his newspaper quite hard and fast and to look
+severe, as one does who never gives anything to beggars, as a matter of
+principle.
+
+But nobody else gave anything to Mary Elizabeth. She shuffled from one
+to another, hopelessly. Every gentleman shook his head. One called for a
+waiter to put her out. This frightened her and she stood still.
+
+Over by a window, in a lonely corner of the great room, a young man was
+sitting apart from the others. He sat with his elbows on the table and
+his face buried in his arms. He was a well-dressed young man, with
+brown, curling hair.
+
+Mary Elizabeth wondered why he looked so miserable and why he sat alone.
+She thought, perhaps, that if he weren't so happy as the other
+gentlemen, he would be more sorry for cold and hungry girls. She
+hesitated, then walked along and directly up to him.
+
+One or two gentlemen laid down their papers and watched this; they
+smiled and nodded to each other. The child did not see them to wonder
+why. She went up and put her hand upon the young man's arm.
+
+He started. The brown, curly head lifted itself from the shelter of his
+arms; a young face looked sharply at the beggar girl,--a beautiful young
+face it might have been.
+
+It was haggard now and dreadful to look at,--bloated and badly marked
+with the unmistakable marks of a wicked week's debauch. He roughly said:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"I'm hungry," said Mary Elizabeth.
+
+"I can't help that. Go away."
+
+"I haven't had anything to eat for a whole day--a whole day!" repeated
+the child.
+
+Her lip quivered. But she spoke distinctly. Her voice sounded through
+the room. One gentleman after another laid down his paper or his pipe.
+Several were watching this little scene.
+
+"Go away!" repeated the young man, irritably. "Don't bother me. I
+haven't had anything to eat for three days!"
+
+His face went down into his arms again. Mary Elizabeth stood staring at
+the brown, curling hair. She stood perfectly still for some moments. She
+evidently was greatly puzzled. She walked away a little distance, then
+stopped and thought it over.
+
+And now paper after paper and pipe after cigar went down. Every
+gentleman in the room began to look on. The young man with the beautiful
+brown curls, and dissipated, disgraced, and hidden face was not stiller
+than the rest.
+
+The little figure in the pink calico and the red shawl and big rubbers
+stood for a moment silent among them all. The waiter came to take her
+out but the gentlemen motioned him away.
+
+Mary Elizabeth turned her five-cent piece over and over in her purple
+hand. Her hand shook. The tears came. The smell of the dinner from the
+dining-room grew savoury and strong. The child put the piece of money to
+her lips as if she could have eaten it, then turned and, without further
+hesitation, went back.
+
+She touched the young man--on the bright hair this time--with her
+trembling little hand.
+
+The room was so still now that what she said rang out to the corridor,
+where the waiters stood, with the clerk behind looking over the desk to
+see.
+
+"I'm sorry you are so hungry. If you haven't had anything for three
+days, you must be hungrier than me. I've got five cents. A gentleman
+gave it me. I wish you would take it. I've only gone one day. You can
+get some supper with it, and--maybe--I--can get some somewheres! I wish
+you'd please to take it!"
+
+Mary Elizabeth stood quite still, holding out her five-cent piece. She
+did not understand the stir that went all over the bright room. She did
+not see that some of the gentlemen coughed and wiped their spectacles.
+
+She did not know why the brown curls before her came up with such a
+start, nor why the young man's wasted face flushed red and hot with a
+noble shame.
+
+She did not in the least understand why he flung the five-cent piece
+upon the table, and, snatching her in his arms, held her fast and hid
+his face on her plaid shawl and sobbed. Nor did she seem to know what
+could be the reason that nobody seemed amused to see this gentleman
+cry.
+
+The gentleman who had given her the money came up, and some more came
+up, and they gathered around, and she in the midst of them, and they all
+spoke kindly, and the young man with the bad face that might have been
+so beautiful stood up, still clinging to her, and said aloud:
+
+"She's shamed me before you all, and she's shamed me to myself! I'll
+learn a lesson from this beggar, so help me God!"
+
+So then he took the child upon his knee, and the gentlemen came up to
+listen, and the young man asked her what her name was.
+
+"Mary Elizabeth, sir."
+
+"Names used to mean things--in the Bible--when I was as little as you. I
+read the Bible then. Does Mary Elizabeth mean angel of rebuke?"
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"Where do you live, Mary Elizabeth?"
+
+"Nowhere, sir."
+
+"Where do you sleep?"
+
+"In Mrs. O'Flynn's shed, sir. It's too cold for the cows. She's so kind,
+she lets us stay."
+
+"Whom do you stay with?"
+
+"Nobody, only Jo."
+
+"Is Jo your brother?"
+
+"No, sir. Jo is a girl. I haven't got only Jo."
+
+"What does Jo do for a living?"
+
+"She--gets it, sir."
+
+"And what do you do?"
+
+"I beg. It's better than to--get it, sir, I think."
+
+"Where's your mother?"
+
+"Dead."
+
+"What did she die of?"
+
+"Drink, sir," said Mary Elizabeth, in her distinct and gentle tone.
+
+"Ah--well. And your father?"
+
+"He is dead. He died in prison."
+
+"What sent him to prison?"
+
+"Drink, sir."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I had a brother once," continued Mary Elizabeth, who grew quite
+eloquent with so large an audience, "but he died, too."
+
+"I do want my supper," she added, after a pause, speaking in a whisper,
+as if to Jo or to herself, "and Jo'll be wondering for me."
+
+"Wait, then," said the young man. "I'll see if I can't beg enough to get
+you your supper."
+
+"I thought there must be an extry one among so many folks!" cried Mary
+Elizabeth; for now, she thought, she should get back her five cents.
+
+And, truly, the young man put the five cents into his hat, to begin
+with. Then he took out his purse, and put in something that made less
+noise than the five-cent piece and something more and more and more.
+
+Then he passed around the great room, walking still unsteadily, and the
+gentleman who gave the five cents and all the gentlemen put something
+into the young man's hat.
+
+So, when he came back to the table, he emptied the hat and counted the
+money, and, truly, it was forty dollars.
+
+"Forty dollars!"
+
+Mary Elizabeth looked frightened.
+
+"It's yours," said the young man. "Now come to supper. But see! this
+gentleman who gave you the five-cent piece shall take care of the money
+for you. You can trust him. He's got a wife, too. But we'll come to
+supper now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So the young man took her by the hand, and the gentleman whose wife knew
+all about what to do with orphans took her by the other hand, and one or
+two more gentlemen followed, and they all went into the dining-room, and
+put Mary Elizabeth in a chair at a clean white table, and asked her
+what she wanted for her supper.
+
+Mary Elizabeth said that a little dry toast and a cup of milk would do
+nicely. So all the gentlemen laughed. And she wondered why.
+
+And the young man with the brown curls laughed, too, and began to look
+quite happy. But he ordered chicken and cranberry sauce and mashed
+potatoes and celery and rolls and butter and tomatoes and an ice cream
+and a cup of tea and nuts and raisins and cake and custard and apples
+and grapes.
+
+And Mary Elizabeth sat in her pink dress and red shawl and ate the
+whole; and why it didn't kill her nobody knows; but it didn't.
+
+The young man with the face that might have been beautiful--that might
+be yet, one would have thought who had seen him then--stood watching the
+little girl.
+
+"She's preached me the best sermon," he said below his breath, "I ever
+heard. May God bless her! I wish there were a thousand like her in this
+selfish world!"
+
+And when I heard about it I wished so, too.
+
+ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS WARD
+
+
+
+
+    Oh, there is nothing on earth half so holy
+    As the innocent heart of a child.
+
+DICKENS
+
+
+
+
+THE FROST
+
+
+    The Frost looked forth, one still clear night,
+    And whispered: "Now I shall be out of sight;
+    So through the valley and over the height,
+      In silence I'll take my way:
+    I will not go on like that blustering train,
+    The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
+    Who make so much bustle and noise in vain,
+      But I'll be as busy as they."
+
+    Then he flew to the mountain and powdered its crest;
+    He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
+    In diamond beads--and over the breast
+      Of the quivering lake he spread
+    A coat of mail, that it need not fear
+    The downward point of many a spear
+    That he hung on its margin, far and near,
+      Where a rock could rear its head.
+
+    He went to the windows of those who slept,
+    And over each pane, like a fairy, crept;
+    Wherever he breathed, wherever he stept,
+      By the light of the moon were seen
+    Most beautiful things:--there were flowers and trees;
+    There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees:
+    There were cities with temples and towers; and these
+      All pictured in silver sheen.
+
+    But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
+    He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
+    That all had forgotten for him to prepare--
+      "Now just to set them a-thinking,
+    I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he,
+    "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three,
+    And the glass of water they've left for me
+      Shall 'Tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking."
+
+H. F. GOULD
+
+
+
+
+CORN-FIELDS
+
+
+    When on the breath of Autumn's breeze,
+      From pastures dry and brown,
+    Goes floating, like an idle thought,
+      The fair, white thistle-down,--
+    Oh, then what joy to walk at will
+    Upon the golden harvest-hill!
+
+    What joy in dreaming ease to lie
+      Amid a field new shorn;
+    And see all round, on sunlit slopes,
+      The piled-up shocks of corn;
+    And send the fancy wandering o'er
+    All pleasant harvest-fields of yore!
+
+    I feel the day; I see the field;
+      The quivering of the leaves;
+    And good old Jacob, and his house,--
+      Binding the yellow sheaves!
+    And at this very hour I seem
+    To be with Joseph in his dream!
+
+    I see the fields of Bethlehem,
+      And reapers many a one
+    Bending unto their sickles' stroke,
+      And Boaz looking on;
+    And Ruth, the Moabitess fair,
+    Among the gleaners stooping there!
+
+    Again, I see a little child,
+      His mother's sole delight,--
+    God's living gift of love unto
+      The kind, good Shunammite;
+    To mortal pangs I see him yield,
+    And the lad bear him from the field.
+
+    The sun-bathed quiet of the hills,
+      The fields of Galilee,
+    That eighteen hundred years ago
+      Were full of corn, I see;
+    And the dear Saviour take his way
+    'Mid ripe ears on the Sabbath day.
+
+    Oh, golden fields of bending corn,
+      How beautiful they seem!
+    The reaper-folk, the piled-up sheaves,
+      To me are like a dream;
+    The sunshine, and the very air
+    Seem of old time, and take me there!
+
+MARY HOWITT
+
+
+
+
+SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQ.
+
+
+Treasure Valley belonged to three brothers--Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck.
+The two elder brothers were rich, cruel, quarrelsome men who never gave
+anything in charity. The youngest brother, Gluck, was twelve years old,
+and kind to everyone. He had to act as cook and servant to his brothers.
+
+One cold, wet day the brothers went out, telling Gluck to roast a leg of
+mutton on the spit, let nobody into the house, and let nothing out.
+After a time some one knocked at the door. Gluck went to the window,
+opened it, and put his head out to see who it was.
+
+It was the most extraordinary-looking little gentleman. He had a very
+large nose, slightly brass-coloured; very round and very red cheeks;
+merry eyes, long hair, and moustaches that curled twice round like a
+corkscrew on each side of his mouth. He was four feet six inches high,
+and wore a pointed cap as long as himself. It was decorated with a black
+feather about three feet long. Around his body was folded an enormous
+black, glossy-looking cloak much too long for him. As he knocked again
+he caught sight of Gluck.
+
+"Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
+door; I'm wet, let me in."
+
+To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_ wet. His feather hung down
+between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella;
+and from the ends of his moustaches the water was running into his
+waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't."
+
+"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
+
+"I can't let you in, sir,--I can't, indeed; my brothers would beat me to
+death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
+
+"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly, "I want fire and shelter;
+and there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the
+walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to warm
+myself."
+
+Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he
+began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned and
+saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright
+tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savoury
+smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
+be burning away for nothing. "He does look _very_ wet," said little
+Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he went to
+the door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, through
+the house came a gust of wind that made the old chimneys totter.
+
+"That's a good boy," said the little gentleman. "Never mind your
+brothers. I'll talk to them."
+
+"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
+till they come; they'd be the death of me."
+
+"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that. How
+long may I stay?"
+
+"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
+brown."
+
+Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down on
+the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it
+was a great deal too high for the roof. "You'll soon dry there, sir,"
+said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the mutton. But the old gentleman
+did _not_ dry there, but went on drip, drip, dripping among the cinders,
+and the fire fizzed and sputtered, and began to look very black and
+uncomfortable; never was such a cloak; every fold in it ran like a
+gutter.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the water
+spreading in long quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarter
+of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?"
+
+"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Your cap, sir?"
+
+"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.
+
+"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but--really,
+sir--you're putting the fire out."
+
+"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then," replied his visitor, dryly.
+
+Gluck was very much puzzled by the behaviour of his guest; it was such a
+strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string
+meditatively for another five minutes.
+
+"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman, at length. "Can't
+you give me a little bit?"
+
+"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
+
+"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat
+yesterday, nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the
+knuckle!"
+
+He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
+heart. "They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give
+you that, but not a bit more."
+
+"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
+
+Then Gluck warmed a plate and sharpened a knife. "I don't care if I do
+get beaten for it," thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of
+the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman
+jumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm.
+Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts at
+exactitude, and ran to open the door.
+
+"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
+walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.
+
+"Ay! what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an
+educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen.
+
+"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.
+
+"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
+standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible
+velocity.
+
+"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning to
+Gluck with a fierce frown.
+
+"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.
+
+"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
+
+"My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so _very_ wet!"
+
+The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but at the instant the
+old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
+shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
+odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap than it flew out of
+Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
+corner at the farther end of the room.
+
+"Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him.
+
+"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
+
+"I'm a poor, old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly,
+"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
+enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying-house."
+
+"It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray
+hairs." They hung down to his shoulders.
+
+"Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"
+
+"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
+I go?"
+
+"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
+our bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?"
+
+"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
+you!"
+
+"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Be off!" said Schwartz.
+
+"Pray, gentlemen--"
+
+"Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had
+no sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went after
+the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner
+on the top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old
+gentleman to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when away
+he went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the
+wall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
+
+Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite
+direction; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly
+about him; clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it
+could not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an
+additional twist to his corkscrew moustaches, and replied with perfect
+coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good-morning. At twelve o'clock
+to-night I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I have
+just experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the last I
+ever pay you."
+
+"If I ever catch you here again," muttered Schwartz, coming,
+half-frightened, out of the corner--but before he could finish his
+sentence, the old gentleman had shut the house door behind him with a
+great bang; and past the window, at the same instant, drove a wreath of
+ragged cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all manner
+of shapes; turning over and over in the air, and melting away at last in
+a gush of rain.
+
+"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz. "Dish the
+mutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again--bless me, why
+the mutton's been cut!"
+
+"You promised me one slice, brother, you know," said Gluck.
+
+"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the
+gravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave the
+room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call
+you."
+
+Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much mutton
+as they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get
+very drunk after dinner.
+
+Such a night as it was! Howling wind and rushing rain, without
+intermission.
+
+The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the shutters, and
+double-bar the door, before they went to bed. They usually slept in the
+same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were both awakened by a
+tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a violence that shook the
+house from top to bottom.
+
+"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.
+
+"Only I," said the little gentleman.
+
+The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness.
+The room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its way
+through a hole in the shutter, they could see, in the midst of it, an
+enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a
+cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old
+gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for the
+roof was off.
+
+"Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, ironically. "I'm afraid
+your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's room;
+I've left the ceiling on there."
+
+They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wet
+through, and in an agony of terror.
+
+"You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the old gentleman called
+after them. "Remember, the _last_ visit."
+
+"Pray Heaven it may be!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe
+disappeared.
+
+Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's little
+window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and
+desolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and
+left, in their stead, a waste of red sand and gray mud. The two brothers
+crept, shivering and horror-struck, into the kitchen. The water had
+gutted the whole first floor: corn, money, almost every movable thing
+had been swept away, and there was left only a small white card on the
+kitchen table. On it, in large, breezy, long-legged letters, were
+engraved the words:--
+
+     SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE.
+
+RUSKIN: "The King of the Golden River."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+    The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
+    The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
+    Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;
+    And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
+    Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
+    As dreams are made on, and our little life
+    Is rounded with a sleep.
+
+SHAKESPEARE
+
+
+
+
+THE MEETING OF THE WATERS
+
+
+    There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
+    As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
+    Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
+    Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
+
+    Yet it _was_ not that Nature had shed o'er the scene
+    Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
+    'Twas _not_ her soft magic of streamlet or hill,
+    Oh! no,--it was something more exquisite still.
+
+    'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
+    Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
+    And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve,
+    When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
+
+    Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
+    In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
+    Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,
+    And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
+
+MOORE
+
+
+
+
+LOVE
+
+
+Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you. Bless them that curse
+you, and pray for them which despitefully use you. And as ye would that
+men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise. For if ye love them
+which love you, what thank have ye? for sinners also love those that
+love them. And if ye do good to them which do good to you, what thank
+have ye? for sinners also do even the same. And if ye lend to them of
+whom ye hope to receive, what thank have ye? for sinners also lend to
+sinners, to receive as much again. But love ye your enemies, and do
+good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your reward shall be
+great, and ye shall be the children of the Highest: for he is kind unto
+the unthankful and to the evil. Be ye therefore merciful, as your
+Father also is merciful. Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn
+not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.
+Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and
+shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For
+with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you
+again.
+
+ST. LUKE, VI. 27-38
+
+
+
+
+THE ROBIN'S SONG
+
+
+    "When the willows gleam along the brooks,
+    And the grass grows green in sunny nooks,
+      In the sunshine and the rain
+      I hear the robin in the lane
+        Singing, 'Cheerily,
+        Cheer up, cheer up;
+        Cheerily, cheerily,
+          Cheer up.'
+
+    "But the snow is still
+    Along the walls and on the hill.
+      The days are cold, the nights forlorn,
+      For one is here and one is gone.
+        'Tut, tut. Cheerily,
+        Cheer up, cheer up;
+        Cheerily, cheerily,
+          Cheer up.'
+
+    "When spring hopes seem to wane,
+    I hear the joyful strain--
+      A song at night, a song at morn,
+      A lesson deep to me is borne,
+        Hearing, 'Cheerily,
+        Cheer up, cheer up;
+        Cheerily, cheerily,
+          Cheer up.'"
+
+UNKNOWN
+
+
+
+
+WORK OR PLAY
+
+
+Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh
+and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the
+heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every
+face, and a spring in every step. The locust trees were in bloom, and
+the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air.
+
+Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a
+long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and the gladness went out of
+nature, and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards
+of board fence nine feet high! It seemed to him that life was hollow,
+and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it
+along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared
+the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of
+unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged.
+
+He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his
+sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all
+sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of
+him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire.
+
+He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles and
+trash; enough to buy an exchange of work maybe, but not enough to buy so
+much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened
+means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys.
+
+At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him. Nothing
+less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and
+went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently; the very
+boy of all boys whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the
+hop, skip, and jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his
+anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long melodious
+whoop at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding dong dong, ding dong
+dong, for he was personating a steamboat.
+
+Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamer. Ben stared a
+moment, and then said--
+
+"Hi-yi! You're a stump, ain't you!"
+
+No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist; then
+he gave his brush another gentle sweep, and surveyed the result as
+before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the
+apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said--
+
+"Hello, old chap; you got to work, hey?"
+
+"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing."
+
+"Say, I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of
+course you'd druther work, wouldn't you? 'Course you would!"
+
+Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said--
+
+"What do you call work?"
+
+"Why ain't that work?"
+
+Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly--
+
+"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know is, it suits Tom
+Sawyer."
+
+"Oh, come now, you don't mean to let on that you like it?"
+
+The brush continued to move.
+
+"Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a
+chance to whitewash a fence every day?"
+
+That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom
+swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the
+effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again, Ben
+watching every move, and getting more and more interested, more and more
+absorbed. Presently he said--
+
+"Say, Tom, let me whitewash a little."
+
+Tom considered; was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No, no;
+I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful
+particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know--but if
+it was the back fence I wouldn't mind, and she wouldn't. Yes, she's
+awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I
+reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can
+do it the way it's got to be done."
+
+"No--is that so? Oh, come now; lemme just try, only just a little. I'd
+let you, if you was me, Tom."
+
+"Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do
+it, but she wouldn't let him. Sid wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let
+Sid. Now, don't you see how I am fixed? If you was to tackle this fence,
+and anything was to happen to it--"
+
+"Oh, shucks; I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you
+the core of my apple."
+
+"Well, here. No, Ben; now don't; I'm afeard--"
+
+"I'll give you all of it!"
+
+Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his
+heart. And while Ben worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist
+sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his
+apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of
+material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but
+remained to whitewash.
+
+By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy
+Fisher for a kite in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller
+bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with; and so on, and
+so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from
+being a poor, poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally
+rolling in wealth.
+
+He had, besides the things I have mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a
+jew's harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a
+spool-cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk,
+a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six
+fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a
+dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of
+orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window-sash. He had had a nice, good,
+idle time all the while--plenty of company--and the fence had three
+coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash, he would
+have bankrupted every boy in the village.
+
+Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world after all. He
+had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it, namely,
+that, in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only
+necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great
+and wise philosopher, he would have comprehended that Work consists of
+whatever a body is _obliged_ to do, and that Play consists of whatever a
+body is _not_ obliged to do.
+
+MARK TWAIN: "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer."
+
+
+
+
+BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE
+
+
+    Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
+      As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;
+    Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
+      O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
+
+    We buried him darkly at dead of night,
+      The sods with our bayonets turning;
+    By the struggling moon-beam's misty light,
+      And the lantern dimly burning.
+
+    No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
+      Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
+    But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
+      With his martial cloak around him.
+
+    Few and short were the prayers we said,
+      And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
+    But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
+      And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
+
+    We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed,
+      And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
+    That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
+      And we far away on the billow.
+
+    Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
+      And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,--
+    But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on,
+      In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
+
+    But half of our heavy task was done
+      When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
+    And we heard the distant and random gun
+      That the foe was sullenly firing.
+
+    Slowly and sadly we laid him down
+      From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
+    We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
+      But we left him alone with his glory.
+
+C. WOLFE
+
+
+
+
+THE WHISTLE
+
+
+When I was a boy of seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my
+pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for
+children, and being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by
+the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all
+my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the
+house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My
+brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had
+made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth; put
+me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the
+money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with
+vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave
+me pleasure.
+
+This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing in
+my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary
+thing, I said to myself: "Don't give too much for the whistle;" and I
+saved my money.
+
+As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I
+thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.
+
+When I saw any one fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in
+politics, neglecting his own affairs and ruining them by that neglect,
+"He pays, indeed," said I, "too much for his whistle."
+
+If I saw one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine horses, all
+above his fortune, for which he contracted debts and ended his career in
+poverty, "Alas!" said I, "he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle."
+
+In short, I believed that a great part of the miseries of mankind were
+brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of
+things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.
+
+BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
+
+
+
+
+A CANADIAN BOAT SONG
+
+
+    Faintly as tolls the evening chime
+    Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
+    Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
+    We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
+    Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
+    The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
+
+      Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
+    There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;
+    But, when the wind blows off the shore,
+    Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.
+    Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
+    The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
+
+      Utawas' tide! this trembling moon
+    Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
+    Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers,
+    Oh, grant us cool heavens and favouring airs.
+    Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
+    The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
+
+MOORE
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE HERO OF HAARLEM
+
+
+At an early period in the history of Holland, a boy was born in Haarlem,
+a town remarkable for its variety of fortune in war, but happily still
+more so for its manufactures and inventions in peace.
+
+His father was a sluicer--that is, one whose employment it was to open
+and shut the sluices or large oak gates which, placed at certain regular
+distances, close the entrances of the canals, and secure Holland from
+the danger to which it seems exposed, of finding itself under water,
+rather than above it. When water is wanted, the sluicer raises the
+sluices more or less, as required, as the cook turns the cock of a
+fountain, and closes them again carefully at night; otherwise the water
+would flow into the canals, then overflow them, and inundate the whole
+country; so that even the little children in Holland are fully aware of
+the importance of a punctual discharge of the sluicer's duties.
+
+The boy was about eight years old when, one day, he asked permission to
+take some cakes to a poor blind man, who lived at the other side of the
+dike. His father gave him leave, but charged him not to stay too late.
+The child promised, and set off on his little journey. The blind man
+thankfully partook of his young friend's cakes, and the boy, mindful of
+his father's orders, did not wait, as usual, to hear one of the old
+man's stories, but as soon as he had seen him eat one muffin, took leave
+of him to return home.
+
+As he went along by the canals, then quite full, for it was in October,
+and the autumn rains had swelled the waters,--the boy now stooped to
+pull the little blue flowers which his mother loved so well, now, in
+childish gaiety, hummed some merry song. The road gradually became more
+solitary, and soon neither the joyous shout of the villager returning to
+his cottage home, nor the rough voice of the carter grumbling at his
+lazy horses, was any longer to be heard. The little fellow now perceived
+that the blue of the flowers in his hands was scarcely distinguishable
+from the green of the surrounding herbage, and he looked up in some
+dismay. The night was falling; not, however, a dark, winter night, but
+one of those beautiful, clear, moonlight nights, in which every object
+is perceptible, though not as distinctly as by day.
+
+The child thought of his father, of his injunction, and was preparing to
+quit the ravine in which he was almost buried, and to regain the beach,
+when suddenly a slight noise, like the trickling of water upon pebbles,
+attracted his attention. He was near one of the large sluices, and he
+now carefully examined it, and soon discovered a hole in the wood,
+through which the water was flowing. With the instant perception which
+every child in Holland would have, the boy saw that the water must soon
+enlarge the hole through which it was now only dropping, and that utter
+and general ruin would be the consequence of the inundation of the
+country that must follow. To see, to throw away the flowers, to climb
+from stone to stone till he reached the hole, and to put his finger into
+it, was the work of a moment, and to his delight he found that he had
+succeeded in stopping the flow of the water.
+
+This was all very well for a little while, and the child thought only of
+the success of his device. But the night was closing in, and with the
+night came the cold. The little boy looked around in vain. No one came.
+He shouted--he called loudly--no one answered. He resolved to stay there
+all night, but alas! the cold was becoming every moment more biting, and
+the poor finger fixed in the hole began to feel benumbed, and the
+numbness soon extended to the hand, and thence throughout the whole arm.
+The pain became still greater, still harder to bear, but yet the boy
+moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his father, of
+his mother, of his little bed, where he might now be sleeping so
+soundly; but still the little fellow stirred not, for he knew that did
+he remove the small slender finger which he had opposed to the escape of
+the water, not only would he himself be drowned, but his father, his
+brothers, his neighbours--nay, the whole village.
+
+We know not what faltering of purpose, what momentary failures of
+courage there might have been during that long and terrible night; but
+certain it is, that at daybreak he was found in the same painful
+position by a clergyman returning from attendance on a deathbed, who, as
+he advanced, thought he heard groans, and bending over the dike,
+discovered a child seated on a stone, writhing from pain, and with pale
+face and tearful eyes.
+
+"In the name of wonder, boy," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?"
+
+"I am hindering the water from running out," was the answer, in perfect
+simplicity, of the child, who, during that whole night, had been
+evincing such heroic fortitude and undaunted courage.
+
+The Muse of History has handed down to posterity many a warrior, the
+destroyer of thousands of his fellow-men--but she has left us in
+ignorance of the name of this real little hero of Haarlem.
+
+SHARPE'S LONDON MAGAZINE
+
+
+
+
+    Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
+    Are a substantial world, both pure and good.
+
+WORDSWORTH
+
+
+
+
+FATHER WILLIAM
+
+
+"Repeat 'You are old, Father William,'" said the Caterpillar.
+
+Alice folded her hands, and began:--
+
+    "You are old, Father William," the young man said,
+      "And your hair has become very white;
+    And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
+      Do you think, at your age, it is right?"
+
+    "In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
+      "I feared it might injure the brain;
+    But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
+      Why, I do it again and again."
+
+    "You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
+      And have grown most uncommonly fat;
+    Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door--
+      Pray, what is the reason of that?"
+
+    "In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
+      "I kept all my limbs very supple
+    By the use of this ointment--one shilling the box--
+      Allow me to sell you a couple."
+
+    "You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
+      For anything tougher than suet;
+    Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak.
+      Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
+
+    "In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
+      And argued each case with my wife;
+    And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
+      Has lasted the rest of my life."
+
+    "You are old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose
+      That your eye was as steady as ever;
+    Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--
+      What made you so awfully clever?"
+
+    "I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
+      Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
+    Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
+      Be off, or I'll kick you down-stairs!"
+
+"That is not said right," said the Caterpillar.
+
+"Not _quite_ right, I'm afraid," said Alice timidly; "some of the words
+have got altered."
+
+"It is wrong from beginning to end," said the Caterpillar decidedly, and
+there was silence for some minutes.
+
+LEWIS CARROLL: "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland."
+
+
+
+
+DAVID AND GOLIATH
+
+
+Now the Philistines gathered together their armies to battle, and Saul
+and the men of Israel were gathered together, and pitched by the valley
+of Elah, and set the battle in array against the Philistines. And the
+Philistines stood on a mountain on the one side, and Israel stood on a
+mountain on the other side: and there was a valley between them.
+
+And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named
+Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. And he had an
+helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail; and
+the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of brass. And he had
+greaves of brass upon his legs, and a target of brass between his
+shoulders. And the staff of his spear was like a weaver's beam; and his
+spear's head weighed six hundred shekels of iron: and one bearing a
+shield went before him.
+
+And he stood and cried unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them,
+Why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am not I a Philistine,
+and ye servants to Saul? Choose you a man for you, and let him come down
+to me. If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be
+your servants: but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then shall ye
+be our servants, and serve us. And the Philistine said, I defy the
+armies of Israel this day; give me a man, that we may fight together.
+When Saul and all Israel heard those words of the Philistine, they were
+dismayed, and greatly afraid.
+
+And David rose up early in the morning, and left the sheep with a
+keeper, and took, and went, as Jesse had commanded him; and he came to
+the trench, as the host was going forth to the fight, and shouted for
+the battle. For Israel and the Philistines had put the battle in array,
+army against army. And David left his carriage in the hand of the keeper
+of the carriage, and ran into the army, and came and saluted his
+brethren. And as he talked with them, behold, there came up the
+champion, the Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, out of the armies of
+the Philistines, and spake according to the same words: and David heard
+them. And all the men of Israel, when they saw the man, fled from him,
+and were sore afraid. And the men of Israel said, Have ye seen this man
+that is come up? surely to defy Israel is he come up: and it shall be,
+that the man who killeth him, the king will enrich him with great
+riches, and will give him his daughter, and make his father's house free
+in Israel. And David spake to the men that stood by him, saying, What
+shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine, and taketh away
+the reproach from Israel? For who is this Philistine, that he should
+defy the armies of the living God? And the people answered him after
+this manner, saying, So shall it be done to the man that killeth him.
+And when the words were heard which David spake, they rehearsed them
+before Saul: and he sent for him.
+
+And David said to Saul, Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy
+servant will go and fight with this Philistine. And Saul said to David,
+Thou art not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him: for
+thou art but a youth, and he a man of war from his youth. And David said
+unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and there came a lion,
+and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock: And I went out after him,
+and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose
+against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy
+servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this Philistine shall be as
+one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of the living God. David
+said moreover, The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion,
+and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of
+this Philistine. And Saul said unto David, Go, and the Lord be with
+thee.
+
+And Saul armed David with his armour, and he put a helmet of brass upon
+his head; also he armed him with a coat of mail. And David girded his
+sword upon his armour, and he assayed to go; for he had not proved it.
+And David said unto Saul, I cannot go with these; for I have not proved
+them. And David put them off him. And he took his staff in his hand, and
+chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a
+shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip; and his sling was in his
+hand: and he drew near to the Philistine.
+
+And the Philistine came on and drew near unto David; and the man that
+bare the shield went before him. And when the Philistine looked about,
+and saw David, he disdained him: for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and
+of a fair countenance. And the Philistine said unto David, Am I a dog,
+that thou comest to me with staves? And the Philistine cursed David by
+his gods.
+
+And the Philistine said to David, Come to me, and I will give thy flesh
+unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field.
+
+Then said David to the Philistine, Thou comest to me with a sword, and
+with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the
+Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
+This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite
+thee, and take thine head from thee; and I will give the carcases of the
+host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to the
+wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know that there is a
+God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth not
+with sword and spear: for the battle is the Lord's, and he will give you
+into our hands.
+
+And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and drew nigh
+to meet David, that David hasted, and ran toward the army to meet the
+Philistine. And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone,
+and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone
+sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth. So David
+prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and smote
+the Philistine, and slew him; but there was no sword in the hand of
+David. Therefore David ran, and stood upon the Philistine, and took his
+sword, and drew it out of the sheath thereof, and slew him, and cut off
+his head therewith. And when the Philistines saw their champion was
+dead, they fled.
+
+I. SAMUEL, XVII.
+
+[Illustration: AT THE END OF THE MEAL]
+
+
+
+
+THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE
+
+
+    Half a league, half a league,
+      Half a league onward,
+    All in the valley of Death
+      Rode the six hundred.
+    "Forward, the Light Brigade!
+    Charge for the guns!" he said:
+    Into the valley of Death
+      Rode the six hundred.
+
+    "Forward, the Light Brigade!"
+    Was there a man dismay'd?
+    Not tho' the soldier knew
+      Some one had blunder'd:
+    Their's not to make reply,
+    Their's not to reason why,
+    Their's but to do and die:
+    Into the valley of Death
+      Rode the six hundred.
+
+    Cannon to right of them,
+    Cannon to left of them,
+    Cannon in front of them
+      Volley'd and thunder'd;
+    Storm'd at with shot and shell,
+    Boldly they rode and well,
+    Into the jaws of Death,
+    Into the mouth of Hell
+      Rode the six hundred.
+
+    Flash'd all their sabres bare,
+    Flash'd as they turn'd in air
+    Sabring the gunners there,
+    Charging an army, while
+      All the world wonder'd:
+    Plunged in the battery-smoke
+    Right thro' the line they broke;
+    Cossack and Russian
+    Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
+      Shatter'd and sunder'd.
+    Then they rode back, but not
+      Not the six hundred.
+
+    Cannon to right of them,
+    Cannon to left of them,
+    Cannon behind them
+      Volley'd and thunder'd;
+    Storm'd at with shot and shell,
+    While horse and hero fell,
+    They that had fought so well
+    Came thro' the jaws of Death,
+    Back from the mouth of Hell,
+    All that was left of them,
+      Left of six hundred.
+
+    When can their glory fade?
+    O the wild charge they made!
+      All the world wonder'd.
+    Honour the charge they made!
+    Honour the Light Brigade,
+      Noble six hundred!
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+MAGGIE TULLIVER
+
+
+Maggie and Tom came in from the garden with their father and their Uncle
+Glegg. Maggie had thrown her bonnet off very carelessly, and, coming in
+with her hair rough as well as out of curl, rushed at once to Lucy. The
+contrast between the two cousins was like the contrast between a rough,
+dark, overgrown puppy and a white kitten. Lucy put up the neatest little
+rosebud mouth to be kissed: everything about her was neat.
+
+"Heyday!" said Aunt Glegg, with loud emphasis. "Do little boys and girls
+come into a room without taking notice of their uncles and aunts? That
+wasn't the way when I was a little girl."
+
+"Go and speak to your aunts and uncles, my dears," said Mrs. Tulliver.
+She wanted to whisper to Maggie a command to go and have her hair
+brushed.
+
+"Well, and how do you do? And I hope you're good children, are you?"
+said Aunt Glegg, in the same loud, emphatic way. "Look up, Tom, look up.
+Look at me now. Put your hair behind your ears, Maggie, and keep your
+frock on your shoulder."
+
+Aunt Glegg always spoke to them in this loud, emphatic way, as if she
+considered them deaf.
+
+"Well, my dears," said Aunt Pullet, "you grow wonderfully fast,--I doubt
+they'll outgrow their strength. I think the girl has too much hair. I'd
+have it thinned and cut shorter, sister, if I were you; it isn't good
+for her health. It's that makes her skin so brown,--don't you think so,
+sister Deane?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sister," said Mrs. Deane, shutting her lips
+close and looking at Maggie.
+
+"No, no," said Mr. Tulliver, "the child's healthy enough: there's
+nothing ails her. There's red wheat as well as white, for that matter,
+and some like the dark grain best. But it would be as well if Bessie
+would have the child's hair cut so it would lie smooth."
+
+"Maggie," said Mrs. Tulliver, beckoning Maggie to her, and whispering in
+her ear, "go and get your hair brushed,--do, for shame! I told you not
+to come in without going to Martha first; you know I did."
+
+"Tom, come out with me," whispered Maggie, pulling his sleeve as she
+passed him; and Tom followed willingly enough.
+
+"Come upstairs with me, Tom," she whispered, when they were outside the
+door. "There's something I want to do before dinner."
+
+"There's no time to play at anything before dinner," said Tom.
+
+"Oh, yes, there is time for this--_do_ come, Tom."
+
+Tom followed Maggie upstairs into her mother's room, and saw her go at
+once to a drawer from which she took out a large pair of scissors.
+
+"What are they for, Maggie?" said Tom, feeling his curiosity awakened.
+
+Maggie answered by seizing her front locks and cutting them straight
+across the middle of her forehead.
+
+"Oh, my buttons, Maggie, you'll catch it!" exclaimed Tom; "you'd better
+not cut any more off."
+
+Snip! went the great scissors again while Tom was speaking; and he could
+hardly help feeling it was rather good fun--Maggie looking so queer.
+
+"Here, Tom, cut it behind for me," said Maggie, excited by her own
+daring, and anxious to finish the deed.
+
+"You'll catch it, you know," said Tom, hesitating a little as he took
+the scissors.
+
+"Never mind--make haste!" said Maggie, giving a little stamp with her
+foot. Her cheeks were quite flushed.
+
+The black locks were so thick,--nothing could be more tempting to a lad
+who had already tasted the forbidden pleasure of cutting the pony's
+mane. One delicious grinding snip, and then another and another, and the
+hinder locks fell heavily on the floor. Maggie stood cropped in a
+jagged, uneven manner, but with a sense of clearness and freedom, as if
+she had emerged from a wood into the open plain.
+
+"Oh, Maggie," said Tom, jumping round her and slapping his knees as he
+laughed; "oh, my buttons, what a queer thing you look! Look at yourself
+in the glass."
+
+Maggie felt an unexpected pang. She had thought beforehand chiefly of
+her own deliverance from her teasing hair and teasing remarks about it,
+and something also of the triumph she should have over her mother and
+her aunts by this very decided course of action. She didn't want her
+hair to look pretty--that was out of the question--she only wanted
+people to think her a clever little girl and not to find fault with her.
+But now, when Tom began to laugh at her, the affair had quite a new
+aspect. She looked in the glass, and still Tom laughed and clapped his
+hands, and Maggie's flushed cheeks began to pale, and her lips to
+tremble a little.
+
+"Oh, Maggie, you'll have to go down to dinner directly," said Tom. "Oh,
+my!"
+
+"Don't laugh at me, Tom," said Maggie, in a passionate tone, and with an
+outburst of angry tears, stamping, and giving him a push.
+
+"Now, then, spitfire!" said Tom. "What did you cut it off for, then? I
+shall go down: I can smell the dinner going in."
+
+Tom hurried down-stairs and left poor Maggie. As she stood crying before
+the glass, she felt it impossible that she should go down to dinner and
+endure the severe eyes and severe words of her aunts, while Tom, and
+Lucy, and Martha, who waited at table, and perhaps her father and her
+uncles, would laugh at her. If Tom had laughed at her, of course every
+one else would; and, if she had only let her hair alone, she could have
+sat with Tom and Lucy, and had the apricot pudding and the custard! What
+could she do but sob?
+
+"Miss Maggie, you're to come down this minute," said Kezia, entering the
+room hurriedly. "What have you been a-doing? I never saw such a fright!"
+
+"Don't, Kezia," said Maggie, angrily. "Go away!"
+
+"But I tell you, you're to come down, Miss, this minute: your mother
+says so," said Kezia, going up to Maggie and taking her by the hand to
+raise her from the floor.
+
+"Get away, Kezia; I don't want any dinner," said Maggie, resisting
+Kezia's arm. "I shan't come."
+
+"Oh, well, I can't stay. I've got to wait at dinner," said Kezia, going
+out again.
+
+"Maggie, you little silly," said Tom, peeping into the room ten minutes
+after, "why don't you come and have your dinner? There's lots o'
+goodies, and mother says you're to come. What are you crying for?"
+
+Oh, it was dreadful! Tom was so hard and unconcerned; if _he_ had been
+crying on the floor, Maggie would have cried, too. And there was the
+dinner, so nice; and she was _so_ hungry. It was very bitter.
+
+But Tom was not altogether hard. He went and put his head near her, and
+said, in a lower, comforting tone: "Won't you come, then, Maggie? Shall
+I bring you a bit of pudding when I've had mine--and a custard and
+things?"
+
+"Ye-e-es," said Maggie, beginning to feel life a little more tolerable.
+
+"Very well," said Tom, going away. But he turned again at the door and
+said: "But you'd better come, you know. There's the dessert, you know."
+
+Maggie's tears had ceased, and she looked reflective as Tom left her.
+His good nature had taken off the keenest edge of her suffering.
+
+Slowly she rose from among her scattered locks, and slowly she made her
+way down-stairs. Then she stood leaning with one shoulder against the
+frame of the dining-parlour door, peeping in when it was ajar. She saw
+Tom and Lucy with an empty chair between them, and there were the
+custards on a side-table--it was too much. She slipped in and went
+towards the empty chair. But she had no sooner sat down than she
+repented, and wished herself back again.
+
+Mrs. Tulliver gave a little scream as she saw her, and dropped the large
+gravy-spoon into the dish with the most serious results to the
+tablecloth.
+
+Mrs. Tulliver's scream made all eyes turn towards the same point as her
+own, and Maggie's cheeks and ears began to burn, while Uncle Glegg, a
+kind-looking, white-haired old gentleman, said: "Heyday! what little
+girl's this? Why, I don't know her. Is it some little girl you've picked
+up in the road, Kezia?"
+
+"Why, she's gone and cut her hair herself," said Mr. Tulliver in an
+undertone to Mr. Deane, laughing with much enjoyment.
+
+"Why, little Miss, you've made yourself look very funny," said Uncle
+Pullet.
+
+"Fie, for shame!" said Aunt Glegg, in her severest tone of reproof.
+"Little girls that cut their own hair should be whipped and fed on bread
+and water, not come and sit down with their aunts and uncles."
+
+"Aye, aye," said Uncle Glegg, meaning to give a playful turn, "she must
+be sent to jail, I think, and they'll cut the rest of her hair off
+there, and make it all even."
+
+"She's more like a gypsy than ever," said Aunt Pullet in a pitying tone.
+
+"She's a naughty child, that'll break her mother's heart," said Mrs.
+Tulliver, with the tears in her eyes.
+
+Maggie seemed to be listening to a chorus of reproach and derision. Her
+first flush came from anger. Tom thought she was braving it out,
+supported by the recent appearance of the pudding and custard.
+
+He whispered: "Oh, my! Maggie, I told you you'd catch it." He meant to
+be friendly, but Maggie felt convinced that Tom was rejoicing in her
+ignominy.
+
+Her feeble power of defiance left her in an instant, her heart swelled,
+and, getting up from her chair, she ran to her father, hid her face on
+his shoulder, and burst out into loud sobbing. "Come, come," said her
+father, soothingly, putting his arm round her, "never mind; give over
+crying: father'll take your part."
+
+Delicious words of tenderness! Maggie never forgot any of these moments
+when her father "took her part"; she kept them in her heart, and thought
+of them long years after, when every one else said that her father had
+done very ill by his children.
+
+GEORGE ELIOT: "The Mill on the Floss."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+THE CORN SONG
+
+
+    Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard!
+      Heap high the golden corn!
+    No richer gift has Autumn poured
+      From out her lavish horn!
+
+    Let other lands, exulting, glean
+      The apple from the pine,
+    The orange from its glossy green,
+      The cluster from the vine;
+
+    We better love the hardy gift
+      Our rugged vales bestow,
+    To cheer us when the storm shall drift
+      Our harvest-fields with snow.
+
+    Through vales of grass and meads of flowers,
+      Our ploughs their furrows made,
+    While on the hills the sun and showers
+      Of changeful April played.
+
+    We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain,
+      Beneath the sun of May,
+    And frightened from our sprouting grain
+      The robber crows away.
+
+    All through the long, bright days of June
+      Its leaves grew green and fair,
+    And waved in hot midsummer's noon
+      Its soft and yellow hair.
+
+    And now, with autumn's moon-lit eves,
+      Its harvest-time has come,
+    We pluck away the frosted leaves,
+      And bear the treasure home.
+
+    There, richer than the fabled gift
+      Apollo showered of old,
+    Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,
+      And knead its meal of gold.
+
+    Let vapid idlers loll in silk
+      Around their costly board;
+    Give us the bowl of samp and milk,
+      By homespun beauty poured!
+
+    Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth
+      Sends up its smoky curls,
+    Who will not thank the kindly earth,
+      And bless our farmer girls!
+
+WHITTIER
+
+
+
+
+SPORTS IN NORMAN ENGLAND
+
+
+After dinner all the youth of the city go into the field of the suburbs,
+and address themselves to the famous game of football. The scholars of
+each school have their peculiar ball; and the particular trades have,
+most of them, theirs. The elders of the city, the fathers of the
+parties, and the rich and wealthy, come to the field on horseback, in
+order to behold the exercises of the youth, and in appearance are
+themselves as youthful as the youngest; seeming to be revived at the
+sight of so much agility, and in a participation of the diversion of
+their festive sons.
+
+At Easter the diversion is prosecuted on the water; a target is strongly
+fastened to a trunk or mast fixed in the middle of the river, and a
+youngster standing upright in the stern of a boat, made to move as fast
+as the oars and current can carry it, is to strike the target with his
+lance; and if, in hitting it, he breaks his lance and keeps his place in
+the boat, he gains his point and triumphs; but if it happens the lance
+is not shivered by the force of the blow, he is, of course, tumbled into
+the water, and away goes his vessel without him.
+
+However, a couple of boats full of young men are placed one on each side
+of the target, so as to be ready to take up the unsuccessful adventurer
+the moment he emerges from the stream and comes fairly to the surface.
+The bridge and the balconies on the banks are filled with spectators,
+whose business is to laugh. On holidays, in summer, the pastime of the
+youth is to exercise themselves in archery, in running, leaping,
+wrestling, casting of stones, and flinging to certain distances, and,
+lastly, with bucklers.
+
+In the winter holidays when that vast lake which waters the walls of the
+City towards the north is hard frozen, the youth, in great numbers, go
+to divert themselves on the ice. Some, taking a small run, place their
+feet at the proper distance, and are carried, sliding sideways, a great
+way; others will make a large cake of ice, and seating one of their
+companions upon it, they take hold of one another's hands, and draw him
+along: when it sometimes happens that, moving so swiftly on so slippery
+a plain, they all fall down headlong.
+
+Others there are who are still more expert in these amusements on the
+ice; they place certain bones, the leg bones of some animal, under the
+soles of their feet by tying them round their ankles, and, then, taking
+a pole shod with iron into their hands, they push themselves forward by
+striking it against the ice, and are carried along with a velocity equal
+to the flight of a bird, or a bolt discharged from a cross-bow.
+Sometimes two of them thus furnished agree to start opposite one to
+another, at a great distance; they meet, elevate their poles, attack and
+strike each other, when one or both of them fall, and not without some
+bodily hurt; and even after their fall they shall be carried a good
+distance from each other by the rapidity of the motion. Very often the
+leg or the arm of the party that falls, if he chances to light upon
+them, is broken; but youth is an age ambitious of glory, fond and
+covetous of victory, and that in future time it may acquit itself boldly
+and valiantly in real engagements, it will run these hazards in sham
+ones.
+
+Hawking and hunting were sports only for persons of quality, and woe be
+to the unhappy man of the lower orders who indulged in either of these
+sports. If caught he would be severely punished and might have his eyes
+put out.
+
+[Illustration: IN THE HIGHLANDS OF ONTARIO]
+
+After breakfast, knights with their ladies ride out, each bearing upon
+his wrist a falcon with scarlet hood and collar of gold. As they near
+the river a heron, who had been fishing for his breakfast among the
+reeds near the bank, hears them and spreading his wings flies upward. A
+knight slips the hood from the falcon's head and next instant he sees
+the heron. Away he darts, while knights and ladies rein in their horses
+and watch. Up, and up, he goes until he passes the heron and still he
+flies higher. Next instant he turns and, with a terrible swoop
+downwards, pounces upon the heron and kills it.
+
+The knight sounds his whistle and instantly the falcon turns and darts
+back to him for the dainty food which is given as a reward for his good
+hunting. Then he is chained and hooded again till another bird rises. So
+the morning passes, and many a bird do the falcons bring down before the
+knights and ladies return to the castle for "noon-meat."
+
+WILLIAM FITZSTEPHEN
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+    And He that doth the ravens feed,
+    Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
+    Be comfort to my age!
+
+SHAKESPEARE
+
+
+
+
+A SONG OF CANADA
+
+
+    Sing me a song of the great Dominion!
+      Soul-felt words for a patriot's ear!
+    Ring out boldly the well-turned measure,
+      Voicing your notes that the world may hear;
+    Here is no starveling--Heaven-forsaken--
+      Shrinking aside where the Nations throng;
+    Proud as the proudest moves she among them--
+      Worthy is she of a noble song!
+
+    Sing me the might of her giant mountains,
+      Baring their brows in the dazzling blue;
+    Changeless alone, where all else changes,
+      Emblems of all that is grand and true:
+    Free, as the eagles around them soaring;
+      Fair, as they rose from their Maker's hand:
+    Shout, till the snow-caps catch the chorus--
+      The white-topp'd peaks of our mountain land.
+
+    Sing me the calm of her tranquil forests,
+      Silence eternal, and peace profound,
+    In whose great heart's deep recesses
+      Breaks no tempest, and comes no sound;
+    Face to face with the deathlike stillness,
+      Here, if at all, man's soul might quail:
+    Nay! 'tis the love of that great peace leads us
+      Thither, where solace will never fail!
+
+    Sing me the pride of her stately rivers,
+      Cleaving their way to the far-off sea;
+    Glory of strength in their deep-mouth'd music--
+      Glory of mirth in their tameless glee.
+    Hark! 'tis the roar of the tumbling rapids;
+      Deep unto deep through the dead night calls;
+    Truly, I hear but the voice of Freedom
+      Shouting her name from her fortress walls!
+
+    Sing me the joy of her fertile prairies,
+      League upon league of the golden grain:
+    Comfort, housed in the smiling homestead--
+      Plenty, throned on the lumbering wain.
+    Land of Contentment! May no strife vex you,
+      Never war's flag on your plains be unfurl'd;
+    Only the blessings of mankind reach you--
+      Finding the food for a hungry world!
+
+    Sing me the charm of her blazing camp fires;
+      Sing me the quiet of her happy homes,
+    Whether afar 'neath the forest arches,
+      Or in the shade of the city's domes;
+    Sing me her life, her loves, her labours;
+      All of a mother a son would hear;
+    For when a lov'd one's praise is sounding,
+      Sweet are the strains to the lover's ear.
+
+    Sing me the worth of each Canadian,
+      Roamer in wilderness--toiler in town--
+    Search earth over you'll find none stancher,
+      Whether his hands be white or brown;
+    Come of a right good stock to start with,
+      Best of the world's blood in each vein;
+    Lords of ourselves, and slaves to no one,
+      For us or from us, you'll find we're--MEN!
+
+    Sing me the song, then; sing it bravely;
+      Put your soul in the words you sing;
+    Sing me the praise of this glorious country--
+      Clear on the ear let the deep notes ring.
+    Here is no starveling--Heaven-forsaken--
+      Crouching apart where the Nations throng;
+    Proud as the proudest moves she among them--
+      Well is she worthy a noble song!
+
+ROBERT REID
+
+
+
+
+A MAD TEA PARTY
+
+
+There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the
+March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting
+between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion,
+resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. "Very
+uncomfortable for the Dormouse," thought Alice; "only, as it's asleep,
+I suppose it doesn't mind."
+
+The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at
+one corner of it: "No room! No room!" they cried out when they saw Alice
+coming. "There's _plenty_ of room!" said Alice, indignantly, and she sat
+down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.
+
+"Your hair wants cutting," said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice
+for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.
+
+"You should learn not to make personal remarks," Alice said with some
+severity: "it's very rude."
+
+The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he _said_
+was: "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"
+
+"Come, we shall have some fun now!" thought Alice. "I'm glad they've
+begun asking riddles--I believe I can guess that," she added aloud.
+
+"Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" said the
+March Hare.
+
+"Exactly so," said Alice.
+
+"Then you should say what you mean," the March Hare went on.
+
+"I do," Alice hastily replied; "at least--at least I mean what I
+say--that's the same thing, you know."
+
+"Not the same thing a bit!" said the Hatter. "Why, you might just as
+well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I
+see'!"
+
+"You might just as well say," added the March Hare, "that 'I like what I
+get' is the same thing as 'I get what I like'!"
+
+"You might just as well say," added the Dormouse, who seemed to be
+talking in its sleep, "that 'I breathe when I sleep' is the same thing
+as 'I sleep when I breathe'!"
+
+"It _is_ the same thing with you," said the Hatter, and here the
+conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice
+thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks,
+which wasn't much.
+
+"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Alice
+again.
+
+"No, I give it up," Alice replied: "what's the answer?"
+
+"I haven't the slightest idea," said the Hatter.
+
+"Nor I," said the March Hare.
+
+Alice sighed wearily. "I think you might do something better with the
+time," she said, "than wasting it in asking riddles that have no
+answers."
+
+"Suppose we change the subject," the March Hare interrupted, yawning.
+"I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story."
+
+"I'm afraid I don't know one," said Alice, rather alarmed at the
+proposal.
+
+"Then the Dormouse shall!" they both cried.
+
+"Wake up, Dormouse!" And they pinched it on both sides at once.
+
+The Dormouse slowly opened its eyes. "I wasn't asleep," it said in a
+hoarse, feeble voice, "I heard every word you fellows were saying."
+
+"Tell us a story!" said the March Hare.
+
+"Yes, please do!" pleaded Alice.
+
+"And be quick about it," added the Hatter, "or you'll be asleep again
+before it's done."
+
+"Once upon a time there were three little sisters," the Dormouse began
+in a great hurry, "and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and
+they lived at the bottom of a well--"
+
+"What did they live on?" said Alice, who always took a great interest in
+questions of eating and drinking.
+
+"They lived on treacle," said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or
+two.
+
+"They couldn't have done that, you know," Alice gently remarked: "they'd
+have been ill."
+
+"So they were," said the Dormouse, "_very_ ill."
+
+Alice tried a little to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary way
+of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on:
+"But why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
+
+"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.
+
+"I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't
+take more."
+
+"You mean you can't take _less_," said the Hatter: "It's very easy to
+take _more_ than nothing."
+
+"Nobody asked _your_ opinion," said Alice.
+
+"Who's making personal remarks now?" the Hatter asked triumphantly.
+
+Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to
+some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and
+repeated her question. "Why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
+
+The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then
+said: "It was a treacle-well."
+
+"There's no such thing!" Alice was beginning very angrily, but the
+Hatter and the March Hare went "Sh! Sh!" and the Dormouse sulkily
+remarked: "If you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for
+yourself."
+
+"No, please go on!" Alice said, very humbly, "I won't interrupt you
+again. I dare say there may be _one_."
+
+"One, indeed!" said the Dormouse, indignantly. However it consented to
+go on. "And so these three little sisters--they were learning to draw,
+you know--"
+
+"What did they draw?" said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.
+
+"Treacle," said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.
+
+"I want a clean cup," interrupted the Hatter, "let's all move one place
+on."
+
+He moved as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare
+moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice, rather unwillingly, took the
+place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any
+advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than
+before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk jug into his plate.
+
+Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very
+cautiously: "But I don't understand. Where did they draw the treacle
+from?"
+
+"You can draw water out of a water-well," said the Hatter; "so I should
+think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well--eh stupid?"
+
+"But they were _in_ the well," Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing
+to notice this last remark.
+
+"Of course they were," said the Dormouse,--"well in."
+
+This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for
+some time without interrupting it.
+
+"They were learning to draw," the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing
+its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; "and they drew all manner of
+things--everything that begins with an M--"
+
+"Why with an M?" said Alice.
+
+"Why not?" said the March Hare.
+
+Alice was silent.
+
+The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a
+doze, but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a
+little shriek, and went on, "--that begins with an M, such as
+mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness--you know you say
+things are 'much of a muchness'--did you ever see such a thing as a
+drawing of a muchness?"
+
+"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't
+think--"
+
+"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.
+
+This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in
+great disgust, and walked off: the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and
+neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she
+looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her:
+the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into
+the teapot.
+
+LEWIS CARROLL: "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland."
+
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE'S DREAM
+
+
+    Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
+      His sickle in his hand;
+    His breast was bare, his matted hair
+      Was buried in the sand.
+    Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
+      He saw his Native Land.
+
+    Wide through the landscape of his dreams
+      The lordly Niger flowed;
+    Beneath the palm trees on the plain
+      Once more a king he strode;
+    And heard the tinkling caravans
+      Descend the mountain road.
+
+    He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
+      Among her children stand;
+    They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
+      They held him by the hand!--
+    A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
+      And fell into the sand.
+
+    And then at furious speed he rode
+      Along the Niger's bank;
+    His bridle-reins were golden chains,
+      And, with a martial clank,
+    At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
+      Smiting his stallion's flank.
+
+    Before him, like a blood-red flag,
+      The bright flamingoes flew;
+    From morn till night he followed their flight,
+      O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
+    Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
+      And the ocean rose to view.
+
+    At night he heard the lion roar,
+      And the hyena scream,
+    And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds,
+      Beside some hidden stream;
+    And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
+      Through the triumph of his dream.
+
+    The forests, with their myriad tongues,
+      Shouted of liberty;
+    And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
+      With a voice so wild and free,
+    That he started in his sleep and smiled
+      At their tempestuous glee.
+
+    He did not feel the driver's whip,
+      Nor the burning heat of day;
+    For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
+      And his lifeless body lay
+    A worn-out fetter, that the soul
+      Had broken and thrown away!
+
+LONGFELLOW
+
+
+
+
+Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact
+man. Histories make men wise; poets, witty; the mathematics, subtle;
+logic and rhetoric, able to contend.
+
+BACON
+
+
+
+
+THE CHASE
+
+
+Early one August morning a doe was feeding on Basin Mountain.
+
+The sole companion of the doe was her only child, a charming little
+fawn, whose brown coat was just beginning to be mottled with beautiful
+spots.
+
+The buck, his father, had been that night on a long tramp across the
+mountain to Clear Pond, and had not yet returned. He went to feed on the
+lily pads there.
+
+The doe was daintily cropping tender leaves and turning from time to
+time to regard her offspring. The fawn had taken his morning meal and
+now lay curled up on a bed of moss.
+
+If the mother stepped a pace or two farther away in feeding, the fawn
+made a half-movement, as if to rise and follow her. If, in alarm, he
+uttered a plaintive cry, she bounded to him at once.
+
+It was a pretty picture,--maternal love on the one part, and happy trust
+on the other.
+
+The doe lifted her head with a quick motion. Had she heard something?
+Probably it was only the south wind in the balsams. There was silence
+all about in the forest. With an affectionate glance at her fawn, she
+continued picking up her breakfast.
+
+But suddenly she started, head erect, eyes dilated, a tremor in her
+limbs. She turned her head to the south; she listened intently.
+
+There was a sound, a distinct, prolonged note, pervading the woods. It
+was repeated. The doe had no doubt now. It was the baying of a
+hound--far off, at the foot of the mountain.
+
+Time enough to fly; time enough to put miles between her and the hound
+before he should come upon her fresh trail; yes, time enough. But there
+was the fawn.
+
+The cry of the hound was repeated, more distinct this time. The mother
+bounded away a few paces. The fawn started up with an anxious bleat. The
+doe turned; she came back; she couldn't leave him.
+
+She walked away toward the west, and the little thing skipped after her.
+It was slow going for the slender legs, over the fallen logs and through
+the rasping bushes. The doe bounded in advance and waited. The fawn
+scrambled after her, slipping and tumbling along, and whining a good
+deal because his mother kept always moving away from him.
+
+Whenever the fawn caught up, he was quite content to frisk about. He
+wanted more breakfast, for one thing; and his mother wouldn't stand
+still. She moved on continually; and his weak legs were tangled in the
+roots of the narrow deer path.
+
+Suddenly came a sound that threw the doe into a panic of terror,--a
+short, sharp yelp, followed by a prolonged howl, caught up and re-echoed
+by other bayings along the mountain side. The danger was certain now; it
+was near. She could not crawl on in this way; the dogs would soon be
+upon them. She turned again for flight. The fawn, scrambling after her,
+tumbled over, and bleated piteously. Flight with the fawn was
+impossible.
+
+The doe returned, stood by him, head erect and nostrils distended.
+Perhaps she was thinking. The fawn lay down contentedly, and the doe
+licked him for a moment. Then, with the swiftness of a bird, she dashed
+away, and in a moment was lost in the forest. She went in the direction
+of the hounds.
+
+She descended the slope of the mountain until she reached the more open
+forest of hard wood. She was going due east, when she turned away toward
+the north, and kept on at a good pace.
+
+In five minutes more she heard the sharp yelp of discovery, and then the
+deep-mouthed howl of pursuit. The hounds had struck her trail where she
+turned, and the fawn was safe.
+
+For the moment fear left her, and she bounded on with the exaltation of
+triumph. For a quarter of an hour she went on at a slapping pace,
+clearing the bushes with bound after bound, flying over the fallen logs,
+pausing neither for brook nor ravine. The baying of the hounds grew
+fainter behind.
+
+After running at high speed perhaps half a mile farther, it occurred to
+her that it would be safe now to turn to the west, and, by a wide
+circuit, seek her fawn. But at the moment she heard a sound that chilled
+her heart. It was the cry of a hound to the west of her. There was
+nothing to do but to keep on, and on she went, with the noise of the
+pack behind her.
+
+In five minutes more she had passed into a hillside clearing. She heard
+a tinkle of bells. Below her, down the mountain slope, were other
+clearings broken by patches of woods. A mile or two down lay the valley
+and the farmhouses. That way also her enemies were. Not a merciful heart
+in all that lovely valley. She hesitated; it was only for an instant.
+
+She must cross the Slide Brook valley, if possible, and gain the
+mountain opposite. She bounded on; she stopped. What was that? From the
+valley ahead came the cry of a searching hound. Every way was closed but
+one, and that led straight down the mountain to the cluster of houses.
+The hunted doe went down "the open," clearing the fences, flying along
+the stony path.
+
+As she approached Slide Brook, she saw a boy standing by a tree with a
+raised rifle. The dogs were not in sight, but she could hear them coming
+down the hill. There was no time for hesitation. With a tremendous burst
+of speed she cleared the stream, and as she touched the bank heard the
+"ping" of a rifle bullet in the air above her. The cruel sound gave
+wings to the poor thing.
+
+In a moment more she leaped into the travelled road. Women and children
+ran to the doors and windows; men snatched their rifles. There were
+twenty people who were just going to shoot her, when the doe leaped the
+road fence, and went away across a marsh toward the foothills.
+
+By this time the dogs, panting and lolling out their tongues, came
+swinging along, keeping the trail, like stupids, and consequently
+losing ground when the deer doubled. But when the doe had got into the
+timber, she heard the savage brutes howling across the meadow. (It is
+well enough, perhaps, to say that nobody offered to shoot the dogs.)
+
+The courage of the panting fugitive was not gone, but the fearful pace
+at which she had been going told on her. Her legs trembled, and her
+heart beat like a trip-hammer. She slowed her speed, but still fled up
+the right bank of the stream. The dogs were gaining again, and she
+crossed the broad, deep brook. The fording of the river threw the hounds
+off for a time. She used the little respite to push on until the baying
+was faint in her ears.
+
+Late in the afternoon she staggered down the shoulder of Bartlett, and
+stood upon the shore of the lake. If she could put that piece of water
+between her and her pursuers, she would be safe. Had she strength to
+swim it?
+
+At her first step into the water she saw a sight that sent her back with
+a bound. There was a boat mid-lake; two men were in it. One was rowing;
+the other had a gun in his hand. What should she do? With only a
+moment's hesitation she plunged into the lake. Her tired legs could not
+propel the tired body rapidly.
+
+The doe saw the boat nearing her. She turned to the shore whence she
+came; the dogs were lapping the water and howling there. She turned
+again to the centre of the lake. The brave, pretty creature was quite
+exhausted now. In a moment more the boat was on her, and the man at the
+oars had leaned over and caught her.
+
+"Knock her on the head with that paddle!" he shouted to the gentleman in
+the stern. The gentleman _was_ a gentleman, with a kind face. He took
+the paddle in his hand. Just then the doe turned her head and looked at
+him with her great appealing eyes.
+
+"I can't do it! I can't do it!" and he dropped the paddle. "Oh, let her
+go!"
+
+But the guide slung the deer round, and whipped out his hunting-knife.
+And the gentleman ate that night of the venison.
+
+CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+THE INCHCAPE ROCK
+
+
+    No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
+    The ship was as still as she could be;
+    Her sails from heaven received no motion,
+    Her keel was steady in the ocean.
+
+    Without either sign or sound of their shock,
+    The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;
+    So little they rose, so little they fell,
+    They did not move the Inchcape Bell.
+
+    The pious Abbot of Aberbrothock
+    Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
+    On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
+    And over the waves its warning rung.
+
+    When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell,
+    The mariners heard the warning bell;
+    And then they knew the perilous Rock,
+    And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothock.
+
+    The sun in heaven was shining gay;
+    All things were joyful on that day;
+    The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round,
+    And there was joyance in their sound.
+
+    The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen,
+    A darker speck on the ocean green;
+    Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
+    And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
+
+    He felt the cheering power of spring;
+    It made him whistle, it made him sing:
+    His heart was mirthful to excess,
+    But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.
+
+    His eye was on the Inchcape float;
+    Quoth he: "My men, put out the boat,
+    And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
+    And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothock."
+
+    The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
+    And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
+    Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
+    And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.
+
+    Down sank the bell, with a gurgling sound,
+    The bubbles rose and burst around;
+    Quoth Sir Ralph: "The next who comes to the Rock
+    Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothock."
+
+    Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away;
+    He scoured the seas for many a day;
+    And now, grown rich with plundered store,
+    He steers his course for Scotland's shore.
+
+    So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
+    They cannot see the sun on high;
+    The wind hath blown a gale all day,
+    At evening it hath died away.
+
+    On the deck the Rover takes his stand;
+    So dark it is, they see no land.
+    Quoth Sir Ralph: "It will be lighter soon,
+    For there is the dawn of the rising moon."
+
+    "Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar?
+    For methinks we should be near the shore."
+    "Now where we are I cannot tell,
+    But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell."
+
+    They hear no sound; the swell is strong;
+    Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,
+    Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock;
+    Cried they: "It is the Inchcape Rock!"
+
+    Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
+    He cursed himself in his despair:
+    The waves rush in on every side;
+    The ship is sinking beneath the tide.
+
+    But, even in his dying fear,
+    One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,--
+    A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell,
+    The fiends below were ringing his knell.
+
+SOUTHEY
+
+
+
+
+A ROUGH RIDE
+
+
+"Well, young ones, what be gaping at?"
+
+"Your mare," said I, standing stoutly up, being a tall boy now; "I never
+saw such a beauty, sir. Will you let me have a ride on her?"
+
+"Think thou couldst ride her, lad? She will have no burden but mine.
+Thou couldst never ride her! Tut! I would be loath to kill thee."
+
+"Ride her!" I cried, with the bravest scorn, for she looked so kind and
+gentle; "there never was a horse upon Exmoor but I could tackle in half
+an hour. Only I never ride upon saddle. Take those leathers off of her."
+
+He looked at me with a dry little whistle, and thrust his hands into his
+pockets, and so grinned that I could not stand it. And Annie laid hold
+of me in such a way that I was almost mad with her. And he laughed, and
+approved her for doing so. And the worst of all was--he said nothing.
+
+"Get away, Annie. Do you think I'm a fool, good sir? Only trust me with
+her, and I will not override her."
+
+"For that I will go bail, my son. She is liker to override thee. But the
+ground is soft to fall upon after all this rain. Now come out into the
+yard, young man, for the sake of your mother's cabbages. And the mellow
+strawbed will be softer for thee, since pride must have its fall. I am
+thy mother's cousin, boy, and I'm going up to the house. Tom Faggus is
+my name, as everybody knows, and this is my young mare, Winnie."
+
+What a fool I must have been not to know it at once! Tom Faggus, the
+great highwayman, and his young blood mare, the strawberry.
+
+Already her fame was noised abroad nearly as much as her master's, and
+my longing to ride her grew tenfold, but fear came at the back of it.
+Not that I had the smallest fear of what the mare could do to me, by
+fair play and horse-trickery, but that the glory of sitting upon her
+seemed to be too great for me; especially as there were rumours abroad
+that she was not a mare, after all, but a witch.
+
+Mr. Faggus gave his mare a wink, and she walked demurely after him, a
+bright young thing, flowing over with life, yet dropping her soul to a
+higher one, and led by love to anything, as the manner is of such
+creatures, when they know what is best for them. Then Winnie trod
+lightly upon the straw, because it had soft muck under it, and her
+delicate feet came back again.
+
+"Up for it still, boy, be ye?" Tom Faggus stopped, and the mare stopped
+there; and they looked at me provokingly.
+
+"Is she able to leap, sir? There is good take-off on this side of the
+brook."
+
+Mr. Faggus laughed very quietly, turning round to Winnie so that she
+might enter into it. And she, for her part, seemed to know exactly where
+the fun lay.
+
+"Good tumble-off, you mean, my boy. Well, there can be small harm to
+thee. I am akin to thy family, and know the substance of their skulls."
+
+"Let me get up," said I, waxing wroth, for reasons I cannot tell you,
+because they are too manifold; "take off your saddle-bag things. I will
+try not to squeeze her ribs in, unless she plays nonsense with me."
+
+Then Mr. Faggus was up on his mettle at this proud speech of mine, and
+John Fry was running up all the while, and Bill Dadds, and half a dozen
+others. Tom Faggus gave one glance around, and then dropped all regard
+for me. The high repute of his mare was at stake, and what was my life
+compared to it? Through my defiance, and stupid ways, here was I in a
+duello, and my legs not come to their strength yet, and my arms as limp
+as a herring.
+
+Something of this occurred to him, even in his wrath with me, for he
+spoke very softly to the filly, who now could scarcely subdue herself;
+but she drew in her nostrils, and breathed to his breath, and did all
+she could to answer him.
+
+"Not too hard, my dear," he said; "let him gently down on the mixen.
+That will be quite enough." Then he turned the saddle off, and I was up
+in a moment. She began at first so easily, and pricked her ears so
+lovingly, and minced about as if pleased to find so light a weight upon
+her, that I thought she knew I could ride a little, and feared to show
+any capers. "Gee wugg, Polly!" cried I, for all the men were now looking
+on, being then at the leaving-off time; "Gee wugg, Polly, and show what
+thou be'est made of." With that I plugged my heels into her, and Billy
+Dadds flung his hat up.
+
+Nevertheless, she outraged not, though her eyes were frightening Annie,
+and John Fry took a pick to keep him safe; but she curbed to and fro
+with her strong forearms rising like springs ingathered, waiting and
+quivering grievously, and beginning to sweat about it. Then her master
+gave a shrill, clear whistle, when her ears were bent towards him, and
+I felt her form beneath me gathering up like whalebone, and her hind
+legs coming under her, and I knew that I was in for it.
+
+First she reared upright in the air, and struck me full on the nose with
+her comb, till I bled worse than Robin Snell made me; and then down with
+her forefeet deep in the straw, and with her hind feet going to heaven.
+Finding me stick to her still like wax, for my mettle was up as hers
+was, away she flew with me swifter than ever I went before or since, I
+trow.
+
+She drove full head at the cob wall--"Oh, Jack, slip off!" screamed
+Annie--then she turned like light, when I thought to crush her, and
+ground my left knee against it. "Dear me!" I cried, for my breeches were
+broken, and short words went the furthest--"if you kill me, you shall
+die with me." Then she took the courtyard gate at a leap, knocking my
+words between my teeth, and then right over a quick-set hedge, as if the
+sky were a breath to her; and away for the water meadows, while I lay on
+her neck like a child, and wished I had never been born.
+
+Straight away, all in the front of the wind, and scattering clouds
+around her, all I knew of the speed we made was the frightful flash of
+her shoulders, and her mane like trees in a tempest. I felt the earth
+under us rushing away, and the air left far behind us, and my breath
+came and went, and I prayed to God, and was sorry to be so late of it.
+
+All the long swift while, without power of thought, I clung to her crest
+and shoulders, and was proud of holding on so long, though sure of being
+beaten. Then in her fury at feeling me still, she rushed at another
+device for it, and leaped the wide water-trough sideways across, to and
+fro, till no breath was left in me. The hazel boughs took me too hard in
+the face, and the tall dog-briers got hold of me, and the ache of my
+back was like crimping a fish, till I longed to give it up, thoroughly
+beaten, and lie there and die in the cresses.
+
+But there came a shrill whistle from up the home hill, where the people
+had hurried to watch us, and the mare stopped as if with a bullet, then
+set off for home with the speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and
+silently. I never had dreamed of such delicate motion, fluent, and
+graceful, and ambient, soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but
+swift as the summer lightning.
+
+I sat up again, but my strength was all spent, and no time left to
+recover it; and though she rose at our gate like a bird, I tumbled off
+into the soft mud.
+
+"Well done, lad," Mr. Faggus said, good-naturedly; for all were now
+gathered round me, as I rose from the ground, somewhat tottering, and
+miry, and crest-fallen, but otherwise none the worse (having fallen upon
+my head, which is of uncommon substance); "not at all bad work, my boy;
+we may teach you to ride by and by, I see; I thought not to see you
+stick on so long--"
+
+"I should have stuck on much longer, sir, if her sides had not been wet.
+She was so slippery--"
+
+"Boy, thou art right. She hath given many the slip. Ha! ha! Vex not,
+Jack, that I laugh at thee. She is like a sweetheart to me, and better
+than any of them be. It would have gone to my heart if thou hadst
+conquered. None but I can ride my Winnie mare."
+
+R. D. BLACKMORE: "Lorna Doone."
+
+
+
+
+    Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+      The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
+    Full many a flower is born to blush unseen
+      And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+GRAY
+
+
+
+
+THE ARAB AND HIS STEED
+
+
+    My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,
+    With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye;
+    Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy wingèd speed,
+    I may not mount on thee again--thou'rt sold, my Arab steed.
+
+    Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind,
+    The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind;
+    The stranger hath thy bridle-rein--thy master hath his gold--
+    Fleet-limbed and beautiful! farewell! thou'rt sold, my steed, thou'rt sold!
+
+    Farewell! those free untired limbs full many a mile must roam,
+    To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home;
+    Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed prepare;
+    The silky mane I braided once must be another's care.
+
+    The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee
+    Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where we were wont to be:
+    Evening shall darken on the earth; and o'er the sandy plain,
+    Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home again.
+
+    Yes, thou must go! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky,
+    Thy master's home--from all of these my exiled one must fly.
+    Thy proud, dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet,
+    And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet.
+
+    Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye glancing bright;
+    Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light;
+    And when I raise my dreaming arm to check or cheer thy speed,
+    Then must I, starting, wake to feel--thou'rt sold, my Arab steed!
+
+    Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel hand may chide,
+    Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested waves, along thy panting side,
+    And the rich blood that's in thee swells in thy indignant pain,
+    Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each startled vein.
+
+    Will they ill-use thee? If I thought--but no, it cannot be--
+    Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed; so gentle, yet so free.
+    And yet, if haply, when thou'rt gone my lonely heart should yearn,
+    Can the hand which casts thee from it now, command thee to return?
+
+    Return! alas! my Arab steed! what shall thy master do,
+    When thou who wert his all of joy, hast vanished from his view?
+    When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and through the gathering tears,
+    Thy bright form for a moment, like the false mirage appears?
+
+    Slow and unmounted will I roam, with weary step alone,
+    Where with fleet step and joyous bound thou oft hast borne me on!
+    And sitting down by that green well, I'll pause and sadly think:
+    It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him drink!
+
+    When last I saw thee drink!--Away! the fevered dream is o'er;
+    I could not live a day, and know that we should meet no more!
+    They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger's power is strong,
+    They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long.
+
+    Who said that I had given thee up, who said that thou wert sold?
+    'Tis false--'tis false, my Arab steed! I fling them back their gold.
+    Thus, thus I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains,
+    Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains!
+
+THE HONOURABLE MRS. NORTON
+
+
+
+
+THE POET'S SONG
+
+
+    The rain had fallen, the Poet arose,
+      He pass'd by the town and out of the street,
+    A light wind blew from the gates of the sun,
+      And waves of shadow went over the wheat,
+    And he sat him down in a lonely place,
+      And chanted a melody loud and sweet,
+    That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud,
+      And the lark drop down at his feet.
+
+    The swallow stopt as he hunted the fly,
+      The snake slipt under a spray,
+    The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak,
+      And stared, with his foot on the prey,
+    And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs,
+      But never a one so gay,
+    For he sings of what the world will be
+      When the years have died away."
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+Never to tire, never to grow cold; to be patient, sympathetic, tender;
+to look for the budding flower, and the opening heart; to hope always,
+like God, to love always--this is duty.
+
+AMIEL
+
+
+
+
+ADVENTURE WITH A WHALE
+
+
+I gaily flung myself into my place in the mate's boat one morning, as we
+were departing in chase of a magnificent cachalot that had been raised
+just after breakfast. There were no other vessels in sight,--much to our
+satisfaction,--the wind was light, with a cloudless sky, and the whale
+was dead to leeward of us. We sped along at a good rate towards our
+prospective victim, who was, in his leisurely enjoyment of life, calmly
+lolling on the surface, occasionally lifting his enormous tail out of
+water and letting it fall flat upon the surface with a boom audible for
+miles.
+
+We were, as usual, first boat; but, much to the mate's annoyance, when
+we were a short half-mile from the whale our main-sheet parted. It
+became immediately necessary to roll the sail up, lest its flapping
+should alarm the watchful monster, and this delayed us sufficiently to
+allow the other boats to shoot ahead of us. Thus the second mate got
+fast some seconds before we arrived on the scene, seeing which, we
+furled sail, unshipped the mast, and went in on him with the oars only.
+At first the proceedings were quite of the usual character, our chief
+wielding his lance in most brilliant fashion, while not being fast to
+the animal allowed us much greater freedom in our evolutions; but that
+fatal habit of the mate's--of allowing his boat to take care of herself
+so long as he was getting in some good home-thrusts--once more asserted
+itself. Although the whale was exceedingly vigorous, churning the sea
+into yeasty foam over an enormous area, there we wallowed close to him,
+right in the middle of the turmoil, actually courting disaster.
+
+He had just settled down for a moment, when, glancing over the gunwale,
+I saw his tail, like a vast shadow, sweeping away from us towards the
+second mate, who was lying off the other side of him. Before I had time
+to think, the mighty mass of gristle leaped into the sunshine, curved
+back from us like a huge bow. Then with a roar it came at us, released
+from its tension of Heaven knows how many tons. Full on the broadside it
+struck us, sending every soul but me flying out of the wreckage as if
+fired from catapults. I did not go because my foot was jammed somehow in
+the well of the boat, but the wrench nearly pulled my thighbone out of
+its socket. I had hardly released my foot when, towering above me, came
+the colossal head of the great creature, as he ploughed through the
+bundle of _débris_ that had just been a boat. There was an appalling
+roar of water in my ears, and darkness that might be felt all around.
+Yet, in the midst of it all, one thought predominated as clearly as if I
+had been turning it over in my mind in the quiet of my bunk
+aboard--"What if he should swallow me?" Nor to this day can I understand
+how I escaped the portals of his gullet, which, of course, gaped wide as
+a church door. But the agony of holding my breath soon overpowered every
+other feeling and thought, till just as something was going to snap
+inside my head, I rose to the surface. I was surrounded by a welter of
+bloody froth, which, made it impossible for me to see; but oh, the air
+was sweet!
+
+I struck out blindly, instinctively, although I could feel so strong an
+eddy that voluntary progress was out of the question. My hand touched
+and clung to a rope, which immediately towed me in some direction--I
+neither knew nor cared whither. Soon the motion ceased, and, with a
+seaman's instinct, I began to haul myself along by the rope I grasped,
+although no definite idea was in my mind as to where it was attached.
+Presently I came butt up against something solid, the feel of which
+gathered all my scattered wits into a compact knob of dread. It was the
+whale! "Any port in a storm," I murmured, beginning to haul away again
+on my friendly line. By dint of hard work I pulled myself right up the
+sloping, slippery bank of blubber, until I reached the iron, which, as
+luck would have it, was planted in that side of the carcass now
+uppermost.
+
+Carcass I said--well, certainly I had no idea of there being any life
+remaining within the vast mass beneath me; yet I had hardly time to take
+a couple of turns round myself with the rope (or whale-line, as I had
+proved it to be), when I felt the great animal quiver all over, and
+begin to forge ahead. I was now composed enough to remember that help
+could not be far away, and that my rescue, providing that I could keep
+above water, was but a question of a few minutes. But I was hardly
+prepared for the whale's next move. Being very near his end, the boat,
+or boats, had drawn off a bit, I supposed, for I could see nothing of
+them. Then I remembered the flurry.
+
+Almost at the same moment it began; and there was I, who, with fearful
+admiration had so often watched the titanic convulsions of a dying
+cachalot, actually involved in them. The turns were off my body, but I
+was able to twist a couple of turns round my arms, which, in case of his
+sounding, I could readily let go. Then all was lost in roar and rush, as
+of the heart of some mighty cataract, during which I was sometimes
+above, sometimes beneath, the water, but always clinging, with every
+ounce of energy still left, to the line. Now, one thought was
+uppermost--"What if he should breach?" I had seen them do so when in
+flurry, leaping full twenty feet in the air. Then I prayed.
+
+Quickly as all the preceding changes had passed, came perfect peace.
+There I lay, still alive, but so weak that, although I could feel the
+turns slipping off my arms, and knew that I should slide off the slope
+of the whale's side into the sea if they did, I could make no effort to
+secure myself. Everything then passed away from me, just as if I had
+gone to sleep. I do not at all understand how I kept my position, nor
+how long, but I awoke to the blessed sound of voices, and saw the second
+mate's boat alongside.
+
+FRANK T. BULLEN: "The Cruise of the Cachalot."
+
+
+
+
+THE MAPLE
+
+
+    All hail to the broad-leaved Maple!
+      With her fair and changeful dress--
+    A type of our youthful country
+      In its pride and loveliness;
+    Whether in Spring or Summer,
+      Or in the dreary Fall,
+    'Mid Nature's forest children,
+      She's fairest of them all.
+
+    Down sunny slopes and valleys
+      Her graceful form is seen,
+    Her wide, umbrageous branches
+      The sunburnt reaper screen;
+    'Mid the dark-browed firs and cedars
+      Her livelier colours shine,
+    Like the dawn of the brighter future
+      On the settler's hut of pine.
+
+    She crowns the pleasant hilltop,
+      Whispers on breezy downs,
+    And casts refreshing shadows
+      O'er the streets of our busy towns;
+    She gladdens the aching eyeball,
+      Shelters the weary head,
+    And scatters her crimson glories
+      On the graves of the silent dead.
+
+    When winter's frosts are yielding
+      To the sun's returning sway,
+    And merry groups are speeding
+      To sugar-woods away;
+    The sweet and welling juices,
+      Which form their welcome spoil,
+    Tell of the teeming plenty,
+      Which here waits honest toil.
+
+    When sweet-toned Spring, soft-breathing,
+      Breaks Nature's icy sleep,
+    And the forest boughs are swaying
+      Like the green waves of the deep;
+    In her fair and budding beauty,
+      A fitting emblem, she,
+    Of this our land of promise,
+      Of hope, of liberty.
+
+    And when her leaves, all crimson,
+      Droop silently and fall,
+    Like drops of life-blood welling
+      From a warrior brave and tall;
+    They tell how fast and freely
+      Would her children's blood be shed,
+    Ere the soil of our faith and freedom
+      Should echo a foeman's tread.
+
+    Then hail to the broad-leaved Maple!
+      With her fair and changeful dress--
+    A type of our youthful country
+      In its pride and loveliness;
+    Whether in Spring or Summer,
+      Or in the dreary Fall,
+    'Mid Nature's forest children,
+      She's fairest of them all.
+
+H. F. DARNELL
+
+
+
+
+DAMON AND PYTHIAS
+
+
+In Syracuse there was so hard a ruler that the people made a plot to
+drive him out of the city. The plot was discovered, and the king
+commanded that the leaders should be put to death. One of these, named
+Damon, lived at some distance from Syracuse. He asked that before he was
+put to death he might be allowed to go home to say good-bye to his
+family, promising that he would then come back to die at the appointed
+time.
+
+The king did not believe that he would keep his word, and said: "I will
+not let you go unless you find some friend who will come and stay in
+your place. Then, if you are not back on the day set for execution, I
+shall put your friend to death in your stead." The king thought to
+himself: "Surely no one will ever take the place of a man condemned to
+death."
+
+Now, Damon had a very dear friend, named Pythias, who at once came
+forward and offered to stay in prison while Damon was allowed to go
+away. The king was very much surprised, but he had given his word; Damon
+was therefore permitted to leave for home, while Pythias was shut up in
+prison.
+
+Many days passed, the time for the execution was close at hand, and
+Damon had not come back. The king, curious to see how Pythias would
+behave, now that death seemed so near, went to the prison.
+
+"Your friend will never return," he said to Pythias.
+
+"You are wrong," was the answer. "Damon will be here if he can possibly
+come. But he has to travel by sea, and the winds have been blowing the
+wrong way for several days. However, it is much better that I should die
+than he. I have no wife and no children, and I love my friend so well
+that it would be easier to die for him than to live without him. So I am
+hoping and praying that he may be delayed until my head has fallen."
+
+The king went away more puzzled than ever.
+
+The fatal day arrived but Damon had not come. Pythias was brought
+forward and led upon the scaffold. "My prayers are heard," he cried. "I
+shall be permitted to die for my friend. But mark my words. Damon is
+faithful and true; you will yet have reason to know that he has done his
+utmost to be here!"
+
+Just at this moment a man came galloping up at full speed, on a horse
+covered with foam! It was Damon. In an instant he was on the scaffold,
+and had Pythias in his arms. "My beloved friend," he cried, "the gods be
+praised that you are safe. What agony have I suffered in the fear that
+my delay was putting your life in danger!"
+
+There was no joy in the face of Pythias, for he did not care to live if
+his friend must die. But the king had heard all. At last he was forced
+to believe in the unselfish friendship of these two. His hard heart
+melted at the sight, and he set them both free, asking only that they
+would be his friends, also.
+
+CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
+
+
+
+
+    Honour and shame from no condition rise;
+    Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
+
+POPE
+
+
+
+
+THE WRECK OF THE ORPHEUS
+
+
+    All day, amid the masts and shrouds,
+      They hung above the wave;
+    The sky o'erhead was dark with clouds,
+      And dark beneath, their grave.
+    The water leaped against its prey,
+      Breaking with heavy crash,
+    And when some slack'ning hands gave way,
+      They fell with dull, low splash.
+
+    Captain and man ne'er thought to swerve;
+      The boats went to and fro;
+    With cheery face and tranquil nerve,
+      Each saw his brother go.
+    Each saw his brother go, and knew,
+      As night came swiftly on,
+    That less and less his own chance grew--
+      Night fell, and hope was gone.
+
+    The saved stood on the steamer's deck,
+      Straining their eyes to see
+    Their comrades clinging to the wreck
+      Upon that surging sea;
+    And still they gazed into the dark
+      Till, on their startled ears,
+    There came from that swift-sinking bark
+      A sound of gallant cheers.
+
+    Again, and yet again it rose;
+      Then silence round them fell--
+    Silence of death--and each man knows
+      It was a last farewell.
+    No cry of anguish, no wild shriek
+      Of men in agony--
+    No dropping down of watchers weak,
+      Weary and glad to die,
+
+    But death met with three British cheers--
+      Cheers of immortal fame;
+    For us the choking, blinding tears--
+      For them a glorious name.
+    Oh England, while thy sailor-host
+      Can live and die like these,
+    Be thy broad lands or won or lost,
+      Thou'rt mistress of the seas!
+
+C. A. L.
+
+
+
+
+THE TIDE RIVER
+
+
+      Clear and cool, clear and cool,
+    By laughing shallow, and dreaming pool;
+      Cool and clear, cool and clear,
+    By shining shingle, and foaming weir;
+    Under the crag where the ouzel sings,
+    And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings,
+      Undefiled, for the undefiled;
+    Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.
+
+      Dank and foul, dank and foul,
+    By the smoky town in its murky cowl;
+      Foul and dank, foul and dank,
+    By wharf and sewer and slimy bank;
+      Darker and darker the further I go,
+      Baser and baser the richer I grow;
+        Who dare sport with the sin defiled?
+    Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child.
+
+      Strong and free, strong and free,
+    The flood-gates are open, away to the sea;
+      Free and strong, free and strong,
+    Cleansing my streams as I hurry along
+    To the golden sands, and the leaping bar,
+    And the taintless tide that awaits me afar;
+    As I lose myself in the infinite main,
+    Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again.
+      Undefiled, for the undefiled,
+      Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.
+
+KINGSLEY
+
+
+
+
+The best result of all education is the acquired power of making
+yourself do what you ought to do, when you ought to do it, whether you
+like it or not.
+
+HUXLEY
+
+[Illustration: ONTARIO AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE]
+
+
+
+
+WISDOM THE SUPREME PRIZE
+
+
+    My son, despise not the chastening of the LORD;
+    Neither be weary of his reproof:
+    For whom the LORD loveth he reproveth;
+    Even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.
+
+      Happy is the man that findeth wisdom,
+      And the man that getteth understanding.
+      For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver,
+      And the gain thereof than fine gold.
+      She is more precious than rubies:
+      And none of the things thou canst desire are to be compared unto her.
+
+      Length of days is in her right hand;
+      In her left hand are riches and honour.
+      Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
+      And all her paths are peace.
+      She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her:
+      And happy is every one that retaineth her.
+
+    The LORD by wisdom founded the earth;
+    By understanding he established the heavens.
+    By his knowledge the depths were broken up,
+    And the skies drop down the dew.
+
+PROVERBS, III.
+
+
+
+
+THE ORCHARD
+
+
+    There's no garden like an orchard,
+      Nature shows no fairer thing
+    Than the apple trees in blossom
+      In these late days o' the spring.
+
+    Here the robin redbreast's nesting,
+      Here, from golden dawn till night,
+    Honey bees are gaily swimming
+      In a sea of pink and white.
+
+    Just a sea of fragrant blossoms,
+      Steeped in sunshine, drenched in dew,
+    Just a fragrant breath which tells you
+      Earth is fair again and new.
+
+    Just a breath of subtle sweetness,
+      Breath which holds the spice o' youth,
+    Holds the promise o' the summer--
+      Holds the best o' things, forsooth.
+
+    There's no garden like an orchard,
+      Nature shows no fairer thing
+    Than the apple trees in blossom
+      In these late days o' the spring.
+
+JEAN BLEWETT
+
+
+
+
+INSPIRED BY THE SNOW
+
+
+The black squirrel delights in the new-fallen snow like a boy--a real
+boy, with red hands as well as red cheeks, and an automatic mechanism of
+bones and muscles capable of all things except rest. The first snow
+sends a thrill of joy through every fibre of such a boy, and a thousand
+delights crowd into his mind. The gliding, falling coasters on the
+hills, the passing sleighs with niches on the runners for his feet, the
+flying snowballs, the sliding-places, the broad, tempting ice, all whirl
+through his mind in a delightful panorama, and he hurries out to catch
+the elusive flakes in his outstretched hands and to shout aloud in the
+gladness of his heart. And the black squirrel becomes a boy with the
+first snow. What a pity he cannot shout! There is a superabundant joy
+and life in his long, graceful bounds, when his beautiful form, in its
+striking contrast with the white snow, seems magnified to twice its real
+size. Perhaps there is vanity as well as joy in his lithe, bounding
+motions among the naked trees, for nature seems to have done her utmost
+to provide a setting that would best display his graces of form and
+motion.
+
+When the falling snow clings in light, airy masses on the spruces and
+pines, and festoons the naked tracery and clustering winter buds of the
+maples--when the still air seems to fix every twig and branch and
+clinging mass of snow in a solid medium of crystal, the spell of
+stillness is broken by the silent but joyful leaps of the hurrying
+squirrel. How alive he seems, in contrast with the silence of the snow,
+as his outlines contrast with its perfect white! His body curves and
+elongates with regular undulations, as he measures off the snow with
+twin footprints. Away in the distance he is still visible among the
+naked trunks, a moving patch of animated blackness. His free, regular
+footprints are all about, showing where he has run hither and thither,
+with no apparent purpose except to manifest his joy in life.
+
+His red-haired cousin comes to a lofty opening in a hollow tree and
+looks out with an expression of disappointment on his face. He does not
+like the snow-covered landscape spread out so artistically before him.
+It makes him tired, and he has not enough energy to scold an intruder,
+as he would in the comfortable days of summer. No amount of coaxing or
+tapping will tempt him from his lofty watch-tower, or win more
+recognition than a silent look of weary discontent. Another cousin, the
+chipmunk, no longer displays his daintily-striped coat. Oblivious in his
+burrow, he is sleeping away the days, and waiting for a more congenial
+season.
+
+But the black squirrel, now among the branches of an elm, is twitching
+from one rigid attitude to another, electrified by the crisp atmosphere
+and the inspiration of the snow. Again he is leaping over the white
+surface to clamber up the repellent bark of a tall hickory. Among the
+larger limbs he disappears. As he never attempts to hide, he must have
+retired into his own dwelling to partake of the store laid by in the
+season of plenty. Hickory nuts are his favourite food, and the hard
+shells seem but an appetizing relish. He knows the value of frugality,
+and gathers them before they are ripe, throwing down the shrivelled and
+unfilled, that the boys may not annoy him with stones and sticks. In
+winter he is the happiest of all the woodland family. He does not yield
+to the drowsy, numbing influence of the cold, nor to the depression of a
+season of scanty fare, but bounds along from tree to tree, inspired by
+the subtle spirit of winter and revelling in the joy of being alive.
+
+S. T. WOOD
+
+
+
+
+THE SQUIRREL
+
+
+    Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm
+    That age or injury has hollow'd deep,
+    Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves,
+    He has outslept the winter, ventures forth
+    To frisk a while, and bask in the warm sun,
+    The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play.
+    He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird,
+    Ascends the neighbouring beech; there whisks his brush,
+    And perks his ears, and stamps and scolds aloud,
+    With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm,
+    And anger insignificantly fierce.
+
+COWPER
+
+
+
+
+SOLDIER, REST
+
+
+    "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
+      Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
+    Dream of battled fields no more,
+      Days of danger, nights of waking.
+    In our isle's enchanted hall,
+      Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
+    Fairy strains of music fall,
+      Every sense in slumber dewing.
+    Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
+    Dream of fighting fields no more:
+    Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
+    Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
+
+    "No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
+      Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,
+    Trump nor pibroch summon here
+      Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
+    Yet the lark's shrill fife may come
+      At the daybreak from the fallow,
+    And the bittern sound his drum,
+      Booming from the sedgy shallow.
+    Ruder sounds shall none be near,
+    Guards nor warders challenge here,
+    Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
+    Shouting clans or squadrons stamping."
+
+SCOTT: "The Lady of the Lake"
+
+
+
+
+FISHING
+
+
+One fine Thursday afternoon, Tom, having borrowed East's new rod,
+started by himself to the river. He fished for some time with small
+success, not a fish would rise to him; but as he prowled along the bank,
+he was presently aware of mighty ones feeding in a pool on the opposite
+side, under the shade of a huge willow-tree. The stream was deep here,
+but some fifty yards below was a shallow, for which he made off
+hot-foot; and forgetting landlords, keepers, solemn prohibitions of the
+Doctor, and everything else, pulled up his trousers, plunged across, and
+in three minutes was creeping along on all fours towards the clump of
+willows.
+
+It isn't often that great chub, or any other coarse fish, are in earnest
+about anything; but just then they were thoroughly bent on feeding, and
+in half an hour Master Tom had deposited three thumping fellows at the
+foot of the giant willow. As he was baiting for a fourth pounder, and
+just going to throw in again, he became aware of a man coming up the
+bank not one hundred yards off. Another look told him that it was the
+under-keeper. Could he reach the shallow before him? No, not carrying
+his rod. Nothing for it but the tree. So Tom laid his bones to it,
+shinning up as fast as he could and dragging up his rod after him. He
+had just time to reach and crouch along upon a huge branch some ten feet
+up, which stretched out over the river, when the keeper arrived at the
+clump.
+
+Tom's heart beat fast as he came under the tree; two steps more and he
+would have passed, when, as ill-luck would have it, the gleam on the
+scales of the dead fish caught his eye, and he made a dead point at the
+foot of the tree. He picked up the fish one by one; his eye and touch
+told him that they had been alive and feeding within the hour.
+
+Tom crouched lower along the branch, and heard the keeper beating the
+clump. "If I could only get the rod hidden," thought he, and began
+gently shifting it to get it alongside of him: "willow-trees don't throw
+out straight hickory shoots twelve feet long, with no leaves, worse
+luck." Alas! the keeper catches the rustle, and then a sight of the rod,
+and then of Tom's hand and arm.
+
+"Oh, be up ther', be 'ee?" says he, running under the tree. "Now you
+come down this minute."
+
+"Tree'd at last," thinks Tom, making no answer, and keeping as close as
+possible, but working away at the rod, which he takes to pieces. "I'm in
+for it, unless I can starve him out."
+
+And then he begins to meditate getting along the branch for a plunge,
+and scramble to the other side; but the small branches are so thick,
+and the opposite bank so difficult, that the keeper will have lots of
+time to get round by the ford before he can get out, so he gives that
+up. And now he hears the keeper beginning to scramble up the trunk. That
+will never do; so he scrambles himself back to where his branch joins
+the trunk, and stands with lifted rod.
+
+"Hullo, Velveteens, mind your fingers if you come any higher."
+
+The keeper stops and looks up, and then with a grin says: "Oh! be you,
+be it, young measter? Well, here's luck. Now I tells 'ee to come down at
+once, and 't'll be best for 'ee."
+
+"Thank 'ee, Velveteens, I'm very comfortable," said Tom, shortening the
+rod in his hand, and preparing for battle.
+
+"Werry well, please yourself," says the keeper, descending, however, to
+the ground again, and taking his seat on the bank. "I bean't in no
+hurry, so you med take your time. I'll larn 'ee to gee honest folk names
+afore I've done with 'ee."
+
+"My luck as usual," thinks Tom; "what a fool I was to give him a black!
+If I'd called him 'keeper,' now, I might get off. The return match is
+all his way."
+
+The keeper quietly proceeded to take out his pipe, fill, and light it,
+keeping an eye on Tom, who now sat disconsolately across the branch,
+looking at the keeper--a pitiful sight for men and fishes. The more he
+thought of it the less he liked it.
+
+"It must be getting near second calling-over," thinks he. Keeper smokes
+on stolidly. "If he takes me up, I shall be flogged safe enough. I can't
+sit here all night. Wonder if he'll rise at silver."
+
+"I say, keeper," said he, meekly, "let me go for two bob?"
+
+"Not for twenty neither," grunts his persecutor.
+
+And so they sat on till long past second calling-over; and the sun came
+slanting in through the willow-branches, and telling of locking-up near
+at hand.
+
+"I'm coming down, keeper," said Tom at last, with a sigh, fairly tired
+out. "Now what are you going to do?"
+
+"Walk 'ee up to School, and give 'ee over to the Doctor; them's my
+orders," says Velveteens, knocking the ashes out of his fourth pipe, and
+standing up and shaking himself.
+
+"Very good," said Tom; "but hands off, you know. I'll go with you
+quietly, so no collaring or that sort of thing."
+
+Keeper looked at him a minute: "Werry good," said he at last. And so Tom
+descended, and wended his way drearily by the side of the keeper up to
+the School-house, where they arrived just at locking-up.
+
+As they passed the School-gates, the Tadpole and several others who were
+standing there caught the state of things, and rushed out, crying,
+"Rescue!" but Tom shook his head, so they only followed to the Doctor's
+gate, and went back sorely puzzled.
+
+How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the last time that Tom was
+up there, as the keeper told the story, not omitting to state how Tom
+had called him blackguard names. "Indeed, sir," broke in the culprit,
+"it was only Velveteens." The Doctor only asked one question.
+
+"You know the rule about the banks, Brown?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then wait for me to-morrow, after first lesson."
+
+"I thought so," muttered Tom.
+
+"And about the rod, sir?" went on the keeper. "Master's told we as we
+might have all the rods----"
+
+"Oh, please, sir," broke in Tom, "the rod isn't mine."
+
+The Doctor looked puzzled, but the keeper, who was a good-hearted
+fellow, and melted at Tom's evident distress, gave up his claim.
+
+Tom was flogged next morning, and a few days afterwards met Velveteens,
+and presented him with half a crown for giving up the rod claim, and
+they became sworn friends; and I regret to say that Tom had many more
+fish from under the willow that May-fly season, and was never caught
+again by Velveteens.
+
+HUGHES: "Tom Brown's School Days."
+
+
+
+
+THE FOUNTAIN
+
+
+    Into the sunshine,
+      Full of the light,
+    Leaping and flashing
+      From morn till night!
+
+    Into the moonlight,
+      Whiter than snow,
+    Waving so flower-like
+      When the winds blow!
+
+    Into the starlight,
+      Rushing in spray,
+    Happy at midnight,
+      Happy by day;
+
+    Ever in motion,
+      Blithesome and cheery,
+    Still climbing heavenward
+      Never aweary;--
+
+    Glad of all weathers;
+      Still seeming best,
+    Upward or downward,
+      Motion thy rest;--
+
+    Full of a nature
+      Nothing can tame,
+    Changed every moment,
+      Ever the same;--
+
+    Ceaseless aspiring,
+      Ceaseless content,
+    Darkness or sunshine
+      Thy element;--
+
+    Glorious fountain!
+      Let my heart be
+    Fresh, changeful, constant,
+      Upward, like thee!
+
+LOWELL
+
+
+
+
+BREAK, BREAK, BREAK
+
+
+    Break, break, break,
+      On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
+    And I would that my tongue could utter
+      The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+    O well for the fisherman's boy,
+      That he shouts with his sister at play!
+    O well for the sailor lad,
+      That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+    And the stately ships go on
+      To their haven under the hill;
+    But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
+      And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+    Break, break, break,
+      At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
+    But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+      Will never come back to me.
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+Try to frequent the company of your betters. In books and life, that is
+the most wholesome society; learn to admire rightly; the great pleasure
+of life is that. Note what great men admired: they admired great things;
+narrow spirits admire basely and worship meanly.
+
+THACKERAY
+
+
+
+
+THE BED OF PROCRUSTES
+
+
+A very tall and strong man, dressed in rich garments, came down to meet
+Theseus. On his arms were golden bracelets, and round his neck a collar
+of jewels; and he came forward, bowing courteously, and held out both
+his hands, and spoke:
+
+"Welcome, fair youth, to these mountains; happy am I to have met you!
+For what greater pleasure to a good man than to entertain strangers? But
+I see that you are weary. Come up to my castle, and rest yourself
+awhile."
+
+"I give you thanks," said Theseus; "but I am in haste to go up the
+valley."
+
+"Alas! you have wandered far from the right way, and you cannot reach
+your journey's end to-night, for there are many miles of mountain
+between you and it, and steep passes, and cliffs dangerous after
+nightfall. It is well for you that I met you, for my whole joy is to
+find strangers, and to feast them at my castle, and hear tales from them
+of foreign lands. Come up with me, and eat the best of venison, and
+drink the rich red wine, and sleep upon my famous bed, of which all
+travellers say that they never saw the like. For whatsoever the
+stature of my guest, however tall or short, that bed fits him to a hair,
+and he sleeps on it as he never slept before." And he laid hold on
+Theseus' hands, and would not let him go.
+
+[Illustration: NIAGARA FALLS]
+
+Theseus wished to go forwards: but he was ashamed to seem churlish to so
+hospitable a man; and he was curious to see that wondrous bed; and
+beside, he was hungry and weary: yet he shrank from the man, he knew not
+why; for, though his voice was gentle, it was dry and husky like a
+toad's; and though his eyes were gentle, they were dull and cold like
+stones. But he consented, and went with the man up a glen which led from
+the road, under the dark shadow of the cliffs.
+
+And as they went up, the glen grew narrower, and the cliffs higher and
+darker, and beneath them a torrent roared, half seen between bare
+limestone crags. And around them was neither tree nor bush, while the
+snow-blasts swept down the glen, cutting and chilling, till a horror
+fell on Theseus as he looked round at that doleful place. And he said at
+last: "Your castle stands, it seems, in a dreary region."
+
+"Yes; but once within it, hospitality makes all things cheerful. But who
+are these?" and he looked back, and Theseus also; and far below, along
+the road which they had left, came a string of laden asses, and
+merchants walking by them, watching their ware.
+
+"Ah, poor souls!" said the stranger. "Well for them that I looked back
+and saw them! And well for me, too, for I shall have the more guests at
+my feast. Wait awhile till I go down and call them, and we will eat and
+drink together the livelong night. Happy am I, to whom Heaven sends so
+many guests at once!"
+
+And he ran back down the hill, waving his hand and shouting to the
+merchants, while Theseus went slowly up the steep pass.
+
+But as he went up he met an aged man, who had been gathering driftwood
+in the torrent-bed. He had laid down his faggot in the road, and was
+trying to lift it again to his shoulder. And when he saw Theseus, he
+called to him and said:
+
+"O fair youth, help me up with my burden, for my limbs are stiff and
+weak with years."
+
+Then Theseus lifted the burden on his back. And the old man blessed him,
+and then looked earnestly upon him, and said:
+
+"Who are you, fair youth, and wherefore travel you this doleful road?"
+
+"Who I am my parents know; but I travel this doleful road because I have
+been invited by a hospitable man, who promises to feast me and to make
+me sleep upon I know not what wondrous bed."
+
+Then the old man clapped his hands together and cried:
+
+"Know, fair youth, that you are going to torment and to death, for he
+who met you (I will requite your kindness by another) is a robber and a
+murderer of men. Whatsoever stranger he meets he entices him hither to
+death; and as for this bed of which he speaks, truly it fits all comers,
+yet none ever rose alive off it save me."
+
+"Why?" asked Theseus, astonished.
+
+"Because, if a man be too tall for it, he lops his limbs till they be
+short enough, and if he be too short, he stretches his limbs till they
+be long enough; but me only he spared, seven weary years agone; for I
+alone of all fitted his bed exactly, so he spared me, and made me his
+slave. And once I was a wealthy merchant, and dwelt in a great city; but
+now I hew wood and draw water for him, the torment of all mortal men."
+
+Then Theseus said nothing; but he ground his teeth together.
+
+"Escape, then," said the old man, "for he will have no pity on thy
+youth. But yesterday he brought up hither a young man and a maiden, and
+fitted them upon his bed; and the young man's hands and feet he cut off,
+but the maiden's limbs he stretched until she died, and so both perished
+miserably--but I am tired of weeping over the slain. And therefore he is
+called Procrustes, the stretcher. Flee from him: yet whither will you
+flee? The cliffs are steep, and who can climb them? and there is no
+other road."
+
+But Theseus laid his hand upon the old man's mouth, and said: "There is
+no need to flee;" and he turned to go down the pass.
+
+"Do not tell him that I have warned you, or he will kill me by some evil
+death;" and the old man screamed after him down the glen; but Theseus
+strode on in his wrath.
+
+And he said to himself: "This is an ill-ruled land; when shall I have
+done ridding it of monsters?" And, as he spoke, Procrustes came up the
+hill, and all the merchants with him, smiling and talking gaily. And
+when he saw Theseus, he cried: "Ah, fair young guest, have I kept you
+too long waiting?"
+
+But Theseus answered: "The man who stretches his guests upon a bed and
+hews off their hands and feet, what shall be done to him, when right is
+done throughout the land?"
+
+Then Procrustes' countenance changed, and his cheeks grew as green as a
+lizard, and he felt for his sword in haste; but Theseus leaped on him,
+and cried:
+
+"Is this true, my host, or is it false?" and he clasped Procrustes round
+waist and elbow, so that he could not draw his sword.
+
+"Is this true, my host, or is it false!" But Procrustes answered never a
+word.
+
+Then Theseus flung him from him, and lifted up his dreadful club; and
+before Procrustes could strike him, he had struck and felled him to the
+ground.
+
+And once again he struck him; and his evil soul fled forth, squeaking
+like a bat into the darkness of a cave.
+
+Then Theseus stripped him of his gold ornaments, and went up to his
+house, and found there great wealth and treasure, which he had stolen
+from the passers-by. And he called the people of the country, whom
+Procrustes had spoiled a long time, and divided the spoil among them,
+and went down the mountains, and away.
+
+KINGSLEY: "The Heroes."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+"BOB WHITE"
+
+
+    I see you, on the zigzag rails,
+      You cheery little fellow!
+    While purple leaves are whirling down,
+      And scarlet, brown, and yellow.
+    I hear you when the air is full
+      Of snow-down of the thistle;
+    All in your speckled jacket trim,
+      "Bob White! Bob White!" you whistle.
+
+    Tall amber sheaves, in rustling rows,
+      Are nodding there to greet you;
+    I know that you are out for play--
+      How I should like to meet you!
+    Though blithe of voice, so shy you are,
+      In this delightful weather;
+    What splendid playmates, you and I,
+      "Bob White," would make together!
+
+    There, you are gone! but far away
+      I hear your whistle falling.
+    Ah! maybe it is hide-and-seek,
+      And that's why you are calling.
+    Along those hazy uplands wide
+      We'd be such merry rangers;
+    What! silent now, and hidden too!
+      "Bob White," don't let's be strangers.
+
+    Perhaps you teach your brood the game,
+      In yonder rainbowed thicket,
+    While winds are playing with the leaves,
+      And softly creeks the cricket.
+    "Bob White! Bob White!"--again I hear
+      That blithely whistled chorus;
+    Why should we not companions be?
+      One Father watches o'er us!
+
+GEORGE COOPER
+
+
+
+
+RADISSON AND THE INDIANS
+
+
+The tribe being assembled and having spread out their customary gifts,
+consisting of beaver tails, smoked moose tongues and pemmican, one of
+the leading braves arose and said:
+
+"Men who pretend to give us life, do you wish us to die! You know what
+beaver is worth and the trouble we have to take it. You call yourselves
+our brothers, and yet will not give us what those give who make no such
+profession. Accept our gifts, and let us barter, or we will visit you
+no more. We have but to travel a hundred leagues and we will encounter
+the English, whose offers we have heard."
+
+On the conclusion of this harangue, silence reigned for some moments.
+All eyes were turned on the two white traders. Feeling that now or never
+was the time to exhibit firmness, Radisson, without rising to his feet,
+addressed the whole assemblage in haughty accents.
+
+"Whom dost thou wish I should answer? I have heard a dog bark; when a
+man shall speak, he will see I know how to defend my conduct and my
+terms. We love our brothers and we deserve their love in return. For
+have we not saved them all from the treachery of the English?"
+
+Uttering these words fearlessly, he leaped to his feet and drew a long
+hunting-knife from his belt. Seizing by the scalp-lock the chief of the
+tribe, who had already adopted him as his son, he asked: "Who art thou?"
+To which the chief responded, as was customary: "Thy father."
+
+"Then," cried Radisson, "if that is so, and thou art my father, speak
+for me. Thou art the master of my goods; but as for that dog who has
+spoken, what is he doing in this company? Let him go to his brothers,
+the English, at the head of the Bay. Or he need not travel so far. He
+may, if he chooses, see them starving and helpless on yonder island;
+answering to my words of command.
+
+"I know how to speak to my Indian father," continued Radisson, "of the
+perils of the woods, of the abandonment of his squaws and children, of
+the risks of hunger and the peril of death by foes. All these you avoid
+by trading with us here. But although I am mightily angry, I will take
+pity on this wretch and let him still live. Go," addressing the brave
+with his weapon outstretched, "take this as my gift to you, and depart.
+When you meet your brothers, the English, tell them my name, and add
+that we are soon coming to treat them and their factory yonder as we
+have treated this one."
+
+The speaker knew enough of the Indian character, especially in affairs
+of trade, to be aware that a point once yielded them is never recovered.
+And it is but just to say that the terms he then made of three axes for
+a beaver were thereafter adopted, and that his firmness saved the
+Company many a cargo of these implements. His harangue produced an
+immediate impression upon all save the humiliated brave, who declared
+that, if the Assiniboines came hither to barter, he would lie in ambush
+and kill them.
+
+The French trader's reply to this was, to the Indian mind, a terrible
+one.
+
+"I will myself travel into thy country," said he, "and eat sagamite in
+thy grandmother's skull."
+
+While the brave and his small circle of friends were livid with fear and
+anger, Radisson ordered three fathoms of tobacco to be distributed;
+observing, contemptuously, to the hostile minority that, as for them,
+they might go and smoke women's tobacco in the country of the lynxes.
+The barter began and, when at nightfall the Indians departed, not a skin
+was left amongst them.
+
+BECKLES WILLSON: "The Great Company."
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOK
+
+
+    I come from haunts of coot and hern,
+      I make a sudden sally,
+    And sparkle out among the fern,
+      To bicker down a valley.
+
+    By thirty hills I hurry down,
+      Or slip between the ridges,
+    By twenty thorps, a little town,
+      And half a hundred bridges.
+
+    Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+      To join the brimming river,
+    For men may come and men may go,
+      But I go on for ever.
+
+    I chatter over stony ways,
+      In little sharps and trebles,
+    I bubble into eddying bays,
+      I babble on the pebbles.
+
+    With many a curve my banks I fret
+      By many a field and fallow,
+    And many a fairy foreland set
+      With willow-weed and mallow.
+
+    I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+      To join the brimming river,
+    For men may come and men may go,
+      But I go on for ever.
+
+    I wind about, and in and out,
+      With here a blossom sailing,
+    And here and there a lusty trout,
+      And here and there a grayling,
+
+    And here and there a foamy flake
+      Upon me, as I travel
+    With many a silvery waterbreak
+      Above the golden gravel,
+
+    And draw them all along, and flow
+      To join the brimming river,
+    For men may come and men may go,
+      But I go on for ever.
+
+    I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+      I slide by hazel covers;
+    I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+      That grow for happy lovers.
+
+    I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
+      Among my skimming swallows;
+    I make the netted sunbeam dance
+      Against my sandy shallows.
+
+    I murmur under moon and stars
+      In brambly wildernesses;
+    I linger by my shingly bars;
+      I loiter round my cresses;
+
+    And out again I curve and flow
+      To join the brimming river,
+    For men may come and men may go,
+      But I go on for ever.
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+As good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Many a man lives a burden
+to the earth, but a good book is the precious life blood of a
+master-spirit.
+
+MILTON
+
+
+
+
+"DO SEEK THEIR MEAT FROM GOD"
+
+
+There was a solitary cabin in the thick of the woods a mile or more from
+the nearest neighbour, a substantial frame house in the midst of a large
+and well-tilled clearing. The owner of the cabin, a shiftless fellow who
+spent his days for the most part at the corner tavern three miles
+distant, had suddenly grown disgusted with a land wherein one must work
+to live, and had betaken himself with his seven-year-old boy to seek
+some more indolent clime.
+
+The five-year-old son of the prosperous owner of the frame house and the
+older boy had been playmates. The little boy, unaware of his comrade's
+departure, had stolen away, late in the afternoon, along the lonely
+stretch of wood road, and had reached the cabin only to find it empty.
+As the dusk gathered, he grew afraid to start for home and crept
+trembling into the cabin, whose door would not stay shut. Desperate with
+fear and loneliness, he lifted up his voice piteously. In the terrifying
+silence, he listened hard to hear if anyone or anything were coming.
+Then again his shrill childish wailings arose, startling the unexpectant
+night, and piercing the forest depths, even to the ears of two great
+panthers which had set forth to seek their meat from God.
+
+The lonely cabin stood some distance, perhaps a quarter of a mile, back
+from the highway connecting the settlements. Along this main road a man
+was plodding wearily. All day he had been walking, and now as he neared
+home his steps began to quicken with anticipation of rest. Over his
+shoulder projected a double-barrelled fowling-piece, from which was
+slung a bundle of such necessities as he had purchased in town that
+morning. It was the prosperous settler, the master of the frame house,
+who had chosen to make the tedious journey on foot.
+
+He passed the mouth of the wood road leading to the cabin and had gone
+perhaps a furlong beyond, when his ears were startled by the sound of a
+child crying in the woods. He stopped, lowered his burden to the road,
+and stood straining ears and eyes in the direction of the sound. It was
+just at this time that the two panthers also stopped, and lifted their
+heads to listen. Their ears were keener than those of the man, and the
+sound had reached them at a greater distance.
+
+Presently the settler realized whence the cries were coming. He called
+to mind the cabin; but he did not know the cabin's owner had departed.
+He cherished a hearty contempt for the drunken squatter; and on the
+drunken squatter's child he looked with small favour, especially as a
+playmate for his own boy. Nevertheless he hesitated before resuming his
+journey.
+
+"Poor little fellow!" he muttered, half in wrath. "I reckon his precious
+father's drunk down at 'the Corners,' and him crying for loneliness!"
+Then he re-shouldered his burden and strode on doggedly.
+
+But louder, shriller, more hopeless and more appealing, arose the
+childish voice, and the settler paused again, irresolute, and with
+deepening indignation. In his fancy he saw the steaming supper his wife
+would have awaiting him. He loathed the thought of retracing his steps,
+and then stumbling a quarter of a mile through the stumps and bog of the
+wood road. He was foot-sore as well as hungry, and he cursed the
+vagabond squatter with serious emphasis; but in that wailing was a
+terror which would not let him go on. He thought of his own little one
+left in such a position, and straightway his heart melted. He turned,
+dropped his bundle behind some bushes, grasped his gun, and made speed
+back for the cabin.
+
+"Who knows," he said to himself, "but that drunken idiot has left his
+youngster without a bite to eat in the whole miserable shanty? Or maybe
+he's locked out, and the poor little beggar's half scared to death.
+_Sounds_ as if he was scared;" and at this thought the settler quickened
+his pace.
+
+As the hungry panthers drew near the cabin, and the cries of the lonely
+child grew clearer, they hastened their steps, and their eyes opened to
+a wider circle, flaming with a greener fire. It would be thoughtless
+superstition to say the beasts were cruel. They were simply keen with
+hunger, and alive with the eager passion of the chase. They were not
+ferocious with any anticipation of battle, for they knew the voice was
+the voice of a child, and something in the voice told them the child was
+solitary. Theirs was no hideous or unnatural rage, as it is the custom
+to describe it. They were but seeking with the strength, the cunning,
+the deadly swiftness given them to that end, the food convenient for
+them. On their success in accomplishing that for which nature had so
+exquisitely designed them, depended not only their own, but the lives of
+their blind and helpless young, now whimpering in the cave on the slope
+of the moon-lit ravine. They crept through a wet alder thicket, bounded
+lightly over the ragged brush fence, and paused to reconnoitre on the
+edge of the clearing, in the full glare of the moon. At the same moment,
+the settler emerged from the darkness of the wood road on the opposite
+side of the clearing. He saw the two great beasts, heads down and snouts
+thrust forward, gliding toward the open cabin door.
+
+For a few moments the child had been silent. Now his voice rose again in
+pitiful appeal, a very ecstasy of loneliness and terror. There was a
+note in the cry that shook the settler's soul. He had a vision of his
+own boy, at home with his mother, safe-guarded from even the thought of
+peril. And here was this little one left to the wild beasts! "Thank God!
+Thank God I came!" murmured the settler, as he dropped on one knee to
+take a surer aim. There was a loud report (not like the sharp crack of a
+rifle), and the female panther, shot through the loins, fell in a heap,
+snarling furiously and striking with her fore-paws.
+
+The male walked around her in fierce and anxious amazement. Presently,
+as the smoke lifted, he discerned the settler kneeling for a second
+shot. With a high screech of fury, the lithe brute sprang upon his
+enemy, taking a bullet full in his chest without seeming to know he was
+hit. Ere the man could slip in another cartridge the beast was upon him,
+bearing him to the ground and fixing keen fangs in his shoulder. Without
+a word, the man set his strong fingers desperately into the brute's
+throat, wrenched himself partly free, and was struggling to rise, when
+the panther's body collapsed upon him all at once, a dead weight which
+he easily flung aside. The bullet had done its work just in time.
+
+Quivering from the swift and dreadful contest, bleeding profusely from
+his mangled shoulder, the settler stepped up to the cabin door and
+peered in. He heard sobs in the darkness.
+
+"Don't be scared, sonny," he said, in a reassuring voice. "I'm going to
+take you home along with me. Poor little lad, _I'll_ look after you, if
+folks that ought to don't."
+
+Out of the dark corner came a shout of delight, in a voice which made
+the settler's heart stand still. "_Daddy_, Daddy," it said, "I _knew_
+you'd come. I was so frightened when it got dark!" And a little figure
+launched itself into the settler's arms, and clung to him trembling. The
+man sat down on the threshold and strained the child to his breast. He
+remembered how near he had been to disregarding the far-off cries, and
+great beads of sweat broke out upon his forehead.
+
+Not many weeks afterwards the settler was following the fresh trail of a
+bear which had killed his sheep. The trail led him at last along the
+slope of a deep ravine, from whose bottom came the brawl of a swollen
+and obstructed stream. In the ravine he found a shallow cave, behind a
+great white rock. The cave was plainly a wild beast's lair, and he
+entered circumspectly. There were bones scattered about, and on some dry
+herbage in the deepest corner of the den, he found the dead bodies of
+two small panther cubs.
+
+CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS: "Earth's Enigmas."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+    So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
+      So near is God to man,
+    When Duty whispers low, "_Thou must_,"
+      The youth replies, "_I can_."
+
+EMERSON
+
+
+
+
+A SONG OF THE SEA
+
+
+    The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!
+    The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
+    Without a mark, without a bound,
+    It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;
+    It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
+    Or like a cradled creature lies.
+
+    I'm on the Sea! I'm on the Sea!
+    I am where I would ever be;
+    With the blue above, and the blue below,
+    And silence wheresoe'er I go;
+    If a storm should come and awake the deep,
+    What matter? _I_ shall ride and sleep.
+
+    I love (oh! _how_ I love) to ride
+    On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
+    When every mad wave drowns the moon,
+    Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
+    And tells how goeth the world below,
+    And why the south-west blasts do blow.
+
+    I never was on the dull, tame shore,
+    But I loved the great Sea more and more,
+    And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
+    Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
+    And a mother she _was_ and _is_ to me;
+    For I was born on the open Sea.
+
+    The waves were white, and red the morn,
+    In the noisy hour when I was born;
+    And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled
+    And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
+    And never was heard such an outcry wild
+    As welcomed to life the Ocean-child!
+
+    I've lived since then, in calm and strife,
+    Full fifty summers a sailor's life,
+    With wealth to spend, and a power to range,
+    But never have sought nor sighed for change;
+    And Death whenever he comes to me,
+    Shall come on the wide unbounded Sea!
+
+B. W. PROCTER: ("Barry Cornwall")
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE DAFFYDOWNDILLY
+
+    "I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;
+    I woke, and found that life was duty."
+
+
+Daffydowndilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
+flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
+no delight in labour of any kind. But while Daffydowndilly was yet a
+little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
+under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
+Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
+very worthy character; and that he had done more good, both to children
+and grown people, than anybody else in the world.
+
+Certainly he had lived long enough to do a great deal of good; for, if
+all stories be true, he had dwelt upon earth ever since Adam was driven
+from the garden of Eden.
+
+Nevertheless, Mr. Toil had a severe and ugly countenance, especially for
+such little boys or big men as were inclined to be idle; his voice, too,
+was harsh; and all his ways and customs seemed very disagreeable to our
+friend Daffydowndilly. The whole day long this terrible schoolmaster sat
+at his desk overlooking the scholars, or stalked about the school-room
+with a certain awful birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the
+shoulders of a boy whom Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a
+whole class who were behindhand with their lessons; and, in short,
+unless a lad chose to attend quietly and constantly to his book, he had
+no chance of enjoying a quiet moment in the school-room of Mr. Toil.
+
+"This will never do for me," thought Daffydowndilly.
+
+Now the whole of Daffydowndilly's life had hitherto been passed with his
+dear mother, who had a much sweeter face than old Mr. Toil, and who had
+always been very indulgent to her little boy. No wonder, therefore, that
+poor Daffydowndilly found it a woeful change to be sent away from the
+good lady's side and put under the care of this ugly-visaged
+schoolmaster, who never gave him any apples or cakes, and seemed to
+think that little boys were created only to get lessons.
+
+"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffydowndilly to himself, when he
+had been at school about a week. "I'll run away and try to find my dear
+mother; and, at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so
+disagreeable as this old Mr. Toil!"
+
+So the very next morning, off started poor Daffydowndilly, and began his
+rambles about the world, with only some bread and cheese for his
+breakfast, and very little pocket-money to pay his expenses. But he had
+gone only a short distance when he overtook a man of grave and sedate
+appearance, who was trudging at a moderate pace along the road.
+
+"Good-morning, my lad," said the stranger; and his voice seemed hard and
+severe, but yet had a sort of kindness in it. "Whence do you come so
+early, and whither are you going?"
+
+Little Daffydowndilly was a boy of a very ingenuous disposition, and had
+never been known to tell a lie in all his life. Nor did he tell one now.
+He hesitated a moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away
+from school, on account of his great dislike for Mr. Toil; and that he
+was resolved to find some place in the world where he should never see
+or hear of the old schoolmaster again.
+
+"Oh, very well, my little friend!" answered the stranger. "Then we will
+go together; for I, likewise, have had a good deal to do with Mr. Toil,
+and should be glad to find some place where he was never heard of."
+
+Our friend Daffydowndilly would have been better pleased with a
+companion of his own age, with whom he might have gathered flowers along
+the road-side, or have chased butterflies, or have done many other
+things to make the journey pleasant. But he had wisdom enough to
+understand that he should get along through the world much easier by
+having a man of experience to show him the way. So he accepted the
+stranger's proposal, and they walked on very sociably together.
+
+They had not gone far, when the road passed by a field where some
+haymakers were at work, mowing down the tall grass and spreading it out
+in the sun to dry. Daffydowndilly was delighted with the sweet smell of
+the new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make
+hay in the sunshine under the blue sky, and with the birds singing
+sweetly in the neighbouring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a
+dismal school-room, learning lessons all day long, and continually
+scolded by old Mr. Toil. But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he
+was stopping to peep over the stone wall, he started back and caught
+hold of his companion's hand.
+
+"Quick, quick!" cried he. "Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
+
+"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
+
+"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffydowndilly. "Don't you
+see him amongst the haymakers?"
+
+And Daffydowndilly pointed to an elderly man, who seemed to be the owner
+of the field, and the employer of the men at work there. He had stripped
+off his coat and waistcoat, and was busily at work in his shirt sleeves.
+The drops of sweat stood upon his brow; but he gave himself not a
+moment's rest, and kept crying out to the haymakers to make hay while
+the sun shone. Now, strange to say, the figure and features of this old
+farmer were precisely the same as those of old Mr. Toil, who, at that
+very moment, must have been just entering his school-room.
+
+"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and the
+people say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
+trouble you unless you become a labourer on the farm."
+
+Little Daffydowndilly believed what his companion said, but he was very
+glad, nevertheless, when they were out of sight of the old farmer, who
+bore such a singular resemblance to Mr. Toil. The two travellers had
+gone but little farther, when they came to a spot where some carpenters
+were erecting a house. Daffydowndilly begged his companion to stop a
+moment; for it was a very pretty sight to see how neatly the carpenters
+did their work, with their broad-axes and saws, and planes, and hammers,
+shaping out the doors, and putting in the window-sashes, and nailing on
+the clap-boards; and he could not help thinking that he should like to
+take a broad-axe, a saw, a plane, and a hammer, and build a little house
+for himself. And then, when he should have a house of his own, old Mr.
+Toil would never dare to molest him.
+
+But, just while he was delighting himself with this idea, little
+Daffydowndilly beheld something that made him catch hold of his
+companion's hand, all in a fright.
+
+"Make haste. Quick, quick!" cried he. "There he is again!" "Who?" asked
+the stranger, very quietly.
+
+"Old Mr. Toil," said Daffydowndilly, trembling.
+
+"There! he that is overseeing the carpenters. 'Tis my old schoolmaster,
+as sure as I'm alive!"
+
+The stranger cast his eyes where Daffydowndilly pointed his finger; and
+he saw an elderly man, with a carpenter's rule and compass in his hand.
+This person went to and fro about the unfinished house, measuring pieces
+of timber and marking out the work that was to be done, and continually
+exhorting the other carpenters to be diligent. And wherever he turned
+his hard and wrinkled visage, the men seemed to feel that they had a
+task-master over them, and sawed, and hammered, and planed, as if for
+dear life.
+
+"Oh, no! this is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster," said the stranger. "It
+is another brother of his, who follows the trade of carpenter."
+
+"I am very glad to hear it," quoth Daffydowndilly; "but if you please,
+sir, I should like to get out of his way as soon as possible."
+
+Then they went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum
+and fife. Daffydowndilly pricked up his ears at this, and besought his
+companion to hurry forward, that they might not miss seeing the
+soldiers. Accordingly they made what haste they could, and soon met a
+company of soldiers gaily dressed, with beautiful feathers in their
+caps, and bright muskets on their shoulders. In front marched two
+drummers and two fifers, beating on their drums and making such lively
+music that little Daffydowndilly would gladly have followed them to the
+end of the world. And if he was only a soldier, then, he said to
+himself, old Mr. Toil would never venture to look him in the face.
+
+"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
+
+Little Daffydowndilly started, in great dismay; for this voice which had
+spoken to the soldiers sounded precisely the same as that which he had
+heard every day in Mr. Toil's school-room, out of Mr. Toil's own mouth.
+And, turning his eyes to the captain of the company, what should he see
+but the very image of old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather
+on his head, a pair of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on
+his back, a purple sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a
+birch rod, in his hand. And though he held his head so high, and
+strutted like a turkey-cock, still he looked quite as ugly and
+disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in the school-room.
+
+"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffydowndilly, in a trembling
+voice. "Let us run away for fear he should make us enlist in his
+company!"
+
+"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
+composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
+his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a terribly
+severe fellow; but you and I need not be afraid of him."
+
+"Well, well," said little Daffydowndilly, "but if you please, sir, I
+don't want to see the soldiers any more."
+
+So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
+they came to a house by the road-side, where a number of people were
+making merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their
+faces, were dancing to the sound of a fiddle. It was the pleasantest
+sight that Daffydowndilly had yet met with, and it comforted him for all
+his disappointments.
+
+"Oh, let us stop here," cried he to his companion; "for Mr. Toil will
+never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and where people
+are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here!"
+
+But these last words died away upon Daffydowndilly's tongue; for,
+happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again
+but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle-bow instead of a birch
+rod, and flourishing it with as much ease and dexterity as if he had
+been a fiddler all his life! He had somewhat the air of a Frenchman, but
+still looked exactly like the old schoolmaster; and Daffydowndilly even
+fancied that he nodded and winked at him, and made signs for him to join
+in the dance.
+
+"Oh, dear me!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was
+nobody but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing
+on a fiddle!"
+
+"This is not your old schoolmaster," observed the stranger, "but another
+brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
+of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
+Monsieur le Plaisir; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known
+him best think him still more disagreeable than his brothers."
+
+"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" cried poor little Daffydowndilly,
+bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
+may just as well go back to the school-house!"
+
+"Yonder it is,--there is the school-house!" said the stranger, for
+though he and Daffydowndilly had taken a great many steps, they had
+travelled in a circle instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go back
+to school together."
+
+There was something in his companion's voice that little Daffydowndilly
+now remembered, and it is strange that he had not remembered it sooner.
+Looking up into his face, behold! there again was the likeness of old
+Mr. Toil; so that the poor child had been in company with Toil all day,
+even while he was doing his best to run away from him. Some people, to
+whom I have told little Daffydowndilly's story, are of the opinion that
+old Mr. Toil was a magician, and possessed the power of multiplying
+himself into as many shapes as he saw fit.
+
+Be this as it may, little Daffydowndilly had learned a good lesson, and
+from that time forward was diligent at his task, because he knew that
+diligence is not a whit more toilsome than sport or idleness. And when
+he became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began to think that his
+ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old schoolmaster's
+smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as even that of
+Daffydowndilly's mother.
+
+NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
+
+
+
+
+THE SANDPIPER
+
+
+    Across the narrow beach we flit,
+      One little sandpiper and I;
+    And fast I gather, bit by bit,
+      The scattered driftwood bleached and dry.
+    The wild waves reach their hands for it,
+      The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
+    As up and down the beach we flit,--
+      One little sandpiper and I.
+
+    Above our heads the sullen clouds
+      Scud black and swift across the sky:
+    Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
+      Stand out the white lighthouses high.
+    Almost as far as eye can reach
+      I see the close-reefed vessels fly,
+    As fast we flit along the beach,--
+      One little sandpiper and I.
+
+    I watch him as he skims along,
+      Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;
+    He starts not at my fitful song,
+      Or flash of fluttering drapery;
+    He has no thought of any wrong,
+      He scans me with a fearless eye.
+    Stanch friends are we, well-tried and strong,
+      The little sandpiper and I.
+
+    Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night
+      When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
+    My driftwood-fire will burn so bright!
+      To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
+    I do not fear for thee, though wroth
+      The tempest rushes through the sky:
+    For are we not God's children both,
+      Thou, little sandpiper, and I?
+
+CELIA THAXTER
+
+
+
+
+FROM "THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT"
+
+
+Blessed are the poor in spirit: for their's is the kingdom of heaven.
+Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are
+the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do
+hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed
+are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in
+heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they
+shall be called the children of God.
+
+Again, ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou
+shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths.
+But I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God's
+throne: nor by the earth; for it is his footstool: neither by Jerusalem;
+for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou swear by thy
+head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black.
+
+Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and
+hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that
+curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which
+despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of
+your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the
+evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.
+For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the
+publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more
+than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even
+as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.
+
+ST. MATTHEW, V.
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND OF SAINT CHRISTOPHER
+
+
+    For many a year Saint Christopher
+      Served God in many a land;
+    And master painters drew his face,
+      With loving heart and hand,
+    On altar fronts and churches' walls;
+      And peasants used to say,--
+    To look on good Saint Christopher
+      Brought luck for all the day.
+
+    For many a year, in lowly hut,
+      The giant dwelt content
+    Upon the bank, and back and forth
+      Across the stream he went;
+    And on his giant shoulders bore
+      All travellers who came,
+    By night, by day, or rich or poor,
+      All in King Jesus' name.
+
+    But much he doubted if the King
+      His work would note or know,
+    And often with a weary heart
+      He waded to and fro.
+    One night, as wrapped in sleep he lay,
+      He sudden heard a call,--
+    "O Christopher, come, carry me!"
+      He sprang, looked out, but all
+
+    Was dark and silent on the shore,
+      "It must be that I dreamed,"
+    He said, and laid him down again;
+      But instantly there seemed
+    Again the feeble, distant cry,--
+      "Oh, come and carry me!"
+    Again he sprang and looked: again
+      No living thing could see.
+
+    The third time came the plaintive voice,
+      Like infant's, soft and weak;
+    With lantern strode the giant forth,
+      More carefully to seek.
+    Down on the bank a little child
+      He found,--a piteous sight,--
+    Who weeping, earnestly implored
+      To cross that very night.
+
+    With gruff good will he picked him up,
+      And on his neck to ride
+    He tossed him, as men play with babes,
+      And plunged into the tide.
+    But as the water closed around
+      His knees, the infant's weight
+    Grew heavier, and heavier,
+      Until it was so great
+
+    The giant scarce could stand upright,
+      His staff shook in his hand,
+    His mighty knees bent under him,
+      He barely reached the land.
+    And, staggering, set the infant down,
+      And turned to scan his face;
+    When, lo! he saw a halo bright
+      Which lit up all the place.
+
+    Then Christopher fell down, afraid
+      At marvel of the thing,
+    And dreamed not that it was the face
+      Of Jesus Christ, his King.
+    Until the infant spoke, and said:
+      "O Christopher, behold!
+    I am the Lord whom thou hast served,
+      Rise up, be glad and bold!
+
+    "For I have seen and noted well,
+      Thy works of charity;
+    And that thou art my servant good
+      A token thou shalt see.
+    Plant firmly here upon this bank
+      Thy stalwart staff of pine,
+    And it shall blossom and bear fruit,
+      This very hour, in sign."
+
+    Then, vanishing, the infant smiled.
+      The giant, left alone,
+    Saw on the bank, with luscious dates,
+      His stout pine staff bent down.
+
+    I think the lesson is as good
+      To-day as it was then--
+    As good to us called Christians
+      As to the heathen men--
+    The lesson of Saint Christopher,
+      Who spent his strength for others,
+    And saved his soul by working hard
+      To help and save his brothers!
+
+HELEN HUNT JACKSON
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM TELL AND HIS SON
+
+
+The sun already shone brightly as William Tell entered the town of
+Altorf, and he advanced at once to the public place, where the first
+object that caught his eyes was a handsome cap, embroidered with gold,
+stuck upon the end of a long pole. Soldiers were walking around it in
+silence, and the people of Altorf, as they passed, bowed their head to
+the symbol of authority. The cap had been set up by Gessler, the
+Austrian commander, for the purpose of discovering those who were not
+submissive to the Austrian power, which had ruled the people of the
+Swiss Cantons for a long time with great severity. He suspected that the
+people were about to break into rebellion, and with a view to learn who
+were the most discontented, he had placed the ducal cap of Austria on
+this pole, publicly proclaiming that every one passing near, or within
+sight of it, should bow before it, in proof of his homage to the duke.
+
+Tell was much surprised at this new and strange attempt to humble the
+people, and, leaning on his cross-bow, gazed scornfully on them and the
+soldiers. Berenger, captain of the guard, at length observed this man,
+who alone amidst the cringing crowd carried his head erect. He ordered
+him to be seized and disarmed by the soldiers, and then conducted him to
+Gessler, who put some questions to him, which he answered so haughtily
+that Gessler was both surprised and angry. Suddenly, he was struck by
+the likeness between him and the boy Walter Tell, whom he had seized and
+put in prison the previous day for uttering some seditious words; he
+immediately asked his name, which he no sooner heard than he knew him to
+be the archer so famous, as the best marksman in the Canton.
+
+Gessler at once resolved to punish both father and son at the same time,
+by a method which was perhaps the most refined act of torture which man
+ever imagined. As soon, then, as the youth was brought out, the governor
+turned to Tell, and said: "I have often heard of thy great skill as an
+archer, and I now intend to put it to the proof. Thy son shall be placed
+at a distance of a hundred yards, with an apple on his head. If thou
+strikest the apple with thy arrow, I will pardon you both; but if thou
+refusest this trial, thy son shall die before thine eyes."
+
+Tell implored Gessler to spare him so cruel a trial, in which he might
+perhaps kill his beloved boy with his own hand. The governor would not
+alter his purpose; so Tell at last agreed to shoot at the apple, as the
+only chance of saving his son's life. Walter stood with his back to a
+linden tree. Gessler, some distance behind, watched every motion. His
+cross-bow and one arrow were handed to Tell; he tried the point, broke
+the weapon, and demanded his quiver. It was brought to him and emptied
+at his feet. He stooped down, and taking a long time to choose an arrow,
+he managed to hide a second in his girdle.
+
+After being in doubt a long time, his whole soul beaming in his face,
+his love for his son rendering him almost powerless, he at length roused
+himself--drew the bow--aimed--shot--and the apple, struck to the core,
+was carried away by the arrow.
+
+The market-place of Altorf was filled by loud cheers. Walter flew to
+embrace his father, who, overcome by his emotion, fell fainting to the
+ground, thus exposing the second arrow to view. Gessler stood over him,
+awaiting his recovery, which speedily taking place, Tell rose, and
+turned away from the governor with horror. The latter, however,
+scarcely yet believing his senses, thus addressed him: "Incomparable
+archer, I will keep my promise; but what needed you with that second
+arrow which I see in your girdle?"
+
+Tell replied: "It is the custom of the bowmen of Uri to have always one
+arrow in reserve."
+
+"Nay, nay," said Gessler, "tell me thy real motive; and, whatever it may
+have been, speak frankly, and thy life is spared."
+
+"The second shaft," replied Tell, "was to pierce thy heart, tyrant, if I
+had chanced to harm my son."
+
+CHAMBER'S "Tracts."
+
+
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER SONG
+
+
+    O, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
+    And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay,
+    And whistling down the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill,
+    While mother from the kitchen door is calling with a will:
+      "Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
+        O, where's Polly?"
+
+    From all the misty morning air there comes a summer sound--
+    A murmur as of waters from skies and trees and ground.
+    The birds they sing upon the wing, the pigeons bill and coo,
+    And over hill and hollow rings again the loud halloo:
+      "Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
+        O, where's Polly?"
+
+    Above the trees the honey-bees swarm by with buzz and boom,
+    And in the field and garden a thousand blossoms bloom.
+    Within the farmer's meadow a brown-eyed daisy blows,
+    And down at the edge of the hollow a red and thorny rose.
+      But Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
+        O, where's Polly?
+
+    How strange at such a time of day the mill should stop its clatter!
+    The farmer's wife is listening now and wonders what's the matter.
+    O, wild the birds are singing in the wood and on the hill,
+    While whistling up the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill.
+      But Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
+        O, where's Polly?
+
+RICHARD WATSON GILDER
+
+
+
+
+THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW
+
+
+On every side death stared us in the face; no human skill could avert it
+any longer. We saw the moment approach when we must bid farewell to
+earth, yet without feeling that unutterable horror which must have been
+experienced by the unhappy victims at Cawnpore. We were resolved rather
+to die than yield, and were fully persuaded that in twenty-four hours
+all would be over. The engineer had said so, and all knew the worst. We
+women strove to encourage each other, and to perform the light duties
+which had been assigned to us, such as conveying orders to the
+batteries, and supplying the men with provisions, especially cups of
+coffee, which we prepared day and night.
+
+I had gone out to try to make myself useful, in company with Jessie
+Brown, the wife of a corporal in my husband's regiment. Poor Jessie had
+been in a state of restless excitement all through the siege, and had
+fallen away visibly within the last few days. A constant fever consumed
+her, and her mind wandered occasionally, especially that day when the
+recollections of home seemed powerfully present to her. At last,
+overcome with fatigue, she lay down on the ground, wrapped up in her
+plaid. I sat beside her, promising to awaken her when, as she said, her
+"father should return from the ploughing."
+
+She fell at length into a profound slumber, motionless and apparently
+breathless, her head resting in my lap. I myself could no longer resist
+the inclination to sleep, in spite of the continual roar of the cannon.
+Suddenly I was aroused by a wild, unearthly scream close to my ear; my
+companion stood upright beside me, her arms raised, and her head bent
+forward in the attitude of listening.
+
+A look of intense delight broke over her countenance. She grasped my
+hand, drew me toward her, and exclaimed: "Dinna ye hear it? dinna ye
+hear it? Aye. I'm no dreaming: it's the slogan o' the Highlanders!
+We're saved! we're saved!" Then, flinging herself on her knees, she
+thanked God with passionate fervour.
+
+I felt utterly bewildered; my English ears heard only the roar of
+artillery, and I thought my poor Jessie was still raving, but she darted
+to the batteries, and I heard her cry incessantly to the men: "Courage!
+courage! Hark to the slogan--to the Macgregor, the grandest of them a'!
+Here's help at last!"
+
+To describe the effect of these words upon the soldiers would be
+impossible. For a moment they ceased firing, and every soul listened
+with intense anxiety. Gradually, however, there arose a murmur of bitter
+disappointment, and the wailing of the women, who had flocked to the
+spot, burst out anew as the colonel shook his head. Our dull Lowland
+ears heard only the rattle of the musketry.
+
+A few moments more of this deathlike suspense, of this agonizing hope,
+and Jessie, who had again sunk on the ground, sprang to her feet, and
+cried in a voice so clear and piercing that it was heard along the whole
+line: "Will ye no believe it noo? The slogan has ceased, indeed, but the
+Campbells are comin'! D'ye hear? d'ye hear?"
+
+At that moment all seemed, indeed, to hear the voice of God in the
+distance, when the pibroch of the Highlanders brought us tidings of
+deliverance; for now there was no longer any doubt of the fact. That
+shrill, penetrating, ceaseless sound, which rose above all other sounds,
+could come neither from the advance of the enemy nor from the work of
+the sappers. No, it was, indeed, the blast of the Scottish bagpipes, now
+shrill and harsh, as threatening vengeance on the foe, then in softer
+tones, seeming to promise succour to their friends in need.
+
+Never, surely, was there such a scene as that which followed. Not a
+heart in the residency of Lucknow but bowed itself before God. All, by
+one simultaneous impulse, fell upon their knees, and nothing was heard
+but bursting sobs and the murmured voice of prayer. Then all arose, and
+there rang out from a thousand lips a great shout of joy, which
+resounded far and wide, and lent new vigour to that blessed pibroch.
+
+To our cheer of "God save the Queen," they replied by the well-known
+strain that moves every Scot to tears, "Should auld acquaintance be
+forgot." After that, nothing else made any impression on me. I scarcely
+remember what followed. Jessie was presented to the general on his
+entrance into the fort, and at the officers' banquet her health was
+drunk by all present, while the pipers marched around the table, playing
+once more the familiar air of "Auld Lang Syne."
+
+"Letter from an officer's wife."
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG IN CAMP
+
+
+    "Give us a song!" the soldiers cried,
+      The outer trenches guarding,
+    When the heated guns of the camps allied
+      Grew weary of bombarding.
+
+    The dark Redan, in silent scoff,
+      Lay, grim and threatening, under;
+    And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
+      No longer belched its thunder.
+
+    There was a pause. A guardsman said:
+      "We storm the forts to-morrow;
+    Sing while we may, another day
+      Will bring enough of sorrow."
+
+    They lay along the battery's side,
+      Below the smoking cannon:
+    Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde,
+      And from the banks of Shannon.
+
+    They sang of love, and not of fame;
+      Forgot was Britain's glory:
+    Each heart recalled a different name,
+      But all sang "Annie Laurie."
+
+    Voice after voice caught up the song,
+      Until its tender passion
+    Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,--
+      Their battle-eve confession.
+
+    Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,
+      But, as the song grew louder,
+    Something upon the soldier's cheek
+      Washed off the stains of powder.
+
+    Beyond the darkening ocean burned
+      The bloody sunset's embers,
+    While the Crimean valleys learned
+      How English love remembers.
+
+    And once again a fire of hell
+      Rained on the Russian quarters,
+    With scream of shot, and burst of shell,
+      And bellowing of the mortars!
+
+    And Irish Nora's eyes are dim
+      For a singer, dumb and gory;
+    And English Mary mourns for him
+      Who sang of "Annie Laurie."
+
+    Sleep, soldiers! still in honoured rest
+      Your truth and valour wearing:
+    The bravest are the tenderest,--
+      The loving are the daring.
+
+BAYARD TAYLOR
+
+
+
+
+AFTERGLOW
+
+
+    After the clangour of battle
+    There comes a moment of rest,
+    And the simple hopes and the simple joys
+    And the simple thoughts are best.
+
+    After the victor's pæan,
+    After the thunder of gun,
+    There comes a lull that must come to all
+    Before the set of the sun.
+
+    Then what is the happiest memory?
+    Is it the foe's defeat?
+    Is it the splendid praise of a world
+    That thunders by at your feet?
+
+    Nay, nay, to the life-worn spirit
+    The happiest thoughts are those
+    That carry us back to the simple joys
+    And the sweetness of life's repose.
+
+    A simple love and a simple trust
+    And a simple duty done,
+    Are truer torches to light to death
+    Than a whole world's victories won.
+
+WILFRED CAMPBELL
+
+
+
+
+KING RICHARD AND SALADIN
+
+
+Saladin led the way to a splendid pavilion where was everything that
+royal luxury could devise. De Vaux, who was in attendance, then removed
+the long riding-cloak which Richard wore, and he stood before Saladin in
+the close dress which showed to advantage the strength and symmetry of
+his person, while it bore a strong contrast to the flowing robes which
+disguised the thin frame of the Eastern monarch. It was Richard's
+two-handed sword that chiefly attracted the attention of the Saracen--a
+broad straight blade, the seemingly unwieldy length of which extended
+wellnigh from the shoulder to the heel of the wearer.
+
+"Had I not," said Saladin, "seen this brand flaming in the front of
+battle, like that of Azrael, I had scarce believed that human arm could
+wield it. Might I request to see the Melech Ric strike one blow with it
+in peace and in pure trial of strength?"
+
+"Willingly, noble Saladin," answered Richard; and looking around for
+something whereon to exercise his strength, he saw a steel mace, held by
+one of the attendants, the handle being of the same metal, and about an
+inch and a half in diameter. This he placed on a block of wood.
+
+The glittering broadsword, wielded by both his hands, rose aloft to the
+king's left shoulder, circled round his head, descended with the sway of
+some terrific engine, and the bar of iron rolled on the ground in two
+pieces, as a woodman would sever a sapling with a hedging-bill.
+
+"By the head of the Prophet, a most wonderful blow!" said the Soldan,
+critically and accurately examining the iron bar which had been cut
+asunder; and the blade of the sword was so well tempered as to exhibit
+not the least token of having suffered by the feat it had performed. He
+then took the king's hand, and looking on the size and muscular strength
+which it exhibited, laughed as he placed it beside his own, so lank and
+thin, so inferior in brawn and sinew.
+
+"Ay, look well," said De Vaux in English, "it will be long ere your long
+jackanape's fingers do such a feat with your fine gilded reaping-hook
+there."
+
+"Silence, De Vaux," said Richard; "by Our Lady, he understands or
+guesses thy meaning--be not so broad, I pray thee."
+
+The Soldan, indeed, presently said: "Something I would fain attempt,
+though wherefore should the weak show their inferiority in presence of
+the strong? Yet, each land hath its own exercises, and this may be new
+to the Melech Ric." So saying, he took from the floor a cushion of silk
+and down, and placed it upright on one end. "Can thy weapon, my brother,
+sever that cushion?" he said to King Richard.
+
+"No, surely," replied the king; "no sword on earth, were it the
+Excalibur of King Arthur, can cut that which opposes no steady
+resistance to the blow."
+
+"Mark, then," said Saladin; and tucking up the sleeve of his gown,
+showed his arm, thin indeed and spare, but which constant exercise had
+hardened into a mass consisting of nought but bone, brawn, and sinew. He
+unsheathed his scimitar, a curved and narrow blade, which glittered not
+like the swords of the Franks, but was, on the contrary, of a dull blue
+colour, marked with ten millions of meandering lines, which showed how
+anxiously the metal had been welded by the armourer. Wielding this
+weapon, apparently so inefficient when compared to that of Richard, the
+Soldan stood resting his weight upon his left foot, which was slightly
+advanced; he balanced himself a little as if to steady his aim, then,
+stepping at once forward, drew the scimitar across the cushion, applying
+the edge so dexterously and with so little apparent effort, that the
+cushion seemed rather to fall asunder than to be divided by violence.
+
+"It is a juggler's trick," said De Vaux, darting forward and snatching
+up the portion of the cushion which had been cut off, as if to assure
+himself of the reality of the feat; "there is gramarye in this."
+
+The Soldan seemed to comprehend him, for he undid the sort of veil which
+he had hitherto worn, laid it double along the edge of his sabre,
+extended the weapon edgeways in the air, and drawing it suddenly through
+the veil, although it hung on the blade entirely loose, severed that
+also into two parts, which floated to different sides of the tent,
+equally displaying the extreme temper and sharpness of the weapon and
+the exquisite dexterity of him who used it.
+
+"Now, in good faith, my brother," said Richard, "thou art even matchless
+at the trick of the sword, and right perilous were it to meet thee.
+Still, however, I put some faith in a downright English blow, and what
+we cannot do by sleight we eke out by strength. Nevertheless, in truth
+thou art as expert in inflicting wounds as my sage Hakim in curing them.
+I trust I shall see the learned leech; I have much to thank him for, and
+had brought some small present."
+
+As he spoke, Saladin exchanged his turban for a Tartar cap. He had no
+sooner done so, than De Vaux opened at once his extended mouth and his
+large round eyes, and Richard gazed with scarce less astonishment, while
+the Soldan spoke in a grave and altered voice: "The sick man, sayeth the
+poet, while he is yet infirm, knoweth the physician by his step; but
+when he is recovered, he knoweth not even his face when he looks upon
+him."
+
+"A miracle!--a miracle!" exclaimed Richard.
+
+"Of Mahound's working, doubtless," said Thomas de Vaux.
+
+"That I should lose my learned Hakim," said Richard, "merely by absence
+of his cap and robe, and that I should find him again in my royal
+brother Saladin!"
+
+"Such is oft the fashion of the world," answered the Soldan: "the
+tattered robe makes not always the dervish."
+
+SCOTT: "The Talisman."
+
+
+
+
+ENGLAND'S DEAD
+
+
+      Son of the Ocean Isle!
+      Where sleep your mighty dead?
+    Show me what high and stately pile
+      Is reared o'er Glory's bed.
+
+      Go, stranger! track the deep--
+      Free, free, the white sail spread!
+    Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,
+      Where rest not England's dead.
+
+      On Egypt's burning plains,
+      By the pyramid o'erswayed,
+    With fearful power the noonday reigns,
+      And the palm trees yield no shade;--
+
+      But let the angry sun
+      From heaven look fiercely red,
+    Unfelt by those whose task is done!--
+      There slumber England's dead.
+
+      The hurricane hath might
+      Along the Indian shore,
+    And far by Ganges' banks at night,
+      Is heard the tiger's roar;--
+
+      But let the sound roll on!
+      It hath no tone of dread
+    For those that from their toils are gone,--
+      There slumber England's dead.
+
+      Loud rush the torrent-floods
+      The Western wilds among,
+    And free, in green Columbia's woods,
+      The hunter's bow is strung;--
+
+      But let the floods rush on!
+      Let the arrow's flight be sped!
+    Why should they reck whose task is done?--
+      There slumber England's dead.
+
+      The mountain-storms rise high
+      In the snowy Pyrenees,
+    And toss the pine-boughs through the sky
+      Like rose-leaves on the breeze;--
+
+      But let the storm rage on!
+      Let the fresh wreaths be shed!
+    For the Roncesvalles' field is won,--
+      There slumber England's dead.
+
+      On the frozen deep's repose
+      'Tis a dark and dreadful hour,
+    When round the ship the ice-fields close,
+      And the northern night-clouds lower;--
+
+      But let the ice drift on!
+      Let the cold-blue desert spread!
+    Their course with mast and flag is done,
+      Even there sleep England's dead.
+
+      The warlike of the isles,
+      The men of field and wave!
+    Are not the rocks their funeral piles,
+      The seas and shores their grave?
+
+      Go, stranger! track the deep--
+      Free, free the white sail spread!
+    Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,
+      Where rest not England's dead.
+
+FELICIA HEMANS
+
+
+
+
+HOHENLINDEN
+
+
+    On Linden, when the sun was low,
+    All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow,
+    And dark as winter was the flow
+      Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
+
+    But Linden saw another sight,
+    When the drum beat, at dead of night,
+    Commanding fires of death to light
+      The darkness of her scenery.
+
+    By torch and trumpet fast arrayed
+    Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
+    And furious every charger neighed,
+      To join the dreadful revelry.
+
+    Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
+    Then rushed the steed to battle driven,
+    And louder than the bolts of heaven,
+      Far flashed the red artillery.
+
+    But redder yet that light shall glow
+    On Linden's hills of stainèd snow,
+    And bloodier yet the torrent flow
+      Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
+
+    'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
+    Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
+    Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
+      Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.
+
+    The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
+    Who rush to glory, or the grave!
+    Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
+      And charge with all thy chivalry!
+
+    Few, few, shall part where many meet!
+    The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
+    And every turf beneath their feet
+      Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
+
+THOMAS CAMPBELL
+
+
+
+
+THE DREAM OF THE OAK TREE
+
+
+There stood in a wood, high on the bank near the open sea-shore, such a
+grand old oak tree! It was three hundred and sixty-five years old; but
+all this length of years had seemed to the tree scarcely more than so
+many days appear to us men and women, boys and girls.
+
+A tree's life is not quite the same as a man's: we wake during the day,
+and sleep and dream during the night; but a tree wakes throughout three
+seasons of the year, and has no sleep till winter comes. The winter is
+its sleeping time--its night after the long day which we call spring,
+summer, and autumn.
+
+It was just at the holy Christmas-tide that the oak tree dreamed his
+most beautiful dream. He seemed to hear the church-bells ringing all
+around, and to feel as if it were a mild, warm summer day. Fresh and
+green he reared his mighty crown on high, and the sunbeams played among
+his leaves. As in a festive procession, all that the tree had beheld in
+his life now passed by.
+
+Knights and ladies, with feathers in their caps and hawks perching on
+their wrists, rode gaily through the wood; dogs barked, and the huntsman
+sounded his bugle.
+
+Then came foreign soldiers in bright armour and gay vestments, bearing
+spurs and halberds, setting up their tents, and presently taking them
+down again. Then watch-fires blazed up and bands of wild outlaws sang,
+revelled, and slept under the tree's outstretched boughs; or happy
+lovers met in quiet moonlight and carved their initials on the grayish
+bark.
+
+At one time a guitar and an Æolian harp had been hung among the old
+oak's boughs by merry travelling apprentices; now they hung there again,
+and the wind played sweetly with their strings.
+
+And now the dream changed. A new and stronger current of life flowed
+through him, down to his lowest roots, up to his highest twigs, even to
+the very leaves. The tree felt in his roots that a warm life stirred in
+the earth, and that he was growing taller and taller; his trunk shot up
+more and more, his crown grew fuller; and still he soared and spread.
+He felt that his power grew, too, and he longed to advance higher and
+higher to the warm, bright sun.
+
+Already he towered above the clouds, which drifted below him, now like a
+troop of dark-plumaged birds of passage, now like flocks of large, white
+swans. The stars became visible by daylight, so large and bright, each
+one sparkling like a mild, clear eye.
+
+It was a blessed moment! and yet, in the height of his joy, the oak tree
+felt a desire and longing that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and
+flowers of the wood might be lifted up with him to share in his glory
+and gladness. He could not be fully blessed unless he might have all,
+small and great, blessed with him.
+
+The tree's crown bowed itself as though it had missed something, and
+looked backward. Then he felt the fragrance of honeysuckle and violets,
+and fancied he could hear the birds. And so it was! for now peeped forth
+through the clouds the green summits of the wood; the other trees below
+had grown and lifted themselves up likewise; bushes and herbs shot high
+into the air, some tearing themselves loose from their roots to mount
+the faster.
+
+Like a flash of white lightning the birch, moving fastest of all, shot
+upward its slender stem. Even the feathery brown reeds had pierced their
+way through the clouds, and the birds sang and sang, and on the grass
+that fluttered to and fro like a streaming ribbon perched the
+grasshopper, while cockchafers hummed and bees buzzed. All was music and
+gladness.
+
+"But the little blue flower near the water--I want that, too," said the
+oak; "and the bellflower, and the dear little daisy." "We are here! we
+are here!" chanted sweet low voices on all sides.
+
+"But the pretty anemones, and the bed of lilies of the valley, and all
+the flowers that bloomed so long ago,--would that they were here!" "We
+are here! we are here!" was the answer, and it seemed to come from the
+air above, as if they had fled upward first.
+
+"Oh, this is too great happiness!" exclaimed the oak tree; and now he
+felt that his own roots were loosening themselves from the earth. "This
+is best of all," he said. "Now no bounds shall detain me. I can soar to
+the heights of light and glory, and I have all my dear ones with me."
+
+Such was the oak tree's Christmas dream. And all the while a mighty
+storm swept the sea and land; the ocean rolled his heavy billows on the
+shore, the tree cracked, and was rent and torn up by the roots at the
+very moment when he dreamed that he was soaring to the skies.
+
+Next day the sea was calm again, and a large vessel that had weathered
+the storm hoisted all its flags for Merry Christmas. "The tree is
+gone--the old oak tree, our beacon! How can its place ever be supplied?"
+said the crew. This was the tree's funeral eulogium, while the Christmas
+hymn re-echoed from the wood.
+
+HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+A PRAYER
+
+
+The day returns and brings us the petty round of irritating concerns and
+duties. Help us to play the man, help us to perform them with laughter
+and kind faces; let cheerfulness abound with industry. Give us to go
+blithely on our business all this day, bring us to our resting beds
+weary and content and undishonoured; and grant us in the end the gift of
+sleep.
+
+R. L. STEVENSON
+
+[Illustration: IN THE PASTURE]
+
+
+
+
+THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS
+
+
+    The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
+    Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
+    Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
+    They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.
+    The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs, the jay,
+    And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
+
+    Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood
+    In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
+    Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers
+    Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
+    The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain
+    Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
+
+    The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,
+    And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
+    But on the hill the goldenrod, and the aster in the wood,
+    And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,
+    Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,
+    And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
+
+    And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,
+    To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home,
+    When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
+    And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
+    The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
+    And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
+
+BRYANT
+
+
+
+
+'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER
+
+
+    'Tis the last rose of summer
+      Left blooming alone;
+    All her lovely companions
+      Are faded and gone;
+    No flower of her kindred,
+      No rosebud is nigh,
+    To reflect back her blushes,
+      Or give sigh for sigh.
+
+    I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
+      To pine on the stem;
+    Since the lovely are sleeping,
+      Go, sleep thou with them.
+    Thus kindly I scatter
+      Thy leaves o'er the bed,
+    Where thy mates of the garden
+      Lie scentless and dead.
+
+    So soon may I follow,
+      When friendships decay,
+    And from Love's shining circle
+      The gems drop away.
+    When true hearts lie withered,
+      And fond ones are flown,
+    Oh! who would inhabit
+      This bleak world alone!
+
+MOORE
+
+
+
+
+A ROMAN'S HONOUR
+
+
+The Romans had suffered a terrible defeat in B.C. 251, and Regulus, a
+famous soldier and senator, had been captured and dragged into Carthage
+where the victors feasted and rejoiced through half the night, and
+testified their thanks to their god by offering in his fires the bravest
+of their captives.
+
+Regulus himself was not, however, one of these victims. He was kept a
+close prisoner for two years, pining and sickening in his loneliness;
+while, in the meantime, the war continued, and at last a victory so
+decisive was gained by the Romans, that the people of Carthage were
+discouraged, and resolved to ask terms of peace. They thought that no
+one would be so readily listened to at Rome as Regulus, and they
+therefore sent him there with their envoys, having first made him swear
+that he would come back to his prison, if there should neither be peace
+nor an exchange of prisoners. They little knew how much more a
+true-hearted Roman cared for his city than for himself--for his word
+than for his life.
+
+Worn and dejected, the captive warrior came to the outside of the gates
+of his own city and there paused, refusing to enter. "I am no longer a
+Roman citizen," he said; "I am but the barbarian's slave, and the Senate
+may not give audience to strangers within the walls."
+
+His wife, Marcia, ran out to greet him, with his two sons, but he did
+not look up, and received their caresses as one beneath their notice, as
+a mere slave, and he continued, in spite of all entreaty, to remain
+outside the city, and would not even go to the little farm he had loved
+so well.
+
+The Roman Senate, as he would not come in to them, came out to hold
+their meeting in the Campagna.
+
+The ambassadors spoke first; then Regulus, standing up, said, as one
+repeating a task: "Conscript fathers, being a slave to the
+Carthaginians, I come on the part of my masters to treat with you
+concerning peace and an exchange of prisoners." He then turned to go
+away with the ambassadors, as a stranger might not be present at the
+deliberations of the Senate. His old friends pressed him to stay and
+give his opinion as a senator, who had twice been consul; but he refused
+to degrade that dignity by claiming it, slave as he was. But, at the
+command of his Carthaginian masters, he remained, though not taking his
+seat.
+
+Then he spoke. He told the senators to persevere in the war. He said he
+had seen the distress of Carthage, and that a peace would be only to her
+advantage, not to that of Rome, and therefore he strongly advised that
+the war should continue. Then, as to the exchange of prisoners, the
+Carthaginian generals, who were in the hands of the Romans, were in full
+health and strength, whilst he himself was too much broken down to be
+fit for service again; and, indeed, he believed that his enemies had
+given him a slow poison, and that he could not live long. Thus he
+insisted that no exchange of prisoners should be made.
+
+It was wonderful, even to Romans, to hear a man thus pleading against
+himself; and their chief priest came forward and declared that, as his
+oath had been wrested from him by force, he was not bound by it to
+return to his captivity. But Regulus was too noble to listen to this for
+a moment. "Have you resolved to dishonour me?" he said. "I am not
+ignorant that death and the extremest tortures are preparing for me; but
+what are these to the shame of an infamous action, or the wounds of a
+guilty mind? Slave as I am to Carthage, I have still the spirit of a
+Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty to go; let the gods take
+care of the rest."
+
+The Senate decided to follow the advice of Regulus, though they bitterly
+regretted his sacrifice. His wife wept and entreated in vain that they
+would detain him--they could merely repeat their permission to him to
+remain; but nothing could prevail with him to break his word, and he
+turned back to the chains and death he expected, as calmly as if he had
+been returning to his home. This was in the year B.C. 249.
+
+CHARLOTTE M. YONGE: "Book of Golden Deeds."
+
+
+
+
+THE FIGHTING TÉMÉRAIRE
+
+
+    It was eight bells ringing,
+      For the morning watch was done,
+    And the gunner's lads were singing,
+      As they polished every gun.
+    It was eight bells ringing,
+      And the gunner's lads were singing
+    For the ship she rode a-swinging,
+      As they polished every gun.
+
+        _Oh! to see the linstock lighting,
+          Téméraire! Téméraire!
+        Oh! to hear the round shot biting,
+          Téméraire! Téméraire!
+        Oh! to see the linstock lighting,
+        And to hear the round shot biting,
+        For we're all in love with fighting
+          On the Fighting Téméraire._
+
+    It was noontide ringing,
+      And the battle just begun,
+    When the ship her way was winging,
+      As they loaded every gun.
+    It was noontide ringing
+    When the ship her way was winging,
+    And the gunner's lads were singing,
+      As they loaded every gun.
+
+        _There'll be many grim and gory,
+          Téméraire! Téméraire!
+        There'll be few to tell the story,
+          Téméraire! Téméraire!
+        There'll be many grim and gory,
+        There'll be few to tell the story,
+        But we'll all be one in glory
+          With the Fighting Téméraire._
+
+    There's a far bell ringing
+      At the setting of the sun,
+    And a phantom voice is singing
+      Of the great days done.
+    There's a far bell ringing,
+    And a phantom voice is singing
+    Of renown for ever clinging
+      To the great days done.
+
+        _Now the sunset breezes shiver,
+          Téméraire! Téméraire!
+        And she's fading down the river,
+          Téméraire! Téméraire!
+        Now the sunset breezes shiver,
+        And she's fading down the river,
+        But in England's song for ever
+          She's the Fighting Téméraire._
+
+HENRY NEWBOLT
+
+
+
+
+DON QUIXOTE'S FIGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS
+
+
+"I beseech your worship, Sir Knight-errant," quoth Sancho to his master,
+"be sure you don't forget what you promised me about the island; for I
+dare say I shall make shift to govern it, let it be never so big."
+
+"You must know, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "that it has been
+the constant practice of knights-errant in former ages to make their
+squires governors of the islands or kingdoms they conquered."
+
+As they were thus discoursing, they discovered some thirty or forty
+windmills that are in that plain; and as soon as the knight had spied
+them, "Fortune," cried he, "directs our affairs better than we ourselves
+could have wished: look yonder, friend Sancho, there are at least thirty
+outrageous giants, whom I intend to encounter; and having deprived them
+of life, we will begin to enrich ourselves with their spoils; for they
+are lawful prize; and the extirpation of that cursed brood will be an
+acceptable service to Heaven."
+
+"What giants?" quoth Sancho Panza.
+
+"Those whom thou seest yonder," answered Don Quixote, "with their long
+extended arms; some of that detested race have arms of so immense a
+size, that sometimes they reach two leagues in length."
+
+"Pray look better, sir," quoth Sancho; "those things yonder are no
+giants, but windmills, and the arms you fancy, are their sails, which
+being whirled about by the wind, make the mill go."
+
+"'Tis a sign," cried Don Quixote, "thou art but little acquainted with
+adventures! I tell thee, they are giants; and therefore if thou art
+afraid, go aside and say thy prayers, for I am resolved to engage in a
+dreadful unequal combat against them all." This said, he clapped spurs
+to his horse Rozinante, without giving ear to his squire Sancho, who
+bawled out to him, and assured him that they were windmills, and no
+giants. But he was so fully possessed with a strong conceit of the
+contrary, that he did not so much as hear his squire's outcry, nor was
+he sensible of what they were, although he was already very near them;
+far from that: "Stand, cowards," cried he, as loud as he could; "stand
+your ground, ignoble creatures, and fly not basely from a single knight,
+who dares encounter you all!"
+
+At the same time, the wind rising, the mill-sails began to move, which
+when Don Quixote spied, "Base miscreants," cried he, "though you move
+more arms than the giant Briareus, you shall pay for your arrogance."
+
+He most devoutly recommended himself to his Lady Dulcinea, imploring her
+assistance in this perilous adventure; and, so covering himself with his
+shield, and couching his lance, he rushed with Rozinante's utmost speed
+upon the first windmill he could come at, and running his lance into the
+sail, the wind whirled it about with such swiftness, that the rapidity
+of the motion presently broke the lance into shivers, and hurled away
+both knight and horse along with it, till down he fell, rolling a good
+way off in the field.
+
+Sancho Panza ran as fast as his ass could drive to help his master, whom
+he found lying, and not able to stir, such a blow had he and Rozinante
+received. "Mercy o' me!" cried Sancho, "did not I give your worship fair
+warning? Did not I tell you they were windmills, and that nobody could
+think otherwise, unless he had also windmills in his head!"
+
+"Peace, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote: "there is nothing so
+subject to the inconstancy of fortune as war. I am verily persuaded that
+cursed necromancer, Freston, who carried away my study and my books, has
+transformed these giants into windmills to deprive me of the honour of
+the victory; such is his inveterate malice against me; but in the end,
+all his pernicious wiles and stratagems shall prove ineffectual against
+the prevailing edge of my sword."
+
+"Amen, say I," replied Sancho.
+
+And so heaving him up again upon his legs, once more the knight mounted
+poor Rozinante, that was half shoulder-slipped with his fall.
+
+This adventure was the subject of their discourse, as they made the best
+of their way towards the pass of Lapice, for Don Quixote took that road,
+believing he could not miss of adventure in one so mightily frequented.
+However, the loss of his lance was no small affliction to him; and as he
+was making his complaint about it to his squire, "I have read," said he,
+"friend Sancho, that a certain Spanish knight, having broken his sword
+in the heat of an engagement, pulled up by the roots a huge oak tree, or
+at least tore down a massy branch, and did such wonderful execution,
+crushing and grinding so many Moors with it that day, that he won
+himself and his posterity the surname of The Pounder, or Bruiser. I tell
+thee this, because I intend to tear up the next oak or holm tree we
+meet; with the trunk whereof I hope to perform such wondrous deeds that
+thou wilt esteem thyself particularly happy in having had the honour to
+behold them, and been the ocular witness of achievements which posterity
+will scarce be able to believe."
+
+"Heaven grant you may," cried Sancho; "I believe it all, because your
+worship says it. But, an't please you, sit a little more upright in your
+saddle; you ride sideling methinks; but that, I suppose, proceeds from
+your being bruised by the fall."
+
+"It does so," replied Don Quixote; "and if I do not complain of the
+pain, it is because a knight-errant must never complain of his wounds."
+
+"Then I have no more to say," quoth Sancho; "and yet Heaven knows my
+heart, I should be glad to hear your worship groan a little now and then
+when something ails you: for my part, I shall not fail to bemoan myself
+when I suffer the smallest pain, unless, indeed, it can be proved that
+the rule of not complaining extends to the squires as well as knights."
+
+Don Quixote could not forbear smiling at the simplicity of his squire;
+and told him he gave him leave to complain not only when he pleased, but
+as much as he pleased, whether he had any cause or no; for he had never
+yet read anything to the contrary in any books of chivalry.
+
+CERVANTES: "The Adventures of Don Quixote."
+
+
+
+
+THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST
+
+
+    Little Ellie sits alone
+      'Mid the beeches of a meadow,
+        By a stream-side on the grass,
+    And the trees are showering down
+      Doubles of their leaves in shadow,
+        On her shining hair and face.
+
+    She has thrown her bonnet by,
+      And her feet she has been dipping
+        In the shallow water's flow.
+    Now she holds them nakedly
+      In her hands, all sleek and dripping,
+        While she rocketh to and fro.
+
+    Little Ellie sits alone,
+      And the smile she softly uses,
+        Fills the silence like a speech,
+    While she thinks what shall be done,--
+      And the sweetest pleasure chooses
+        For her future within reach.
+
+    Little Ellie in her smile
+      Chooses ... "I will have a lover,
+        Riding on a steed of steeds!
+    He shall love me without guile,
+      And to _him_ I will discover
+        The swan's nest among the reeds.
+
+    "And the steed shall be red-roan,
+      And the lover shall be noble,
+        With an eye that takes the breath.
+    And the lute he plays upon,
+      Shall strike ladies into trouble,
+        As his sword strikes men to death.
+
+    "And the steed it shall be shod
+      All in silver, housed in azure;
+        And the mane shall swim the wind;
+    And the hoofs along the sod
+      Shall flash onward and keep measure,
+        Till the shepherds look behind.
+
+    "But my lover will not prize
+      All the glory that he rides in,
+        When he gazes in my face.
+    He will say: 'O Love, thine eyes
+      Build the shrine my soul abides in,
+        And I kneel here for thy grace.'
+
+    "Then, ay, then--he shall kneel low,
+      With the red-roan steed anear him
+        Which shall seem to understand--
+    Till I answer: 'Rise and go!'
+      For the world must love and fear him
+        Whom I gift with heart and hand.
+
+    "Then he will arise so pale,
+      I shall feel my own lips tremble
+        With a _yes_ I must not say,
+    Nathless maiden-brave, 'Farewell,'
+      I will utter, and dissemble--
+        'Light to-morrow with to-day.'
+
+    "Then he'll ride among the hills
+      To the wide world past the river,
+        There to put away all wrong;
+    To make straight distorted wills,
+      And to empty the broad quiver
+        Which the wicked bear along.
+
+    "Three times shall a young foot-page
+      Swim the stream and climb the mountain
+        And kneel down beside my feet--
+    'Lo, my master sends this gage,
+      Lady, for thy pity's counting!
+        What wilt thou exchange for it?'
+
+    "And the first time, I will send
+      A white rosebud for a guerdon,--
+        And the second time, a glove;
+    But the third time--I may bend
+      From my pride, and answer: 'Pardon,
+        If he comes to take my love.'
+
+    "Then the young foot-page will run--
+      Then my lover will ride faster,
+        Till he kneeleth at my knee:
+    'I am a duke's eldest son!
+      Thousand serfs do call me master,--
+        But, O Love, I love but _thee!_'
+
+    "He will kiss me on the mouth
+      Then, and lead me as a lover
+        Through the crowds that praise his deeds:
+    And, when soul-tied by one troth,
+      Unto _him_ I will discover
+        That swan's nest among the reeds."
+
+    Little Ellie, with her smile
+      Not yet ended, rose up gaily,
+        Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe,
+    And went homeward, round a mile,
+      Just to see, as she did daily,
+        What more eggs were with the two.
+
+    Pushing through the elm tree copse,
+      Winding up the stream, light-hearted,
+        Where the osier pathway leads--
+    Past the boughs she stoops--and stops.
+      Lo, the wild swan had deserted,--
+        And a rat had gnawed the reeds.
+
+    Ellie went home sad and slow.
+      If she found the lover ever,
+        With his red-roan steed of steeds,
+    Sooth I know not! but I know
+      She could never show him--never,
+        That swan's nest among the reeds.
+
+E. B. BROWNING
+
+[Illustration: DEEP SEA FISHERS]
+
+
+
+
+MOONLIGHT SONATA
+
+
+It happened at Bonn. One moonlight winter's evening I called upon
+Beethoven; for I wished him to take a walk, and afterwards sup with me.
+In passing through a dark, narrow street, he suddenly paused. "Hush!" he
+said, "what sound is that? It is from my Sonata in F. Hark! how well it
+is played!"
+
+It was a little, mean dwelling, and we paused outside and listened. The
+player went on; but, in the midst of the finale, there was a sudden
+break; then the voice of sobbing: "I cannot play any more. It is too
+beautiful; it is utterly beyond my power to do it justice. Oh! what
+would I not give to go to the concert at Cologne!"
+
+"Ah! my sister," said her companion; "why create regrets when there is
+no remedy? We can scarcely pay our rent."
+
+"You are right, and yet I wish for once in my life to hear some really
+good music. But it is of no use."
+
+Beethoven looked at me. "Let us go in," he said.
+
+"Go in!" I exclaimed. "What can we go in for?"
+
+"I will play to her," he said, in an excited tone. "Here is
+feeling--genius--understanding! I will play to her, and she will
+understand it."
+
+And before I could prevent him his hand was upon the door. It opened and
+we entered.
+
+A pale young man was sitting by the table, making shoes, and near him,
+leaning sorrowfully upon an old-fashioned piano, sat a young girl, with
+a profusion of light hair falling over her face.
+
+"Pardon me," said Beethoven, "but I heard music and was tempted to
+enter. I am a musician."
+
+The girl blushed, and the young man looked grave and somewhat annoyed.
+
+"I--I also overheard something of what you said," continued my friend.
+"You wish to hear--that is, you would like--that is--shall I play for
+you?"
+
+There was something so odd in the whole affair, and something so comical
+and pleasant in the manner of the speaker, that the spell was broken in
+a moment.
+
+"Thank you!" said the shoemaker; "but our piano is so wretched, and we
+have no music."
+
+"No music!" echoed my friend; "how, then, does the young lady--" he
+paused and coloured; for, as he looked in the girl's face, he saw that
+she was blind. "I--I entreat your pardon," he stammered. "I had not
+perceived before. Then you play by ear? But when do you hear the music,
+since you frequent no concerts?"
+
+"We lived at Bruhl for two years, and while there I used to hear a lady
+practising near us. During the summer evenings her windows were
+generally open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen to her."
+
+She seemed so shy that Beethoven said no more, but seated himself
+quietly before the piano and began to play. He had no sooner struck the
+first chord than I knew what would follow. Never, during all the years I
+knew him, did I hear him play as he then played to that blind girl and
+her brother. He seemed to be inspired; and, from the instant that his
+fingers began to wander along the keys, the very tones of the
+instrument seemed to grow sweeter and more equal.
+
+The brother and sister were silent with wonder and rapture. The former
+laid aside his work; the latter, with her head bent slightly forward,
+and her hands pressed tightly over her breast, crouched down near the
+end of the piano, as if fearful lest even the beating of her heart
+should break the flow of those magical sounds.
+
+Suddenly the flame of the single candle wavered, sank, flickered, and
+went out. Beethoven paused, and I threw open the shutters, admitting a
+flood of brilliant moonlight. The room was almost as light as before,
+the moon rays falling strongest upon the piano and the player. His head
+dropped upon his breast; his hands rested upon his knees; he seemed
+absorbed in deep thought. He remained thus for some time. At length the
+young shoemaker arose and approached him eagerly.
+
+"Wonderful man!" he said, in a low tone. "Who and what are you?"
+
+"Listen!" said Beethoven, and he played the opening bars of the Sonata
+in F. A cry of recognition burst from them both, and exclaiming: "Then
+you are Beethoven!" they covered his hands with tears and kisses.
+
+He rose to go, but we held him back with entreaties.
+
+"Play to us once more--only once more!"
+
+He suffered himself to be led back to the instrument. The moon shone
+brightly in through the window, and lighted up his glorious, rugged head
+and massive figure.
+
+"I will improvise a Sonata to the Moonlight!" said he, looking up
+thoughtfully to the sky and stars. Then his hands dropped on the keys,
+and he began playing a sad and infinitely lovely movement, which crept
+gently over the instrument, like the calm flow of moonlight over the
+dark earth. This was followed by a wild, elfin passage in triple time--a
+sort of grotesque interlude, like the dance of spirits upon the lawn.
+Then came a swift agitato finale--a breathless, hurrying, trembling
+movement, descriptive of flight, and uncertainty, and vague impulsive
+terror, which carried us away on its rustling wings, and left us all in
+emotion and wonder.
+
+"Farewell to you!" said Beethoven, pushing back his chair, and turning
+towards the door--"farewell to you!"
+
+"You will come again?" asked they in one breath.
+
+He paused and looked compassionately, almost tenderly, at the face of
+the blind girl.
+
+"Yes, yes," he said hurriedly, "I will come again, and give the young
+lady some lessons! Farewell! I will come again!"
+
+Their looks followed us in silence more eloquent than words till we were
+out of sight.
+
+"Let us make haste back," said Beethoven, "that I may write out that
+Sonata while I can yet remember it."
+
+We did so, and he sat over it till long past day dawn. And this was the
+origin of the Moonlight Sonata with which we are all so fondly
+acquainted.
+
+UNKNOWN
+
+
+
+
+THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD
+
+
+    Black beneath as the night,
+      With wings of a morning glow,
+    From his sooty throat three syllables float,
+      Ravishing, liquid, low;
+    And 'tis oh, for the joy of June,
+      And the bliss that ne'er can flee
+    From that exquisite call, with its sweet, sweet fall--
+      O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!
+
+    Long ago as a child,
+      From the bough of a blossoming quince,
+    That melody came to thrill my frame,
+      And whenever I've caught it since,
+    The spring-soft blue of the sky
+      And the spring-bright bloom of the tree
+    Are a part of the strain--ah, hear it again!--
+      O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!
+
+    And the night is tenderly black,
+      The morning eagerly bright,
+    For that old, old spring is blossoming
+      In the soul and in the sight.
+    The red-winged blackbird brings
+      My lost youth back to me,
+    When I hear in the swale, from a gray fence rail,
+      O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!
+
+ETHELWYN WETHERALD
+
+
+
+
+TO THE CUCKOO
+
+
+    Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!
+      Thou messenger of spring!
+    Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat,
+      And woods thy welcome sing.
+
+    What time the daisy decks the green,
+      Thy certain voice we hear.
+    Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
+      Or mark the rolling year?
+
+    Delightful visitant! with thee
+      I hail the time of flowers,
+    And hear the sound of music sweet
+      From birds among the bowers.
+
+    The school-boy, wandering through the wood
+      To pull the primrose gay,
+    Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear,
+      And imitates thy lay.
+
+    What time the pea puts on the bloom,
+      Thou fliest thy vocal vale,
+    An annual guest in other lands,
+      Another spring to hail.
+
+    Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,
+      Thy sky is ever clear;
+    Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
+      No winter in thy year!
+
+    Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
+      We'd make, with joyful wing,
+    Our annual visit o'er the globe,
+      Companions of the Spring.
+
+JOHN LOGAN
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF A STONE
+
+
+A great many years ago, when nearly the whole of Canada was covered with
+water, and the Northern Ocean, which washed the highest crests of the
+Alleghanies, made an island of the Laurentian Hills, and wrote its name
+on the Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior, there lived somewhere near
+Toronto, in the Province of Ontario, a little animal called a Polyp. He
+was a curious creature, very small, not unlike a flower in appearance, a
+plant-animal.
+
+One day, the sun shone down into the water and set this little fellow
+free from the egg in which he was confined. For a time he floated about
+near the bottom of the ocean, but at last settled down on a bit of
+shell, and fastened himself to it. Then he made an opening in his upper
+side, formed for himself a mouth and stomach, thrust out a whole row of
+feelers, and began catching whatever morsels of food came in his way. He
+had a great many strange ways, but the strangest of all was his
+gathering little bits of limestone from the water and building them up
+round him, as a person does who builds a well.
+
+But this little Favosite, for that was his name, became lonesome on the
+bottom of that old ocean; so one night, when he was fast asleep and
+dreaming as only a coral animal can dream, there sprouted out of his
+side another little Favosite, who very soon began to wall himself up as
+his parent had done. From these, other little Favosites were formed,
+till at last there were so many of them, and they were so crowded
+together, that, to economize the limestone they built with, they had to
+make their cells six-sided, like those of a honey-comb: on this account
+they are called Favosites.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The colony thrived for a long time, and accumulated quite a stock of
+limestone. But at last a change came: there was a great rush of muddy
+water from the land, and all the Favosites died, leaving only a stony
+skeleton to prove that industrious Polyps had ever existed there.
+
+This skeleton remained undisturbed for ages, until the earth began to
+rise inch by inch out of the water. Then our Favosites' home rose above
+the deep, and with it came all that was left of its old acquaintances
+the Trilobites, who were the ancestors of our crabs and lobsters.
+
+[Illustration: Trilobite]
+
+Then the first fishes made their appearance, great fierce-looking
+fellows like the gar pike of our lakes, but larger, and armed with
+scales as hard as the armour of a crocodile. Next came the sharks, as
+savage and voracious as they now are, with teeth like knives. But the
+time of these old fishes and of many more animals came and went, and
+still the home of the Favosites lay in the ground.
+
+Then came the long, hot, damp epoch, when thick mists hung over the
+earth, and great ferns and rushes, as stout as an oak and as tall as a
+steeple, grew in Nova Scotia, in Pennsylvania, and in other parts of
+America where coal is now found. Huge reptiles, with enormous jaws and
+teeth like cross-cut saws, and smaller ones with wings like bats, next
+appeared and added to the strangeness of the scene.
+
+But the reptiles died; the ferns and the rush-trees fell into their
+native swamps, and were covered up and packed away under great layers of
+clay and sand brought down by the rivers, till at last they were turned
+into coal, forming for us, what someone has called, beds of petrified
+sunshine. But all this while the skeleton of the Favosites lay
+undisturbed.
+
+Then the mists cleared away as gradually as they had come, the sun shone
+out, the grass grew, and strange four-footed animals came and fed upon
+it. Among these were odd-looking little horses no bigger than foxes;
+great hairy monsters larger than elephants, with tremendous tusks; hogs
+with snouts nearly as long as their bodies; and other strange creatures
+that no man has ever seen alive. But still the house of the Favosites
+remained where it was.
+
+Next came the great winter, and it continued to snow till the mountains
+were hidden. Then the snow was packed into ice, and Canada became one
+solid glacier. This ice age continued for many thousands of years.
+
+At last the ice began to melt, and the glacier came slowly down the
+slopes, tearing up rocks, little and big, and crushing and grinding and
+carrying away everything in its course. It ploughed its way across
+Ontario, and the skeleton of our Favosites was rooted out from the quiet
+place where it had lain so long, and was caught up in a crevice of the
+ice. The glacier slid along, melting all the while, and covering the
+land with clay, pebbles, and boulders. At last it stopped, and as it
+gradually melted away, all the rocks and stones and dirt it had carried
+with it thus far, were deposited into one great heap, and the home of
+the Favosites along with them.
+
+Ages afterwards a farmer, near Toronto, when ploughing a field, picked
+up a curious bit of "petrified honey-comb," and gave it to a geologist
+to hear what he would say about it. And now you have read what he said.
+
+D. B.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW-STORM
+
+
+    The sun that brief December day
+    Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
+    And, darkly circled, gave at noon
+    A sadder light than waning moon.
+    A chill no coat, however stout,
+    Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
+    A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
+      That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
+      Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
+    The coming of the snow-storm told.
+    The wind blew east: we heard the roar
+    Of Ocean on his wintry shore,
+    And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
+    Beat with low rhythm our inland air.
+
+    Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,--
+    Brought in the wood from out of doors,
+    Littered the stalls, and from the mows
+    Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows:
+    Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
+    And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
+    Impatient down the stanchion rows
+    The cattle shake their walnut bows;
+    While, peering from his early perch
+    Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
+    The cock his crested helmet bent
+    And down his querulous challenge sent.
+
+    Unwarmed by any sunset light
+    The gray day darkened into night,
+    A night made hoary with the swarm
+    And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
+    As zigzag wavering to and fro
+    Crossed and recrossed the wingèd snow:
+    And ere the early bed-time came
+    The white drift piled the window-frame,
+    And through the glass the clothes-line posts
+    Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.
+
+    So all night long the storm roared on:
+    The morning broke without a sun;
+    And, when the second morning shone,
+    We looked upon a world unknown,
+    On nothing we could call our own.
+    Around the glistening wonder bent
+    The blue walls of the firmament,
+    No cloud above, no earth below,--
+    A universe of sky and snow!
+    The old familiar sights of ours
+    Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers
+    Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,
+    Or garden wall, or belt of wood;
+    A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,
+    A fenceless drift what once was road;
+    The bridle-post an old man sat
+    With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;
+    The well-curb had a Chinese roof;
+    And even the long sweep, high aloof,
+    In its slant splendour, seemed to tell
+    Of Pisa's leaning miracle.
+
+    A prompt, decisive man, no breath
+    Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!"
+    Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy
+    Count such a summons less than joy?)
+    Our buskins on our feet we drew;
+      With mittened hands, and caps drawn low
+      To guard our necks and ears from snow,
+    We cut the solid whiteness through.
+    And, where the drift was deepest made
+    A tunnel walled and overlaid
+    With dazzling crystal: we had read
+    Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave,
+    And to our own his name we gave,
+    With many a wish the luck were ours
+    To test his lamp's supernal powers.
+    We reached the barn with merry din,
+    And roused the prisoned brutes within.
+
+    The old horse thrust his long head out,
+    And grave with wonder gazed about;
+    The cock his lusty greeting said,
+    And forth his speckled harem led;
+    The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked,
+    And mild reproach of hunger looked;
+    The hornèd patriarch of the sheep,
+    Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep,
+    Shook his sage head with gesture mute,
+    And emphasized with stamp of foot.
+
+    All day the gusty north wind bore
+    The loosening drift its breath before;
+    Low circling round its southern zone,
+    The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.
+
+WHITTIER: "Snow-bound."
+
+
+
+
+THE HEROINE OF VERCHÈRES
+
+
+Verchères was a fort on the south shore of the St. Lawrence, about
+twenty miles below Montreal. A strong block-house stood outside the
+fort, and was connected with it by a covered way. On the morning of the
+twenty-second of October, (1692) the inhabitants were at work in the
+fields, and nobody was left in the place but two soldiers, two boys, an
+old man of eighty, and a number of women and children. The commandant
+was on duty at Quebec; his wife was at Montreal; and their daughter,
+Madeline, fourteen years of age, was at the landing-place not far from
+the gate of the fort, with a man-servant.
+
+Suddenly she heard firing from the direction where the settlers were at
+work, and an instant after the servant called out: "Run, miss!--run!
+here come the Indians!" She turned and saw forty or fifty of them at the
+distance of a pistol-shot. She ran to the fort as quickly as possible,
+while the bullets whistled about her ears, and made the time seem very
+long. As soon as she was near enough to be heard, she cried out: "To
+arms!--to arms!" hoping that somebody would come out and help her; but
+it was of no use. The two soldiers in the fort were so scared that they
+had hidden in the block-house.
+
+When she had seen certain breaches in the palisade stopped, she went to
+the block-house, where the ammunition was kept; and there she found the
+two soldiers, one hiding in a corner, and the other with a lighted match
+in his hand.
+
+"What are you going to do with that match?" she asked. He answered:
+"Light the powder and blow us all up." "You are a miserable coward!"
+said she. "Go out of this place." She then threw off her bonnet, put on
+a hat, and taking a gun in her hand she said to her two brothers: "Let
+us fight to the death. We are fighting for our country and our
+religion."
+
+The boys, who were ten and twelve years old, aided by the soldiers, whom
+her words had inspired with some little courage, began to fire from the
+loop-holes on the Indians, who, ignorant of the weakness of the
+garrison, showed their usual reluctance to attack a fortified place, and
+occupied themselves with chasing and butchering the people in the
+neighbouring fields. Madeline ordered a cannon to be fired, partly to
+deter the enemy from an assault, and partly to warn some of the soldiers
+who were hunting at a distance.
+
+A canoe was presently seen approaching the landing-place. In it was a
+settler named Fontaine, trying to reach the fort with his family. The
+Indians were still near; and Madeline feared that the new-comers would
+be killed, if something were not done to aid them. Distrusting the
+soldiers, she herself went alone to the landing-place.
+
+"I thought," she said, in her account of the affair, "that the savages
+would suppose it to be a ruse to draw them towards the fort, in order
+to make a sortie upon them. They did suppose so; and thus I was able to
+save the Fontaine family. When they were all landed, I made them march
+before me in full sight of the enemy. We put so bold a face on it, that
+they thought they had more to fear than we. Strengthened by this
+reinforcement, I ordered that the enemy should be fired on whenever they
+showed themselves.
+
+"After sunset a violent north-east wind began to blow, accompanied with
+snow and hail, which told us that we should have a terrible night. The
+Indians were all this time lurking about us; and I judged by all their
+movements that, instead of being deterred by the storm, they would climb
+into the fort under cover of darkness."
+
+She then assembled her troops, who numbered six, all told, and spoke to
+them encouraging words. With two old men she took charge of the fort,
+and sent Fontaine and the two soldiers with the women and children to
+the block-house. She placed her two brothers on two of the bastions, and
+an old man on a third, while she herself took charge of the fourth. All
+night, in spite of wind, snow, and hail, the cry of "All's well" was
+kept up from the block-house to the fort, and from the fort to the
+block-house. One would have supposed that the place was full of
+soldiers. The Indians thought so, and were completely deceived, as they
+afterwards confessed.
+
+At last the daylight came again; and as the darkness disappeared, the
+anxieties of the little garrison seemed to disappear with it. Fontaine
+said he would never abandon the place while Madeline remained in it. She
+declared that she would never abandon it: she would rather die than give
+it up to the enemy.
+
+She did not eat or sleep for twice twenty-four hours. She did not go
+once into her father's house, but kept always on the bastion, except
+when she went to the block-house to see how the people there were
+behaving. She always kept a cheerful and smiling face, and encouraged
+her little company with the hope of speedy succour.
+
+"We were a week in constant alarm," she continues, "with the enemy
+always about us. At last a lieutenant, sent by the governor, arrived in
+the night with forty men. As he did not know whether the fort was taken
+or not, he approached as silently as possible. One of our sentinels,
+hearing a slight sound, cried: 'Who goes there?' I was at the time
+dozing, with my head on a table and my gun lying across my arms. The
+sentinel told me that he heard voices from the river. I went at once to
+the bastion to see whether they were Indians or Frenchmen who were
+there. I asked: 'Who are you?' One of them answered: 'We are Frenchmen
+come to bring you help.'"
+
+"I caused the gate to be opened, placed a sentinel there, and went down
+to the river to meet them. As soon as I saw the lieutenant I saluted
+him, and said: 'I surrender my arms to you.' He answered gallantly:
+'They are in good hands, Miss.' He inspected the fort, and found
+everything in order, and a sentinel on each bastion. 'It is time to
+relieve them,' said I; 'we have not been off our bastions for a week.'"
+
+A band of converts from St. Louis arrived soon afterwards, followed the
+trail of their heathen countrymen, overtook them on Lake Champlain, and
+recovered twenty or more French prisoners.
+
+PARKMAN: "Frontenac and New France."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+JACQUES CARTIER
+
+
+    In the seaport of St. Malo, 'twas a smiling morn in May,
+    When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed away;
+    In the crowded old Cathedral, all the town were on their knees,
+    For the safe return of kinsmen from the undiscovered seas;
+    And every autumn blast that swept o'er pinnacle and pier,
+    Filled manly hearts with sorrow, and gentle hearts with fear.
+
+    A year passed o'er St. Malo--again came round the day,
+    When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed away;
+    But no tidings from the absent had come the way they went,
+    And tearful were the vigils that many a maiden spent;
+    And manly hearts were filled with gloom, and gentle hearts with fear,
+    When no tidings came from Cartier at the closing of the year.
+
+    But the earth is as the Future, it hath its hidden side,
+    And the Captain of St. Malo was rejoicing in his pride;
+    In the forests of the North--while his townsmen mourned his loss--
+    He was rearing on Mount Royal the _fleur-de-lis_ and cross;
+    And when two months were over, and added to the year,
+    St. Malo hailed him home again, cheer answering to cheer.
+
+    He told them of a region, hard, iron-bound and cold,
+    Nor seas of pearl abounded, nor mines of shining gold;
+    Where the wind from Thule freezes the word upon the lip,
+    And the ice in spring comes sailing athwart the early ship;
+    He told them of the frozen scene, until they thrilled with fear,
+    And piled fresh fuel on the hearth to make them better cheer.
+
+    But when he changed the strain,--he told how soon is cast
+    In early Spring, the fetters that hold the waters fast;
+    How the Winter causeway, broken, is drifted out to sea,
+    And the rills and rivers sing with pride the anthem of the free;
+    How the magic wand of Summer clad the landscape to his eyes,
+    Like the dry bones of the just when they wake in Paradise.
+
+    He told them of the Algonquin braves--the hunters of the wild;
+    Of how the Indian mother in the forest rocks her child;
+    Of how, poor souls, they fancy in every living thing
+    A spirit good or evil, that claims their worshipping;
+    Of how they brought their sick and maimed for him to breathe upon;
+    And of the wonders wrought for them, thro' the Gospel of St. John.
+
+    He told them of the river, whose mighty current gave
+    Its freshness for a hundred leagues to ocean's briny wave;
+    He told them of the glorious scene presented to his sight,
+    What time he reared the cross and crown on Hochelaga's height;
+    And of the fortress cliff, that keeps of Canada the key;--
+    And they welcomed back Jacques Cartier from perils over sea.
+
+THOMAS D'ARCY M'GEE
+
+
+
+
+ANTS AND THEIR SLAVES
+
+
+Peter Huber, the son of the noted observer of the ways and habits of
+bees, was walking one day in a field near Geneva, Switzerland, when he
+saw on the ground an army of reddish-coloured ants on the march. He
+decided to follow them and to find out, if possible, the object of their
+journey.
+
+On the sides of the column, as if to keep it in order, a few of the
+insects sped to and fro. After marching for about a quarter of an hour,
+the army halted before an ant-hill, the home of a colony of small, black
+ants. These swarmed out to meet the red ones, and, to Huber's surprise,
+a combat, short but fierce, took place at the foot of the hill.
+
+A small number of the blacks fought bravely to the last, but the rest
+soon fled, panic-stricken, through the gates farthest from the
+battle-field, carrying away some of their young. They seemed to know it
+was the young ants that the invaders were seeking. The red warriors
+quickly forced their way into the tiny city and returned, loaded with
+children of the blacks.
+
+Carrying their living booty, the kidnappers left the pillaged town and
+started toward their home, whither Huber followed them. Great was his
+astonishment when, at the threshold of the red ants' dwelling, he saw
+numbers of black ants come forward to receive the young captives and to
+welcome them--children of their own race, doomed to be bond-servants in
+a strange land.
+
+Here, then, was a miniature city, in which strong red ants lived in
+peace with small black ones. But what was the province of the latter?
+Huber soon discovered that, in fact, these did all the work. They alone
+were able to build the houses in which both races lived; they alone
+brought up the young red ants and the captives of their own species;
+they alone gathered the supplies of food, and waited upon and fed their
+big masters, who were glad to have their little waiters feed them so
+attentively.
+
+The masters themselves had no occupation except that of war. When not
+raiding some village of the blacks, the red soldiers did nothing but
+wander lazily about.
+
+Huber wanted to learn what would be the result if the red ants found
+themselves without servants. Would the big creatures know how to supply
+their own needs? He put a few of the red insects in a glass case, having
+some honey in a corner. They did not go near it. They did not know
+enough to feed themselves. Some of them died of starvation, with food
+before them. Then he put into the case one black ant. It went straight
+to the honey, and with it fed its big, starving, silly masters. Here was
+a wonder, truly!
+
+The little blacks exert in many things a moral force whose signs are
+plainly visible. For example, those tiny wise creatures will not give
+permission to any of the great red ones to go out alone. Nor are these
+at liberty to go out even in a body, if their small helpers fear a
+storm, or if the day is far advanced. When a raid proves fruitless, the
+soldiers coming back without any living booty are forbidden by the
+blacks to enter the city, and are ordered to attack some other village.
+
+Not wishing to rely entirely on his own conclusions, Huber asked one of
+the great naturalists of Switzerland, Jurine, to decide whether or not
+mistakes had been made regarding these customs of the ants. This
+witness, and indeed others, found that Huber's reports were true.
+
+"Yet, after all," says Huber, "I still doubted. But on a later day I
+again saw in the park of Fontainebleau, near Paris, the same workings of
+ant life and wisdom. A well-known naturalist was with me then, and his
+conclusions were the same as mine.
+
+"It was half-past four in the afternoon of a very warm day. From a pile
+of stones there came forth a column of about five hundred reddish ants.
+They marched rapidly toward a field of turf, order in their ranks being
+kept by their sergeants. These watched the flanks, and would not permit
+any to straggle.
+
+"Suddenly the army disappeared. There was no sign of an ant-hill in the
+turf, but, after awhile, we detected a little hole. Through this the
+ants had vanished. We supposed it was an entrance to their home. In a
+minute they showed us that our supposition was incorrect. They issued in
+a throng, nearly every one of them carrying a small black captive.
+
+"From the short time they had taken, it was plain that they knew the
+place and the weakness of its citizens. Perhaps it was not the reds'
+first attack on this city of the little blacks. These swarmed out in
+great numbers; and, truly, I pitied them. They did not attempt to fight.
+They seemed terror-stricken, and made no attempt to oppose the warrior
+ants, except by clinging to them. One of the marauders was stopped thus,
+but a comrade that was free relieved him of his burden, and thereupon
+the black ant let go his grasp.
+
+"It was in fact a painful sight. The soldiers succeeded in carrying off
+nearly five hundred children. About three feet from the entrance to the
+ant-hill the plundered black parents ceased to follow the red robbers,
+and resigned themselves to the loss of their young. The whole raid did
+not occupy more than ten minutes.
+
+"The parties were, as we have seen, very unequal in strength, and the
+attack was clearly an outrage--an outrage no doubt often repeated. The
+big red ants, knowing their power, played the part of tyrants; and,
+whenever they wanted more slaves, despoiled the small weak blacks of
+their greatest treasures--their children."
+
+MICHELET
+
+
+
+
+LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT
+
+
+    Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,
+                Lead Thou me on;
+    The night is dark, and I am far from home,
+                Lead Thou me on.
+    Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
+    The distant scene; one step enough for me.
+
+    I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
+                Shouldst lead me on;
+    I loved to choose and see my path; but now
+                Lead Thou me on.
+    I loved the garish day; and, spite of fears,
+    Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
+
+    So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
+                Will lead me on
+    O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
+                The night is gone,
+    And with the morn those angel faces smile,
+    Which I have loved long since, and lost a while.
+
+NEWMAN
+
+
+
+
+THE JOLLY SANDBOYS
+
+
+The Jolly Sandboys was a small road-side inn with a sign, representing
+three Sandboys, creaking and swinging on its post on the opposite side
+of the road. As the travellers had observed many indications of their
+drawing nearer to the race town, such as gypsy camps, showmen of various
+kinds, and beggars and trampers of every degree, Mr. Codlin was fearful
+of finding the accommodation forestalled; but had the gratification of
+finding that his fears were without foundation, for the landlord was
+leaning against the door-post, looking lazily at the rain which had
+begun to descend heavily.
+
+"Make haste in out of the wet, Tom," said the landlord; "when it came on
+to rain I told 'em to make the fire up, and there's a glorious blaze in
+the kitchen, I can tell you."
+
+Mr. Codlin followed with a willing mind. A mighty fire was blazing on
+the hearth and roaring up the wide chimney with a cheerful sound, which
+a large iron cauldron, bubbling and simmering in the heat, lent its
+pleasant aid to swell. There was a deep red ruddy blush upon the room,
+and when the landlord stirred the fire, sending the flame skipping and
+leaping up--when he took off the lid of the iron pot and there rushed
+out a savoury smell, while the bubbling sound grew deeper and more rich,
+and an unctuous steam came floating out, hanging in a delicious mist
+above their heads--when he did this, Mr. Codlin's heart was touched.
+
+He sat down in the chimney-corner and smiled.
+
+Mr. Codlin sat smiling in the chimney-corner, eyeing the landlord as
+with a roguish look he held the cover in his hand, and feigning that his
+doing so was needful to the welfare of the cookery, suffered the
+delightful steam to tickle the nostrils of his guest. The glow of the
+fire was upon the landlord's bald head, and upon his twinkling eye, and
+upon his watering mouth, and upon his pimpled face, and upon his round
+fat figure. Mr. Codlin drew his sleeve across his lips, and said in a
+murmuring voice: "What is it?"
+
+"It's a stew of tripe," said the landlord, smacking his lips, "and
+cow-heel," smacking them again, "and bacon," smacking them once more,
+"and steak," smacking them for the fourth time, "and peas, cauliflowers,
+new potatoes, and sparrow-grass, all working up together in one
+delicious gravy." Having come to the climax, he smacked his lips a great
+many times, and taking a long, hearty sniff of the fragrance that was
+hovering about, put on the cover again with the air of one whose toils
+on earth were over.
+
+"At what time will it be ready?" asked Mr. Codlin, faintly.
+
+"It'll be done to a turn," said the landlord looking up to the
+clock--and the very clock had a colour in its fat white face, and looked
+a clock for Jolly Sandboys to consult--"it'll be done to a turn at
+twenty-two minutes before eleven."
+
+Mr. Codlin now bethought him of his companions, and acquainted mine host
+of the Sandboys that his partner Short, Nell and her grandfather might
+shortly be looked for. At length they arrived drenched with rain and
+presenting a most miserable appearance. But their steps were no sooner
+heard upon the road than the landlord, who had been at the outer door
+anxiously watching for their coming, rushed into the kitchen and took
+the cover off. The effect was electrical. They all came in with smiling
+faces though the wet was dripping from their clothes upon the floor, and
+Short's first remark was: "What a delicious smell!"
+
+It is not very difficult to forget rain and mud by the side of a
+cheerful fire, and in a bright room. They were furnished with slippers
+and such dry garments as the house or their own bundles afforded, and
+seating themselves, as Mr. Codlin had already done, in the warm
+chimney-corner, soon forgot their late troubles or only remembered them
+as enhancing the delights of the present time.
+
+Strange footsteps were now heard without, and fresh company entered.
+These were no other than four very dismal dogs, who came pattering in
+one after the other, headed by an old bandy dog of particularly mournful
+aspect, who, stopping when the last of his followers had got as far as
+the door, erected himself upon his hind legs and looked round at his
+companions, who immediately stood upon their hind legs, in a grave and
+melancholy row. Nor was this the only remarkable circumstance about
+these dogs, for each of them wore a kind of little coat of some gaudy
+colour trimmed with tarnished spangles, and one of them had a cap upon
+his head, tied very carefully under his chin, which had fallen down upon
+his nose and completely obscured one eye; add to this, that the gaudy
+coats were all wet through and discoloured with rain, and that the
+wearers were splashed and dirty, and some idea may be formed of the
+unusual appearance of these new visitors to the Jolly Sandboys.
+
+Neither Short nor the landlord nor Thomas Codlin, however, was in the
+least surprised, merely remarking that these were Jerry's dogs, and that
+Jerry could not be far behind. So there the dogs stood, patiently
+winking and gaping and looking extremely hard at the boiling pot, until
+Jerry himself appeared, when they all dropped down at once, and walked
+about the room in their natural manner. This posture, it must be
+confessed, did not much improve their appearance, as their own personal
+tails and their coat tails--both capital things in their way--did not
+agree together.
+
+Jerry, the manager of these dancing dogs, was a tall black-whiskered man
+in a velveteen coat, who seemed well known to the landlord and his
+guests and accosted them with great cordiality. Disencumbering himself
+of a barrel organ which he placed upon a chair, and retaining in his
+hand a small whip wherewith to awe his company of comedians, he came up
+to the fire to dry himself, and entered into conversation.
+
+"Your people don't usually travel in character, do they?" said Short,
+pointing to the dresses of the dogs. "It must come expensive, if they
+do."
+
+"No," replied Jerry, "no, it's not the custom with us. But we've been
+playing a little on the road to-day, and we come out with a new wardrobe
+at the races, so I didn't think it worth while to stop to undress. Down,
+Pedro!"
+
+This was addressed to the dog with the cap on, who, being a new member
+of the company, and not quite certain of his duty, kept his unobscured
+eye anxiously on his master, and was perpetually starting up on his hind
+legs when there was no occasion, and falling down again.
+
+The landlord now busied himself in laying the cloth, in which process
+Mr. Codlin obligingly assisted by setting forth his own knife and fork
+in the most convenient place and establishing himself behind them. When
+everything was ready, the landlord took off the cover for the last time,
+and then, indeed, there burst forth such a goodly promise of supper,
+that if he had offered to put it on again or had hinted at postponement,
+he would certainly have been sacrificed on his own hearth.
+
+However, he did nothing of the kind, but instead assisted a stout
+servant girl in turning the contents of the cauldron into a large
+tureen; a proceeding which the dogs, proof against various hot splashes
+which fell upon their noses, watched with terrible eagerness. At length
+the dish was lifted on the table, and mugs of ale having been previously
+set round, little Nell ventured to say grace, and supper began.
+
+At this juncture the poor dogs were standing on their hind legs quite
+surprisingly; the child, having pity on them, was about to cast some
+morsels of food to them before she tasted it herself, hungry though she
+was, when their master interposed.
+
+"No, my dear, no, not an atom from anybody's hand but mine if you
+please. That dog," said Jerry, pointing out the old leader of the troop,
+and speaking in a terrible voice, "lost a halfpenny to-day. _He_ goes
+without his supper."
+
+The unfortunate creature dropped upon his forelegs directly, wagged his
+tail, and looked imploringly at his master.
+
+"You must be more careful, sir," said Jerry, walking coolly to the chair
+where he had placed the organ, and setting the stop. "Come here. Now,
+sir, you play away at that, while we have supper, and leave off if you
+dare."
+
+The dog immediately began to grind most mournful music. His master,
+having shown him the whip, resumed his seat and called up the others,
+who, at his directions, formed in a row, standing upright as a file of
+soldiers.
+
+"Now, gentlemen," said Jerry, looking at them attentively: "The dog
+whose name's called, eats. The dogs whose names an't called, keep quiet.
+Carlo."
+
+The lucky individual whose name was called, snapped up the morsel thrown
+towards him, but none of the others moved a muscle. In this manner they
+were fed at the discretion of their master. Meanwhile the dog in
+disgrace ground hard at the organ, sometimes in quick time, sometimes in
+slow, but never leaving off for an instant. When the knives and forks
+rattled very much, or any of his fellows got an unusually large piece of
+fat, he accompanied the music with a short howl, but he immediately
+checked it on his master looking round, and applied himself with
+increased diligence to the Old Hundredth.
+
+DICKENS: "Old Curiosity Shop."
+
+
+
+
+    So, when a great man dies,
+      For years beyond our ken,
+    The light he leaves behind him lies
+      Upon the paths of men.
+
+LONGFELLOW
+
+
+
+
+THE GLADNESS OF NATURE
+
+
+    Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
+      When our mother Nature laughs around;
+    When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
+      And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?
+
+    There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,
+      And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;
+    The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,
+      And the wilding bee hums merrily by.
+
+    The clouds are at play in the azure space,
+      And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,
+    And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
+      And there they roll on the easy gale.
+
+    There's a dance of leaves on that aspen bower,
+      There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,
+    There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
+      And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.
+
+    And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles
+      On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,
+    On the leaping waters and gay young isles;
+      Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.
+
+BRYANT
+
+
+
+
+OLD ENGLISH LIFE
+
+
+When the sun rose on England of olden time, its faint red light stirred
+every sleeper from the sack of straw, which formed the only bed of the
+age. Springing from this rustling couch, where he had lain naked, and
+throwing off the coarse coverlets, usually of sheepskin, the subject of
+King Alfred donned the day's dress. Gentlemen wore linen or woollen
+tunics, which reached to the knee; and, over these, long fur-lined
+cloaks, fastened with a brooch of ivory or gold. Strips of cloth or
+leather, bandaged crosswise from the ankle to the knee over red and blue
+stockings; and black, pointed shoes, slit along the instep almost to the
+toes and fastened with two thongs, completed the costume of an
+Anglo-Saxon gentleman. The ladies, wrapping a veil of linen or silk upon
+their delicate curls, laced a loose-flowing gown over a tight-sleeved
+bodice, and pinned the graceful folds of their mantles with golden
+butterflies and other tasteful trinkets.
+
+Breakfast consisted probably of bread, meat, and ale, but was a lighter
+repast than that taken when the hurry of the day lay behind. Often it
+was eaten in the bower or private apartment.
+
+The central picture in Old English life--the great event of the day--was
+_Noon-meat_, or dinner in the great hall. A little before three, the
+chief and all his household, with any stray guests who might have
+dropped in, met in the hall, which stood in the centre of its encircling
+bowers--the principal apartment of every Old English house. Clouds of
+wood smoke, rolling up from a fire which blazed in the middle of the
+floor, blackened the carved rafters of the arched roof before they found
+their way out of the hole above which did duty as a chimney.
+
+Tapestries, dyed purple, or glowing with variegated pictures of saints
+and heroes, hung, and if the day was stormy, flapped upon the chinky
+walls. In palaces and in earls' mansions coloured tiles, wrought into a
+mosaic, formed a clean and pretty pavement; but the common flooring of
+the time was clay, baked dry with the heat of winter evenings and summer
+noons. The only articles of furniture always in the hall were wooden
+benches; some of which, especially the _high settle_ or seat of the
+chieftain, boasted cushions, or at least a rug.
+
+While the hungry crowd, fresh from woodland and furrow, were lounging
+near the fire or hanging up their weapons on the pegs and hooks that
+jutted from the wall, a number of slaves, dragging in a long, flat,
+heavy board, placed it on movable legs, and spread on its upper half a
+handsome cloth. Then were arranged with other utensils for the meal some
+flattish dishes, baskets of ash-wood for holding bread, a scanty
+sprinkling of steel knives shaped like our modern razors, platters of
+wood, and bowls for the universal broth.
+
+The ceremony of "laying the board," as the Old English phrased it, being
+completed, the work of demolition began. Great round cakes of
+bread--huge junks of boiled bacon--vast rolls of broiled eel--cups of
+milk--horns of ale--wedges of cheese--lumps of salt butter--and smoking
+piles of cabbages and beans, melted like magic from the board under the
+united attack of greasy fingers and grinding jaws. Kneeling slaves
+offered to the lord and his honoured guests long skewers or spits, on
+which steaks of beef or venison smoked and sputtered, ready for the
+hacking blade.
+
+Poultry, too, and game of every variety, filled the spaces of the upper
+board; but the crowd of _loaf-eaters_, as old English domestics were
+suggestively called, saw little of these daintier kinds of food, except
+the naked bones. Nor did they much care, if, to their innumerable
+hunches of bread, they could add enough pig to appease their hunger.
+Hounds, sitting eager-eyed by their masters, snapped with sudden jaws at
+scraps of fat flung to them, or retired into private life below the
+board with some sweet bone that fortune sent them.
+
+The solid part of the banquet ended with the washing of hands, performed
+for the honoured occupants of the high settle by officious slaves. The
+board was then dragged out of the hall; the loaf-eaters slunk away to
+have a nap in the byre, or sat drowsily in corners of the hall; and the
+drinking began. During the progress of the meal, Welsh ale had flowed
+freely in horns or vessels of twisted glass. Mead and, in very grand
+houses, wine now began to circle in goblets of gold and silver, or of
+wood inlaid with those precious metals. In humbler houses, story-telling
+and songs, sung to the music of the harp by each guest in turn, formed
+the principal amusement of the drinking-bout.
+
+Meantime the music and the mead did their work in maddening brains; the
+revelry grew louder; riddles, which had flown thick around the board at
+first, gave place to banter, taunts, and fierce boasts of prowess; angry
+eyes gleamed defiance; and it was well if, in the morning, the household
+slaves had not to wash blood-stains from the pavement of the hall, or in
+the still night, when the drunken brawlers lay stupid on the floor, to
+drag a dead man from the red plash in which he lay.
+
+From the reek and riot of the hall the ladies of the household soon
+withdrew to the bower, where they reigned supreme. There, in the earlier
+part of the day, they had arrayed themselves in their bright-coloured
+robes, plying tweezers and crisping-irons on their yellow hair, and
+often heightening the blush that Nature gave them with a shade of rouge.
+There, too, they used to scold their female slaves, and beat them, with
+a violence which said more for their strength of lung and muscle than
+for the gentleness of their womanhood.
+
+When their needles were fairly set a-going upon those pieces of delicate
+embroidery, known and prized over all Europe as "English work," some
+gentlemen dropped in, perhaps harp in hand, to chat and play for their
+amusement, or to engage in games of hazard and skill, which seem to have
+resembled modern dice and chess. When in later days supper came into
+fashion, the round table of the bower was usually spread for
+_Evening-food_, as this meal was called. And not long afterwards, those
+bags of straw, from which they sprang at sunrise, received for another
+night their human burden, worn out with the labours and the revels of
+the day.
+
+W. F. COLLIER
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+PUCK'S SONG
+
+
+    See you the dimpled track that runs,
+      All hollow through the wheat?
+    O that was where they hauled the guns
+      That smote King Philip's fleet.
+
+    See you our little mill that clacks,
+      So busy by the brook?
+    She has ground her corn and paid her tax
+      Ever since Domesday Book.
+
+    See you our stilly woods of oak,
+      And the dread ditch beside?
+    O that was where the Saxons broke,
+      On the day that Harold died.
+
+    See you the windy levels spread
+      About the gates of Rye?
+    O that was where the Northmen fled,
+      When Alfred's ships came by.
+
+    See you our pastures wide and lone,
+      Where the red oxen browse?
+    O there was a City thronged and known,
+      Ere London boasted a house.
+
+    And see you, after rain, the trace
+      Of mound and ditch and wall?
+    O that was a Legion's camping-place,
+      When Caesar sailed from Gaul.
+
+    And see you marks that show and fade,
+      Like shadows on the Downs?
+    O they are the lines the Flint Men made
+      To guard their wondrous towns.
+
+    Trackway and Camp and City lost,
+      Salt Marsh where now is corn;
+    Old Wars, old Peace, old Arts that cease,
+      And so was England born!
+
+    She is not any common Earth,
+      Water or wood or air,
+    But Merlin's Isle of Gramarye,
+      Where you and I will fare.
+
+KIPLING: "Puck of Pook's Hill."
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTON HEIGHTS
+
+
+The thirteenth of October, 1812, is a day ever to be remembered in
+Canada. All along the Niagara river the greatest excitement had
+prevailed: many of the inhabitants had removed with their portable
+property into the back country; small bodies of soldiers, regulars and
+volunteers, were posted in the towns and villages; Indians were roving
+in the adjacent woods; and sentinels, posted along the banks of the
+river, were looking eagerly for the enemy that was to come from the
+American shore and attempt the subjugation of a free, a happy, and a
+loyal people.
+
+In the village of Queenston, that nestles at the foot of an eminence
+overlooking the mighty waters of Niagara, two companies of the
+Forty-ninth Regiment, or "Green Tigers," as the Americans afterwards
+termed them, with one hundred Canadian militia, were posted under the
+command of Captain Dennis.
+
+When tattoo sounded on the night of the twelfth, the little garrison
+retired to rest. All was silent but the elements, which raged furiously
+throughout the night. Nothing was to be heard but the howling of the
+wind and the sound of falling rain mingled with the distant roar of the
+great cataract. Dripping with rain and shivering with cold, the sentries
+paced their weary rounds, from time to time casting a glance over the
+swollen tide of the river towards the American shore. At length, when
+the gray dawn of morning appeared, a wary sentinel descried a number of
+boats, filled with armed men, pushing off from the opposite bank below
+the village of Lewiston. Immediately the alarm was given. The soldiers
+were roused from their peaceful slumbers, and marched down to the
+landing-place. Meanwhile, a battery of one gun, posted on the heights,
+and another about a mile below, began to play on the enemy's boats,
+sinking some and disabling others.
+
+Finding it impossible to effect a landing in the face of such
+opposition, the Americans, leaving a few of their number to occupy the
+attention of the troops on the bank, disembarked some distance up the
+river, and succeeded in gaining the summit of the height by a difficult
+and unprotected pathway. With loud cheers they captured the one-gun
+battery, and rushed down upon Captain Dennis and his command; who,
+finding themselves far outnumbered by the enemy, retired slowly towards
+the north end of the village. Here they were met by General Brock, who
+had set out in advance of reinforcements from the town of Niagara,
+accompanied only by two officers. Placing himself at the head of the
+little band, the gallant general cried: "Follow me!" and, amid the
+cheers of regulars and militia, he led his men back to the height from
+which they had been forced to retire. At the foot of the hill the
+general dismounted, under the sharp fire of the enemy's riflemen, who
+were posted among the trees on its summit, climbed over a high stone
+wall, and waving his sword, charged up the hill at the head of his
+soldiers. This intrepid conduct at once attracted the notice of the
+enemy. One of their sharp-shooters advanced a few paces, took deliberate
+aim, and shot the general in the breast. It was a mortal wound. Thus
+fell Sir Isaac Brock, the hero of Upper Canada, whose name will outlive
+the noble monument which a grateful country has erected to his memory.
+
+The fall of their beloved commander infuriated his followers. With loud
+cheers of "Revenge the general!" they pressed forward up the hill, and
+drove the enemy from their position. But reinforcements were continually
+pouring in from the American shore; and after a deadly struggle, in
+which Colonel Macdonell, Captain Dennis, and most of the other officers
+fell, these brave men were again compelled to retire. They took refuge
+under the guns of the lower battery, there awaiting the arrival of
+reinforcements from Niagara. About mid-day the first of these arrived,
+consisting of a band of fifty Mohawks, under their chiefs, Norton and
+Brant. These Indian allies boldly engaged the enemy, and maintained for
+a short time a sharp skirmish, but finally retired on the main
+reinforcement. This arrived in the course of the afternoon, under the
+command of Major-General Sheaffe. Instead of meeting the enemy on the
+old ground, the officer now in command moved his whole force of one
+thousand men to the right of the enemy's position, and sent forward his
+left flank to attack the American right. This left flank was of a very
+varied character, consisting of one company of the Forty-first Regiment
+of the line, a company of coloured men, and a body of volunteer militia
+and Indians, united, in spite of their difference of colour and race, by
+loyalty to the British crown and heart-hatred of foreign aggression.
+This division advanced in gallant style. After delivering a volley, the
+whole line of white, red, and black charged the enemy, and drove in his
+right wing at the point of the bayonet.
+
+General Sheaffe now led on the main body, and forced the lately
+victorious Americans to retreat rapidly over the ridge. The struggle on
+their part was of short duration. In front was a foe thirsting for
+revenge; behind, the steep banks and swiftly-flowing waters of Niagara.
+The "Green Tigers," the Indians, their most despised slaves, and last,
+but certainly not least, the gallant Canadian militia, were objects of
+terror to them. Some few in despair threw themselves over the precipices
+into the river; but the majority of the survivors surrendered themselves
+prisoners of war, to the number of nine hundred and fifty, among whom
+was their commander, General Wadsworth. The leader of the expedition,
+General Van Rensselaer, had retired to Lewiston--as he said, for
+reinforcements--in the early part of the day. The loss of the Americans
+in this memorable action was about five hundred killed and wounded;
+while that of the Canadian forces amounted to one hundred and fifty.
+
+Throughout Canada the news of the victory of Queenston Heights awakened
+universal joy and enthusiasm, second only to that with which the taking
+of Detroit was hailed. But the joy and enthusiasm were damped by the sad
+tidings, that he who had first taught Canada's sons the way to victory
+had given his life for her defence, and slept in a soldier's grave with
+many of her best and bravest.
+
+UNKNOWN
+
+
+
+
+THE BUGLE SONG
+
+
+        The splendour falls on castle walls
+          And snowy summits old in story:
+        The long light shakes across the lakes,
+          And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
+    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+        O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
+          And thinner, clearer, farther going!
+        O sweet and far from cliff and scar
+          The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
+    Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
+    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+        O love, they die in yon rich sky,
+          They faint on hill or field or river:
+        Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
+          And grow for ever and for ever.
+    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+    And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+CHARITY
+
+
+Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not
+charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though
+I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all
+knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove
+mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all
+my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and
+have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
+
+Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity
+vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly,
+seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth
+not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things,
+believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity
+never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether
+there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall
+vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that
+which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
+
+When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I
+thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
+For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I
+know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now
+abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is
+charity.
+
+I. CORINTHIANS, XIII.
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS CAROL
+
+
+    "What means this glory round our feet,"
+      The Magi mused, "more bright than morn?"
+    And voices chanted clear and sweet,
+      "To-day the Prince of Peace is born."
+
+    "What means that star," the Shepherds said,
+      "That brightens through the rocky glen?"
+    And angels, answering overhead,
+      Sang, "Peace on earth, good-will to men!"
+
+    'Tis eighteen hundred years and more
+      Since those sweet oracles were dumb;
+    We wait for Him, like them of yore;
+      Alas, He seems so slow to come!
+
+    But it was said, in words of gold
+      No time or sorrow e'er shall dim,
+    That little children might be bold
+      In perfect trust to come to Him.
+
+    All round about our feet shall shine
+      A light like that the wise men saw,
+    If we our living wills incline
+      To that sweet Life which is the Law.
+
+    So shall we learn to understand
+      The simple faith of shepherds then,
+    And, clasping kindly, hand in hand,
+      Sing, "Peace on earth, good-will to men."
+
+    And they who do their souls no wrong,
+      But keep at eve the faith of morn,
+    Shall daily hear the angel song,
+      "To-day the Prince of Peace is born!"
+
+LOWELL
+
+
+
+
+THE BARREN LANDS
+
+
+Long before the treeless wastes are reached, the forests cease to be
+forests except by courtesy. The trees--black and white spruce, the
+Canadian larch, and the gray pine, willow, alder, etc.--have an
+appearance of youth; so that the traveller would hardly suppose them to
+be more than a few years old, at first sight. Really this juvenile
+appearance is a species of second childhood; for, on the shores of the
+Great Bear Lake, four centuries are necessary for the growth of a trunk
+not as thick as a man's wrist. The further north the more lamentably
+decrepit becomes the appearance of these woodlands, until, presently,
+their sordidness is veiled by thick growths of gray lichens--the
+"caribou moss," as it is called--which clothe the trunks and hang down
+from the shrivelled boughs. And still further north the trees become
+mere stunted stems, set with blighted buds that have never been able to
+develop themselves into branches; until, finally, the last vestiges of
+arboreal growth take refuge under a thick carpet of lichens and mosses,
+the characteristic vegetation of the Barren Grounds.
+
+Nothing more dismal than the winter aspect of these wastes can be
+imagined. The Northern forests are silent enough in winter time, but the
+silence of the Barren Grounds is far more profound. Even in the depths
+of midwinter the North-Western bush has voices and is full of animal
+life. The barking cry of the crows (these birds are the greatest
+imaginable nuisance to the trapper, whose baits they steal even before
+his back is turned) is still heard; the snow-birds and other small
+winged creatures are never quiet between sunset and sunrise; the
+jack-rabbit, whose black bead-like eye betrays his presence among the
+snow-drifts in spite of his snow-white fur, is common enough; and the
+childlike wailing of the coyotes is heard every night. But with the
+exception of the shriek of the snow-owl or the yelping of a fox emerged
+from his lair, there is no sound of life during seven or eight or nine
+months of winter on the Barren Grounds; unless the traveller is able to
+hear the rushing sound--some can hear it, others cannot--of the shifting
+Northern lights.
+
+In May, however, when the snows melt and the swamps begin to thaw, the
+Barren Grounds become full of life. To begin with, the sky is literally
+darkened with enormous flights of wild-fowl, whom instinct brings from
+the southern reaches of the Mississippi and its tributaries to these
+sub-Arctic wildernesses, where they find an abundance of food, and at
+the same time build their nests and rear their young in safety. The
+snow-geese are the first to arrive; next come the common and eider-duck;
+after them the great northern black-and-red-throated divers; and last of
+all the pin-tail and the long-tail ducks. Some of these go no further
+than just beyond the outskirts of the forest region; others, flying
+further northward, lay their eggs in the open on the moss. Eagles and
+hawks prey on these migratory hosts; troops of ptarmigan (they are said
+to go to no place where the mercury does not freeze) seek food among the
+stunted willows on the shores of the lakes and sloughs; and in sunny
+weather the snow-bunting's song is heard.
+
+Soon after the arrival of the migratory birds the wilderness becomes
+newly clothed in green and gray. The snow, which never once thaws during
+the long winter, forms a safe protection for vegetable life.
+
+As soon as the lengthening summer's day has thawed this coverlet of
+snows, vegetation comes on at a surprising rate--a week's sunshine on
+the wet soil completely transforming the aspect of the country. It is
+then that the caribou leave their winter quarters in the forest region
+and journey to the Barren Grounds.
+
+Just as the prairies might have been called "Buffalo-land" thirty years
+ago, and the intervening enforested country may still be styled
+"Moose-land"--not that the moose is nearly so common in Saskatchewan and
+Athabaska as it was before the rebellion of 1885 opened up that
+country--so from the hunter's point of view "Caribou-land" would be an
+exceedingly apt name for the _tundra_ of Greater Canada. Only the
+Indians and the Eskimos (the former living on the confines of the
+forests, and the latter along the far Arctic coasts) visit these
+territories, and but for the presence of the vast herds of caribou, it
+is pretty certain that such mosquito-haunted wastes would never be
+trodden by man. It is true that the musk-ox is an important inhabitant
+of the wastes, but the numbers of that strange beast, which seems to be
+half sheep, half ox, are not nearly so great, and there are reasons to
+believe that it is being slowly but surely driven from its ancient
+pastures by the caribou, just as, in so many parts of the world, the
+nations of the antelope have receded before the deer-tribes.
+
+E. B. OSBORN: "Greater Canada."
+
+
+
+
+A SPRING MORNING
+
+
+    There was a roaring in the wind all night;
+    The rain came heavily and fell in floods:
+    But now the sun is rising calm and bright,
+    The birds are singing in the distant woods,
+    Over his own sweet voice the stock-dove broods,
+    The jay makes answer as the magpie chatters,
+    And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
+
+    All things that love the sun are out of doors,
+    The sky rejoices in the morning's birth,
+    The grass is bright with rain-drops;--on the moors
+    The hare is running races in her mirth;
+    And with her feet, she from the plashy earth
+    Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
+    Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
+
+WORDSWORTH
+
+
+
+
+For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers
+appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the
+voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
+
+SOLOMON'S SONG. II, 11, 12
+
+
+
+
+CROSSING THE BAR
+
+
+    Sunset and evening star,
+      And one clear call for me!
+    And may there be no moaning of the bar,
+      When I put out to sea,
+
+    But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
+      Too full for sound and foam,
+    When that which drew from out the boundless deep
+      Turns again home.
+
+    Twilight and evening bell,
+      And after that the dark!
+    And may there be no sadness of farewell,
+      When I embark;
+
+    For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
+      The flood may bear me far,
+    I hope to see my Pilot face to face
+      When I have crost the bar.
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers, by 
+Ontario Ministry of Education
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diff --git a/18561-8.zip b/18561-8.zip
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ontario Readers, Third Book
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+	body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+         }
+	h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
+         text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+         }
+	hr {
+         margin-top: 2em;
+         margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto;
+         margin-right: auto;
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+         text-align: justify;
+         margin-bottom: .75em;
+         text-indent: 1em;
+         }
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+	img { border: none; }
+	ul.off { list-style-type: none; }
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+	.titlepage{margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; border: solid 2px; padding: 5px;}
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+	.center image {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+	.center p     {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} /* Needed because p is justified */
+
+
+    .poem             {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem br          {display: none;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem span        {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.smcap  {display: inline; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 0em; text-indent: 0em;}
+    .poem span.i1     {margin-left: 1em;}
+    .poem span.i2     {margin-left: 2em;}
+    .poem span.i3     {margin-left: 3em;}
+    .poem span.i4     {margin-left: 4em;}
+
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+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's The Ontario Readers, by Ontario Ministry of Education
+
+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: The Ontario Readers
+       Third Book
+
+Author: Ontario Ministry of Education
+
+Release Date: June 12, 2006 [EBook #18561]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ONTARIO READERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Karina Aleksandrova and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="notes"><p>Transcriber's Notes:</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li>The list of illustrations has been added after the table of contents for your convenience.</li>
+<li>For larger versions of illustrations click on the thumbnails.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="center">
+<a id="image01" name="image01"></a>
+<a href="images/image1.jpg">
+<img src="images/image1-th.jpg"
+alt="One Flag
+One Fleet
+One Throne
+
+The Union Jack"
+title="One Flag
+One Fleet
+One Throne
+
+The Union Jack" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%" />
+
+<div class="titlepage"><h1>THE ONTARIO READERS</h1>
+
+<hr style='width: 33%;' />
+
+<h1>THIRD BOOK</h1>
+
+<hr style='width: 33%;' />
+
+<h3>AUTHORIZED BY</h3>
+
+<h2>THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION</h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 33%;' />
+
+<h4>The price of this book to the purchaser is not the total cost.
+During the present period of abnormal and fluctuating
+trade conditions, an additional sum, which may vary
+from time to time, is paid to the Publisher
+by the Department of Education.</h4>
+
+<hr style='width: 33%;' />
+
+<h4>Entered, according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year 1909,
+in the office of the Minister of Agriculture by the
+Minister of Education for Ontario.</h4>
+
+<div style="height: 4em"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h4>TORONTO:<br />
+<span class="smcap lower">THE</span> T. EATON C<sup>o</sup> <span class="smcap lower">LIMITED</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The Minister of Education</span> is indebted to Rudyard Kipling, Henry
+Newbolt, Beckles Willson, E.&nbsp;B. Osborn, F.&nbsp;T. Bullen, Flora Annie Steel;
+Charles G.&nbsp;D. Roberts, W. Wilfred Campbell, Ethelwyn Wetherald, Jean
+Blewett, Robert Reid, "Ralph Connor," John Waugh, S.&nbsp;T. Wood; Henry Van
+Dyke, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward, and Richard Watson Gilder for
+special permission to reproduce, in this Reader, selections from their
+writings.</p>
+
+<p>He is indebted to Lord Tennyson for special permission to reproduce the
+poems from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson; to Lloyd Osbourne for
+permission to reproduce the selection from the works of Robert Louis
+Stevenson; and to J.&nbsp;F. Edgar for permission to reproduce one of Sir
+James D. Edgar's poems.</p>
+
+<p>He is also indebted to Macmillan &amp; Co., Limited, for special permission,
+to reproduce selections from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Rudyard
+Kipling, and Flora Annie Steel; to Smith, Elder &amp; Co., for the extract
+from F.&nbsp;T. Bullen's "The Cruise of the Cachalot"; to Elkin Mathews for
+Henry Newbolt's poem from "The Island Race"; to Sampson Low, Marston &amp;
+Company for the extract from R.&nbsp;D. Blackmore's "Lorna Doone"; to Thomas
+Nelson &amp; Sons for the extract from W.&nbsp;F. Collier's "History of the
+British Empire"; to Chatto and Windus for the extract from E.&nbsp;B. Osborn's
+"Greater Canada"; to Houghton Mifflin Company for "The Chase" from
+Charles Dudley Warner's "A-Hunting of the Deer," "Mary Elizabeth" by
+Mrs. Phelps Ward, and the poems by Celia Thaxter and by Richard Watson
+Gilder; to The Century Company for Jacob A. Riis' "The Story of a Fire"
+from "<i>The Century Magazine</i>"; to The Copp Clark Co., Limited, for the
+selections from Charles G.&nbsp;D. Roberts' works; to The Westminster Co.,
+Limited, for the extract from "Ralph Connor's" "The Man from Glengarry."</p>
+
+<p>The Minister is grateful to these authors and publishers and to others,
+not mentioned here, through whose courtesy he has been able to include
+in this Reader so many copyright selections.</p>
+
+<p>Toronto, May, 1909.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td colspan="3" align='right'>PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#To-day"><i>To-day</i></a></td><td><i>Thomas Carlyle</i></td><td align='right'>1</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Fortune">Fortune and the Beggar</a></td><td><i>Ivan Kirloff</i></td><td align='right'>2</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Lark"><i>The Lark and the Rook</i></a></td><td><i>Unknown</i></td><td align='right'>4</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Pickwick">The Pickwick Club on the Ice</a></td><td><i>Charles Dickens</i></td><td align='right'>6</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Tubal"><i>Tubal Cain</i></a></td><td><i>Charles Mackay</i></td><td align='right'>11</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Professor">Professor Frog's Lecture</a></td><td><i>M.&nbsp;A.&nbsp;L. Lane</i></td><td align='right'>14</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#April"><i>A Song for April</i></a></td><td><i>Charles G.&nbsp;D. Roberts</i></td><td align='right'>25</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Crickets">How the Crickets Brought Good Fortune</a></td><td><i>P.&nbsp;J. Stahl</i></td><td align='right'>26</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Blenheim"><i>The Battle of Blenheim</i></a></td><td><i>Robert Southey</i></td><td align='right'>31</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Ride">The Ride for Life</a></td><td><i>"Ralph Connor"</i></td><td align='right'>34</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Iagoo"><i>Iagoo, the Boaster</i></a></td><td><i>Henry W. Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'>39</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Fire">The Story of a Fire</a></td><td><i>Jacob A. Riis</i></td><td align='right'>40</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Quest"><i>The Quest</i></a></td><td><i>Eudora S. Bumstead</i></td><td align='right'>43</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Jackal">The Jackal and the Partridge</a></td><td><i>Flora Annie Steel</i></td><td align='right'>44</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Hide"><i>Hide and Seek</i></a></td><td><i>Henry Van Dyke</i></td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Burning">The Burning of the "Goliath"</a></td><td><i>Dean Stanley</i></td><td align='right'>52</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Hearts"><i>Hearts of Oak</i></a></td><td><i>David Garrick</i></td><td align='right'>55</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Wet"><i>A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea</i></a></td><td><i>Allan Cunningham</i></td><td align='right'>56</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Talents">The Talents</a></td><td><i>Bible</i></td><td align='right'>57</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Farewell"><i>A Farewell</i></a></td><td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align='right'>59</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Apple"><i>An Apple Orchard in the Spring</i></a></td><td><i>William Martin</i></td><td align='right'>60</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Bluejay">The Bluejay</a></td><td><i>"Mark Twain"</i></td><td align='right'>61</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Camping"><i>A Canadian Camping Song</i></a></td><td><i>Sir James David Edgar</i></td><td align='right'>65</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Argonauts">The Argonauts</a></td><td><i>John Waugh</i></td><td align='right'>66</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Minstrel-Boy"><i>The Minstrel-Boy</i></a></td><td><i>Thomas Moore</i></td><td align='right'>71</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Mary">Mary Elizabeth</a></td><td><i>Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward</i></td><td align='right'>72</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Frost"><i>The Frost</i></a></td><td><i>Hannah Flagg Gould</i></td><td align='right'>83</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Corn-fields"><i>Corn-fields</i></a></td><td><i>Mary Howitt</i></td><td align='right'>84</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#South-West">South-West Wind, Esq.</a></td><td><i>John Ruskin</i></td><td align='right'>86</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Meeting"><i>The Meeting of the Waters</i></a></td><td><i>Thomas Moore</i></td><td align='right'>97</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Love">Love</a></td><td><i>Bible</i></td><td align='right'>98</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Robin"><i>The Robin's Song</i></a></td><td><i>Unknown</i></td><td align='right'>99</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Work">Work or Play</a></td><td><i>"Mark Twain"</i></td><td align='right'>100</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Burial"><i>Burial of Sir John Moore</i></a></td><td><i>Charles Wolfe</i></td><td align='right'>106</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Whistle">The Whistle</a></td><td><i>Benjamin Franklin</i></td><td align='right'>108</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Boat"><i>A Canadian Boat Song</i></a></td><td><i>Thomas Moore</i></td><td align='right'>109</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Haarlem">The Little Hero of Haarlem</a></td><td><i>Sharpe's London Magazine</i></td><td align='right'>110</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Father"><i>Father William</i></a></td><td><i>"Lewis Carroll"</i></td><td align='right'>115</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#David">David and Goliath</a></td><td><i>Bible</i></td><td align='right'>117</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Charge"><i>Charge of the Light Brigade</i></a></td><td><i>Alfred, Lord Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>123</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Maggie">Maggie Tulliver</a></td><td><i>George Eliot</i></td><td align='right'>125</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Corn"><i>The Corn Song</i></a></td><td><i>John G. Whittier</i></td><td align='right'>134</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Sports">Sports in Norman England</a></td><td><i>William Fitzstephen</i></td><td align='right'>136</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Canada"><i>A Song of Canada</i></a></td><td><i>Robert Reid</i></td><td align='right'>140</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Mad">A Mad Tea Party</a></td><td><i>"Lewis Carroll"</i></td><td align='right'>142</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Slave"><i>The Slave's Dream</i></a></td><td><i>Henry W. Longfellow</i></td><td align='right'>149</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Chase">The Chase</a></td><td><i>Charles Dudley Warner</i></td><td align='right'>152</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Inchcape"><i>The Inchcape Rock</i></a></td><td><i>Robert Southey</i></td><td align='right'>158</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Rough">A Rough Ride</a></td><td><i>Richard D. Blackmore</i></td><td align='right'>161</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Arab"><i>The Arab and His Steed</i></a></td><td><i>The Honourable Mrs. Norton</i></td><td align='right'>169</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Poet"><i>The Poet's Song</i></a></td><td><i>Alfred, Lord Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>173</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Adventure">Adventure with a Whale</a></td><td><i>Frank T. Bullen</i></td><td align='right'>174</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Maple"><i>The Maple</i></a></td><td><i>H.&nbsp;F. Darnell</i></td><td align='right'>179</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Damon">Damon and Pythias</a></td><td><i>Charlotte M. Yonge</i></td><td align='right'>181</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Wreck"><i>The Wreck of the Orpheus</i></a></td><td><i>C.&nbsp;A.&nbsp;L.</i></td><td align='right'>184</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Tide"><i>The Tide River</i></a></td><td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align='right'>185</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Wisdom">Wisdom the Supreme Prize</a></td><td><i>Bible</i></td><td align='right'>187</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Orchard"><i>The Orchard</i></a></td><td><i>Jean Blewett</i></td><td align='right'>188</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Inspired">Inspired by the Snow</a></td><td><i>Samuel T. Wood</i></td><td align='right'>189</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Squirrel"><i>The Squirrel</i></a></td><td><i>William Cowper</i></td><td align='right'>192</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Soldier"><i>Soldier, Rest</i></a></td><td><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td><td align='right'>192</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Fishing">Fishing</a></td><td><i>Thomas Hughes</i></td><td align='right'>193</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Fountain"><i>The Fountain</i></a></td><td><i>James Russell Lowell</i></td><td align='right'>199</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Break"><i>Break, Break, Break</i></a></td><td><i>Alfred, Lord Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>201</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Procrustes">The Bed of Procrustes</a></td><td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align='right'>202</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Bob"><i>"Bob White"</i></a></td><td><i>George Cooper</i></td><td align='right'>208</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Radisson">Radisson and the Indians</a></td><td><i>Beckles Willson</i></td><td align='right'>209</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Brook"><i>The Brook</i></a></td><td><i>Alfred, Lord Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>212</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Seek">"Do Seek Their Meat From God"</a></td><td><i>Charles G.&nbsp;D. Roberts</i></td><td align='right'>215</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Sea"><i>A Song of the Sea</i></a></td><td><i>"Barry Cornwall"</i></td><td align='right'>222</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Daffydowndilly">Little Daffydowndilly</a></td><td><i>Nathaniel Hawthorne</i></td><td align='right'>223</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Sandpiper"><i>The Sandpiper</i></a></td><td><i>Celia Thaxter</i></td><td align='right'>234</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Sermon">From "The Sermon on the Mount"</a></td><td><i>Bible</i></td><td align='right'>236</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Legend"><i>The Legend of Saint Christopher</i></a></td><td><i>Helen Hunt Jackson</i></td><td align='right'>237</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#William">William Tell and His Son</a></td><td><i>Chamber's "Tracts"</i></td><td align='right'>241</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Midsummer"><i>A Midsummer Song</i></a></td><td><i>Richard Watson Gilder</i></td><td align='right'>244</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Relief">The Relief of Lucknow</a></td><td><i>"Letter from an officer's wife"</i></td><td align='right'>246</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Camp"><i>The Song in Camp</i></a></td><td><i>Bayard Taylor</i></td><td align='right'>250</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Afterglow"><i>Afterglow</i></a></td><td><i>William Wilfred Campbell</i></td><td align='right'>252</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#King">King Richard and Saladin</a></td><td><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td><td align='right'>253</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#England"><i>England's Dead</i></a></td><td><i>Felicia Hemans</i></td><td align='right'>258</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Hohenlinden"><i>Hohenlinden</i></a></td><td><i>Thomas Campbell</i></td><td align='right'>260</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Dream">The Dream of the Oak Tree</a></td><td><i>Hans Christian Andersen</i></td><td align='right'>262</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Prayer">A Prayer</a></td><td><i>Robert Louis Stevenson</i></td><td align='right'>266</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Death"><i>The Death of the Flowers</i></a></td><td><i>William Cullen Bryant</i></td><td align='right'>267</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Last"><i>'Tis the Last Rose of Summer</i></a></td><td><i>Thomas Moore</i></td><td align='right'>269</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Roman">A Roman's Honour</a></td><td><i>Charlotte M. Yonge</i></td><td align='right'>270</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Fighting"><i>The Fighting T&eacute;m&eacute;raire</i></a></td><td><i>Henry Newbolt</i></td><td align='right'>273</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Windmills">Don Quixote's Fight with the Windmills</a></td><td><i>Miguel de Cervantes</i></td><td align='right'>275</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Romance"><i>The Romance of the Swan's Nest</i></a></td><td><i>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</i></td><td align='right'>281</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Moonlight">Moonlight Sonata</a></td><td><i>Unknown</i></td><td align='right'>285</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Blackbird"><i>The Red-Winged Blackbird</i></a></td><td><i>Ethelwyn Wetherald</i></td><td align='right'>290</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Cuckoo"><i>To the Cuckoo</i></a></td><td><i>John Logan</i></td><td align='right'>291</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Stone">The Story of a Stone</a></td><td><i>D.&nbsp;B.</i></td><td align='right'>293</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Snow-Storm"><i>The Snow-Storm</i></a></td><td><i>John G. Whittier</i></td><td align='right'>298</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Heroine">The Heroine of Verch&egrave;res</a></td><td><i>Francis Parkman</i></td><td align='right'>301</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Jacques"><i>Jacques Cartier</i></a></td><td><i>Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee</i></td><td align='right'>307</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Ants">Ants and Their Slaves</a></td><td><i>Jules Michelet</i></td><td align='right'>310</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Lead"><i>Lead, Kindly Light</i></a></td><td><i>John Henry Newman</i></td><td align='right'>315</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Jolly">The Jolly Sandboys</a></td><td><i>Charles Dickens</i></td><td align='right'>316</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Gladness"><i>The Gladness of Nature</i></a></td><td><i>William Cullen Bryant</i></td><td align='right'>324</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Old">Old English Life</a></td><td><i>William F. Collier</i></td><td align='right'>325</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Puck"><i>Puck's Song</i></a></td><td><i>Rudyard Kipling</i></td><td align='right'>330</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Queenston">The Battle of Queenston Heights</a></td><td><i>Unknown</i></td><td align='right'>332</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Bugle"><i>The Bugle Song</i></a></td><td><i>Alfred, Lord Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>337</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Charity">Charity</a></td><td><i>Bible</i></td><td align='right'>338</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Christmas"><i>A Christmas Carol</i></a></td><td><i>James Russell Lowell</i></td><td align='right'>339</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Barren">The Barren Lands</a></td><td><i>E.&nbsp;B. Osborn</i></td><td align='right'>341</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Spring"><i>A Spring Morning</i></a></td><td><i>William Wordsworth</i></td><td align='right'>345</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Crossing"><i>Crossing the Bar</i></a></td><td><i>Alfred, Lord Tennyson</i></td><td align='right'>346</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class="notes"><h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<ul class="off">
+<li><a href="#image01"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></li>
+<li><a href="#image02">ALEXANDRA, THE QUEEN MOTHER</a></li>
+<li><a href="#image03">UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO</a></li>
+<li><a href="#image04">AT THE END OF THE MEAL</a></li>
+<li><a href="#image05">IN THE HIGHLANDS OF ONTARIO</a></li>
+<li><a href="#image06">ONTARIO AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE</a></li>
+<li><a href="#image07">NIAGARA FALLS</a></li>
+<li><a href="#image08">IN THE PASTURE</a></li>
+<li><a href="#image09">DEEP SEA FISHERS</a></li>
+<li><a href="#image10"><i>no caption</i></a></li>
+<li><a href="#image11">Trilobite</a></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>EMPIRE DAY</h2>
+
+
+<p>I want you to remember what Empire Day means. Empire Day is the festival
+on which every British subject should reverently remember that the
+British Empire stands out before the whole world as the fearless
+champion of freedom, fair play and equal rights; that its watchwords are
+responsibility, duty, sympathy and self-sacrifice, and that a special
+responsibility rests with you individually to be true to the traditions
+and to the mission of your race.</p>
+
+<p>I also want you to remember that one day Canada will become, if her
+people are faithful to their high British traditions, the most powerful
+of all the self-governing nations, not excluding the people of the
+United Kingdom, which make up the British Empire, and that it rests with
+each one of you individually to do your utmost by your own conduct and
+example to make Canada not only the most powerful, but the noblest of
+all the self-governing nations that are proud to owe allegiance to the
+King.</p>
+
+<p class="citation">Earl Grey.<br />
+Governor-General of Canada</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THIRD READER</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="To-day" id="To-day"></a>TO-DAY</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>So here hath been dawning<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another blue day;<br /></span>
+<span>Think, wilt thou let it<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Slip useless away?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Out of Eternity<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This new day is born;<br /></span>
+<span>Into Eternity<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At night will return.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Behold it aforetime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No eye ever did;<br /></span>
+<span>So soon it forever<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From all eyes is hid.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Here hath been dawning<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another blue day;<br /></span>
+<span>Think, wilt thou let it<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Slip useless away?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Carlyle</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Fortune" id="Fortune"></a>FORTUNE AND THE BEGGAR</h2>
+
+
+<p>One day a ragged beggar was creeping along from house to house. He
+carried an old wallet in his hand, and was asking at every door for a
+few cents to buy something to eat. As he was grumbling at his lot, he
+kept wondering why it was that folks who had so much money were never
+satisfied but were always wanting more.</p>
+
+<p>"Here," said he, "is the master of this house&mdash;I know him well. He was
+always a good business man, and he made himself wondrously rich a long
+time ago. Had he been wise he would have stopped then. He would have
+turned over his business to some one else, and then he could have spent
+the rest of his life in ease. But what did he do instead? He built ships
+and sent them to sea to trade with foreign lands. He thought he would
+get mountains of gold.</p>
+
+<p>"But there were great storms on the water; his ships were wrecked, and
+his riches were swallowed up by the waves. Now all his hopes lie at the
+bottom of the sea, and his great wealth has vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"There are many such cases. Men seem to be never satisfied unless they
+gain the whole world.</p>
+
+<p>"As for me, if I had only enough to eat and to wear, I would not want
+anything more."</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment Fortune came down the street. She saw the beggar and
+stopped. She said to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Listen! I have long wished to help you. Hold your wallet and I will
+pour this gold into it, but only on this condition: all that falls into
+the wallet shall be pure gold; but every piece that falls upon the
+ground shall become dust. Do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I understand," said the beggar.</p>
+
+<p>"Then have a care," said Fortune. "Your wallet is old, so do not load it
+too heavily."</p>
+
+<p>The beggar was so glad that he could hardly wait. He quickly opened his
+wallet, and a stream of yellow dollars poured into it. The wallet grew
+heavy.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that enough?" asked Fortune.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it cracking?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never fear."</p>
+
+<p>The beggar's hands began to tremble. Ah, if the golden stream would only
+pour for ever!</p>
+
+<p>"You are the richest man in the world now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a little more, add just a handful or two."</p>
+
+<p>"There, it's full. The wallet will burst."</p>
+
+<p>"But it will hold a little, just a little more!"</p>
+
+<p>Another piece was added, and the wallet split. The treasure fell upon
+the ground and was turned to dust. Fortune had vanished. The beggar had
+now nothing but his empty wallet, and it was torn from top to bottom. He
+was as poor as before.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Ivan Kirloff</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Lark" id="Lark"></a>THE LARK AND THE ROOK</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Good-night, Sir Rook!" said a little lark,<br /></span>
+<span>"The daylight fades; it will soon be dark;<br /></span>
+<span>I've bathed my wings in the sun's last ray;<br /></span>
+<span>I've sung my hymn to the parting day;<br /></span>
+<span>So now I haste to my quiet nook<br /></span>
+<span>In yon dewy meadow&mdash;good-night, Sir Rook!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Good-night, poor Lark," said his titled friend<br /></span>
+<span>With a haughty toss and a distant bend;<br /></span>
+<span>"I also go to my rest profound,<br /></span>
+<span>But not to sleep on the cold, damp ground.<br /></span>
+<span>The fittest place for a bird like me<br /></span>
+<span>Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"I opened my eyes at peep of day<br /></span>
+<span>And saw you taking your upward way,<br /></span>
+<span>Dreaming your fond romantic dreams,<br /></span>
+<span>An ugly speck in the sun's bright beams,<br /></span>
+<span>Soaring too high to be seen or heard;<br /></span>
+<span>And I said to myself: 'What a foolish bird!'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"I trod the park with a princely air;<br /></span>
+<span>I filled my crop with the richest fare;<br /></span>
+<span>I cawed all day 'mid a lordly crew,<br /></span>
+<span>And I made more noise in the world than you!<br /></span>
+<span>The sun shone forth on my ebon wing;<br /></span>
+<span>I looked and wondered&mdash;good-night, poor thing!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Good-night, once more," said the lark's sweet voice,<br /></span>
+<span>"I see no cause to repent my choice;<br /></span>
+<span>You build your nest in the lofty pine,<br /></span>
+<span>But is your slumber more sweet than mine?<br /></span>
+<span>You make more noise in the world than I,<br /></span>
+<span>But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Unknown</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?<br /></span>
+<span>Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just;<br /></span>
+<span>And he but naked, though locked up in steel,<br /></span>
+<span>Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Pickwick" id="Pickwick"></a>THE PICKWICK CLUB ON THE ICE</h2>
+
+
+<p>"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-yes; oh, yes," replied Mr. Winkle. "I&mdash;I&mdash;am <em>rather</em> out of
+practice."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <em>do</em> skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to see it so much."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is <em>so</em> graceful," said another young lady. A third young lady
+said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her opinion that it was
+"swan-like."</p>
+
+<p>"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening; "but I
+have no skates."</p>
+
+<p>This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had got a couple of pair,
+and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more downstairs,
+whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely
+uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boy
+and Mr. Weller, having shovelled and swept away the snow which had
+fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a
+dexterity which to Mr. Winkle seemed perfectly marvellous, and described
+circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon
+the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant
+and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick,
+Mr. Tupman, and the ladies; which reached a pitch of positive
+enthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by the
+aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions, which they
+called a reel.</p>
+
+<p>All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,
+had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his
+skates on with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very
+complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass,
+who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however,
+with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly
+screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then, sir," said Sam in an encouraging tone; "off vith you, and
+show 'em how to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, Sam, stop," said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching
+hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. "How slippery it
+is, Sam!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Hold up,
+sir."</p>
+
+<p>This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstration
+Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet
+into the air and dash the back of his head on the ice.</p>
+
+<p>"These&mdash;these&mdash;are very awkward skates; ain't they, Sam?" inquired Mr.
+Winkle, staggering.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afeerd there's an orkard gen'lm'n in 'em, sir," replied Sam.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was
+anything the matter. "Come, the ladies are all anxiety."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. "I'm coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavouring to disengage himself.
+"Now, sir, start off."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately
+to Mr. Weller. "I find I've a couple of coats at home that I don't want,
+Sam. You may have them, Sam."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You
+needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five
+shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it to you
+this afternoon, Sam."</p>
+
+<p>"You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.</p>
+
+<p>"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr. Winkle. "There&mdash;that's
+right. I shall soon get into the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not
+too fast."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled up, was being
+assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like
+manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite
+bank&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Sam!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir?" said Mr. Weller.</p>
+
+<p>"Here. I want you."</p>
+
+<p>"Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor a-callin'? Let go,
+sir!"</p>
+
+<p>With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of
+the agonized Pickwickian; and, in so doing, administered a considerable
+impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of
+dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman
+bore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, at the very moment when
+Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr.
+Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell
+heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his
+feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind in
+skates. He was seated on the ice making spasmodic efforts to smile; but
+anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin, with great
+eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I really think you had better," said Allen.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle "I'd rather not."</p>
+
+<p>"What do <em>you</em> think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob Sawyer.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and
+said in a stern voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Take his skates off."</p>
+
+<p>The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and,
+beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and
+uttered in a low but distinct and emphatic tone these remarkable words:</p>
+
+<p>"You're a humbug, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.</p>
+
+<p>"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir."</p>
+
+<p>With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel and rejoined
+his friends.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Dickens</span>: "The Pickwick Papers."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Tubal" id="Tubal"></a>TUBAL CAIN</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Old Tubal Cain was a man of might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the days when earth was young;<br /></span>
+<span>By the fierce red light of his furnace bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The strokes of his hammer rung:<br /></span>
+<span>And he lifted high his brawny hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the iron glowing clear,<br /></span>
+<span>Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As he fashioned the sword and spear.<br /></span>
+<span>And he sang&mdash;"Hurrah for my handiwork!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hurrah for the spear and sword!<br /></span>
+<span>Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For he shall be king and lord!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>To Tubal Cain came many a one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As he wrought by his roaring fire;<br /></span>
+<span>And each one prayed for a strong steel blade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the crown of his desire;<br /></span>
+<span>And he made them weapons sharp and strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till they shouted loud for glee;<br /></span>
+<span>And they gave him gifts of pearls and gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And spoils of the forest free.<br /></span>
+<span>And they sang&mdash;"Hurrah for Tubal Cain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who hath given us strength anew!<br /></span>
+<span>Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hurrah for the metal true!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But a sudden change came o'er his heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ere the setting of the sun;<br /></span>
+<span>And Tubal Cain was filled with pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the evil he had done:<br /></span>
+<span>He saw that men, with rage and hate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made war upon their kind,<br /></span>
+<span>That the land was red with the blood they shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In their lust for carnage blind.<br /></span>
+<span>And he said&mdash;"Alas! that I ever made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or that skill of mine should plan,<br /></span>
+<span>The spear and the sword for men whose joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is to slay their fellow-man!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And for many a day old Tubal Cain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sat brooding o'er his woe;<br /></span>
+<span>And his hand forbore to smite the ore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And his furnace smouldered low.<br /></span>
+<span>But he rose at last with a cheerful face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a bright courageous eye,<br /></span>
+<span>And bared his strong right arm for work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While the quick flames mounted high.<br /></span>
+<span>And he sang&mdash;"Hurrah for my handiwork!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the red sparks lit the air;<br /></span>
+<span>"Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he fashioned the first ploughshare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And men, taught wisdom from the past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In friendship joined their hands;<br /></span>
+<span>Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ploughed the willing lands:<br /></span>
+<span>And sang&mdash;"Hurrah for Tubal Cain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our stanch good friend is he;<br /></span>
+<span>And for the ploughshare and the plough,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To him our praise shall be.<br /></span>
+<span>But while oppression lifts its head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or a tyrant would be lord;<br /></span>
+<span>Though we may thank him for the plough,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We'll not forget the sword!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Charles Mackay</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Professor" id="Professor"></a>PROFESSOR FROG'S LECTURE</h2>
+
+
+<p>Bobby was not quite sure that he was awake, but when he opened his eyes
+there was the blue sky, with the soft, white clouds drifting across it,
+the big pine waving its spicy branches over his head, and beyond, the
+glint of sunshine on the waters of the pond. Presently Bobby heard
+voices talking softly.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a good specimen," said one voice. "See how stout and strong he
+looks!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder who that is, and what he has found," thought Bobby. "I wish it
+wasn't such hard work to keep my eyes open." He made a great effort,
+however, and raised his heavy lids. At first he could see nothing. Then
+he caught a glimpse of a mossy log, with a row of frogs and toads
+sitting upon it. They were looking solemnly at him. Bobby felt a little
+uncomfortable under that steady gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"The toads are making their spring visit to the pond to lay their eggs,"
+thought the boy. "I forgot that they were due this week."</p>
+
+<p>"He must have done a good deal of mischief in his day," said an old
+bull-frog, gravely. A chill crept over Bobby. "In his day."&mdash;What did
+that mean?</p>
+
+<p>A toad hopped out from the line and came so close to Bobby that he could
+have touched her but for the strange spell which held him fast.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said she; "this is one of the species. We are very fortunate to
+have caught him. Now we shall be ready to listen to Professor Rana's
+remarks."</p>
+
+<p>Still Bobby could not move. What were they going to do? In a moment
+there was a rustling among the dry leaves and dozens of frogs and toads
+were seen hurrying towards the pine tree. Among them was a ponderous
+frog, carrying a roll of manuscript under his arm. He wore huge goggles,
+and looked so wise that Bobby did not dare to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sleepy," murmured a portly toad near Bobby's left ear. "I
+laid over eight thousand eggs last night, and I have a long journey
+before me. But I must stay to hear this. We may never have such a chance
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"Ladies and gentlemen," began the professor, in a sonorous tone that was
+easily heard for several feet, "this is a specimen of the creature known
+to us as the human tadpole. You will kindly observe his long legs. They
+were doubtless given to him for the purpose of protection. Being
+possessed of a most mischievous and reckless spirit, the species is
+always getting into difficulties, and would probably become extinct if
+it had not the power to run away."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Bobby under his breath. There was a murmur of interest
+and curiosity among the crowd. Bobby felt his legs twitch nervously, but
+his power over them was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Otherwise," went on the lecturer, "he is not at all adapted to his
+surroundings. Observe how carefully we are dressed. The frogs have the
+green and brown tints of their homes by the water-side. The toads look
+like lumps of dirt, so that they may not be too readily snapped up by
+birds of prey. But the Boy&mdash;to call him by his scientific name&mdash;has no
+such protection. Look at this red shirt and these white trousers, and
+this hat as big as a trout pool! Could anything be more ridiculous? Even
+a giraffe does not look so absurd as this."</p>
+
+<p>A red flush mounted to Bobby's freckled cheeks, but this time he did not
+try to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said the professor, "as far as we have been able to learn, the
+human tadpole is absolutely useless. We are, therefore, doing no harm in
+experimenting upon this specimen. There are plenty of them, and this one
+will not be a serious loss."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" said Bobby, so unexpectedly that everybody jumped. "What are you
+going to do with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will be so kind as to lie still," said the professor severely. "At
+present you are only a specimen."</p>
+
+<p>There was no help for it. Bobby found it impossible to move hand or
+foot. He could wriggle a little,&mdash;but that was all.</p>
+
+<p>"Not only is the Boy entirely useless," went on the professor, "but he
+is often what might be called a pest, even to his own kind. He is
+endured in the world for what he may become when he is full-grown, and
+even then he is sometimes disappointing. You are familiar with many of
+his objectionable ways towards the animal world, but I am sure you would
+be surprised if you knew what a care and trouble he frequently is to his
+own people. He can be trusted to do few kinds of work. It is difficult
+to keep him clean. He doesn't know how to get his own dinner. He has a
+genius for making weaker things miserable. He likes fishing, and he
+longs for a gun; he collects birds' eggs; he puts butterflies on pins;
+he teases his little sisters."</p>
+
+<p>"Why isn't the species exterminated?" asked another frog angrily.</p>
+
+<p>Then the toad near Bobby's ear spoke timidly: "I think you are a little
+unjust, Professor. I have known boys who were comparatively harmless."</p>
+
+<p>"It is true there may be a few, Mrs. Bufo," said the professor with
+great politeness, "but as a class they may be fairly set down as of very
+doubtful value. Speak up, Tadpole, and say if I have made any false
+statements so far."</p>
+
+<p>Bobby fairly shouted in his eagerness to be heard.</p>
+
+<p>"We do work," he said. "We have to go to school every day."</p>
+
+<p>"What a help that must be to your parents and to the world at large!"
+said the frog with sarcasm. "I am surprised that we never see the
+results of such hard labour. Do you know how useful even our smallest
+tadpoles are? Without them this pond would be no longer beautiful, but
+foul and ill-smelling. As for what we do when we are grown up, modesty
+forbids me to praise the frogs, but you know what a toad is worth to
+mankind?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Bobby. "About two cents, I guess." Bobby didn't intend to be
+rude. He thought this a liberal valuation.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty dollars a year, as estimated by the Department of Agriculture!"
+cried the frog triumphantly. "What do you think of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to know why," said Bobby, looking as if he thought
+Professor Rana was making fun of him.</p>
+
+<p>"What are the greatest enemies of mankind?" asked the professor, peering
+over his goggles at poor Bobby.</p>
+
+<p>"Tigers," said Bobby, promptly; "or wolves."</p>
+
+<p>"Wrong," said the lecturer. "Insects. Insects destroy property on this
+continent to the amount of over four hundred million dollars annually.
+Insects destroy the crops upon which man depends for his food. Going to
+school hasn't made you very wise, has it? Well, the toads are insect
+destroyers. That's their business. If the State only knew enough to make
+use of them, millions of dollars might be saved every year. Does it seem
+to you that the human animal is so clever as it might be, when it allows
+such numbers of toads to be destroyed?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a shame!" chimed in a voice from the front seats. "We keep out of
+the way as much as we can; we eat every kind of troublesome worm and
+insect,&mdash;the cutworm, canker-worm, tent caterpillar, army-worm,
+rose-beetle, and the common house-fly; we ask for no wages or food or
+care,&mdash;and what do we get in return? Not even protection and common
+kindness. If we had places where we could live in safety, who could tell
+the amount of good we might do? Yet I would not have this poor boy hurt
+if a word of mine could prevent it."</p>
+
+<p>"This is a scientific meeting," observed the professor; "and benevolent
+sentiments are quite out of place. We will now proceed to notice the
+delicate nervous system of the creature. Stand closer, my friends, if
+you please."</p>
+
+<p>"Nervous system, indeed!" said Bobby. "Boys don't have such silly things
+as nerves!"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Bobby felt a multitude of tiny pin pricks over the entire
+surface of his body. The suffering was not intense, but the irritation
+made him squirm and wince. He could not discover the cause of his
+discomfort, but at the professor's command it suddenly ceased.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do," said the frog. "Each hair on his head is also connected
+with a nerve. Pull his hair, please!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't!" said Bobby. "That hurts!"</p>
+
+<p>Nobody listened to him. It did hurt, more than you would think, for tiny
+hands were pulling each hair separately. When the ordeal was over,
+Bobby heard a faint noise in the grass as if some very small creatures
+were scurrying away, but he could see nothing. He was winking his eyes
+desperately to keep from crying.</p>
+
+<p>"The assistants may go now," said the professor; and the sound of little
+feet died away in the distance.</p>
+
+<p>"How interesting this is!" murmured a plain-looking toad who had been
+watching the experiments attentively.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it's mean," protested poor Bobby, "to keep a fellow fastened up
+like this, and then torment him."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it hurt as much as being skinned, or having your legs cut off?"
+demanded the professor.</p>
+
+<p>"Or should you prefer to be stepped on, or burned up in a rubbish pile?"
+asked Mrs. Bufo.</p>
+
+<p>"How should you like to be stoned or kicked, for a change?" said another
+toad sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you would choose a fish-hook in the corner of your mouth?" said
+a voice from the pond.</p>
+
+<p>"Or one run the entire length of your body?" came a murmur from the
+ground under Bobby's head.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute," said the professor, more gently. "We will give you a
+chance to defend yourself. It is not customary to inquire into the moral
+character of specimens, but we do not wish to be unjust. Perhaps you can
+explain why you made a bonfire the very week after the toads came out of
+their winter-quarters. Dozens of lives were destroyed before that fire
+was put out."</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot about the toads," began Bobby.</p>
+
+<p>"Carelessness!" said the professor. "Now you may tell us why you like to
+throw stones at us."</p>
+
+<p>"To see you jump," said Bobby, honestly.</p>
+
+<p>"Thoughtlessness!" said the professor. "That's worse."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you kick us, instead of lifting us gently when we are in your
+way?" inquired a toad in a stern voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Because you will give me warts if I touch you," said Bobby, pleased to
+think that he had a good reason at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Ignorance!" cried the professor. "The toad is absolutely harmless. It
+has about it a liquid that might cause pain to a cut finger or a
+sensitive tissue like that of the mouth or eye, but the old story that a
+toad is poisonous is a silly fable."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you tell me, please," asked a toad in a plaintive voice, "if you
+are the boy who, last year, carried home some of my babies in a tin pail
+and let them die?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I am," said Bobby, sorrowfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Do explain why you dislike us!" said Mrs. Bufo in such a frank fashion
+that Bobby felt that he must tell the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it's your looks," said the boy, unable to frame his answer in
+more polite terms.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, upon my word!" interrupted the professor. "I thought better of a
+boy than that. So you prefer boys with pretty faces and soft, curling
+hair, and nice clothes, to those who can climb and jump and who are not
+afraid of a day's tramp in the woods."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I don't," said indignant Bobby. "I hate boys who are always
+thinking about their clothes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you do!" said the frog. "Now answer me a few more questions. Have
+you ever stolen birds' eggs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said truthful Bobby.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you collected butterflies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Bobby.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you taken nuts from the squirrels' cupboards?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Bobby.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think we ought to have a very friendly feeling towards you?"
+went on the questioner.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Bobby; "I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"We have shown that you are not only useless, but careless and
+thoughtless and ignorant," said the frog. "Is there any very good reason
+why we should let you go?"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Bobby racked his brains to think of something that should appeal to
+his captors.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a right to live, haven't I?" he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Because you are so pretty?" suggested the professor, and Bobby's eyes
+fell with shame.</p>
+
+<p>"Any better right than we have?" came a chorus of voices. Bobby was
+silent. He felt very helpless and insignificant. There was a long pause.
+Then the frog professor smiled broadly at Bobby.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," he said; "I like you. You are not afraid to be honest, and
+that's something."</p>
+
+<p>"If you will let me go," said Bobby, "I'll see that the boys don't hurt
+you any more."</p>
+
+<p>"I felt pretty sure that we'd converted you," said the professor; "and
+I'm going to let you go back and preach to the heathen, as the grown
+people say. You can see for yourself how much harm a boy can do if he
+doesn't think."</p>
+
+<p>Bobby felt that he was free, and scrambled to his feet, rubbing first
+one arm and then the other to take the prickly feeling out of them. The
+frogs had vanished; there was only the blue sky, the waving pine tree,
+and the quiet pond.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" said Bobby with a long breath of amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Kerjunk!" came the warning voice of a frog, somewhere near the water's
+edge.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes sir, I'll remember," said Bobby in the meekest of meek tones.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">M.&nbsp;A.&nbsp;L. Lane</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="April" id="April"></a>A SONG FOR APRIL</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>List! list! The buds confer.<br /></span>
+<span>This noonday they've had news of her;<br /></span>
+<span>The south bank has had views of her;<br /></span>
+<span>The thorn shall exact his dues of her;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The willows adream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the freshet stream<br /></span>
+<span>Shall ask what boon they choose of her.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Up! up! The world's astir;<br /></span>
+<span>The would-be green has word of her;<br /></span>
+<span>Root and germ have heard of her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Coming to break<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their sleep and wake<br /></span>
+<span>Their hearts with every bird of her.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>See! see! How swift concur<br /></span>
+<span>Sun, wind, and rain at the name of her,<br /></span>
+<span>A-wondering what became of her;<br /></span>
+<span>The fields flower at the flame of her;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The glad air sings<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With dancing wings<br /></span>
+<span>And the silvery shrill acclaim of her.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Charles G.&nbsp;D. Roberts</span></p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image02" id="image02"></a>
+<a href="images/image2.jpg">
+<img src="images/image2-th.jpg" width="226" height="289"
+alt="ALEXANDRA
+THE QUEEN MOTHER"
+title="ALEXANDRA
+THE QUEEN MOTHER" />
+</a>
+<p class="caption">ALEXANDRA<br />THE QUEEN MOTHER</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Crickets" id="Crickets"></a>HOW THE CRICKETS BROUGHT GOOD FORTUNE</h2>
+
+
+<p>My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
+which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
+appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
+He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
+waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
+perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image03" id="image03"></a>
+<a href="images/image3.jpg">
+<img src="images/image3-th.jpg" width="385" height="211"
+alt="UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO"
+title="UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO" />
+</a>
+<p class="caption">UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Ma'am," said he to the baker's wife, "Mother sent me for a loaf of
+bread." The woman took from the shelf a four-pound loaf, the best one
+she could find, and put it into the arms of the little boy.</p>
+
+<p>My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
+the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
+countenance of the large loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.</p>
+
+<p>The little boy's eyes grew sad.</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
+mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.</p>
+
+<p>My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
+into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
+big loaf, whom he had supposed to be half-way home, standing stock-still
+behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
+also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, ma'am!" said the child.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
+longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
+scolding."</p>
+
+<p>The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.</p>
+
+<p>The baker's wife went up to him and gave him a friendly tap on the
+shoulder. "What are you thinking about?" said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is that that sings?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no singing," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"</p>
+
+<p>My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
+unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers
+houses.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
+bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
+They sing in the bake-house because we are lighting the oven, and they
+like to see the fire."</p>
+
+<p>"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, to be sure," said she, good-humouredly. The child's face lighted
+up.</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
+it very much if you would give me a cricket."</p>
+
+<p>"A cricket," said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
+you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
+there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."</p>
+
+<p>"O, ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
+clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
+crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
+mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
+joining in the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
+and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."</p>
+
+<p>My friend took the child, and with him the large loaf, into his arms,
+and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
+who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
+bake-house. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box
+with holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to
+the child, who went away perfectly happy.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
+squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
+she took down her account-book, and, finding the page where the mother's
+charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
+wrote at the bottom, "Paid."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
+in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
+begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
+cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
+that she had a son who would one day be her pride and joy.</p>
+
+<p>They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
+haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
+short legs, could not run very fast, so that when he reached home, he
+found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
+from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.</p>
+
+<p>The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
+which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
+Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
+have taken place in his mother's fortunes?</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">P.&nbsp;J. Stahl</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Blenheim" id="Blenheim"></a>THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>It was a summer evening,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Old Kaspar's work was done,<br /></span>
+<span>And he before his cottage door<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was sitting in the sun,<br /></span>
+<span>And by him sported on the green<br /></span>
+<span>His little grandchild Wilhelmine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>She saw her brother Peterkin<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Roll something large and round,<br /></span>
+<span>Which he beside the rivulet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In playing there had found:<br /></span>
+<span>He came to ask what he had found,<br /></span>
+<span>That was so large, and smooth, and round.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Old Kaspar took it from the boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who stood expectant by:<br /></span>
+<span>And then the old man shook his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, with a natural sigh,<br /></span>
+<span>"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,<br /></span>
+<span>"Who fell in the great victory.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"I find them in the garden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For there's many here about;<br /></span>
+<span>And often when I go to plough,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The ploughshare turns them out!<br /></span>
+<span>For many thousand men," said he,<br /></span>
+<span>"Were slain in that great victory."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Now tell me what 'twas all about,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Young Peterkin, he cries;<br /></span>
+<span>And little Wilhelmine looks up<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With wonder-waiting eyes;<br /></span>
+<span>"Now tell us all about the war,<br /></span>
+<span>And what they fought each other for."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"It was the English," Kaspar cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Who put the French to rout;<br /></span>
+<span>But what they fought each other for,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I could not well make out;<br /></span>
+<span>But everybody said," quoth he,<br /></span>
+<span>"That 'twas a famous victory.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"My father lived at Blenheim then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yon little stream hard by;<br /></span>
+<span>They burnt his dwelling to the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he was forced to fly;<br /></span>
+<span>So with his wife and child he fled,<br /></span>
+<span>Nor had he where to rest his head.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"They say it was a shocking sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">After the field was won;<br /></span>
+<span>For many thousand bodies here<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lay rotting in the sun;<br /></span>
+<span>But things like that, you know, must be<br /></span>
+<span>After a famous victory.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And our good prince Eugene."<br /></span>
+<span>"Why 'twas a very wicked thing!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said little Wilhelmine.<br /></span>
+<span>"Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,<br /></span>
+<span>"It was a famous victory.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"And everybody praised the Duke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who this great fight did win."<br /></span>
+<span>"But what good came of it at last?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Quoth little Peterkin.<br /></span>
+<span>"Why, that I cannot tell," said he,<br /></span>
+<span>"But 'twas a famous victory."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Southey</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Ride" id="Ride"></a>THE RIDE FOR LIFE</h2>
+
+
+<p>Away off towards the swamp, which they were avoiding, the long,
+heart-chilling cry of a mother-wolf quavered on the still night air. In
+spite of herself, Mrs. Murray shivered, and the boys looked at each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>"There is only one," said Ranald in a low voice to Don, but they both
+knew that where the she-wolf is there is a pack not far off. "And we
+will be through the bush in five minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Ranald! Come away, you can talk to Don any time. Good-night,
+Don." And so saying she headed her pony toward the clearing and was off
+at a gallop, and Ranald, shaking his head at his friend, ejaculated:</p>
+
+<p>"Man alive! what do you think of that?" and was off after the pony.</p>
+
+<p>Together they entered the bush. The road was well beaten and the horses
+were keen to go, so that before many minutes were over they were half
+through the bush. Ranald's spirits rose and he began to take some
+interest in his companion's observations upon the beauty of the lights
+and shadows falling across their path.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at that very dark shadow from the spruce there, Ranald," she
+cried, pointing to a deep, black turn in the road. For answer there came
+from behind them the long, mournful hunting-cry of the wolf. He was on
+their track. Immediately it was answered by a chorus of howls from the
+bush on the swamp side, but still far away. There was no need of
+command; the pony sprang forward with a snort and the colt followed, and
+after a few minutes' running, passed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Whow-oo-oo-oo-ow," rose the long cry of the pursuer, summoning help,
+and drawing nearer.</p>
+
+<p>"Whw-ee-wow," came the shorter, sharper answer from the swamp, but much
+nearer than before and more in front. They were trying to head off their
+prey.</p>
+
+<p>Ranald tugged at his colt till he got him back with the pony.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a good road," he said, quietly; "you can let the pony go. I will
+follow you." He swung in behind the pony, who was now running for dear
+life and snorting with terror at every jump.</p>
+
+<p>"God preserve us!" said Ranald to himself. He had caught sight of a dark
+form as it darted through the gleam of light in front.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say, Ranald?" The voice was quiet and clear.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a great pony to run," said Ranald, ashamed of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she not?"</p>
+
+<p>Ranald glanced over his shoulder. Down the road, running with silent,
+awful swiftness, he saw the long, low body of the leading wolf flashing
+through the bars of moonlight across the road, and the pack following
+hard.</p>
+
+<p>"Let her go, Mrs. Murray," cried Ranald. "Whip her and never stop." But
+there was no need; the pony was wild with fear, and was doing her best
+running.</p>
+
+<p>Ranald meantime was gradually holding in the colt, and the pony drew
+away rapidly. But as rapidly the wolves were closing in behind him. They
+were not more than a hundred yards away, and gaining every second.
+Ranald, remembering the suspicious nature of the brutes, loosened his
+coat and dropped it on the road; with a chorus of yelps they paused,
+then threw themselves upon it, and in another minute took up the chase.</p>
+
+<p>But now the clearing was in sight. The pony was far ahead, and Ranald
+shook out his colt with a yell. He was none too soon, for the pursuing
+pack, now uttering short, shrill yelps, were close at the colt's heels.
+Lizette, fleet as the wind, could not shake them off. Closer and ever
+closer they came, snapping and snarling. Ranald could see them over his
+shoulder. A hundred yards more and he would reach his own back lane. The
+leader of the pack seemed to feel that his chances were slipping swiftly
+away. With a spurt he gained upon Lizette, reached the saddle-girths,
+gathered himself into two short jumps, and sprang for the colt's throat.
+Instinctively Ranald stood up in his stirrups, and kicking his foot
+free, caught the wolf under the jaw. The brute fell with a howl under
+the colt's feet, and next moment they were in the lane and safe.</p>
+
+<p>The savage brutes, discouraged by their leader's fall, slowed down their
+fierce pursuit, and hearing the deep bay of the Macdonalds' great
+deer-hound, Bugle, up at the house, they paused, sniffed the air a few
+minutes, then turned and swiftly and silently slid into the dark
+shadows. Ranald, knowing that they would hardly dare enter the lane,
+checked the colt, and wheeling, watched them disappear.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have some of your hides some day," he cried, shaking his fist
+after them. He hated to be made to run.</p>
+
+<p>He had hardly set the colt's face homeward when he heard something
+tearing down the lane to meet him. The colt snorted, swerved, and then
+dropping his ears, stood still. It was Bugle, and after him came Mrs.
+Murray on the pony.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Ranald!" she panted, "thank God you are safe. I was afraid
+you&mdash;you&mdash;" Her voice broke in sobs. Her hood had fallen back from her
+white face, and her eyes were shining like two stars. She laid her hand
+on Ranald's arm, and her voice grew steady as she said: "Thank God, my
+boy, and thank you with all my heart. You risked your life for mine. You
+are a brave fellow! I can never forget this!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, pshaw!" said Ranald, awkwardly. "You are better stuff than I am.
+You came back with Bugle. And I knew Liz could beat the pony." Then they
+walked their horses quietly to the stable, and nothing more was said by
+either of them; but from that hour Ranald had a friend ready to offer
+life for him, though he did not know it then nor till years afterward.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Ralph Connor</span>: "The Man from Glengarry."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his
+friends.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">St. John</span>, XV. 13</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Iagoo" id="Iagoo"></a>IAGOO, THE BOASTER</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And Iagoo, the great boaster,<br /></span>
+<span>He the marvellous story-teller,<br /></span>
+<span>He the friend of old Nokomis,<br /></span>
+<span>Saw in all the eyes around him,<br /></span>
+<span>Saw in all their looks and gestures,<br /></span>
+<span>That the wedding guests assembled,<br /></span>
+<span>Longed to hear his pleasant stories,<br /></span>
+<span>His immeasurable falsehoods.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Very boastful was Iagoo;<br /></span>
+<span>Never heard he an adventure<br /></span>
+<span>But himself had met a greater;<br /></span>
+<span>Never any deed of daring<br /></span>
+<span>But himself had done a bolder;<br /></span>
+<span>Never any marvellous story<br /></span>
+<span>But himself could tell a stranger.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Would you listen to his boasting,<br /></span>
+<span>Would you only give him credence,<br /></span>
+<span>No one ever shot an arrow<br /></span>
+<span>Half so far and high as he had;<br /></span>
+<span>Ever caught so many fishes,<br /></span>
+<span>Ever killed so many reindeer,<br /></span>
+<span>Ever trapped so many beaver!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">None could run so fast as he could,<br /></span>
+<span>None could dive so deep as he could,<br /></span>
+<span>None could swim so far as he could;<br /></span>
+<span>None had made so many journeys,<br /></span>
+<span>None had seen so many wonders,<br /></span>
+<span>As this wonderful Iagoo,<br /></span>
+<span>As this marvellous story-teller!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thus his name became a by-word<br /></span>
+<span>And a jest among the people;<br /></span>
+<span>And whene'er a boastful hunter<br /></span>
+<span>Praised his own address too highly,<br /></span>
+<span>Or a warrior, home returning,<br /></span>
+<span>Talked too much of his achievements,<br /></span>
+<span>All his hearers cried: "Iagoo!<br /></span>
+<span>Here's Iagoo come among us!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Longfellow</span>: "Hiawatha."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Fire" id="Fire"></a>THE STORY OF A FIRE</h2>
+
+
+<p>Thirteen years have passed since, but it is all to me as if it had
+happened yesterday,&mdash;the clanging of the fire-bells, the hoarse shouts
+of the firemen, the wild rush and terror of the streets; then the great
+hush that fell upon the crowd; the sea of upturned faces with the fire
+glow upon it; and up there, against the background of black smoke that
+poured from roof to attic, the boy clinging to the narrow ledge, so far
+up that it seemed humanly impossible that help could ever come.</p>
+
+<p>But even then it was coming. Up from the street, while the crew of the
+truck company were labouring with the heavy extension ladder that at its
+longest stretch was many feet too short, crept four men upon long,
+slender poles with cross-bars, iron-hooked at the end. Standing in one
+window, they reached up and thrust the hook through the next one above,
+then mounted a story higher. Again the crash of glass, and again the
+dizzy ascent. Straight up the wall they crept, looking like human flies
+on the ceiling, and clinging as close, never resting, reaching one
+recess only to set out for the next; nearer and nearer in the race for
+life, until but a single span separated the foremost from the boy. And
+now the iron hook fell at his feet, and the fireman stood upon the step
+with the rescued lad in his arms, just as the pent-up flames burst lurid
+from the attic window, reaching with impotent fury for their prey. The
+next moment they were safe upon the great ladder waiting to receive them
+below.</p>
+
+<p>Then such a shout went up! Men fell on each other's necks, and cried and
+laughed at once. Strangers slapped one another on the back with
+glistening faces, shook hands, and behaved generally like men gone
+suddenly mad. Women wept in the street. The driver of a car stalled in
+the crowd, who had stood through it all speechless, clutching the reins,
+whipped his horses into a gallop and drove away, yelling like a
+Comanche, to relieve his feelings. The boy and his rescuer were carried
+across the street without anyone knowing how. Policemen forgot their
+dignity and shouted with the rest. Fire, peril, terror, and loss were
+alike forgotten in the one touch of nature that makes the whole world
+kin.</p>
+
+<p>Fireman John Binns was made captain of his crew, and the Bennett medal
+was pinned on his coat on the next parade day.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Jacob A. Riis</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,<br /></span>
+<span>Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our hearts in glad surprise<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To higher levels rise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Longfellow</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Quest" id="Quest"></a>THE QUEST</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">There once was a restless boy<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Who dwelt in a home by the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the water danced for joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And the wind was glad and free;<br /></span>
+<span>But he said: "Good mother, O let me go!<br /></span>
+<span>For the dullest place in the world, I know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is this little brown house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">This old brown house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Under the apple tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"I will travel east and west;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The loveliest homes I'll see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And when I have found the best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Dear mother, I'll come for thee.<br /></span>
+<span>I'll come for thee in a year and a day,<br /></span>
+<span>And joyfully then we'll haste away<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">From this little brown house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">This old brown house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Under the apple tree."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">So he travelled here and there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But never content was he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though he saw in lands most fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The costliest homes there be.<br /></span>
+<span>He something missed from the sea or sky,<br /></span>
+<span>Till he turned again with a wistful sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the little brown house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The old brown house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Under the apple tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Then the mother saw and smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While her heart grew glad and free.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Hast thou chosen a home, my child?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ah, where shall we dwell?" quoth she.<br /></span>
+<span>And he said: "Sweet mother, from east to west,<br /></span>
+<span>The loveliest home, and the dearest and best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is a little brown house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">An old brown house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Under an apple tree."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Eudora S. Bumstead</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Jackal" id="Jackal"></a>THE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE</h2>
+
+
+<p>A Jackal and a Partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was
+very exacting and jealous. "You don't do half as much for me as I do for
+you," he used to say, "and yet you talk a great deal of your friendship.
+Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me laugh or cry,
+give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You couldn't do that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let us see," answered the Partridge; "follow me at a little distance,
+and if I don't make you laugh soon you may eat me!"</p>
+
+<p>So she flew on till she met two travellers trudging along, one behind
+the other. They were both foot-sore and weary, and the first carried his
+bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his shoes in
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveller's
+stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on; but the second traveller, seeing
+the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to himself:
+"What a chance for a supper!" and immediately flung his shoes at it,
+they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the
+shoes knocked off the first traveller's turban.</p>
+
+<p>"What a plague do you mean?" cried he, angrily turning on his companion.
+"Why did you throw your shoes at my head?"</p>
+
+<p>"Brother!" replied the other, mildly, "do not be vexed. I didn't throw
+them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick."</p>
+
+<p>"On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?" shouted the injured man, in a
+great rage. "Don't tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you insult
+me, and then you lie like a coward; but I'll teach you manners!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they fought
+until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were
+bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you satisfied?" asked the Partridge of her friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," answered the Jackal, "you have certainly made me laugh, but I
+doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is
+more difficult to excite the higher emotions."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us see," retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; "there is a
+huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that
+hollow tree and watch me; if you don't weep scalding tears, you must
+have no feeling in you!"</p>
+
+<p>The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began
+fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she
+flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs
+smelled him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the
+huntsman came up and, seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the
+tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts' content, and
+finally left him for dead.</p>
+
+<p>By and by he opened his eyes&mdash;for he was only foxing&mdash;and saw the
+Partridge sitting on a branch above him.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you cry?" she asked anxiously. "Did I rouse your higher emo&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Be quiet, will you!" snarled the Jackal; "I'm half-dead with fear!"</p>
+
+<p>So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his
+bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.</p>
+
+<p>"Now is the time for friendship!" said he to the Partridge. "Get me a
+good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well!" replied the Partridge; "only watch me, and help yourself
+when the time comes."</p>
+
+<p>Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners to
+the harvest-field.</p>
+
+<p>The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along
+from bush to bush as if she were wounded.</p>
+
+<p>"A wounded bird!&mdash;a wounded bird!" cried the women; "we can easily catch
+it!"</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a
+thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they
+put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The
+Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with
+a good dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," returned the Jackal, "I confess you have given me a very good
+dinner; you have also made me laugh&mdash;and cry&mdash;ahem! But, after all, the
+great test of friendship is beyond you&mdash;you couldn't save my life!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps not," acquiesced the Partridge, mournfully. "I am so small and
+weak. But it grows late&mdash;we should be going home; and as it is a long
+way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend, the
+crocodile, will carry us over."</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly
+consented to carry them across; so they sat on his broad back, and he
+ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the
+Partridge remarked: "I believe the crocodile intends to play us a trick.
+How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!"</p>
+
+<p>"Awkward for you, too!" replied the Jackal, turning pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven't."</p>
+
+<p>On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the crocodile,
+in a grewsome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted a good meal,
+the wretched creature hadn't a word to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" cried the Partridge, airily, "don't try tricks on us&mdash;I should
+fly away, and as for my friend, the Jackal, you couldn't hurt <em>him</em>. He
+is not such a fool as to take his life with him on these little
+excursions; he leaves it at home locked up in the cupboard."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that a fact?" asked the crocodile, surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly!" retorted the Partridge. "Try to eat him if you like, but
+you will only tire yourself to no purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me! how very odd!" gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken aback
+that he carried the Jackal safe to shore.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear madam!" quoth the Jackal, "you have made me laugh, you have
+made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my
+life; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend: so,
+good-bye!"</p>
+
+<p>And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Flora Annie Steel</span>: "Tales from the Punjab."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Hide" id="Hide"></a>HIDE AND SEEK</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still,<br /></span>
+<span>All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill;<br /></span>
+<span>Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June,<br /></span>
+<span>Hark! a little hunter's voice comes running with a tune.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">"Hide and seek!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"When I speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"You must answer me:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Call again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Merry men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Now I hear his footsteps, rustling through the grass:<br /></span>
+<span>Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass?<br /></span>
+<span>Just a low, soft whistle,&mdash;quick the hunter turns,<br /></span>
+<span>Leaps upon me laughing, rolls me in the ferns.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">"Hold him fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Caught at last!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Now you're it, you see.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Hide your eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Till I cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Long ago he left me, long and long ago:<br /></span>
+<span>Now I wander through the world and seek him high and low;<br /></span>
+<span>Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Ah, if I could hear his voice, I soon should find his face.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Far away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Many a day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Where can Barney be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Answer, dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Don't you hear?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Birds that in the spring-time thrilled his heart with joy,<br /></span>
+<span>Flowers he loved to pick for me, 'mind me of my boy.<br /></span>
+<span>Surely he is waiting till my steps come nigh;<br /></span>
+<span>Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Heart be glad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The little lad<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Will call some day to thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Father dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Heaven is here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Henry Van Dyke</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Burning" id="Burning"></a>THE BURNING OF THE "GOLIATH"</h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>(Owing to the excellent discipline which Captain Bourchier had
+established, and to the courage of the boys, only twelve lives
+were lost out of the crew of five hundred).</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>Let me give you an example of self-denial which comes from near home. I
+will speak to you of what has been done by little boys of seven, of
+eight, of twelve, of thirteen;&mdash;little English boys, and English boys
+with very few advantages of birth; not brought up, as most of you are,
+in quiet, orderly homes, but taken from the London workhouses. I will
+speak to you of what such little boys have done, not fifteen hundred, or
+even two hundred years ago, but last week&mdash;last Wednesday, on the river
+Thames.</p>
+
+<p>Do you know of whom I am thinking? I am thinking of the little boys,
+nearly five hundred, who were taken from different workhouses in London,
+and put to school to be trained as sailors on board the ship which was
+called after the name of the giant whom David slew&mdash;the training-ship
+Goliath.</p>
+
+<p>About eight o'clock on Wednesday morning that great ship suddenly caught
+fire, from the upsetting of a can of oil in the lamp-room. It was hardly
+daylight. In a very few minutes the ship was on fire from one end to the
+other, and the fire-bell rang to call the boys to their posts. What did
+they do? Think of the sudden surprise, the sudden danger&mdash;the flames
+rushing all around them, and the dark, cold water below them! Did they
+cry, or scream, or fly about in confusion? No; they ran each to his
+proper place.</p>
+
+<p>They had been trained to do that&mdash;they knew that it was their duty; and
+no one forgot himself; no one lost his presence of mind. They all, as
+the captain said: "behaved like men." Then, when it was found impossible
+to save the ship, those who could swim jumped into the water by order of
+the captain, and swam for their lives. Some, also at his command, got
+into a boat; and then, when the sheets of flame and the clouds of smoke
+came pouring out of the ship, the smaller boys for a moment were
+frightened, and wanted to push away.</p>
+
+<p>But there was one among them&mdash;the little mate: his name was William
+Bolton: we are proud that he came from Westminster: a quiet boy, much
+loved by his comrades&mdash;who had the sense and courage to say: "No; we
+must stay and help those that are still in the ship." He kept the barge
+alongside the ship as long as possible, and was thus the means of saving
+more than one hundred lives!</p>
+
+<p>There were others who were still in the ship while the flames went on
+spreading. They were standing by the good captain, who had been so kind
+to them all, and whom they all loved so much. In that dreadful crisis
+they thought more of him than of themselves. One threw his arms round
+his neck and said: "You'll be burnt, Captain;" and another said: "Save
+yourself before the rest." But the captain gave them the best of all
+lessons for that moment. He said: "That's not the way at sea, my boys."</p>
+
+<p>He meant to say&mdash;and they quite understood what he meant&mdash;that the way
+at sea is to prepare for danger beforehand, to meet it manfully when it
+comes, and to look at the safety, not of oneself, but of others. The
+captain had not only learned that good old way himself, but he also knew
+how to teach it to the boys under his charge.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Dean Stanley</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Hearts" id="Hearts"></a>HEARTS OF OAK</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,<br /></span>
+<span>To add something more to this wonderful year,<br /></span>
+<span>To honour we call you, not press you like slaves,<br /></span>
+<span>For who are so free as the sons of the waves?<br /></span>
+<span>Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We always are ready,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Steady, boys, steady,<br /></span>
+<span>We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Still Britain shall triumph, her ships plough the sea,<br /></span>
+<span>Her standard be justice, her watchword "Be free;"<br /></span>
+<span>Then, cheer up, my lads, with one heart let us sing<br /></span>
+<span>Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen, our king.<br /></span>
+<span>Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We always are ready,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Steady, boys, steady,<br /></span>
+<span>We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">David Garrick</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Wet" id="Wet"></a>A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>A wet sheet and a flowing sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A wind that follows fast,<br /></span>
+<span>And fills the white and rustling sail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bends the gallant mast;<br /></span>
+<span>And bends the gallant mast, my boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While, like the eagle free,<br /></span>
+<span>Away the good ship flies, and leaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Old England on the lee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"O for a soft and gentle wind!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I heard a fair one cry;<br /></span>
+<span>But give to me the snoring breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And white waves heaving high;<br /></span>
+<span>And white waves heaving high, my boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The good ship tight and free,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>The world of waters is our home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And merry men are we.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>There's tempest in yon horn&egrave;d moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lightning in yon cloud;<br /></span>
+<span>And hark the music, mariners,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wind is piping loud!<br /></span>
+<span>The wind is piping loud, my boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lightning flashes free,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>While the hollow oak our palace is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our heritage the sea.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Allan Cunningham</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Talents" id="Talents"></a>THE TALENTS</h2>
+
+
+<p>The kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who
+called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one
+he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one; to every man
+according to his several ability; and straightway took his journey.</p>
+
+<p>Then he that had received the five talents went and traded with the
+same, and made them other five talents. And likewise he that had
+received two, he also gained other two. But he that had received one
+went and digged in the earth, and hid his lord's money. After a long
+time the lord of those servants cometh, and reckoneth with them.</p>
+
+<p>And so he that had received five talents came and brought other five
+talents saying, "Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents: behold, I
+have gained beside them five talents more." His lord said unto him,
+"Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over
+a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into
+the joy of thy lord."</p>
+
+<p>He also that had received two talents came and said, "Lord, thou
+deliveredst unto me two talents: behold, I have gained two other talents
+beside them." His lord said unto him, "Well done, good and faithful
+servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee
+ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord."</p>
+
+<p>Then he which had received the one talent came and said, "Lord, I knew
+thee that thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and
+gathering where thou hast not strawed; and I was afraid, and went and
+hid thy talent in the earth: lo, there thou hast that is thine." His
+lord answered and said unto him, "Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou
+knewest that I reap where I sowed not, and gather where I have not
+strawed: thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the
+exchangers, and then at my coming I should have received mine own with
+usury. Take therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him which
+hath ten talents. For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he
+shall have abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away
+even that which he hath. And cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer
+darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">St. Matthew</span>, XXV. 14-30</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Farewell" id="Farewell"></a>A FAREWELL</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>My fairest child, I have no song to give you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;<br /></span>
+<span>Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">For every day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Than lark who hails the dawn or breezy down,<br /></span>
+<span>To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Than Shakespeare's crown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:<br /></span>
+<span>And so make life, death, and that vast forever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">One grand, sweet song.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Kingsley</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Apple" id="Apple"></a>AN APPLE ORCHARD IN THE SPRING</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Have you seen an apple orchard in the spring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the spring?<br /></span>
+<span>An English apple orchard in the spring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the spreading trees are hoary<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With their wealth of promised glory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the mavis sings its story,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Have you plucked the apple blossoms in the spring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the spring?<br /></span>
+<span>And caught their subtle odours in the spring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pink buds pouting at the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crumpled petals baby white<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Just to touch them a delight&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Have you walked beneath the blossoms in the spring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the spring?<br /></span>
+<span>Beneath the apple blossoms in the spring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the pink cascades are falling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the silver brooklets brawling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the cuckoo bird soft calling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>If you have not, then you know not, in the spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the spring,<br /></span>
+<span>Half the colour, beauty, wonder of the spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No sweet sight can I remember<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half so precious, half so tender,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the apple blossoms render,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the spring.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">William Martin</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Bluejay" id="Bluejay"></a>THE BLUEJAY</h2>
+
+
+<p>Said Jim Baker: "There's more to a bluejay than to any other creature.
+He has more kinds of feeling than any other creature; and mind you,
+whatever a bluejay feels, he can put into words. No common words either,
+but out-and-out book-talk. You never see a jay at a loss for a word.</p>
+
+<p>"You may call a jay a bird. Well, so he is, because he has feathers on
+him. Otherwise, he is just as human as you are.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; a jay is everything that a man is. A jay can laugh, a jay can
+gossip, a jay can feel ashamed, just as well as you do, maybe better.
+And there's another thing: in good, clean, out-and-out scolding, a
+bluejay can beat anything alive.</p>
+
+<p>"Seven years ago the last man about here but me moved away. There stands
+his house&mdash;a log house with just one big room and no more: no ceiling,
+nothing between the rafters and the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, one Sunday morning I was sitting out here in front of my cabin,
+with my cat, taking the sun, when a bluejay flew down on that house with
+an acorn in his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"'Hello,' says he, 'I reckon here's something.' When he spoke, the acorn
+fell out of his mouth and rolled down on the roof. He didn't care; his
+mind was on the thing he had found.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a knot-hole in the roof. He cocked his head to one side, shut
+one eye, and put the other to the hole, like a 'possum looking down a
+jug.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then he looked up, gave a wink or two with his wings, and says: 'It
+looks like a hole, it's placed like a hole&mdash;and&mdash;if I don't think it is
+a hole!'</p>
+
+<p>"Then he cocked his head down and took another look. He looked up with
+joy, this time winked his wings and his tail both, and says: 'If I ain't
+in luck! Why it's an elegant hole!'</p>
+
+<p>"So he flew down and got that acorn and dropped it in, and was tilting
+his head back with a smile when a queer look of surprise came over his
+face. Then he says: 'Why, I didn't hear it fall.'</p>
+
+<p>"He cocked his eye at the hole again and took a long look; rose up and
+shook his head; went to the other side of the hole and took another look
+from that side; shook his head again. No use.</p>
+
+<p>"So after thinking awhile, he says: 'I reckon it's all right. I'll try
+it, anyway.'</p>
+
+<p>"So he flew off and brought another acorn and dropped it in, and tried
+to get his eye to the hole quick enough to see what became of it. He was
+too late. He got another acorn and tried to see where it went, but he
+couldn't.</p>
+
+<p>"He says: 'Well, I never saw such a hole as this before. I reckon it's a
+new kind.' Then he got angry and walked up and down the roof. I never
+saw a bird take on so.</p>
+
+<p>"When he got through, he looked in the hole for half a minute; then he
+says: 'Well, you're a long hole, and a deep hole, and a queer hole, but
+I have started to fill you, and I'll do it if it takes a hundred
+years.'</p>
+
+<p>"And with that away he went. For two hours and a half you never saw a
+bird work so hard. He did not stop to look in any more, but just threw
+acorns in and went for more.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, at last he could hardly flap his wings he was so tired out. So he
+bent down for a look. He looked up, pale with rage. He says: 'I've put
+in enough acorns to keep the family thirty years, and I can't see a sign
+of them.'</p>
+
+<p>"Another jay was going by and heard him. So he stopped to ask what was
+the matter. Our jay told him the whole story. Then he went and looked
+down the hole and came back and said: 'How many tons did you put in
+there?' 'Not less than two,' said our jay.</p>
+
+<p>"The other jay looked again, but could not make it out; so he gave a
+yell and three more jays came. They all talked at once for awhile, and
+then called in more jays.</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty soon the air was blue with jays, and every jay put his eye to
+the hole and told what he thought. They looked the house all over, too.
+The door was partly open, and at last one old jay happened to look in.
+There lay the acorns all over the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"He flapped his wings and gave a yell: 'Come here, everybody! Ha! Ha!
+He's been trying to fill a house with acorns!'</p>
+
+<p>"As each jay took a look, the fun of the thing struck him, and how he
+did laugh. And for an hour after they roosted on the housetop and trees,
+and laughed like human beings. It isn't any use to tell me a bluejay
+hasn't any fun in him. I know better."</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Samuel L. Clemens</span> (Mark Twain)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Camping" id="Camping"></a>A CANADIAN CAMPING SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>A white tent pitched by a glassy lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Well under a shady tree,<br /></span>
+<span>Or by rippling rills from the grand old hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is the summer home for me.<br /></span>
+<span>I fear no blaze of the noontide rays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the woodland glades are mine,<br /></span>
+<span>The fragrant air, and that perfume rare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The odour of forest pine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>A cooling plunge at the break of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A paddle, a row, or sail,<br /></span>
+<span>With always a fish for a mid-day dish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And plenty of Adam's ale.<br /></span>
+<span>With rod or gun, or in hammock swung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We glide through the pleasant days;<br /></span>
+<span>When darkness falls on our canvas walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We kindle the camp fire's blaze.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>From out the gloom sails the silv'ry moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er forests dark and still,<br /></span>
+<span>Now far, now near, ever sad and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Comes the plaint of the whip-poor-will;<br /></span>
+<span>With song and laugh, and with kindly chaff,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We startle the birds above,<br /></span>
+<span>Then rest tired heads on our cedar beds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To dream of the ones we love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Sir J.&nbsp;D. Edgar</span>: "This Canada of Ours."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Argonauts" id="Argonauts"></a>THE ARGONAUTS</h2>
+
+
+<p>Now, when the building of the ship Argo was finished, the fifty heroes
+came to look upon her, and joy filled their hearts. "Surely," said they,
+"this is the greatest ship that ever sailed the sea."</p>
+
+<p>So eager were they to make trial of the long oars that some, leaping on
+the shoulders of their comrades and grasping the shrouds, clambered over
+the bulwarks upon the thwarts and drew the rest in after them. Orpheus,
+upon the mighty shoulders of Jason the leader of the expedition, seized
+hold of the arm of the azure-eyed goddess, the figure-head of the ship,
+and, as he climbed on board, her whisper reached his ear. "Orpheus, sing
+me something." This was the song:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"How sweet upon the surge to ride,<br /></span>
+<span>And leap from wave to wave,<br /></span>
+<span>While oars flash fast above the tide<br /></span>
+<span>And lordly tempests rave.<br /></span>
+<span>How sweet it is across the main,<br /></span>
+<span>In wonder-land to roam,<br /></span>
+<span>To win rich treasure, endless fame,<br /></span>
+<span>And earn a welcome home."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Then the good ship Argo stirred in all her timbers and longing for the
+restless sea came upon her and she rushed headlong down the grooves till
+the lips of the goddess tasted the salt sea spray.</p>
+
+<p>Many a day they sailed through laughing seas and ever they spoke
+together of the glory of the Golden Fleece which they hoped to bring
+home from far off Colchis.</p>
+
+<p>When they were come to the land of Colchis, King &AElig;etes summoned them to
+his palace. Beside him was seated his daughter, the beautiful witch
+maiden, Medea. She looked upon the Greeks and upon Jason, fairest and
+noblest of them all, and her spirit leaped forth to meet his. And
+knowing what lay before them, "surely," she thought, "it were an evil
+thing that men so bold and comely should perish."</p>
+
+<p>When Jason demanded the Golden Fleece, the rage of the King rushed up
+like a whirlwind, but he curbed his speech and spake a fair word.
+"Choose ye now him who is boldest among you and let him perform the
+labours I shall set."</p>
+
+<p>That night Medea stole from the palace to warn the hero of the toils and
+dangers that awaited him,&mdash;to tame a span of brazen-footed
+fire-breathing bulls, with them to plough four acres of unbroken land in
+the field of Ares, to sow the tilth with serpents' teeth, to slay its
+crop of warriors, to cross a river, and climb a lofty wall, to snatch
+the Fleece from a tree round which lay coiled the sleepless dragon. "How
+can these things be accomplished and that before the setting of another
+sun?" But Jason used flattering words, singing the song of Chiron:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"No river so deep but an arm may swim,<br /></span>
+<span>No wall so steep but a foot may climb,<br /></span>
+<span>No dragon so dread but a sword may slay,<br /></span>
+<span>No fiend so fierce but your charms may stay."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Medea, seeing that he knew not fear, gave him a magic ointment which
+should give him the strength of seven men and protect him from fire and
+steel.</p>
+
+<p>All the people assembled at sunrise in the field of Ares. When the
+fire-breathing bulls saw Jason standing in the middle of the field, fury
+shot from their eyes. Fierce was their onset and the multitude waited
+breathless to see what the end would be. As the bulls came on with
+lowered heads, and tails in air, Jason leaped nimbly to one side, and
+the monsters shot past him with bellowings that shook the earth. They
+turned and Jason poised for the leap. As they passed a second time, he
+grasped the nearest by the horn and lightly vaulted upon its back. The
+bull, unused to the burden, sank cowering to the ground. Jason patted
+its neck caressing it, and gladly it shared the yoke with its fellow.</p>
+
+<p>When the ground was ploughed and sown with the teeth of the serpent, a
+thousand warriors sprang full-armed from the brown earth. Then King
+&AElig;etes greatly rejoiced, but Medea, trembling at the sight, laid a spell
+upon them that they might not clearly distinguish friend from foe.</p>
+
+<p>One among them came forth and Jason advanced to meet him, walking with a
+halt. His adversary laughed aloud, but Jason with a mighty bound sprang
+upon the shoulders of his enemy and bore him helmetless to the ground.
+The hero quickly replaced the fallen helmet with his own, giving a
+golden helmet for a brazen. The other rose and fled back among his
+fellows who, thinking it was Jason come among them, fell upon and slew
+him and strove with each other for the golden helmet until all were
+slain but one who, wounded unto death, rose up from the fray and
+shouting "Victory" sank upon knee and elbow never to rise again.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the task was quickly accomplished, for Medea by her spells
+cast a deep sleep upon the dragon. So the Golden Fleece was won and
+brought once more to Iolchos with a prize still more precious, for Jason
+bore home with him Medea, the beautiful witch maiden, who became his
+bride and ruled with him, let us hope, many happy years.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">John Waugh</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>In the elder days of Art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Builders wrought with greatest care<br /></span>
+<span>Each minute and unseen part;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the Gods see everywhere.<br /></span>
+<span>Let us do our work as well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Both the unseen and the seen;<br /></span>
+<span>Make the house, where Gods may dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beautiful, entire and clean.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Longfellow</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Minstrel-Boy" id="Minstrel-Boy"></a>THE MINSTREL-BOY</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>The Minstrel-boy to the war is gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the ranks of death you'll find him;<br /></span>
+<span>His father's sword he has girded on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And his wild harp slung behind him.<br /></span>
+<span>"Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Tho' all the world betrays thee,<br /></span>
+<span><em>One</em> sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><em>One</em> faithful harp shall praise thee!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The Minstrel fell! but the foeman's chain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Could not bring his proud soul under;<br /></span>
+<span>The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For he tore its chords asunder;<br /></span>
+<span>And said: "No chains shall sully thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou soul of love and bravery!<br /></span>
+<span>Thy songs were made for the pure and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They shall never sound in slavery."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Moore</span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,<br /></span>
+<span>In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side;<br /></span>
+<span>Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Lowell</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Mary" id="Mary"></a>MARY ELIZABETH</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mary Elizabeth was a little girl with a long name. She was poor, she was
+sick, she was ragged, she was dirty, she was cold, she was hungry, she
+was frightened. She had no home, she had no mother, she had no father.
+She had no supper, she had had no dinner, she had had no breakfast. She
+had no place to go and nobody to care where she went.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, Mary Elizabeth had not much of anything but a short pink calico
+dress, a little red cotton-and-wool shawl, and her long name. Besides
+this, she had a pair of old rubbers, too large for her.</p>
+
+<p>She was walking up Washington Street. It was late in the afternoon of a
+bitter January day.</p>
+
+<p>"God made so many people," thought Mary Elizabeth, "He must have made so
+many suppers. Seems as if there'd ought to be one for one extry little
+girl."</p>
+
+<p>But she thought this in a gentle way. She was a very gentle little girl.
+All girls who hadn't anything were not like Mary Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>So now she was shuffling up Washington Street, not knowing exactly what
+to do next,&mdash;peeping into people's faces, timidly looking away from
+them, heart-sick (for a very little girl can be very heart-sick),
+colder, she thought, every minute, and hungrier each hour than she was
+the hour before.</p>
+
+<p>The child left Washington Street at last, where everybody had homes and
+suppers without one extra one to spare for a little girl, and turned
+into a short, bright, showy street, where stood a great hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Whether the door-keeper was away, or busy, or sick, or careless, or
+whether the head-waiter at the dining-room was so tall that he couldn't
+see so short a beggar, or whether the clerk at the desk was so noisy
+that he couldn't hear so still a beggar, or however it was, Mary
+Elizabeth did get in; by the door-keeper, past the head-waiter, under
+the shadow of the clerk, over the smooth, slippery marble floor the
+child crept on.</p>
+
+<p>She came to the office door and stood still. She looked around her with
+wide eyes. She had never seen a place like that. Lights flashed over it,
+many and bright. Gentlemen sat in it smoking and reading. They were all
+warm. Not one of them looked as if he had had no dinner and no
+breakfast and no supper.</p>
+
+<p>"How many extry suppers," thought the little girl, "it must ha' taken to
+feed 'em all. I guess maybe there'll be one for me in here."</p>
+
+<p>Mary Elizabeth stood in the middle of it, in her pink calico dress and
+red plaid shawl. The shawl was tied over her head and about her neck
+with a ragged tippet. Her bare feet showed in the old rubbers. She began
+to shuffle about the room, holding out one purple little hand.</p>
+
+<p>One or two of the gentlemen laughed; some frowned; more did nothing at
+all; most did not notice, or did not seem to notice, the child. One
+said: "What's the matter here?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary Elizabeth shuffled on. She went from one to the other, less
+timidly; a kind of desperation had taken possession of her. The odours
+from the dining-room came in, of strong, hot coffee, and strange roast
+meats. Mary Elizabeth thought of Jo.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to her she was so hungry that, if she could not get a supper,
+she should jump up and run and rush about and snatch something and steal
+like Jo. She held out her hand, but only said: "I'm hungry!"</p>
+
+<p>A gentleman called her. He was the gentleman who had asked: "What's the
+matter here?" He called her in behind his daily paper which was big
+enough to hide three of Mary Elizabeth, and when he saw that nobody was
+looking he gave her a five-cent piece in a hurry, as if he had committed
+a sin, and said quickly: "There, there, child! go now, go!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he began to read his newspaper quite hard and fast and to look
+severe, as one does who never gives anything to beggars, as a matter of
+principle.</p>
+
+<p>But nobody else gave anything to Mary Elizabeth. She shuffled from one
+to another, hopelessly. Every gentleman shook his head. One called for a
+waiter to put her out. This frightened her and she stood still.</p>
+
+<p>Over by a window, in a lonely corner of the great room, a young man was
+sitting apart from the others. He sat with his elbows on the table and
+his face buried in his arms. He was a well-dressed young man, with
+brown, curling hair.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Elizabeth wondered why he looked so miserable and why he sat alone.
+She thought, perhaps, that if he weren't so happy as the other
+gentlemen, he would be more sorry for cold and hungry girls. She
+hesitated, then walked along and directly up to him.</p>
+
+<p>One or two gentlemen laid down their papers and watched this; they
+smiled and nodded to each other. The child did not see them to wonder
+why. She went up and put her hand upon the young man's arm.</p>
+
+<p>He started. The brown, curly head lifted itself from the shelter of his
+arms; a young face looked sharply at the beggar girl,&mdash;a beautiful young
+face it might have been.</p>
+
+<p>It was haggard now and dreadful to look at,&mdash;bloated and badly marked
+with the unmistakable marks of a wicked week's debauch. He roughly said:</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm hungry," said Mary Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help that. Go away."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't had anything to eat for a whole day&mdash;a whole day!" repeated
+the child.</p>
+
+<p>Her lip quivered. But she spoke distinctly. Her voice sounded through
+the room. One gentleman after another laid down his paper or his pipe.
+Several were watching this little scene.</p>
+
+<p>"Go away!" repeated the young man, irritably. "Don't bother me. I
+haven't had anything to eat for three days!"</p>
+
+<p>His face went down into his arms again. Mary Elizabeth stood staring at
+the brown, curling hair. She stood perfectly still for some moments. She
+evidently was greatly puzzled. She walked away a little distance, then
+stopped and thought it over.</p>
+
+<p>And now paper after paper and pipe after cigar went down. Every
+gentleman in the room began to look on. The young man with the beautiful
+brown curls, and dissipated, disgraced, and hidden face was not stiller
+than the rest.</p>
+
+<p>The little figure in the pink calico and the red shawl and big rubbers
+stood for a moment silent among them all. The waiter came to take her
+out but the gentlemen motioned him away.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Elizabeth turned her five-cent piece over and over in her purple
+hand. Her hand shook. The tears came. The smell of the dinner from the
+dining-room grew savoury and strong. The child put the piece of money to
+her lips as if she could have eaten it, then turned and, without further
+hesitation, went back.</p>
+
+<p>She touched the young man&mdash;on the bright hair this time&mdash;with her
+trembling little hand.</p>
+
+<p>The room was so still now that what she said rang out to the corridor,
+where the waiters stood, with the clerk behind looking over the desk to
+see.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry you are so hungry. If you haven't had anything for three
+days, you must be hungrier than me. I've got five cents. A gentleman
+gave it me. I wish you would take it. I've only gone one day. You can
+get some supper with it, and&mdash;maybe&mdash;I&mdash;can get some somewheres! I wish
+you'd please to take it!"</p>
+
+<p>Mary Elizabeth stood quite still, holding out her five-cent piece. She
+did not understand the stir that went all over the bright room. She did
+not see that some of the gentlemen coughed and wiped their spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>She did not know why the brown curls before her came up with such a
+start, nor why the young man's wasted face flushed red and hot with a
+noble shame.</p>
+
+<p>She did not in the least understand why he flung the five-cent piece
+upon the table, and, snatching her in his arms, held her fast and hid
+his face on her plaid shawl and sobbed. Nor did she seem to know what
+could be the reason that nobody seemed amused to see this gentleman
+cry.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman who had given her the money came up, and some more came
+up, and they gathered around, and she in the midst of them, and they all
+spoke kindly, and the young man with the bad face that might have been
+so beautiful stood up, still clinging to her, and said aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"She's shamed me before you all, and she's shamed me to myself! I'll
+learn a lesson from this beggar, so help me God!"</p>
+
+<p>So then he took the child upon his knee, and the gentlemen came up to
+listen, and the young man asked her what her name was.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary Elizabeth, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Names used to mean things&mdash;in the Bible&mdash;when I was as little as you. I
+read the Bible then. Does Mary Elizabeth mean angel of rebuke?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you live, Mary Elizabeth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nowhere, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you sleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"In Mrs. O'Flynn's shed, sir. It's too cold for the cows. She's so kind,
+she lets us stay."</p>
+
+<p>"Whom do you stay with?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody, only Jo."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Jo your brother?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. Jo is a girl. I haven't got only Jo."</p>
+
+<p>"What does Jo do for a living?"</p>
+
+<p>"She&mdash;gets it, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg. It's better than to&mdash;get it, sir, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dead."</p>
+
+<p>"What did she die of?"</p>
+
+<p>"Drink, sir," said Mary Elizabeth, in her distinct and gentle tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;well. And your father?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead. He died in prison."</p>
+
+<p>"What sent him to prison?"</p>
+
+<p>"Drink, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"I had a brother once," continued Mary Elizabeth, who grew quite
+eloquent with so large an audience, "but he died, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I do want my supper," she added, after a pause, speaking in a whisper,
+as if to Jo or to herself, "and Jo'll be wondering for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait, then," said the young man. "I'll see if I can't beg enough to get
+you your supper."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought there must be an extry one among so many folks!" cried Mary
+Elizabeth; for now, she thought, she should get back her five cents.</p>
+
+<p>And, truly, the young man put the five cents into his hat, to begin
+with. Then he took out his purse, and put in something that made less
+noise than the five-cent piece and something more and more and more.</p>
+
+<p>Then he passed around the great room, walking still unsteadily, and the
+gentleman who gave the five cents and all the gentlemen put something
+into the young man's hat.</p>
+
+<p>So, when he came back to the table, he emptied the hat and counted the
+money, and, truly, it was forty dollars.</p>
+
+<p>"Forty dollars!"</p>
+
+<p>Mary Elizabeth looked frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"It's yours," said the young man. "Now come to supper. But see! this
+gentleman who gave you the five-cent piece shall take care of the money
+for you. You can trust him. He's got a wife, too. But we'll come to
+supper now."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>So the young man took her by the hand, and the gentleman whose wife knew
+all about what to do with orphans took her by the other hand, and one or
+two more gentlemen followed, and they all went into the dining-room, and
+put Mary Elizabeth in a chair at a clean white table, and asked her
+what she wanted for her supper.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Elizabeth said that a little dry toast and a cup of milk would do
+nicely. So all the gentlemen laughed. And she wondered why.</p>
+
+<p>And the young man with the brown curls laughed, too, and began to look
+quite happy. But he ordered chicken and cranberry sauce and mashed
+potatoes and celery and rolls and butter and tomatoes and an ice cream
+and a cup of tea and nuts and raisins and cake and custard and apples
+and grapes.</p>
+
+<p>And Mary Elizabeth sat in her pink dress and red shawl and ate the
+whole; and why it didn't kill her nobody knows; but it didn't.</p>
+
+<p>The young man with the face that might have been beautiful&mdash;that might
+be yet, one would have thought who had seen him then&mdash;stood watching the
+little girl.</p>
+
+<p>"She's preached me the best sermon," he said below his breath, "I ever
+heard. May God bless her! I wish there were a thousand like her in this
+selfish world!"</p>
+
+<p>And when I heard about it I wished so, too.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Oh, there is nothing on earth half so holy<br /></span>
+<span>As the innocent heart of a child.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Dickens</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Frost" id="Frost"></a>THE FROST</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>The Frost looked forth, one still clear night,<br /></span>
+<span>And whispered: "Now I shall be out of sight;<br /></span>
+<span>So through the valley and over the height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In silence I'll take my way:<br /></span>
+<span>I will not go on like that blustering train,<br /></span>
+<span>The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,<br /></span>
+<span>Who make so much bustle and noise in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I'll be as busy as they."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Then he flew to the mountain and powdered its crest;<br /></span>
+<span>He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed<br /></span>
+<span>In diamond beads&mdash;and over the breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the quivering lake he spread<br /></span>
+<span>A coat of mail, that it need not fear<br /></span>
+<span>The downward point of many a spear<br /></span>
+<span>That he hung on its margin, far and near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where a rock could rear its head.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>He went to the windows of those who slept,<br /></span>
+<span>And over each pane, like a fairy, crept;<br /></span>
+<span>Wherever he breathed, wherever he stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the light of the moon were seen<br /></span>
+<span>Most beautiful things:&mdash;there were flowers and trees;<br /></span>
+<span>There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees:<br /></span>
+<span>There were cities with temples and towers; and these<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All pictured in silver sheen.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But he did one thing that was hardly fair;<br /></span>
+<span>He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there<br /></span>
+<span>That all had forgotten for him to prepare&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Now just to set them a-thinking,<br /></span>
+<span>I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he,<br /></span>
+<span>"This costly pitcher I'll burst in three,<br /></span>
+<span>And the glass of water they've left for me<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall 'Tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">H.&nbsp;F. Gould</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Corn-fields" id="Corn-fields"></a>CORN-FIELDS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>When on the breath of Autumn's breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From pastures dry and brown,<br /></span>
+<span>Goes floating, like an idle thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The fair, white thistle-down,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Oh, then what joy to walk at will<br /></span>
+<span>Upon the golden harvest-hill!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>What joy in dreaming ease to lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amid a field new shorn;<br /></span>
+<span>And see all round, on sunlit slopes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The piled-up shocks of corn;<br /></span>
+<span>And send the fancy wandering o'er<br /></span>
+<span>All pleasant harvest-fields of yore!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I feel the day; I see the field;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The quivering of the leaves;<br /></span>
+<span>And good old Jacob, and his house,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Binding the yellow sheaves!<br /></span>
+<span>And at this very hour I seem<br /></span>
+<span>To be with Joseph in his dream!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I see the fields of Bethlehem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And reapers many a one<br /></span>
+<span>Bending unto their sickles' stroke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Boaz looking on;<br /></span>
+<span>And Ruth, the Moabitess fair,<br /></span>
+<span>Among the gleaners stooping there!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Again, I see a little child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His mother's sole delight,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>God's living gift of love unto<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The kind, good Shunammite;<br /></span>
+<span>To mortal pangs I see him yield,<br /></span>
+<span>And the lad bear him from the field.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The sun-bathed quiet of the hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The fields of Galilee,<br /></span>
+<span>That eighteen hundred years ago<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were full of corn, I see;<br /></span>
+<span>And the dear Saviour take his way<br /></span>
+<span>'Mid ripe ears on the Sabbath day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Oh, golden fields of bending corn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How beautiful they seem!<br /></span>
+<span>The reaper-folk, the piled-up sheaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To me are like a dream;<br /></span>
+<span>The sunshine, and the very air<br /></span>
+<span>Seem of old time, and take me there!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Mary Howitt</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="South-West" id="South-West"></a>SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQ.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Treasure Valley belonged to three brothers&mdash;Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck.
+The two elder brothers were rich, cruel, quarrelsome men who never gave
+anything in charity. The youngest brother, Gluck, was twelve years old,
+and kind to everyone. He had to act as cook and servant to his brothers.</p>
+
+<p>One cold, wet day the brothers went out, telling Gluck to roast a leg of
+mutton on the spit, let nobody into the house, and let nothing out.
+After a time some one knocked at the door. Gluck went to the window,
+opened it, and put his head out to see who it was.</p>
+
+<p>It was the most extraordinary-looking little gentleman. He had a very
+large nose, slightly brass-coloured; very round and very red cheeks;
+merry eyes, long hair, and moustaches that curled twice round like a
+corkscrew on each side of his mouth. He was four feet six inches high,
+and wore a pointed cap as long as himself. It was decorated with a black
+feather about three feet long. Around his body was folded an enormous
+black, glossy-looking cloak much too long for him. As he knocked again
+he caught sight of Gluck.</p>
+
+<p>"Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
+door; I'm wet, let me in."</p>
+
+<p>To do the little gentleman justice, he <em>was</em> wet. His feather hung down
+between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella;
+and from the ends of his moustaches the water was running into his
+waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't let you in, sir,&mdash;I can't, indeed; my brothers would beat me to
+death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly, "I want fire and shelter;
+and there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the
+walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to warm
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he
+began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned and
+saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright
+tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savoury
+smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
+be burning away for nothing. "He does look <em>very</em> wet," said little
+Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he went to
+the door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, through
+the house came a gust of wind that made the old chimneys totter.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a good boy," said the little gentleman. "Never mind your
+brothers. I'll talk to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
+till they come; they'd be the death of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that. How
+long may I stay?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
+brown."</p>
+
+<p>Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down on
+the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it
+was a great deal too high for the roof. "You'll soon dry there, sir,"
+said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the mutton. But the old gentleman
+did <em>not</em> dry there, but went on drip, drip, dripping among the cinders,
+and the fire fizzed and sputtered, and began to look very black and
+uncomfortable; never was such a cloak; every fold in it ran like a
+gutter.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the water
+spreading in long quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarter
+of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Your cap, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;sir&mdash;I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but&mdash;really,
+sir&mdash;you're putting the fire out."</p>
+
+<p>"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then," replied his visitor, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>Gluck was very much puzzled by the behaviour of his guest; it was such a
+strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string
+meditatively for another five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman, at length. "Can't
+you give me a little bit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat
+yesterday, nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the
+knuckle!"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
+heart. "They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give
+you that, but not a bit more."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.</p>
+
+<p>Then Gluck warmed a plate and sharpened a knife. "I don't care if I do
+get beaten for it," thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of
+the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman
+jumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm.
+Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts at
+exactitude, and ran to open the door.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
+walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay! what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an
+educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
+standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible
+velocity.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning to
+Gluck with a fierce frown.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.</p>
+
+<p>"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so <em>very</em> wet!"</p>
+
+<p>The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but at the instant the
+old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
+shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
+odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap than it flew out of
+Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
+corner at the farther end of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"What's your business?" snarled Hans.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a poor, old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly,
+"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
+quarter of an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
+enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying-house."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray
+hairs." They hung down to his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
+I go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
+our bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>"A little bit," said the old gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Be off!" said Schwartz.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, gentlemen&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had
+no sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went after
+the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner
+on the top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old
+gentleman to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when away
+he went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the
+wall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.</p>
+
+<p>Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite
+direction; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly
+about him; clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it
+could not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an
+additional twist to his corkscrew moustaches, and replied with perfect
+coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good-morning. At twelve o'clock
+to-night I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I have
+just experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the last I
+ever pay you."</p>
+
+<p>"If I ever catch you here again," muttered Schwartz, coming,
+half-frightened, out of the corner&mdash;but before he could finish his
+sentence, the old gentleman had shut the house door behind him with a
+great bang; and past the window, at the same instant, drove a wreath of
+ragged cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all manner
+of shapes; turning over and over in the air, and melting away at last in
+a gush of rain.</p>
+
+<p>"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz. "Dish the
+mutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again&mdash;bless me, why
+the mutton's been cut!"</p>
+
+<p>"You promised me one slice, brother, you know," said Gluck.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the
+gravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave the
+room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much mutton
+as they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get
+very drunk after dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Such a night as it was! Howling wind and rushing rain, without
+intermission.</p>
+
+<p>The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the shutters, and
+double-bar the door, before they went to bed. They usually slept in the
+same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were both awakened by a
+tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a violence that shook the
+house from top to bottom.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Only I," said the little gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness.
+The room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its way
+through a hole in the shutter, they could see, in the midst of it, an
+enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a
+cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old
+gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for the
+roof was off.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, ironically. "I'm afraid
+your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's room;
+I've left the ceiling on there."</p>
+
+<p>They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wet
+through, and in an agony of terror.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the old gentleman called
+after them. "Remember, the <em>last</em> visit."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray Heaven it may be!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's little
+window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and
+desolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and
+left, in their stead, a waste of red sand and gray mud. The two brothers
+crept, shivering and horror-struck, into the kitchen. The water had
+gutted the whole first floor: corn, money, almost every movable thing
+had been swept away, and there was left only a small white card on the
+kitchen table. On it, in large, breezy, long-legged letters, were
+engraved the words:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Ruskin</span>: "The King of the Golden River."<br/>
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,<br /></span>
+<span>The solemn temples, the great globe itself,<br /></span>
+<span>Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;<br /></span>
+<span>And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,<br /></span>
+<span>Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff<br /></span>
+<span>As dreams are made on, and our little life<br /></span>
+<span>Is rounded with a sleep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Meeting" id="Meeting"></a>THE MEETING OF THE WATERS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet<br /></span>
+<span>As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;<br /></span>
+<span>Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,<br /></span>
+<span>Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Yet it <em>was</em> not that Nature had shed o'er the scene<br /></span>
+<span>Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;<br /></span>
+<span>'Twas <em>not</em> her soft magic of streamlet or hill,<br /></span>
+<span>Oh! no,&mdash;it was something more exquisite still.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,<br /></span>
+<span>Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,<br /></span>
+<span>And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve,<br /></span>
+<span>When we see them reflected from looks that we love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest<br /></span>
+<span>In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,<br /></span>
+<span>Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,<br /></span>
+<span>And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Moore</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Love" id="Love"></a>LOVE</h2>
+
+
+<p>Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you. Bless them that curse
+you, and pray for them which despitefully use you. And as ye would that
+men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise. For if ye love them
+which love you, what thank have ye? for sinners also love those that
+love them. And if ye do good to them which do good to you, what thank
+have ye? for sinners also do even the same. And if ye lend to them of
+whom ye hope to receive, what thank have ye? for sinners also lend to
+sinners, to receive as much again. But love ye your enemies, and do
+good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your reward shall be
+great, and ye shall be the children of the Highest: for he is kind unto
+the unthankful and to the evil. Be ye therefore merciful, as your
+Father also is merciful. Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn
+not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.
+Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and
+shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For
+with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you
+again.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">St. Luke</span>, VI. 27-38</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Robin" id="Robin"></a>THE ROBIN'S SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"When the willows gleam along the brooks,<br /></span>
+<span>And the grass grows green in sunny nooks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the sunshine and the rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I hear the robin in the lane<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Singing, 'Cheerily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cheer up, cheer up;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cheerily, cheerily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cheer up.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"But the snow is still<br /></span>
+<span>Along the walls and on the hill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The days are cold, the nights forlorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For one is here and one is gone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Tut, tut. Cheerily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cheer up, cheer up;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cheerily, cheerily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cheer up.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"When spring hopes seem to wane,<br /></span>
+<span>I hear the joyful strain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A song at night, a song at morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A lesson deep to me is borne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hearing, 'Cheerily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cheer up, cheer up;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cheerily, cheerily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cheer up.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Unknown</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Work" id="Work"></a>WORK OR PLAY</h2>
+
+
+<p>Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh
+and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the
+heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every
+face, and a spring in every step. The locust trees were in bloom, and
+the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air.</p>
+
+<p>Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a
+long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and the gladness went out of
+nature, and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards
+of board fence nine feet high! It seemed to him that life was hollow,
+and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it
+along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared
+the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of
+unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged.</p>
+
+<p>He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his
+sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all
+sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of
+him for having to work&mdash;the very thought of it burnt him like fire.</p>
+
+<p>He got out his worldly wealth and examined it&mdash;bits of toys, marbles and
+trash; enough to buy an exchange of work maybe, but not enough to buy so
+much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened
+means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys.</p>
+
+<p>At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him. Nothing
+less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and
+went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently; the very
+boy of all boys whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the
+hop, skip, and jump&mdash;proof enough that his heart was light and his
+anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long melodious
+whoop at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding dong dong, ding dong
+dong, for he was personating a steamboat.</p>
+
+<p>Tom went on whitewashing&mdash;paid no attention to the steamer. Ben stared a
+moment, and then said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hi-yi! You're a stump, ain't you!"</p>
+
+<p>No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist; then
+he gave his brush another gentle sweep, and surveyed the result as
+before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the
+apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, old chap; you got to work, hey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing."</p>
+
+<p>"Say, I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of
+course you'd druther work, wouldn't you? 'Course you would!"</p>
+
+<p>Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What do you call work?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why ain't that work?"</p>
+
+<p>Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know is, it suits Tom
+Sawyer."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come now, you don't mean to let on that you like it?"</p>
+
+<p>The brush continued to move.</p>
+
+<p>"Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a
+chance to whitewash a fence every day?"</p>
+
+<p>That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom
+swept his brush daintily back and forth&mdash;stepped back to note the
+effect&mdash;added a touch here and there&mdash;criticised the effect again, Ben
+watching every move, and getting more and more interested, more and more
+absorbed. Presently he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Tom, let me whitewash a little."</p>
+
+<p>Tom considered; was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No, no;
+I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful
+particular about this fence&mdash;right here on the street, you know&mdash;but if
+it was the back fence I wouldn't mind, and she wouldn't. Yes, she's
+awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I
+reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can
+do it the way it's got to be done."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;is that so? Oh, come now; lemme just try, only just a little. I'd
+let you, if you was me, Tom."</p>
+
+<p>"Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly&mdash;well, Jim wanted to do
+it, but she wouldn't let him. Sid wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let
+Sid. Now, don't you see how I am fixed? If you was to tackle this fence,
+and anything was to happen to it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, shucks; I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say&mdash;I'll give you
+the core of my apple."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, here. No, Ben; now don't; I'm afeard&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give you all of it!"</p>
+
+<p>Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his
+heart. And while Ben worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist
+sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his
+apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of
+material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but
+remained to whitewash.</p>
+
+<p>By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy
+Fisher for a kite in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller
+bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with; and so on, and
+so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from
+being a poor, poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally
+rolling in wealth.</p>
+
+<p>He had, besides the things I have mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a
+jew's harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a
+spool-cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk,
+a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six
+fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a
+dog-collar&mdash;but no dog&mdash;the handle of a knife, four pieces of
+orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window-sash. He had had a nice, good,
+idle time all the while&mdash;plenty of company&mdash;and the fence had three
+coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash, he would
+have bankrupted every boy in the village.</p>
+
+<p>Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world after all. He
+had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it, namely,
+that, in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only
+necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great
+and wise philosopher, he would have comprehended that Work consists of
+whatever a body is <em>obliged</em> to do, and that Play consists of whatever a
+body is <em>not</em> obliged to do.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Mark Twain</span>: "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Burial" id="Burial"></a>BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;<br /></span>
+<span>Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er the grave where our hero we buried.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>We buried him darkly at dead of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sods with our bayonets turning;<br /></span>
+<span>By the struggling moon-beam's misty light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the lantern dimly burning.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>No useless coffin inclosed his breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;<br /></span>
+<span>But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With his martial cloak around him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Few and short were the prayers we said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And we spoke not a word of sorrow;<br /></span>
+<span>But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And we bitterly thought of the morrow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And smoothed down his lonely pillow,<br /></span>
+<span>That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And we far away on the billow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the grave where a Briton has laid him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But half of our heavy task was done<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the clock struck the hour for retiring;<br /></span>
+<span>And we heard the distant and random gun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That the foe was sullenly firing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Slowly and sadly we laid him down<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the field of his fame fresh and gory;<br /></span>
+<span>We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But we left him alone with his glory.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">C. Wolfe</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Whistle" id="Whistle"></a>THE WHISTLE</h2>
+
+
+<p>When I was a boy of seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my
+pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for
+children, and being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by
+the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all
+my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the
+house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My
+brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had
+made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth; put
+me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the
+money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with
+vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave
+me pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing in
+my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary
+thing, I said to myself: "Don't give too much for the whistle;" and I
+saved my money.</p>
+
+<p>As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I
+thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.</p>
+
+<p>When I saw any one fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in
+politics, neglecting his own affairs and ruining them by that neglect,
+"He pays, indeed," said I, "too much for his whistle."</p>
+
+<p>If I saw one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine horses, all
+above his fortune, for which he contracted debts and ended his career in
+poverty, "Alas!" said I, "he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle."</p>
+
+<p>In short, I believed that a great part of the miseries of mankind were
+brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of
+things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Benjamin Franklin</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Boat" id="Boat"></a>A CANADIAN BOAT SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Faintly as tolls the evening chime<br /></span>
+<span>Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.<br /></span>
+<span>Soon as the woods on shore look dim,<br /></span>
+<span>We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.<br /></span>
+<span>Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,<br /></span>
+<span>The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Why should we yet our sail unfurl?<br /></span>
+<span>There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;<br /></span>
+<span>But, when the wind blows off the shore,<br /></span>
+<span>Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.<br /></span>
+<span>Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,<br /></span>
+<span>The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Utawas' tide! this trembling moon<br /></span>
+<span>Shall see us float over thy surges soon.<br /></span>
+<span>Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers,<br /></span>
+<span>Oh, grant us cool heavens and favouring airs.<br /></span>
+<span>Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,<br /></span>
+<span>The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Moore</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Haarlem" id="Haarlem"></a>THE LITTLE HERO OF HAARLEM</h2>
+
+
+<p>At an early period in the history of Holland, a boy was born in Haarlem,
+a town remarkable for its variety of fortune in war, but happily still
+more so for its manufactures and inventions in peace.</p>
+
+<p>His father was a sluicer&mdash;that is, one whose employment it was to open
+and shut the sluices or large oak gates which, placed at certain regular
+distances, close the entrances of the canals, and secure Holland from
+the danger to which it seems exposed, of finding itself under water,
+rather than above it. When water is wanted, the sluicer raises the
+sluices more or less, as required, as the cook turns the cock of a
+fountain, and closes them again carefully at night; otherwise the water
+would flow into the canals, then overflow them, and inundate the whole
+country; so that even the little children in Holland are fully aware of
+the importance of a punctual discharge of the sluicer's duties.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was about eight years old when, one day, he asked permission to
+take some cakes to a poor blind man, who lived at the other side of the
+dike. His father gave him leave, but charged him not to stay too late.
+The child promised, and set off on his little journey. The blind man
+thankfully partook of his young friend's cakes, and the boy, mindful of
+his father's orders, did not wait, as usual, to hear one of the old
+man's stories, but as soon as he had seen him eat one muffin, took leave
+of him to return home.</p>
+
+<p>As he went along by the canals, then quite full, for it was in October,
+and the autumn rains had swelled the waters,&mdash;the boy now stooped to
+pull the little blue flowers which his mother loved so well, now, in
+childish gaiety, hummed some merry song. The road gradually became more
+solitary, and soon neither the joyous shout of the villager returning to
+his cottage home, nor the rough voice of the carter grumbling at his
+lazy horses, was any longer to be heard. The little fellow now perceived
+that the blue of the flowers in his hands was scarcely distinguishable
+from the green of the surrounding herbage, and he looked up in some
+dismay. The night was falling; not, however, a dark, winter night, but
+one of those beautiful, clear, moonlight nights, in which every object
+is perceptible, though not as distinctly as by day.</p>
+
+<p>The child thought of his father, of his injunction, and was preparing to
+quit the ravine in which he was almost buried, and to regain the beach,
+when suddenly a slight noise, like the trickling of water upon pebbles,
+attracted his attention. He was near one of the large sluices, and he
+now carefully examined it, and soon discovered a hole in the wood,
+through which the water was flowing. With the instant perception which
+every child in Holland would have, the boy saw that the water must soon
+enlarge the hole through which it was now only dropping, and that utter
+and general ruin would be the consequence of the inundation of the
+country that must follow. To see, to throw away the flowers, to climb
+from stone to stone till he reached the hole, and to put his finger into
+it, was the work of a moment, and to his delight he found that he had
+succeeded in stopping the flow of the water.</p>
+
+<p>This was all very well for a little while, and the child thought only of
+the success of his device. But the night was closing in, and with the
+night came the cold. The little boy looked around in vain. No one came.
+He shouted&mdash;he called loudly&mdash;no one answered. He resolved to stay there
+all night, but alas! the cold was becoming every moment more biting, and
+the poor finger fixed in the hole began to feel benumbed, and the
+numbness soon extended to the hand, and thence throughout the whole arm.
+The pain became still greater, still harder to bear, but yet the boy
+moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his father, of
+his mother, of his little bed, where he might now be sleeping so
+soundly; but still the little fellow stirred not, for he knew that did
+he remove the small slender finger which he had opposed to the escape of
+the water, not only would he himself be drowned, but his father, his
+brothers, his neighbours&mdash;nay, the whole village.</p>
+
+<p>We know not what faltering of purpose, what momentary failures of
+courage there might have been during that long and terrible night; but
+certain it is, that at daybreak he was found in the same painful
+position by a clergyman returning from attendance on a deathbed, who, as
+he advanced, thought he heard groans, and bending over the dike,
+discovered a child seated on a stone, writhing from pain, and with pale
+face and tearful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of wonder, boy," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am hindering the water from running out," was the answer, in perfect
+simplicity, of the child, who, during that whole night, had been
+evincing such heroic fortitude and undaunted courage.</p>
+
+<p>The Muse of History has handed down to posterity many a warrior, the
+destroyer of thousands of his fellow-men&mdash;but she has left us in
+ignorance of the name of this real little hero of Haarlem.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Sharpe's London Magazine</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,<br /></span>
+<span>Are a substantial world, both pure and good.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Father" id="Father"></a>FATHER WILLIAM</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Repeat 'You are old, Father William,'" said the Caterpillar.</p>
+
+<p>Alice folded her hands, and began:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"You are old, Father William," the young man said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And your hair has become very white;<br /></span>
+<span>And yet you incessantly stand on your head&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Do you think, at your age, it is right?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I feared it might injure the brain;<br /></span>
+<span>But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Why, I do it again and again."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And have grown most uncommonly fat;<br /></span>
+<span>Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pray, what is the reason of that?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I kept all my limbs very supple<br /></span>
+<span>By the use of this ointment&mdash;one shilling the box&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Allow me to sell you a couple."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For anything tougher than suet;<br /></span>
+<span>Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pray, how did you manage to do it?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And argued each case with my wife;<br /></span>
+<span>And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Has lasted the rest of my life."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"You are old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That your eye was as steady as ever;<br /></span>
+<span>Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What made you so awfully clever?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!<br /></span>
+<span>Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Be off, or I'll kick you down-stairs!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"That is not said right," said the Caterpillar.</p>
+
+<p>"Not <em>quite</em> right, I'm afraid," said Alice timidly; "some of the words
+have got altered."</p>
+
+<p>"It is wrong from beginning to end," said the Caterpillar decidedly, and
+there was silence for some minutes.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll</span>: "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="David" id="David"></a>DAVID AND GOLIATH</h2>
+
+
+<p>Now the Philistines gathered together their armies to battle, and Saul
+and the men of Israel were gathered together, and pitched by the valley
+of Elah, and set the battle in array against the Philistines. And the
+Philistines stood on a mountain on the one side, and Israel stood on a
+mountain on the other side: and there was a valley between them.</p>
+
+<p>And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named
+Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. And he had an
+helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail; and
+the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of brass. And he had
+greaves of brass upon his legs, and a target of brass between his
+shoulders. And the staff of his spear was like a weaver's beam; and his
+spear's head weighed six hundred shekels of iron: and one bearing a
+shield went before him.</p>
+
+<p>And he stood and cried unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them,
+Why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am not I a Philistine,
+and ye servants to Saul? Choose you a man for you, and let him come down
+to me. If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be
+your servants: but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then shall ye
+be our servants, and serve us. And the Philistine said, I defy the
+armies of Israel this day; give me a man, that we may fight together.
+When Saul and all Israel heard those words of the Philistine, they were
+dismayed, and greatly afraid.</p>
+
+<p>And David rose up early in the morning, and left the sheep with a
+keeper, and took, and went, as Jesse had commanded him; and he came to
+the trench, as the host was going forth to the fight, and shouted for
+the battle. For Israel and the Philistines had put the battle in array,
+army against army. And David left his carriage in the hand of the keeper
+of the carriage, and ran into the army, and came and saluted his
+brethren. And as he talked with them, behold, there came up the
+champion, the Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, out of the armies of
+the Philistines, and spake according to the same words: and David heard
+them. And all the men of Israel, when they saw the man, fled from him,
+and were sore afraid. And the men of Israel said, Have ye seen this man
+that is come up? surely to defy Israel is he come up: and it shall be,
+that the man who killeth him, the king will enrich him with great
+riches, and will give him his daughter, and make his father's house free
+in Israel. And David spake to the men that stood by him, saying, What
+shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine, and taketh away
+the reproach from Israel? For who is this Philistine, that he should
+defy the armies of the living God? And the people answered him after
+this manner, saying, So shall it be done to the man that killeth him.
+And when the words were heard which David spake, they rehearsed them
+before Saul: and he sent for him.</p>
+
+<p>And David said to Saul, Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy
+servant will go and fight with this Philistine. And Saul said to David,
+Thou art not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him: for
+thou art but a youth, and he a man of war from his youth. And David said
+unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and there came a lion,
+and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock: And I went out after him,
+and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose
+against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy
+servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this Philistine shall be as
+one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of the living God. David
+said moreover, The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion,
+and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of
+this Philistine. And Saul said unto David, Go, and the Lord be with
+thee.</p>
+
+<p>And Saul armed David with his armour, and he put a helmet of brass upon
+his head; also he armed him with a coat of mail. And David girded his
+sword upon his armour, and he assayed to go; for he had not proved it.
+And David said unto Saul, I cannot go with these; for I have not proved
+them. And David put them off him. And he took his staff in his hand, and
+chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a
+shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip; and his sling was in his
+hand: and he drew near to the Philistine.</p>
+
+<p>And the Philistine came on and drew near unto David; and the man that
+bare the shield went before him. And when the Philistine looked about,
+and saw David, he disdained him: for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and
+of a fair countenance. And the Philistine said unto David, Am I a dog,
+that thou comest to me with staves? And the Philistine cursed David by
+his gods.</p>
+
+<p>And the Philistine said to David, Come to me, and I will give thy flesh
+unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field.</p>
+
+<p>Then said David to the Philistine, Thou comest to me with a sword, and
+with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the
+Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
+This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite
+thee, and take thine head from thee; and I will give the carcases of the
+host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to the
+wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know that there is a
+God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth not
+with sword and spear: for the battle is the Lord's, and he will give you
+into our hands.</p>
+
+<p>And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and drew nigh
+to meet David, that David hasted, and ran toward the army to meet the
+Philistine. And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone,
+and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone
+sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth. So David
+prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and smote
+the Philistine, and slew him; but there was no sword in the hand of
+David. Therefore David ran, and stood upon the Philistine, and took his
+sword, and drew it out of the sheath thereof, and slew him, and cut off
+his head therewith. And when the Philistines saw their champion was
+dead, they fled.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">I. Samuel</span>, XVII.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image04" id="image04"></a>
+<a href="images/image4.jpg">
+<img src="images/image4-th.jpg" width="387" height="210"
+alt="AT THE END OF THE MEAL" title="AT THE END OF THE MEAL" />
+</a>
+<p class="caption">AT THE END OF THE MEAL</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Charge" id="Charge"></a>THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Half a league, half a league,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half a league onward,<br /></span>
+<span>All in the valley of Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rode the six hundred.<br /></span>
+<span>"Forward, the Light Brigade!<br /></span>
+<span>Charge for the guns!" he said:<br /></span>
+<span>Into the valley of Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rode the six hundred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Forward, the Light Brigade!"<br /></span>
+<span>Was there a man dismay'd?<br /></span>
+<span>Not tho' the soldier knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some one had blunder'd:<br /></span>
+<span>Their's not to make reply,<br /></span>
+<span>Their's not to reason why,<br /></span>
+<span>Their's but to do and die:<br /></span>
+<span>Into the valley of Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rode the six hundred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Cannon to right of them,<br /></span>
+<span>Cannon to left of them,<br /></span>
+<span>Cannon in front of them<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Volley'd and thunder'd;<br /></span>
+<span>Storm'd at with shot and shell,<br /></span>
+<span>Boldly they rode and well,<br /></span>
+<span>Into the jaws of Death,<br /></span>
+<span>Into the mouth of Hell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rode the six hundred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Flash'd all their sabres bare,<br /></span>
+<span>Flash'd as they turn'd in air<br /></span>
+<span>Sabring the gunners there,<br /></span>
+<span>Charging an army, while<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the world wonder'd:<br /></span>
+<span>Plunged in the battery-smoke<br /></span>
+<span>Right thro' the line they broke;<br /></span>
+<span>Cossack and Russian<br /></span>
+<span>Reel'd from the sabre-stroke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shatter'd and sunder'd.<br /></span>
+<span>Then they rode back, but not<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not the six hundred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Cannon to right of them,<br /></span>
+<span>Cannon to left of them,<br /></span>
+<span>Cannon behind them<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Volley'd and thunder'd;<br /></span>
+<span>Storm'd at with shot and shell,<br /></span>
+<span>While horse and hero fell,<br /></span>
+<span>They that had fought so well<br /></span>
+<span>Came thro' the jaws of Death,<br /></span>
+<span>Back from the mouth of Hell,<br /></span>
+<span>All that was left of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Left of six hundred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>When can their glory fade?<br /></span>
+<span>O the wild charge they made!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the world wonder'd.<br /></span>
+<span>Honour the charge they made!<br /></span>
+<span>Honour the Light Brigade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Noble six hundred!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Maggie" id="Maggie"></a>MAGGIE TULLIVER</h2>
+
+
+<p>Maggie and Tom came in from the garden with their father and their Uncle
+Glegg. Maggie had thrown her bonnet off very carelessly, and, coming in
+with her hair rough as well as out of curl, rushed at once to Lucy. The
+contrast between the two cousins was like the contrast between a rough,
+dark, overgrown puppy and a white kitten. Lucy put up the neatest little
+rosebud mouth to be kissed: everything about her was neat.</p>
+
+<p>"Heyday!" said Aunt Glegg, with loud emphasis. "Do little boys and girls
+come into a room without taking notice of their uncles and aunts? That
+wasn't the way when I was a little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Go and speak to your aunts and uncles, my dears," said Mrs. Tulliver.
+She wanted to whisper to Maggie a command to go and have her hair
+brushed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, and how do you do? And I hope you're good children, are you?"
+said Aunt Glegg, in the same loud, emphatic way. "Look up, Tom, look up.
+Look at me now. Put your hair behind your ears, Maggie, and keep your
+frock on your shoulder."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Glegg always spoke to them in this loud, emphatic way, as if she
+considered them deaf.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dears," said Aunt Pullet, "you grow wonderfully fast,&mdash;I doubt
+they'll outgrow their strength. I think the girl has too much hair. I'd
+have it thinned and cut shorter, sister, if I were you; it isn't good
+for her health. It's that makes her skin so brown,&mdash;don't you think so,
+sister Deane?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say, I'm sure, sister," said Mrs. Deane, shutting her lips
+close and looking at Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Mr. Tulliver, "the child's healthy enough: there's
+nothing ails her. There's red wheat as well as white, for that matter,
+and some like the dark grain best. But it would be as well if Bessie
+would have the child's hair cut so it would lie smooth."</p>
+
+<p>"Maggie," said Mrs. Tulliver, beckoning Maggie to her, and whispering in
+her ear, "go and get your hair brushed,&mdash;do, for shame! I told you not
+to come in without going to Martha first; you know I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Tom, come out with me," whispered Maggie, pulling his sleeve as she
+passed him; and Tom followed willingly enough.</p>
+
+<p>"Come upstairs with me, Tom," she whispered, when they were outside the
+door. "There's something I want to do before dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no time to play at anything before dinner," said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, there is time for this&mdash;<em>do</em> come, Tom."</p>
+
+<p>Tom followed Maggie upstairs into her mother's room, and saw her go at
+once to a drawer from which she took out a large pair of scissors.</p>
+
+<p>"What are they for, Maggie?" said Tom, feeling his curiosity awakened.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie answered by seizing her front locks and cutting them straight
+across the middle of her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my buttons, Maggie, you'll catch it!" exclaimed Tom; "you'd better
+not cut any more off."</p>
+
+<p>Snip! went the great scissors again while Tom was speaking; and he could
+hardly help feeling it was rather good fun&mdash;Maggie looking so queer.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, Tom, cut it behind for me," said Maggie, excited by her own
+daring, and anxious to finish the deed.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll catch it, you know," said Tom, hesitating a little as he took
+the scissors.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind&mdash;make haste!" said Maggie, giving a little stamp with her
+foot. Her cheeks were quite flushed.</p>
+
+<p>The black locks were so thick,&mdash;nothing could be more tempting to a lad
+who had already tasted the forbidden pleasure of cutting the pony's
+mane. One delicious grinding snip, and then another and another, and the
+hinder locks fell heavily on the floor. Maggie stood cropped in a
+jagged, uneven manner, but with a sense of clearness and freedom, as if
+she had emerged from a wood into the open plain.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Maggie," said Tom, jumping round her and slapping his knees as he
+laughed; "oh, my buttons, what a queer thing you look! Look at yourself
+in the glass."</p>
+
+<p>Maggie felt an unexpected pang. She had thought beforehand chiefly of
+her own deliverance from her teasing hair and teasing remarks about it,
+and something also of the triumph she should have over her mother and
+her aunts by this very decided course of action. She didn't want her
+hair to look pretty&mdash;that was out of the question&mdash;she only wanted
+people to think her a clever little girl and not to find fault with her.
+But now, when Tom began to laugh at her, the affair had quite a new
+aspect. She looked in the glass, and still Tom laughed and clapped his
+hands, and Maggie's flushed cheeks began to pale, and her lips to
+tremble a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Maggie, you'll have to go down to dinner directly," said Tom. "Oh,
+my!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't laugh at me, Tom," said Maggie, in a passionate tone, and with an
+outburst of angry tears, stamping, and giving him a push.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then, spitfire!" said Tom. "What did you cut it off for, then? I
+shall go down: I can smell the dinner going in."</p>
+
+<p>Tom hurried down-stairs and left poor Maggie. As she stood crying before
+the glass, she felt it impossible that she should go down to dinner and
+endure the severe eyes and severe words of her aunts, while Tom, and
+Lucy, and Martha, who waited at table, and perhaps her father and her
+uncles, would laugh at her. If Tom had laughed at her, of course every
+one else would; and, if she had only let her hair alone, she could have
+sat with Tom and Lucy, and had the apricot pudding and the custard! What
+could she do but sob?</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Maggie, you're to come down this minute," said Kezia, entering the
+room hurriedly. "What have you been a-doing? I never saw such a fright!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Kezia," said Maggie, angrily. "Go away!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I tell you, you're to come down, Miss, this minute: your mother
+says so," said Kezia, going up to Maggie and taking her by the hand to
+raise her from the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Get away, Kezia; I don't want any dinner," said Maggie, resisting
+Kezia's arm. "I shan't come."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, I can't stay. I've got to wait at dinner," said Kezia, going
+out again.</p>
+
+<p>"Maggie, you little silly," said Tom, peeping into the room ten minutes
+after, "why don't you come and have your dinner? There's lots o'
+goodies, and mother says you're to come. What are you crying for?"</p>
+
+<p>Oh, it was dreadful! Tom was so hard and unconcerned; if <em>he</em> had been
+crying on the floor, Maggie would have cried, too. And there was the
+dinner, so nice; and she was <em>so</em> hungry. It was very bitter.</p>
+
+<p>But Tom was not altogether hard. He went and put his head near her, and
+said, in a lower, comforting tone: "Won't you come, then, Maggie? Shall
+I bring you a bit of pudding when I've had mine&mdash;and a custard and
+things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-e-es," said Maggie, beginning to feel life a little more tolerable.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Tom, going away. But he turned again at the door and
+said: "But you'd better come, you know. There's the dessert, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Maggie's tears had ceased, and she looked reflective as Tom left her.
+His good nature had taken off the keenest edge of her suffering.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly she rose from among her scattered locks, and slowly she made her
+way down-stairs. Then she stood leaning with one shoulder against the
+frame of the dining-parlour door, peeping in when it was ajar. She saw
+Tom and Lucy with an empty chair between them, and there were the
+custards on a side-table&mdash;it was too much. She slipped in and went
+towards the empty chair. But she had no sooner sat down than she
+repented, and wished herself back again.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tulliver gave a little scream as she saw her, and dropped the large
+gravy-spoon into the dish with the most serious results to the
+tablecloth.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tulliver's scream made all eyes turn towards the same point as her
+own, and Maggie's cheeks and ears began to burn, while Uncle Glegg, a
+kind-looking, white-haired old gentleman, said: "Heyday! what little
+girl's this? Why, I don't know her. Is it some little girl you've picked
+up in the road, Kezia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, she's gone and cut her hair herself," said Mr. Tulliver in an
+undertone to Mr. Deane, laughing with much enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, little Miss, you've made yourself look very funny," said Uncle
+Pullet.</p>
+
+<p>"Fie, for shame!" said Aunt Glegg, in her severest tone of reproof.
+"Little girls that cut their own hair should be whipped and fed on bread
+and water, not come and sit down with their aunts and uncles."</p>
+
+<p>"Aye, aye," said Uncle Glegg, meaning to give a playful turn, "she must
+be sent to jail, I think, and they'll cut the rest of her hair off
+there, and make it all even."</p>
+
+<p>"She's more like a gypsy than ever," said Aunt Pullet in a pitying tone.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a naughty child, that'll break her mother's heart," said Mrs.
+Tulliver, with the tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie seemed to be listening to a chorus of reproach and derision. Her
+first flush came from anger. Tom thought she was braving it out,
+supported by the recent appearance of the pudding and custard.</p>
+
+<p>He whispered: "Oh, my! Maggie, I told you you'd catch it." He meant to
+be friendly, but Maggie felt convinced that Tom was rejoicing in her
+ignominy.</p>
+
+<p>Her feeble power of defiance left her in an instant, her heart swelled,
+and, getting up from her chair, she ran to her father, hid her face on
+his shoulder, and burst out into loud sobbing. "Come, come," said her
+father, soothingly, putting his arm round her, "never mind; give over
+crying: father'll take your part."</p>
+
+<p>Delicious words of tenderness! Maggie never forgot any of these moments
+when her father "took her part"; she kept them in her heart, and thought
+of them long years after, when every one else said that her father had
+done very ill by his children.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">George Eliot</span>: "The Mill on the Floss."<br />
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Corn" id="Corn"></a>THE CORN SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heap high the golden corn!<br /></span>
+<span>No richer gift has Autumn poured<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From out her lavish horn!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Let other lands, exulting, glean<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The apple from the pine,<br /></span>
+<span>The orange from its glossy green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The cluster from the vine;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>We better love the hardy gift<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our rugged vales bestow,<br /></span>
+<span>To cheer us when the storm shall drift<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our harvest-fields with snow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Through vales of grass and meads of flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our ploughs their furrows made,<br /></span>
+<span>While on the hills the sun and showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of changeful April played.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beneath the sun of May,<br /></span>
+<span>And frightened from our sprouting grain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The robber crows away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>All through the long, bright days of June<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its leaves grew green and fair,<br /></span>
+<span>And waved in hot midsummer's noon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its soft and yellow hair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And now, with autumn's moon-lit eves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its harvest-time has come,<br /></span>
+<span>We pluck away the frosted leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bear the treasure home.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>There, richer than the fabled gift<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Apollo showered of old,<br /></span>
+<span>Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And knead its meal of gold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Let vapid idlers loll in silk<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Around their costly board;<br /></span>
+<span>Give us the bowl of samp and milk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By homespun beauty poured!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sends up its smoky curls,<br /></span>
+<span>Who will not thank the kindly earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bless our farmer girls!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Whittier</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Sports" id="Sports"></a>SPORTS IN NORMAN ENGLAND</h2>
+
+
+<p>After dinner all the youth of the city go into the field of the suburbs,
+and address themselves to the famous game of football. The scholars of
+each school have their peculiar ball; and the particular trades have,
+most of them, theirs. The elders of the city, the fathers of the
+parties, and the rich and wealthy, come to the field on horseback, in
+order to behold the exercises of the youth, and in appearance are
+themselves as youthful as the youngest; seeming to be revived at the
+sight of so much agility, and in a participation of the diversion of
+their festive sons.</p>
+
+<p>At Easter the diversion is prosecuted on the water; a target is strongly
+fastened to a trunk or mast fixed in the middle of the river, and a
+youngster standing upright in the stern of a boat, made to move as fast
+as the oars and current can carry it, is to strike the target with his
+lance; and if, in hitting it, he breaks his lance and keeps his place in
+the boat, he gains his point and triumphs; but if it happens the lance
+is not shivered by the force of the blow, he is, of course, tumbled into
+the water, and away goes his vessel without him.</p>
+
+<p>However, a couple of boats full of young men are placed one on each side
+of the target, so as to be ready to take up the unsuccessful adventurer
+the moment he emerges from the stream and comes fairly to the surface.
+The bridge and the balconies on the banks are filled with spectators,
+whose business is to laugh. On holidays, in summer, the pastime of the
+youth is to exercise themselves in archery, in running, leaping,
+wrestling, casting of stones, and flinging to certain distances, and,
+lastly, with bucklers.</p>
+
+<p>In the winter holidays when that vast lake which waters the walls of the
+City towards the north is hard frozen, the youth, in great numbers, go
+to divert themselves on the ice. Some, taking a small run, place their
+feet at the proper distance, and are carried, sliding sideways, a great
+way; others will make a large cake of ice, and seating one of their
+companions upon it, they take hold of one another's hands, and draw him
+along: when it sometimes happens that, moving so swiftly on so slippery
+a plain, they all fall down headlong.</p>
+
+<p>Others there are who are still more expert in these amusements on the
+ice; they place certain bones, the leg bones of some animal, under the
+soles of their feet by tying them round their ankles, and, then, taking
+a pole shod with iron into their hands, they push themselves forward by
+striking it against the ice, and are carried along with a velocity equal
+to the flight of a bird, or a bolt discharged from a cross-bow.
+Sometimes two of them thus furnished agree to start opposite one to
+another, at a great distance; they meet, elevate their poles, attack and
+strike each other, when one or both of them fall, and not without some
+bodily hurt; and even after their fall they shall be carried a good
+distance from each other by the rapidity of the motion. Very often the
+leg or the arm of the party that falls, if he chances to light upon
+them, is broken; but youth is an age ambitious of glory, fond and
+covetous of victory, and that in future time it may acquit itself boldly
+and valiantly in real engagements, it will run these hazards in sham
+ones.</p>
+
+<p>Hawking and hunting were sports only for persons of quality, and woe be
+to the unhappy man of the lower orders who indulged in either of these
+sports. If caught he would be severely punished and might have his eyes
+put out.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image05" id="image05"></a>
+<a href="images/image5.jpg">
+<img src="images/image5-th.jpg" width="382" height="209"
+alt="IN THE HIGHLANDS OF ONTARIO"
+title="IN THE HIGHLANDS OF ONTARIO" />
+</a>
+<p class="caption">IN THE HIGHLANDS OF ONTARIO</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>After breakfast, knights with their ladies ride out, each bearing upon
+his wrist a falcon with scarlet hood and collar of gold. As they near
+the river a heron, who had been fishing for his breakfast among the
+reeds near the bank, hears them and spreading his wings flies upward. A
+knight slips the hood from the falcon's head and next instant he sees
+the heron. Away he darts, while knights and ladies rein in their horses
+and watch. Up, and up, he goes until he passes the heron and still he
+flies higher. Next instant he turns and, with a terrible swoop
+downwards, pounces upon the heron and kills it.</p>
+
+<p>The knight sounds his whistle and instantly the falcon turns and darts
+back to him for the dainty food which is given as a reward for his good
+hunting. Then he is chained and hooded again till another bird rises. So
+the morning passes, and many a bird do the falcons bring down before the
+knights and ladies return to the castle for "noon-meat."</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">William Fitzstephen</span><br />
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>And He that doth the ravens feed,<br /></span>
+<span>Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,<br /></span>
+<span>Be comfort to my age!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Canada" id="Canada"></a>A SONG OF CANADA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sing me a song of the great Dominion!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Soul-felt words for a patriot's ear!<br /></span>
+<span>Ring out boldly the well-turned measure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Voicing your notes that the world may hear;<br /></span>
+<span>Here is no starveling&mdash;Heaven-forsaken&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shrinking aside where the Nations throng;<br /></span>
+<span>Proud as the proudest moves she among them&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Worthy is she of a noble song!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sing me the might of her giant mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Baring their brows in the dazzling blue;<br /></span>
+<span>Changeless alone, where all else changes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Emblems of all that is grand and true:<br /></span>
+<span>Free, as the eagles around them soaring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fair, as they rose from their Maker's hand:<br /></span>
+<span>Shout, till the snow-caps catch the chorus&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The white-topp'd peaks of our mountain land.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sing me the calm of her tranquil forests,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Silence eternal, and peace profound,<br /></span>
+<span>In whose great heart's deep recesses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breaks no tempest, and comes no sound;<br /></span>
+<span>Face to face with the deathlike stillness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here, if at all, man's soul might quail:<br /></span>
+<span>Nay! 'tis the love of that great peace leads us<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thither, where solace will never fail!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sing me the pride of her stately rivers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cleaving their way to the far-off sea;<br /></span>
+<span>Glory of strength in their deep-mouth'd music&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Glory of mirth in their tameless glee.<br /></span>
+<span>Hark! 'tis the roar of the tumbling rapids;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Deep unto deep through the dead night calls;<br /></span>
+<span>Truly, I hear but the voice of Freedom<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shouting her name from her fortress walls!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sing me the joy of her fertile prairies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">League upon league of the golden grain:<br /></span>
+<span>Comfort, housed in the smiling homestead&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Plenty, throned on the lumbering wain.<br /></span>
+<span>Land of Contentment! May no strife vex you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Never war's flag on your plains be unfurl'd;<br /></span>
+<span>Only the blessings of mankind reach you&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Finding the food for a hungry world!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sing me the charm of her blazing camp fires;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sing me the quiet of her happy homes,<br /></span>
+<span>Whether afar 'neath the forest arches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or in the shade of the city's domes;<br /></span>
+<span>Sing me her life, her loves, her labours;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All of a mother a son would hear;<br /></span>
+<span>For when a lov'd one's praise is sounding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet are the strains to the lover's ear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sing me the worth of each Canadian,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Roamer in wilderness&mdash;toiler in town&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Search earth over you'll find none stancher,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whether his hands be white or brown;<br /></span>
+<span>Come of a right good stock to start with,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Best of the world's blood in each vein;<br /></span>
+<span>Lords of ourselves, and slaves to no one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For us or from us, you'll find we're&mdash;MEN!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sing me the song, then; sing it bravely;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Put your soul in the words you sing;<br /></span>
+<span>Sing me the praise of this glorious country&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Clear on the ear let the deep notes ring.<br /></span>
+<span>Here is no starveling&mdash;Heaven-forsaken&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crouching apart where the Nations throng;<br /></span>
+<span>Proud as the proudest moves she among them&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Well is she worthy a noble song!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Robert Reid</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Mad" id="Mad"></a>A MAD TEA PARTY</h2>
+
+
+<p>There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the
+March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting
+between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion,
+resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. "Very
+uncomfortable for the Dormouse," thought Alice; "only, as it's asleep,
+I suppose it doesn't mind."</p>
+
+<p>The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at
+one corner of it: "No room! No room!" they cried out when they saw Alice
+coming. "There's <em>plenty</em> of room!" said Alice, indignantly, and she sat
+down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Your hair wants cutting," said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice
+for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.</p>
+
+<p>"You should learn not to make personal remarks," Alice said with some
+severity: "it's very rude."</p>
+
+<p>The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he <em>said</em>
+was: "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come, we shall have some fun now!" thought Alice. "I'm glad they've
+begun asking riddles&mdash;I believe I can guess that," she added aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" said the
+March Hare.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly so," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you should say what you mean," the March Hare went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I do," Alice hastily replied; "at least&mdash;at least I mean what I
+say&mdash;that's the same thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Not the same thing a bit!" said the Hatter. "Why, you might just as
+well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I
+see'!"</p>
+
+<p>"You might just as well say," added the March Hare, "that 'I like what I
+get' is the same thing as 'I get what I like'!"</p>
+
+<p>"You might just as well say," added the Dormouse, who seemed to be
+talking in its sleep, "that 'I breathe when I sleep' is the same thing
+as 'I sleep when I breathe'!"</p>
+
+<p>"It <em>is</em> the same thing with you," said the Hatter, and here the
+conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice
+thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks,
+which wasn't much.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Alice
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I give it up," Alice replied: "what's the answer?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't the slightest idea," said the Hatter.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I," said the March Hare.</p>
+
+<p>Alice sighed wearily. "I think you might do something better with the
+time," she said, "than wasting it in asking riddles that have no
+answers."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose we change the subject," the March Hare interrupted, yawning.
+"I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I don't know one," said Alice, rather alarmed at the
+proposal.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the Dormouse shall!" they both cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake up, Dormouse!" And they pinched it on both sides at once.</p>
+
+<p>The Dormouse slowly opened its eyes. "I wasn't asleep," it said in a
+hoarse, feeble voice, "I heard every word you fellows were saying."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us a story!" said the March Hare.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, please do!" pleaded Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"And be quick about it," added the Hatter, "or you'll be asleep again
+before it's done."</p>
+
+<p>"Once upon a time there were three little sisters," the Dormouse began
+in a great hurry, "and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and
+they lived at the bottom of a well&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What did they live on?" said Alice, who always took a great interest in
+questions of eating and drinking.</p>
+
+<p>"They lived on treacle," said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or
+two.</p>
+
+<p>"They couldn't have done that, you know," Alice gently remarked: "they'd
+have been ill."</p>
+
+<p>"So they were," said the Dormouse, "<em>very</em> ill."</p>
+
+<p>Alice tried a little to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary way
+of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on:
+"But why did they live at the bottom of a well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't
+take more."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean you can't take <em>less</em>," said the Hatter: "It's very easy to
+take <em>more</em> than nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody asked <em>your</em> opinion," said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's making personal remarks now?" the Hatter asked triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to
+some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and
+repeated her question. "Why did they live at the bottom of a well?"</p>
+
+<p>The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then
+said: "It was a treacle-well."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no such thing!" Alice was beginning very angrily, but the
+Hatter and the March Hare went "Sh! Sh!" and the Dormouse sulkily
+remarked: "If you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"No, please go on!" Alice said, very humbly, "I won't interrupt you
+again. I dare say there may be <em>one</em>."</p>
+
+<p>"One, indeed!" said the Dormouse, indignantly. However it consented to
+go on. "And so these three little sisters&mdash;they were learning to draw,
+you know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What did they draw?" said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.</p>
+
+<p>"Treacle," said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.</p>
+
+<p>"I want a clean cup," interrupted the Hatter, "let's all move one place
+on."</p>
+
+<p>He moved as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare
+moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice, rather unwillingly, took the
+place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any
+advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than
+before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk jug into his plate.</p>
+
+<p>Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very
+cautiously: "But I don't understand. Where did they draw the treacle
+from?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can draw water out of a water-well," said the Hatter; "so I should
+think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well&mdash;eh stupid?"</p>
+
+<p>"But they were <em>in</em> the well," Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing
+to notice this last remark.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they were," said the Dormouse,&mdash;"well in."</p>
+
+<p>This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for
+some time without interrupting it.</p>
+
+<p>"They were learning to draw," the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing
+its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; "and they drew all manner of
+things&mdash;everything that begins with an M&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why with an M?" said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" said the March Hare.</p>
+
+<p>Alice was silent.</p>
+
+<p>The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a
+doze, but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a
+little shriek, and went on, "&mdash;that begins with an M, such as
+mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness&mdash;you know you say
+things are 'much of a muchness'&mdash;did you ever see such a thing as a
+drawing of a muchness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't
+think&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.</p>
+
+<p>This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in
+great disgust, and walked off: the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and
+neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she
+looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her:
+the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into
+the teapot.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll</span>: "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Slave" id="Slave"></a>THE SLAVE'S DREAM</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Beside the ungathered rice he lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His sickle in his hand;<br /></span>
+<span>His breast was bare, his matted hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was buried in the sand.<br /></span>
+<span>Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He saw his Native Land.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Wide through the landscape of his dreams<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lordly Niger flowed;<br /></span>
+<span>Beneath the palm trees on the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Once more a king he strode;<br /></span>
+<span>And heard the tinkling caravans<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Descend the mountain road.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>He saw once more his dark-eyed queen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Among her children stand;<br /></span>
+<span>They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They held him by the hand!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>A tear burst from the sleeper's lids<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fell into the sand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And then at furious speed he rode<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Along the Niger's bank;<br /></span>
+<span>His bridle-reins were golden chains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, with a martial clank,<br /></span>
+<span>At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Smiting his stallion's flank.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Before him, like a blood-red flag,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bright flamingoes flew;<br /></span>
+<span>From morn till night he followed their flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er plains where the tamarind grew,<br /></span>
+<span>Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the ocean rose to view.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>At night he heard the lion roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the hyena scream,<br /></span>
+<span>And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside some hidden stream;<br /></span>
+<span>And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the triumph of his dream.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The forests, with their myriad tongues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shouted of liberty;<br /></span>
+<span>And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a voice so wild and free,<br /></span>
+<span>That he started in his sleep and smiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At their tempestuous glee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>He did not feel the driver's whip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor the burning heat of day;<br /></span>
+<span>For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And his lifeless body lay<br /></span>
+<span>A worn-out fetter, that the soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Had broken and thrown away!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Longfellow</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact
+man. Histories make men wise; poets, witty; the mathematics, subtle;
+logic and rhetoric, able to contend.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Bacon</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Chase" id="Chase"></a>THE CHASE</h2>
+
+
+<p>Early one August morning a doe was feeding on Basin Mountain.</p>
+
+<p>The sole companion of the doe was her only child, a charming little
+fawn, whose brown coat was just beginning to be mottled with beautiful
+spots.</p>
+
+<p>The buck, his father, had been that night on a long tramp across the
+mountain to Clear Pond, and had not yet returned. He went to feed on the
+lily pads there.</p>
+
+<p>The doe was daintily cropping tender leaves and turning from time to
+time to regard her offspring. The fawn had taken his morning meal and
+now lay curled up on a bed of moss.</p>
+
+<p>If the mother stepped a pace or two farther away in feeding, the fawn
+made a half-movement, as if to rise and follow her. If, in alarm, he
+uttered a plaintive cry, she bounded to him at once.</p>
+
+<p>It was a pretty picture,&mdash;maternal love on the one part, and happy trust
+on the other.</p>
+
+<p>The doe lifted her head with a quick motion. Had she heard something?
+Probably it was only the south wind in the balsams. There was silence
+all about in the forest. With an affectionate glance at her fawn, she
+continued picking up her breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly she started, head erect, eyes dilated, a tremor in her
+limbs. She turned her head to the south; she listened intently.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sound, a distinct, prolonged note, pervading the woods. It
+was repeated. The doe had no doubt now. It was the baying of a
+hound&mdash;far off, at the foot of the mountain.</p>
+
+<p>Time enough to fly; time enough to put miles between her and the hound
+before he should come upon her fresh trail; yes, time enough. But there
+was the fawn.</p>
+
+<p>The cry of the hound was repeated, more distinct this time. The mother
+bounded away a few paces. The fawn started up with an anxious bleat. The
+doe turned; she came back; she couldn't leave him.</p>
+
+<p>She walked away toward the west, and the little thing skipped after her.
+It was slow going for the slender legs, over the fallen logs and through
+the rasping bushes. The doe bounded in advance and waited. The fawn
+scrambled after her, slipping and tumbling along, and whining a good
+deal because his mother kept always moving away from him.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever the fawn caught up, he was quite content to frisk about. He
+wanted more breakfast, for one thing; and his mother wouldn't stand
+still. She moved on continually; and his weak legs were tangled in the
+roots of the narrow deer path.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly came a sound that threw the doe into a panic of terror,&mdash;a
+short, sharp yelp, followed by a prolonged howl, caught up and re-echoed
+by other bayings along the mountain side. The danger was certain now; it
+was near. She could not crawl on in this way; the dogs would soon be
+upon them. She turned again for flight. The fawn, scrambling after her,
+tumbled over, and bleated piteously. Flight with the fawn was
+impossible.</p>
+
+<p>The doe returned, stood by him, head erect and nostrils distended.
+Perhaps she was thinking. The fawn lay down contentedly, and the doe
+licked him for a moment. Then, with the swiftness of a bird, she dashed
+away, and in a moment was lost in the forest. She went in the direction
+of the hounds.</p>
+
+<p>She descended the slope of the mountain until she reached the more open
+forest of hard wood. She was going due east, when she turned away toward
+the north, and kept on at a good pace.</p>
+
+<p>In five minutes more she heard the sharp yelp of discovery, and then the
+deep-mouthed howl of pursuit. The hounds had struck her trail where she
+turned, and the fawn was safe.</p>
+
+<p>For the moment fear left her, and she bounded on with the exaltation of
+triumph. For a quarter of an hour she went on at a slapping pace,
+clearing the bushes with bound after bound, flying over the fallen logs,
+pausing neither for brook nor ravine. The baying of the hounds grew
+fainter behind.</p>
+
+<p>After running at high speed perhaps half a mile farther, it occurred to
+her that it would be safe now to turn to the west, and, by a wide
+circuit, seek her fawn. But at the moment she heard a sound that chilled
+her heart. It was the cry of a hound to the west of her. There was
+nothing to do but to keep on, and on she went, with the noise of the
+pack behind her.</p>
+
+<p>In five minutes more she had passed into a hillside clearing. She heard
+a tinkle of bells. Below her, down the mountain slope, were other
+clearings broken by patches of woods. A mile or two down lay the valley
+and the farmhouses. That way also her enemies were. Not a merciful heart
+in all that lovely valley. She hesitated; it was only for an instant.</p>
+
+<p>She must cross the Slide Brook valley, if possible, and gain the
+mountain opposite. She bounded on; she stopped. What was that? From the
+valley ahead came the cry of a searching hound. Every way was closed but
+one, and that led straight down the mountain to the cluster of houses.
+The hunted doe went down "the open," clearing the fences, flying along
+the stony path.</p>
+
+<p>As she approached Slide Brook, she saw a boy standing by a tree with a
+raised rifle. The dogs were not in sight, but she could hear them coming
+down the hill. There was no time for hesitation. With a tremendous burst
+of speed she cleared the stream, and as she touched the bank heard the
+"ping" of a rifle bullet in the air above her. The cruel sound gave
+wings to the poor thing.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment more she leaped into the travelled road. Women and children
+ran to the doors and windows; men snatched their rifles. There were
+twenty people who were just going to shoot her, when the doe leaped the
+road fence, and went away across a marsh toward the foothills.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the dogs, panting and lolling out their tongues, came
+swinging along, keeping the trail, like stupids, and consequently
+losing ground when the deer doubled. But when the doe had got into the
+timber, she heard the savage brutes howling across the meadow. (It is
+well enough, perhaps, to say that nobody offered to shoot the dogs.)</p>
+
+<p>The courage of the panting fugitive was not gone, but the fearful pace
+at which she had been going told on her. Her legs trembled, and her
+heart beat like a trip-hammer. She slowed her speed, but still fled up
+the right bank of the stream. The dogs were gaining again, and she
+crossed the broad, deep brook. The fording of the river threw the hounds
+off for a time. She used the little respite to push on until the baying
+was faint in her ears.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon she staggered down the shoulder of Bartlett, and
+stood upon the shore of the lake. If she could put that piece of water
+between her and her pursuers, she would be safe. Had she strength to
+swim it?</p>
+
+<p>At her first step into the water she saw a sight that sent her back with
+a bound. There was a boat mid-lake; two men were in it. One was rowing;
+the other had a gun in his hand. What should she do? With only a
+moment's hesitation she plunged into the lake. Her tired legs could not
+propel the tired body rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>The doe saw the boat nearing her. She turned to the shore whence she
+came; the dogs were lapping the water and howling there. She turned
+again to the centre of the lake. The brave, pretty creature was quite
+exhausted now. In a moment more the boat was on her, and the man at the
+oars had leaned over and caught her.</p>
+
+<p>"Knock her on the head with that paddle!" he shouted to the gentleman in
+the stern. The gentleman <em>was</em> a gentleman, with a kind face. He took
+the paddle in his hand. Just then the doe turned her head and looked at
+him with her great appealing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't do it! I can't do it!" and he dropped the paddle. "Oh, let her
+go!"</p>
+
+<p>But the guide slung the deer round, and whipped out his hunting-knife.
+And the gentleman ate that night of the venison.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Charles Dudley Warner</span><br />
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Inchcape" id="Inchcape"></a>THE INCHCAPE ROCK</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,<br /></span>
+<span>The ship was as still as she could be;<br /></span>
+<span>Her sails from heaven received no motion,<br /></span>
+<span>Her keel was steady in the ocean.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Without either sign or sound of their shock,<br /></span>
+<span>The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;<br /></span>
+<span>So little they rose, so little they fell,<br /></span>
+<span>They did not move the Inchcape Bell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The pious Abbot of Aberbrothock<br /></span>
+<span>Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;<br /></span>
+<span>On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,<br /></span>
+<span>And over the waves its warning rung.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell,<br /></span>
+<span>The mariners heard the warning bell;<br /></span>
+<span>And then they knew the perilous Rock,<br /></span>
+<span>And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothock.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The sun in heaven was shining gay;<br /></span>
+<span>All things were joyful on that day;<br /></span>
+<span>The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round,<br /></span>
+<span>And there was joyance in their sound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen,<br /></span>
+<span>A darker speck on the ocean green;<br /></span>
+<span>Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,<br /></span>
+<span>And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>He felt the cheering power of spring;<br /></span>
+<span>It made him whistle, it made him sing:<br /></span>
+<span>His heart was mirthful to excess,<br /></span>
+<span>But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>His eye was on the Inchcape float;<br /></span>
+<span>Quoth he: "My men, put out the boat,<br /></span>
+<span>And row me to the Inchcape Rock,<br /></span>
+<span>And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothock."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,<br /></span>
+<span>And to the Inchcape Rock they go;<br /></span>
+<span>Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,<br /></span>
+<span>And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Down sank the bell, with a gurgling sound,<br /></span>
+<span>The bubbles rose and burst around;<br /></span>
+<span>Quoth Sir Ralph: "The next who comes to the Rock<br /></span>
+<span>Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothock."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away;<br /></span>
+<span>He scoured the seas for many a day;<br /></span>
+<span>And now, grown rich with plundered store,<br /></span>
+<span>He steers his course for Scotland's shore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky<br /></span>
+<span>They cannot see the sun on high;<br /></span>
+<span>The wind hath blown a gale all day,<br /></span>
+<span>At evening it hath died away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>On the deck the Rover takes his stand;<br /></span>
+<span>So dark it is, they see no land.<br /></span>
+<span>Quoth Sir Ralph: "It will be lighter soon,<br /></span>
+<span>For there is the dawn of the rising moon."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar?<br /></span>
+<span>For methinks we should be near the shore."<br /></span>
+<span>"Now where we are I cannot tell,<br /></span>
+<span>But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>They hear no sound; the swell is strong;<br /></span>
+<span>Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,<br /></span>
+<span>Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock;<br /></span>
+<span>Cried they: "It is the Inchcape Rock!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,<br /></span>
+<span>He cursed himself in his despair:<br /></span>
+<span>The waves rush in on every side;<br /></span>
+<span>The ship is sinking beneath the tide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But, even in his dying fear,<br /></span>
+<span>One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell,<br /></span>
+<span>The fiends below were ringing his knell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Southey</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Rough" id="Rough"></a>A ROUGH RIDE</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Well, young ones, what be gaping at?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your mare," said I, standing stoutly up, being a tall boy now; "I never
+saw such a beauty, sir. Will you let me have a ride on her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Think thou couldst ride her, lad? She will have no burden but mine.
+Thou couldst never ride her! Tut! I would be loath to kill thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Ride her!" I cried, with the bravest scorn, for she looked so kind and
+gentle; "there never was a horse upon Exmoor but I could tackle in half
+an hour. Only I never ride upon saddle. Take those leathers off of her."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me with a dry little whistle, and thrust his hands into his
+pockets, and so grinned that I could not stand it. And Annie laid hold
+of me in such a way that I was almost mad with her. And he laughed, and
+approved her for doing so. And the worst of all was&mdash;he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Get away, Annie. Do you think I'm a fool, good sir? Only trust me with
+her, and I will not override her."</p>
+
+<p>"For that I will go bail, my son. She is liker to override thee. But the
+ground is soft to fall upon after all this rain. Now come out into the
+yard, young man, for the sake of your mother's cabbages. And the mellow
+strawbed will be softer for thee, since pride must have its fall. I am
+thy mother's cousin, boy, and I'm going up to the house. Tom Faggus is
+my name, as everybody knows, and this is my young mare, Winnie."</p>
+
+<p>What a fool I must have been not to know it at once! Tom Faggus, the
+great highwayman, and his young blood mare, the strawberry.</p>
+
+<p>Already her fame was noised abroad nearly as much as her master's, and
+my longing to ride her grew tenfold, but fear came at the back of it.
+Not that I had the smallest fear of what the mare could do to me, by
+fair play and horse-trickery, but that the glory of sitting upon her
+seemed to be too great for me; especially as there were rumours abroad
+that she was not a mare, after all, but a witch.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Faggus gave his mare a wink, and she walked demurely after him, a
+bright young thing, flowing over with life, yet dropping her soul to a
+higher one, and led by love to anything, as the manner is of such
+creatures, when they know what is best for them. Then Winnie trod
+lightly upon the straw, because it had soft muck under it, and her
+delicate feet came back again.</p>
+
+<p>"Up for it still, boy, be ye?" Tom Faggus stopped, and the mare stopped
+there; and they looked at me provokingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she able to leap, sir? There is good take-off on this side of the
+brook."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Faggus laughed very quietly, turning round to Winnie so that she
+might enter into it. And she, for her part, seemed to know exactly where
+the fun lay.</p>
+
+<p>"Good tumble-off, you mean, my boy. Well, there can be small harm to
+thee. I am akin to thy family, and know the substance of their skulls."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me get up," said I, waxing wroth, for reasons I cannot tell you,
+because they are too manifold; "take off your saddle-bag things. I will
+try not to squeeze her ribs in, unless she plays nonsense with me."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Faggus was up on his mettle at this proud speech of mine, and
+John Fry was running up all the while, and Bill Dadds, and half a dozen
+others. Tom Faggus gave one glance around, and then dropped all regard
+for me. The high repute of his mare was at stake, and what was my life
+compared to it? Through my defiance, and stupid ways, here was I in a
+duello, and my legs not come to their strength yet, and my arms as limp
+as a herring.</p>
+
+<p>Something of this occurred to him, even in his wrath with me, for he
+spoke very softly to the filly, who now could scarcely subdue herself;
+but she drew in her nostrils, and breathed to his breath, and did all
+she could to answer him.</p>
+
+<p>"Not too hard, my dear," he said; "let him gently down on the mixen.
+That will be quite enough." Then he turned the saddle off, and I was up
+in a moment. She began at first so easily, and pricked her ears so
+lovingly, and minced about as if pleased to find so light a weight upon
+her, that I thought she knew I could ride a little, and feared to show
+any capers. "Gee wugg, Polly!" cried I, for all the men were now looking
+on, being then at the leaving-off time; "Gee wugg, Polly, and show what
+thou be'est made of." With that I plugged my heels into her, and Billy
+Dadds flung his hat up.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, she outraged not, though her eyes were frightening Annie,
+and John Fry took a pick to keep him safe; but she curbed to and fro
+with her strong forearms rising like springs ingathered, waiting and
+quivering grievously, and beginning to sweat about it. Then her master
+gave a shrill, clear whistle, when her ears were bent towards him, and
+I felt her form beneath me gathering up like whalebone, and her hind
+legs coming under her, and I knew that I was in for it.</p>
+
+<p>First she reared upright in the air, and struck me full on the nose with
+her comb, till I bled worse than Robin Snell made me; and then down with
+her forefeet deep in the straw, and with her hind feet going to heaven.
+Finding me stick to her still like wax, for my mettle was up as hers
+was, away she flew with me swifter than ever I went before or since, I
+trow.</p>
+
+<p>She drove full head at the cob wall&mdash;"Oh, Jack, slip off!" screamed
+Annie&mdash;then she turned like light, when I thought to crush her, and
+ground my left knee against it. "Dear me!" I cried, for my breeches were
+broken, and short words went the furthest&mdash;"if you kill me, you shall
+die with me." Then she took the courtyard gate at a leap, knocking my
+words between my teeth, and then right over a quick-set hedge, as if the
+sky were a breath to her; and away for the water meadows, while I lay on
+her neck like a child, and wished I had never been born.</p>
+
+<p>Straight away, all in the front of the wind, and scattering clouds
+around her, all I knew of the speed we made was the frightful flash of
+her shoulders, and her mane like trees in a tempest. I felt the earth
+under us rushing away, and the air left far behind us, and my breath
+came and went, and I prayed to God, and was sorry to be so late of it.</p>
+
+<p>All the long swift while, without power of thought, I clung to her crest
+and shoulders, and was proud of holding on so long, though sure of being
+beaten. Then in her fury at feeling me still, she rushed at another
+device for it, and leaped the wide water-trough sideways across, to and
+fro, till no breath was left in me. The hazel boughs took me too hard in
+the face, and the tall dog-briers got hold of me, and the ache of my
+back was like crimping a fish, till I longed to give it up, thoroughly
+beaten, and lie there and die in the cresses.</p>
+
+<p>But there came a shrill whistle from up the home hill, where the people
+had hurried to watch us, and the mare stopped as if with a bullet, then
+set off for home with the speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and
+silently. I never had dreamed of such delicate motion, fluent, and
+graceful, and ambient, soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but
+swift as the summer lightning.</p>
+
+<p>I sat up again, but my strength was all spent, and no time left to
+recover it; and though she rose at our gate like a bird, I tumbled off
+into the soft mud.</p>
+
+<p>"Well done, lad," Mr. Faggus said, good-naturedly; for all were now
+gathered round me, as I rose from the ground, somewhat tottering, and
+miry, and crest-fallen, but otherwise none the worse (having fallen upon
+my head, which is of uncommon substance); "not at all bad work, my boy;
+we may teach you to ride by and by, I see; I thought not to see you
+stick on so long&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I should have stuck on much longer, sir, if her sides had not been wet.
+She was so slippery&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Boy, thou art right. She hath given many the slip. Ha! ha! Vex not,
+Jack, that I laugh at thee. She is like a sweetheart to me, and better
+than any of them be. It would have gone to my heart if thou hadst
+conquered. None but I can ride my Winnie mare."</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">R.&nbsp;D. Blackmore</span>: "Lorna Doone."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:<br /></span>
+<span>Full many a flower is born to blush unseen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And waste its sweetness on the desert air.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Gray</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Arab" id="Arab"></a>THE ARAB AND HIS STEED</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,<br /></span>
+<span>With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye;<br /></span>
+<span>Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy wing&egrave;d speed,<br /></span>
+<span>I may not mount on thee again&mdash;thou'rt sold, my Arab steed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind,<br /></span>
+<span>The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind;<br /></span>
+<span>The stranger hath thy bridle-rein&mdash;thy master hath his gold&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Fleet-limbed and beautiful! farewell! thou'rt sold, my steed, thou'rt sold!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Farewell! those free untired limbs full many a mile must roam,<br /></span>
+<span>To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home;<br /></span>
+<span>Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed prepare;<br /></span>
+<span>The silky mane I braided once must be another's care.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee<br /></span>
+<span>Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where we were wont to be:<br /></span>
+<span>Evening shall darken on the earth; and o'er the sandy plain,<br /></span>
+<span>Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Yes, thou must go! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky,<br /></span>
+<span>Thy master's home&mdash;from all of these my exiled one must fly.<br /></span>
+<span>Thy proud, dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet,<br /></span>
+<span>And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye glancing bright;<br /></span>
+<span>Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light;<br /></span>
+<span>And when I raise my dreaming arm to check or cheer thy speed,<br /></span>
+<span>Then must I, starting, wake to feel&mdash;thou'rt sold, my Arab steed!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel hand may chide,<br /></span>
+<span>Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested waves, along thy panting side,<br /></span>
+<span>And the rich blood that's in thee swells in thy indignant pain,<br /></span>
+<span>Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each startled vein.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Will they ill-use thee? If I thought&mdash;but no, it cannot be&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed; so gentle, yet so free.<br /></span>
+<span>And yet, if haply, when thou'rt gone my lonely heart should yearn,<br /></span>
+<span>Can the hand which casts thee from it now, command thee to return?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Return! alas! my Arab steed! what shall thy master do,<br /></span>
+<span>When thou who wert his all of joy, hast vanished from his view?<br /></span>
+<span>When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and through the gathering tears,<br /></span>
+<span>Thy bright form for a moment, like the false mirage appears?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Slow and unmounted will I roam, with weary step alone,<br /></span>
+<span>Where with fleet step and joyous bound thou oft hast borne me on!<br /></span>
+<span>And sitting down by that green well, I'll pause and sadly think:<br /></span>
+<span>It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him drink!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>When last I saw thee drink!&mdash;Away! the fevered dream is o'er;<br /></span>
+<span>I could not live a day, and know that we should meet no more!<br /></span>
+<span>They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger's power is strong,<br /></span>
+<span>They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Who said that I had given thee up, who said that thou wert sold?<br /></span>
+<span>'Tis false&mdash;'tis false, my Arab steed! I fling them back their gold.<br /></span>
+<span>Thus, thus I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains,<br /></span>
+<span>Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">The Honourable Mrs. Norton</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Poet" id="Poet"></a>THE POET'S SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>The rain had fallen, the Poet arose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He pass'd by the town and out of the street,<br /></span>
+<span>A light wind blew from the gates of the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And waves of shadow went over the wheat,<br /></span>
+<span>And he sat him down in a lonely place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And chanted a melody loud and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span>That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the lark drop down at his feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The swallow stopt as he hunted the fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The snake slipt under a spray,<br /></span>
+<span>The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And stared, with his foot on the prey,<br /></span>
+<span>And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But never a one so gay,<br /></span>
+<span>For he sings of what the world will be<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the years have died away."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>Never to tire, never to grow cold; to be patient, sympathetic, tender;
+to look for the budding flower, and the opening heart; to hope always,
+like God, to love always&mdash;this is duty.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Amiel</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Adventure" id="Adventure"></a>ADVENTURE WITH A WHALE</h2>
+
+
+<p>I gaily flung myself into my place in the mate's boat one morning, as we
+were departing in chase of a magnificent cachalot that had been raised
+just after breakfast. There were no other vessels in sight,&mdash;much to our
+satisfaction,&mdash;the wind was light, with a cloudless sky, and the whale
+was dead to leeward of us. We sped along at a good rate towards our
+prospective victim, who was, in his leisurely enjoyment of life, calmly
+lolling on the surface, occasionally lifting his enormous tail out of
+water and letting it fall flat upon the surface with a boom audible for
+miles.</p>
+
+<p>We were, as usual, first boat; but, much to the mate's annoyance, when
+we were a short half-mile from the whale our main-sheet parted. It
+became immediately necessary to roll the sail up, lest its flapping
+should alarm the watchful monster, and this delayed us sufficiently to
+allow the other boats to shoot ahead of us. Thus the second mate got
+fast some seconds before we arrived on the scene, seeing which, we
+furled sail, unshipped the mast, and went in on him with the oars only.
+At first the proceedings were quite of the usual character, our chief
+wielding his lance in most brilliant fashion, while not being fast to
+the animal allowed us much greater freedom in our evolutions; but that
+fatal habit of the mate's&mdash;of allowing his boat to take care of herself
+so long as he was getting in some good home-thrusts&mdash;once more asserted
+itself. Although the whale was exceedingly vigorous, churning the sea
+into yeasty foam over an enormous area, there we wallowed close to him,
+right in the middle of the turmoil, actually courting disaster.</p>
+
+<p>He had just settled down for a moment, when, glancing over the gunwale,
+I saw his tail, like a vast shadow, sweeping away from us towards the
+second mate, who was lying off the other side of him. Before I had time
+to think, the mighty mass of gristle leaped into the sunshine, curved
+back from us like a huge bow. Then with a roar it came at us, released
+from its tension of Heaven knows how many tons. Full on the broadside it
+struck us, sending every soul but me flying out of the wreckage as if
+fired from catapults. I did not go because my foot was jammed somehow in
+the well of the boat, but the wrench nearly pulled my thighbone out of
+its socket. I had hardly released my foot when, towering above me, came
+the colossal head of the great creature, as he ploughed through the
+bundle of <i>d&eacute;bris</i> that had just been a boat. There was an appalling
+roar of water in my ears, and darkness that might be felt all around.
+Yet, in the midst of it all, one thought predominated as clearly as if I
+had been turning it over in my mind in the quiet of my bunk
+aboard&mdash;"What if he should swallow me?" Nor to this day can I understand
+how I escaped the portals of his gullet, which, of course, gaped wide as
+a church door. But the agony of holding my breath soon overpowered every
+other feeling and thought, till just as something was going to snap
+inside my head, I rose to the surface. I was surrounded by a welter of
+bloody froth, which, made it impossible for me to see; but oh, the air
+was sweet!</p>
+
+<p>I struck out blindly, instinctively, although I could feel so strong an
+eddy that voluntary progress was out of the question. My hand touched
+and clung to a rope, which immediately towed me in some direction&mdash;I
+neither knew nor cared whither. Soon the motion ceased, and, with a
+seaman's instinct, I began to haul myself along by the rope I grasped,
+although no definite idea was in my mind as to where it was attached.
+Presently I came butt up against something solid, the feel of which
+gathered all my scattered wits into a compact knob of dread. It was the
+whale! "Any port in a storm," I murmured, beginning to haul away again
+on my friendly line. By dint of hard work I pulled myself right up the
+sloping, slippery bank of blubber, until I reached the iron, which, as
+luck would have it, was planted in that side of the carcass now
+uppermost.</p>
+
+<p>Carcass I said&mdash;well, certainly I had no idea of there being any life
+remaining within the vast mass beneath me; yet I had hardly time to take
+a couple of turns round myself with the rope (or whale-line, as I had
+proved it to be), when I felt the great animal quiver all over, and
+begin to forge ahead. I was now composed enough to remember that help
+could not be far away, and that my rescue, providing that I could keep
+above water, was but a question of a few minutes. But I was hardly
+prepared for the whale's next move. Being very near his end, the boat,
+or boats, had drawn off a bit, I supposed, for I could see nothing of
+them. Then I remembered the flurry.</p>
+
+<p>Almost at the same moment it began; and there was I, who, with fearful
+admiration had so often watched the titanic convulsions of a dying
+cachalot, actually involved in them. The turns were off my body, but I
+was able to twist a couple of turns round my arms, which, in case of his
+sounding, I could readily let go. Then all was lost in roar and rush, as
+of the heart of some mighty cataract, during which I was sometimes
+above, sometimes beneath, the water, but always clinging, with every
+ounce of energy still left, to the line. Now, one thought was
+uppermost&mdash;"What if he should breach?" I had seen them do so when in
+flurry, leaping full twenty feet in the air. Then I prayed.</p>
+
+<p>Quickly as all the preceding changes had passed, came perfect peace.
+There I lay, still alive, but so weak that, although I could feel the
+turns slipping off my arms, and knew that I should slide off the slope
+of the whale's side into the sea if they did, I could make no effort to
+secure myself. Everything then passed away from me, just as if I had
+gone to sleep. I do not at all understand how I kept my position, nor
+how long, but I awoke to the blessed sound of voices, and saw the second
+mate's boat alongside.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Frank T. Bullen</span>: "The Cruise of the Cachalot."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Maple" id="Maple"></a>THE MAPLE</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>All hail to the broad-leaved Maple!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With her fair and changeful dress&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>A type of our youthful country<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In its pride and loveliness;<br /></span>
+<span>Whether in Spring or Summer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or in the dreary Fall,<br /></span>
+<span>'Mid Nature's forest children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She's fairest of them all.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Down sunny slopes and valleys<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her graceful form is seen,<br /></span>
+<span>Her wide, umbrageous branches<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sunburnt reaper screen;<br /></span>
+<span>'Mid the dark-browed firs and cedars<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her livelier colours shine,<br /></span>
+<span>Like the dawn of the brighter future<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the settler's hut of pine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>She crowns the pleasant hilltop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whispers on breezy downs,<br /></span>
+<span>And casts refreshing shadows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O'er the streets of our busy towns;<br /></span>
+<span>She gladdens the aching eyeball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shelters the weary head,<br /></span>
+<span>And scatters her crimson glories<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the graves of the silent dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>When winter's frosts are yielding<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the sun's returning sway,<br /></span>
+<span>And merry groups are speeding<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sugar-woods away;<br /></span>
+<span>The sweet and welling juices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which form their welcome spoil,<br /></span>
+<span>Tell of the teeming plenty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which here waits honest toil.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>When sweet-toned Spring, soft-breathing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breaks Nature's icy sleep,<br /></span>
+<span>And the forest boughs are swaying<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like the green waves of the deep;<br /></span>
+<span>In her fair and budding beauty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A fitting emblem, she,<br /></span>
+<span>Of this our land of promise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of hope, of liberty.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And when her leaves, all crimson,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Droop silently and fall,<br /></span>
+<span>Like drops of life-blood welling<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From a warrior brave and tall;<br /></span>
+<span>They tell how fast and freely<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Would her children's blood be shed,<br /></span>
+<span>Ere the soil of our faith and freedom<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Should echo a foeman's tread.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Then hail to the broad-leaved Maple!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With her fair and changeful dress&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>A type of our youthful country<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In its pride and loveliness;<br /></span>
+<span>Whether in Spring or Summer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or in the dreary Fall,<br /></span>
+<span>'Mid Nature's forest children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She's fairest of them all.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">H.&nbsp;F. Darnell</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Damon" id="Damon"></a>DAMON AND PYTHIAS</h2>
+
+
+<p>In Syracuse there was so hard a ruler that the people made a plot to
+drive him out of the city. The plot was discovered, and the king
+commanded that the leaders should be put to death. One of these, named
+Damon, lived at some distance from Syracuse. He asked that before he was
+put to death he might be allowed to go home to say good-bye to his
+family, promising that he would then come back to die at the appointed
+time.</p>
+
+<p>The king did not believe that he would keep his word, and said: "I will
+not let you go unless you find some friend who will come and stay in
+your place. Then, if you are not back on the day set for execution, I
+shall put your friend to death in your stead." The king thought to
+himself: "Surely no one will ever take the place of a man condemned to
+death."</p>
+
+<p>Now, Damon had a very dear friend, named Pythias, who at once came
+forward and offered to stay in prison while Damon was allowed to go
+away. The king was very much surprised, but he had given his word; Damon
+was therefore permitted to leave for home, while Pythias was shut up in
+prison.</p>
+
+<p>Many days passed, the time for the execution was close at hand, and
+Damon had not come back. The king, curious to see how Pythias would
+behave, now that death seemed so near, went to the prison.</p>
+
+<p>"Your friend will never return," he said to Pythias.</p>
+
+<p>"You are wrong," was the answer. "Damon will be here if he can possibly
+come. But he has to travel by sea, and the winds have been blowing the
+wrong way for several days. However, it is much better that I should die
+than he. I have no wife and no children, and I love my friend so well
+that it would be easier to die for him than to live without him. So I am
+hoping and praying that he may be delayed until my head has fallen."</p>
+
+<p>The king went away more puzzled than ever.</p>
+
+<p>The fatal day arrived but Damon had not come. Pythias was brought
+forward and led upon the scaffold. "My prayers are heard," he cried. "I
+shall be permitted to die for my friend. But mark my words. Damon is
+faithful and true; you will yet have reason to know that he has done his
+utmost to be here!"</p>
+
+<p>Just at this moment a man came galloping up at full speed, on a horse
+covered with foam! It was Damon. In an instant he was on the scaffold,
+and had Pythias in his arms. "My beloved friend," he cried, "the gods be
+praised that you are safe. What agony have I suffered in the fear that
+my delay was putting your life in danger!"</p>
+
+<p>There was no joy in the face of Pythias, for he did not care to live if
+his friend must die. But the king had heard all. At last he was forced
+to believe in the unselfish friendship of these two. His hard heart
+melted at the sight, and he set them both free, asking only that they
+would be his friends, also.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Charlotte M. Yonge</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Honour and shame from no condition rise;<br /></span>
+<span>Act well your part, there all the honour lies.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Pope</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Wreck" id="Wreck"></a>THE WRECK OF THE ORPHEUS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>All day, amid the masts and shrouds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They hung above the wave;<br /></span>
+<span>The sky o'erhead was dark with clouds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And dark beneath, their grave.<br /></span>
+<span>The water leaped against its prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breaking with heavy crash,<br /></span>
+<span>And when some slack'ning hands gave way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They fell with dull, low splash.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Captain and man ne'er thought to swerve;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The boats went to and fro;<br /></span>
+<span>With cheery face and tranquil nerve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each saw his brother go.<br /></span>
+<span>Each saw his brother go, and knew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As night came swiftly on,<br /></span>
+<span>That less and less his own chance grew&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Night fell, and hope was gone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The saved stood on the steamer's deck,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Straining their eyes to see<br /></span>
+<span>Their comrades clinging to the wreck<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon that surging sea;<br /></span>
+<span>And still they gazed into the dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till, on their startled ears,<br /></span>
+<span>There came from that swift-sinking bark<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A sound of gallant cheers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Again, and yet again it rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then silence round them fell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Silence of death&mdash;and each man knows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It was a last farewell.<br /></span>
+<span>No cry of anguish, no wild shriek<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of men in agony&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>No dropping down of watchers weak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weary and glad to die,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But death met with three British cheers&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cheers of immortal fame;<br /></span>
+<span>For us the choking, blinding tears&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For them a glorious name.<br /></span>
+<span>Oh England, while thy sailor-host<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Can live and die like these,<br /></span>
+<span>Be thy broad lands or won or lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou'rt mistress of the seas!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation">C.&nbsp;A.&nbsp;L.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Tide" id="Tide"></a>THE TIDE RIVER</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Clear and cool, clear and cool,<br /></span>
+<span>By laughing shallow, and dreaming pool;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cool and clear, cool and clear,<br /></span>
+<span>By shining shingle, and foaming weir;<br /></span>
+<span>Under the crag where the ouzel sings,<br /></span>
+<span>And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Undefiled, for the undefiled;<br /></span>
+<span>Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Dank and foul, dank and foul,<br /></span>
+<span>By the smoky town in its murky cowl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Foul and dank, foul and dank,<br /></span>
+<span>By wharf and sewer and slimy bank;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Darker and darker the further I go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Baser and baser the richer I grow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who dare sport with the sin defiled?<br /></span>
+<span>Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Strong and free, strong and free,<br /></span>
+<span>The flood-gates are open, away to the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Free and strong, free and strong,<br /></span>
+<span>Cleansing my streams as I hurry along<br /></span>
+<span>To the golden sands, and the leaping bar,<br /></span>
+<span>And the taintless tide that awaits me afar;<br /></span>
+<span>As I lose myself in the infinite main,<br /></span>
+<span>Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Undefiled, for the undefiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Kingsley</span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>The best result of all education is the acquired power of making
+yourself do what you ought to do, when you ought to do it, whether you
+like it or not.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Huxley</span></p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image06" id="image06"></a>
+<a href="images/image6.jpg">
+<img src="images/image6-th.jpg" width="390" height="213"
+alt="ONTARIO AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE"
+title="ONTARIO AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE" />
+</a>
+<p class="caption">ONTARIO AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Wisdom" id="Wisdom"></a>WISDOM THE SUPREME PRIZE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>My son, despise not the chastening of the <span class="smcap">Lord</span>;<br /></span>
+<span>Neither be weary of his reproof:<br /></span>
+<span>For whom the <span class="smcap">Lord</span> loveth he reproveth;<br /></span>
+<span>Even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Happy is the man that findeth wisdom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the man that getteth understanding.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the gain thereof than fine gold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She is more precious than rubies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And none of the things thou canst desire are to be compared unto her.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Length of days is in her right hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In her left hand are riches and honour.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her ways are ways of pleasantness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all her paths are peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And happy is every one that retaineth her.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The <span class="smcap">Lord</span> by wisdom founded the earth;<br /></span>
+<span>By understanding he established the heavens.<br /></span>
+<span>By his knowledge the depths were broken up,<br /></span>
+<span>And the skies drop down the dew.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Proverbs</span>, III.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Orchard" id="Orchard"></a>THE ORCHARD</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>There's no garden like an orchard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nature shows no fairer thing<br /></span>
+<span>Than the apple trees in blossom<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In these late days o' the spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Here the robin redbreast's nesting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here, from golden dawn till night,<br /></span>
+<span>Honey bees are gaily swimming<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a sea of pink and white.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Just a sea of fragrant blossoms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Steeped in sunshine, drenched in dew,<br /></span>
+<span>Just a fragrant breath which tells you<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Earth is fair again and new.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Just a breath of subtle sweetness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Breath which holds the spice o' youth,<br /></span>
+<span>Holds the promise o' the summer&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Holds the best o' things, forsooth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>There's no garden like an orchard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nature shows no fairer thing<br /></span>
+<span>Than the apple trees in blossom<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In these late days o' the spring.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Jean Blewett</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Inspired" id="Inspired"></a>INSPIRED BY THE SNOW</h2>
+
+
+<p>The black squirrel delights in the new-fallen snow like a boy&mdash;a real
+boy, with red hands as well as red cheeks, and an automatic mechanism of
+bones and muscles capable of all things except rest. The first snow
+sends a thrill of joy through every fibre of such a boy, and a thousand
+delights crowd into his mind. The gliding, falling coasters on the
+hills, the passing sleighs with niches on the runners for his feet, the
+flying snowballs, the sliding-places, the broad, tempting ice, all whirl
+through his mind in a delightful panorama, and he hurries out to catch
+the elusive flakes in his outstretched hands and to shout aloud in the
+gladness of his heart. And the black squirrel becomes a boy with the
+first snow. What a pity he cannot shout! There is a superabundant joy
+and life in his long, graceful bounds, when his beautiful form, in its
+striking contrast with the white snow, seems magnified to twice its real
+size. Perhaps there is vanity as well as joy in his lithe, bounding
+motions among the naked trees, for nature seems to have done her utmost
+to provide a setting that would best display his graces of form and
+motion.</p>
+
+<p>When the falling snow clings in light, airy masses on the spruces and
+pines, and festoons the naked tracery and clustering winter buds of the
+maples&mdash;when the still air seems to fix every twig and branch and
+clinging mass of snow in a solid medium of crystal, the spell of
+stillness is broken by the silent but joyful leaps of the hurrying
+squirrel. How alive he seems, in contrast with the silence of the snow,
+as his outlines contrast with its perfect white! His body curves and
+elongates with regular undulations, as he measures off the snow with
+twin footprints. Away in the distance he is still visible among the
+naked trunks, a moving patch of animated blackness. His free, regular
+footprints are all about, showing where he has run hither and thither,
+with no apparent purpose except to manifest his joy in life.</p>
+
+<p>His red-haired cousin comes to a lofty opening in a hollow tree and
+looks out with an expression of disappointment on his face. He does not
+like the snow-covered landscape spread out so artistically before him.
+It makes him tired, and he has not enough energy to scold an intruder,
+as he would in the comfortable days of summer. No amount of coaxing or
+tapping will tempt him from his lofty watch-tower, or win more
+recognition than a silent look of weary discontent. Another cousin, the
+chipmunk, no longer displays his daintily-striped coat. Oblivious in his
+burrow, he is sleeping away the days, and waiting for a more congenial
+season.</p>
+
+<p>But the black squirrel, now among the branches of an elm, is twitching
+from one rigid attitude to another, electrified by the crisp atmosphere
+and the inspiration of the snow. Again he is leaping over the white
+surface to clamber up the repellent bark of a tall hickory. Among the
+larger limbs he disappears. As he never attempts to hide, he must have
+retired into his own dwelling to partake of the store laid by in the
+season of plenty. Hickory nuts are his favourite food, and the hard
+shells seem but an appetizing relish. He knows the value of frugality,
+and gathers them before they are ripe, throwing down the shrivelled and
+unfilled, that the boys may not annoy him with stones and sticks. In
+winter he is the happiest of all the woodland family. He does not yield
+to the drowsy, numbing influence of the cold, nor to the depression of a
+season of scanty fare, but bounds along from tree to tree, inspired by
+the subtle spirit of winter and revelling in the joy of being alive.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">S.&nbsp;T. Wood</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Squirrel" id="Squirrel"></a>THE SQUIRREL</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm<br /></span>
+<span>That age or injury has hollow'd deep,<br /></span>
+<span>Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves,<br /></span>
+<span>He has outslept the winter, ventures forth<br /></span>
+<span>To frisk a while, and bask in the warm sun,<br /></span>
+<span>The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play.<br /></span>
+<span>He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird,<br /></span>
+<span>Ascends the neighbouring beech; there whisks his brush,<br /></span>
+<span>And perks his ears, and stamps and scolds aloud,<br /></span>
+<span>With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm,<br /></span>
+<span>And anger insignificantly fierce.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Cowper</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Soldier" id="Soldier"></a>SOLDIER, REST</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;<br /></span>
+<span>Dream of battled fields no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Days of danger, nights of waking.<br /></span>
+<span>In our isle's enchanted hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,<br /></span>
+<span>Fairy strains of music fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Every sense in slumber dewing.<br /></span>
+<span>Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,<br /></span>
+<span>Dream of fighting fields no more:<br /></span>
+<span>Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,<br /></span>
+<span>Morn of toil, nor night of waking.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"No rude sound shall reach thine ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,<br /></span>
+<span>Trump nor pibroch summon here<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.<br /></span>
+<span>Yet the lark's shrill fife may come<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At the daybreak from the fallow,<br /></span>
+<span>And the bittern sound his drum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Booming from the sedgy shallow.<br /></span>
+<span>Ruder sounds shall none be near,<br /></span>
+<span>Guards nor warders challenge here,<br /></span>
+<span>Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,<br /></span>
+<span>Shouting clans or squadrons stamping."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Scott</span>: "The Lady of the Lake"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Fishing" id="Fishing"></a>FISHING</h2>
+
+
+<p>One fine Thursday afternoon, Tom, having borrowed East's new rod,
+started by himself to the river. He fished for some time with small
+success, not a fish would rise to him; but as he prowled along the bank,
+he was presently aware of mighty ones feeding in a pool on the opposite
+side, under the shade of a huge willow-tree. The stream was deep here,
+but some fifty yards below was a shallow, for which he made off
+hot-foot; and forgetting landlords, keepers, solemn prohibitions of the
+Doctor, and everything else, pulled up his trousers, plunged across, and
+in three minutes was creeping along on all fours towards the clump of
+willows.</p>
+
+<p>It isn't often that great chub, or any other coarse fish, are in earnest
+about anything; but just then they were thoroughly bent on feeding, and
+in half an hour Master Tom had deposited three thumping fellows at the
+foot of the giant willow. As he was baiting for a fourth pounder, and
+just going to throw in again, he became aware of a man coming up the
+bank not one hundred yards off. Another look told him that it was the
+under-keeper. Could he reach the shallow before him? No, not carrying
+his rod. Nothing for it but the tree. So Tom laid his bones to it,
+shinning up as fast as he could and dragging up his rod after him. He
+had just time to reach and crouch along upon a huge branch some ten feet
+up, which stretched out over the river, when the keeper arrived at the
+clump.</p>
+
+<p>Tom's heart beat fast as he came under the tree; two steps more and he
+would have passed, when, as ill-luck would have it, the gleam on the
+scales of the dead fish caught his eye, and he made a dead point at the
+foot of the tree. He picked up the fish one by one; his eye and touch
+told him that they had been alive and feeding within the hour.</p>
+
+<p>Tom crouched lower along the branch, and heard the keeper beating the
+clump. "If I could only get the rod hidden," thought he, and began
+gently shifting it to get it alongside of him: "willow-trees don't throw
+out straight hickory shoots twelve feet long, with no leaves, worse
+luck." Alas! the keeper catches the rustle, and then a sight of the rod,
+and then of Tom's hand and arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, be up ther', be 'ee?" says he, running under the tree. "Now you
+come down this minute."</p>
+
+<p>"Tree'd at last," thinks Tom, making no answer, and keeping as close as
+possible, but working away at the rod, which he takes to pieces. "I'm in
+for it, unless I can starve him out."</p>
+
+<p>And then he begins to meditate getting along the branch for a plunge,
+and scramble to the other side; but the small branches are so thick,
+and the opposite bank so difficult, that the keeper will have lots of
+time to get round by the ford before he can get out, so he gives that
+up. And now he hears the keeper beginning to scramble up the trunk. That
+will never do; so he scrambles himself back to where his branch joins
+the trunk, and stands with lifted rod.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, Velveteens, mind your fingers if you come any higher."</p>
+
+<p>The keeper stops and looks up, and then with a grin says: "Oh! be you,
+be it, young measter? Well, here's luck. Now I tells 'ee to come down at
+once, and 't'll be best for 'ee."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank 'ee, Velveteens, I'm very comfortable," said Tom, shortening the
+rod in his hand, and preparing for battle.</p>
+
+<p>"Werry well, please yourself," says the keeper, descending, however, to
+the ground again, and taking his seat on the bank. "I bean't in no
+hurry, so you med take your time. I'll larn 'ee to gee honest folk names
+afore I've done with 'ee."</p>
+
+<p>"My luck as usual," thinks Tom; "what a fool I was to give him a black!
+If I'd called him 'keeper,' now, I might get off. The return match is
+all his way."</p>
+
+<p>The keeper quietly proceeded to take out his pipe, fill, and light it,
+keeping an eye on Tom, who now sat disconsolately across the branch,
+looking at the keeper&mdash;a pitiful sight for men and fishes. The more he
+thought of it the less he liked it.</p>
+
+<p>"It must be getting near second calling-over," thinks he. Keeper smokes
+on stolidly. "If he takes me up, I shall be flogged safe enough. I can't
+sit here all night. Wonder if he'll rise at silver."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, keeper," said he, meekly, "let me go for two bob?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not for twenty neither," grunts his persecutor.</p>
+
+<p>And so they sat on till long past second calling-over; and the sun came
+slanting in through the willow-branches, and telling of locking-up near
+at hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming down, keeper," said Tom at last, with a sigh, fairly tired
+out. "Now what are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Walk 'ee up to School, and give 'ee over to the Doctor; them's my
+orders," says Velveteens, knocking the ashes out of his fourth pipe, and
+standing up and shaking himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good," said Tom; "but hands off, you know. I'll go with you
+quietly, so no collaring or that sort of thing."</p>
+
+<p>Keeper looked at him a minute: "Werry good," said he at last. And so Tom
+descended, and wended his way drearily by the side of the keeper up to
+the School-house, where they arrived just at locking-up.</p>
+
+<p>As they passed the School-gates, the Tadpole and several others who were
+standing there caught the state of things, and rushed out, crying,
+"Rescue!" but Tom shook his head, so they only followed to the Doctor's
+gate, and went back sorely puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the last time that Tom was
+up there, as the keeper told the story, not omitting to state how Tom
+had called him blackguard names. "Indeed, sir," broke in the culprit,
+"it was only Velveteens." The Doctor only asked one question.</p>
+
+<p>"You know the rule about the banks, Brown?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Then wait for me to-morrow, after first lesson."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so," muttered Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"And about the rod, sir?" went on the keeper. "Master's told we as we
+might have all the rods&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please, sir," broke in Tom, "the rod isn't mine."</p>
+
+<p>The Doctor looked puzzled, but the keeper, who was a good-hearted
+fellow, and melted at Tom's evident distress, gave up his claim.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was flogged next morning, and a few days afterwards met Velveteens,
+and presented him with half a crown for giving up the rod claim, and
+they became sworn friends; and I regret to say that Tom had many more
+fish from under the willow that May-fly season, and was never caught
+again by Velveteens.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Hughes</span>: "Tom Brown's School Days."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Fountain" id="Fountain"></a>THE FOUNTAIN</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Into the sunshine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full of the light,<br /></span>
+<span>Leaping and flashing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From morn till night!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Into the moonlight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whiter than snow,<br /></span>
+<span>Waving so flower-like<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the winds blow!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Into the starlight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rushing in spray,<br /></span>
+<span>Happy at midnight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Happy by day;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Ever in motion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blithesome and cheery,<br /></span>
+<span>Still climbing heavenward<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Never aweary;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Glad of all weathers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Still seeming best,<br /></span>
+<span>Upward or downward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Motion thy rest;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Full of a nature<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nothing can tame,<br /></span>
+<span>Changed every moment,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ever the same;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Ceaseless aspiring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ceaseless content,<br /></span>
+<span>Darkness or sunshine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy element;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Glorious fountain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let my heart be<br /></span>
+<span>Fresh, changeful, constant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upward, like thee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Lowell</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Break" id="Break"></a>BREAK, BREAK, BREAK</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Break, break, break,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!<br /></span>
+<span>And I would that my tongue could utter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The thoughts that arise in me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>O well for the fisherman's boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That he shouts with his sister at play!<br /></span>
+<span>O well for the sailor lad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That he sings in his boat on the bay!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And the stately ships go on<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To their haven under the hill;<br /></span>
+<span>But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the sound of a voice that is still!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Break, break, break,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!<br /></span>
+<span>But the tender grace of a day that is dead<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will never come back to me.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>Try to frequent the company of your betters. In books and life, that is
+the most wholesome society; learn to admire rightly; the great pleasure
+of life is that. Note what great men admired: they admired great things;
+narrow spirits admire basely and worship meanly.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Thackeray</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Procrustes" id="Procrustes"></a>THE BED OF PROCRUSTES</h2>
+
+
+<p>A very tall and strong man, dressed in rich garments, came down to meet
+Theseus. On his arms were golden bracelets, and round his neck a collar
+of jewels; and he came forward, bowing courteously, and held out both
+his hands, and spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome, fair youth, to these mountains; happy am I to have met you!
+For what greater pleasure to a good man than to entertain strangers? But
+I see that you are weary. Come up to my castle, and rest yourself
+awhile."</p>
+
+<p>"I give you thanks," said Theseus; "but I am in haste to go up the
+valley."</p>
+
+<p>"Alas! you have wandered far from the right way, and you cannot reach
+your journey's end to-night, for there are many miles of mountain
+between you and it, and steep passes, and cliffs dangerous after
+nightfall. It is well for you that I met you, for my whole joy is to
+find strangers, and to feast them at my castle, and hear tales from them
+of foreign lands. Come up with me, and eat the best of venison, and
+drink the rich red wine, and sleep upon my famous bed, of which all
+travellers say that they never saw the like. For whatsoever the
+stature of my guest, however tall or short, that bed fits him to a hair,
+and he sleeps on it as he never slept before." And he laid hold on
+Theseus' hands, and would not let him go.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image07" id="image07"></a>
+<a href="images/image7.jpg">
+<img src="images/image7-th.jpg" width="307" height="210"
+alt="NIAGARA FALLS"
+title="NIAGARA FALLS" />
+</a>
+<p class="caption">NIAGARA FALLS</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Theseus wished to go forwards: but he was ashamed to seem churlish to so
+hospitable a man; and he was curious to see that wondrous bed; and
+beside, he was hungry and weary: yet he shrank from the man, he knew not
+why; for, though his voice was gentle, it was dry and husky like a
+toad's; and though his eyes were gentle, they were dull and cold like
+stones. But he consented, and went with the man up a glen which led from
+the road, under the dark shadow of the cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>And as they went up, the glen grew narrower, and the cliffs higher and
+darker, and beneath them a torrent roared, half seen between bare
+limestone crags. And around them was neither tree nor bush, while the
+snow-blasts swept down the glen, cutting and chilling, till a horror
+fell on Theseus as he looked round at that doleful place. And he said at
+last: "Your castle stands, it seems, in a dreary region."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but once within it, hospitality makes all things cheerful. But who
+are these?" and he looked back, and Theseus also; and far below, along
+the road which they had left, came a string of laden asses, and
+merchants walking by them, watching their ware.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, poor souls!" said the stranger. "Well for them that I looked back
+and saw them! And well for me, too, for I shall have the more guests at
+my feast. Wait awhile till I go down and call them, and we will eat and
+drink together the livelong night. Happy am I, to whom Heaven sends so
+many guests at once!"</p>
+
+<p>And he ran back down the hill, waving his hand and shouting to the
+merchants, while Theseus went slowly up the steep pass.</p>
+
+<p>But as he went up he met an aged man, who had been gathering driftwood
+in the torrent-bed. He had laid down his faggot in the road, and was
+trying to lift it again to his shoulder. And when he saw Theseus, he
+called to him and said:</p>
+
+<p>"O fair youth, help me up with my burden, for my limbs are stiff and
+weak with years."</p>
+
+<p>Then Theseus lifted the burden on his back. And the old man blessed him,
+and then looked earnestly upon him, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you, fair youth, and wherefore travel you this doleful road?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who I am my parents know; but I travel this doleful road because I have
+been invited by a hospitable man, who promises to feast me and to make
+me sleep upon I know not what wondrous bed."</p>
+
+<p>Then the old man clapped his hands together and cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Know, fair youth, that you are going to torment and to death, for he
+who met you (I will requite your kindness by another) is a robber and a
+murderer of men. Whatsoever stranger he meets he entices him hither to
+death; and as for this bed of which he speaks, truly it fits all comers,
+yet none ever rose alive off it save me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" asked Theseus, astonished.</p>
+
+<p>"Because, if a man be too tall for it, he lops his limbs till they be
+short enough, and if he be too short, he stretches his limbs till they
+be long enough; but me only he spared, seven weary years agone; for I
+alone of all fitted his bed exactly, so he spared me, and made me his
+slave. And once I was a wealthy merchant, and dwelt in a great city; but
+now I hew wood and draw water for him, the torment of all mortal men."</p>
+
+<p>Then Theseus said nothing; but he ground his teeth together.</p>
+
+<p>"Escape, then," said the old man, "for he will have no pity on thy
+youth. But yesterday he brought up hither a young man and a maiden, and
+fitted them upon his bed; and the young man's hands and feet he cut off,
+but the maiden's limbs he stretched until she died, and so both perished
+miserably&mdash;but I am tired of weeping over the slain. And therefore he is
+called Procrustes, the stretcher. Flee from him: yet whither will you
+flee? The cliffs are steep, and who can climb them? and there is no
+other road."</p>
+
+<p>But Theseus laid his hand upon the old man's mouth, and said: "There is
+no need to flee;" and he turned to go down the pass.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not tell him that I have warned you, or he will kill me by some evil
+death;" and the old man screamed after him down the glen; but Theseus
+strode on in his wrath.</p>
+
+<p>And he said to himself: "This is an ill-ruled land; when shall I have
+done ridding it of monsters?" And, as he spoke, Procrustes came up the
+hill, and all the merchants with him, smiling and talking gaily. And
+when he saw Theseus, he cried: "Ah, fair young guest, have I kept you
+too long waiting?"</p>
+
+<p>But Theseus answered: "The man who stretches his guests upon a bed and
+hews off their hands and feet, what shall be done to him, when right is
+done throughout the land?"</p>
+
+<p>Then Procrustes' countenance changed, and his cheeks grew as green as a
+lizard, and he felt for his sword in haste; but Theseus leaped on him,
+and cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Is this true, my host, or is it false?" and he clasped Procrustes round
+waist and elbow, so that he could not draw his sword.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this true, my host, or is it false!" But Procrustes answered never a
+word.</p>
+
+<p>Then Theseus flung him from him, and lifted up his dreadful club; and
+before Procrustes could strike him, he had struck and felled him to the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>And once again he struck him; and his evil soul fled forth, squeaking
+like a bat into the darkness of a cave.</p>
+
+<p>Then Theseus stripped him of his gold ornaments, and went up to his
+house, and found there great wealth and treasure, which he had stolen
+from the passers-by. And he called the people of the country, whom
+Procrustes had spoiled a long time, and divided the spoil among them,
+and went down the mountains, and away.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Kingsley</span>: "The Heroes."<br />
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Bob" id="Bob"></a>"BOB WHITE"</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>I see you, on the zigzag rails,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You cheery little fellow!<br /></span>
+<span>While purple leaves are whirling down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And scarlet, brown, and yellow.<br /></span>
+<span>I hear you when the air is full<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of snow-down of the thistle;<br /></span>
+<span>All in your speckled jacket trim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Bob White! Bob White!" you whistle.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Tall amber sheaves, in rustling rows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are nodding there to greet you;<br /></span>
+<span>I know that you are out for play&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How I should like to meet you!<br /></span>
+<span>Though blithe of voice, so shy you are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In this delightful weather;<br /></span>
+<span>What splendid playmates, you and I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Bob White," would make together!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>There, you are gone! but far away<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I hear your whistle falling.<br /></span>
+<span>Ah! maybe it is hide-and-seek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And that's why you are calling.<br /></span>
+<span>Along those hazy uplands wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We'd be such merry rangers;<br /></span>
+<span>What! silent now, and hidden too!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Bob White," don't let's be strangers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Perhaps you teach your brood the game,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In yonder rainbowed thicket,<br /></span>
+<span>While winds are playing with the leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And softly creeks the cricket.<br /></span>
+<span>"Bob White! Bob White!"&mdash;again I hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That blithely whistled chorus;<br /></span>
+<span>Why should we not companions be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One Father watches o'er us!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">George Cooper</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Radisson" id="Radisson"></a>RADISSON AND THE INDIANS</h2>
+
+
+<p>The tribe being assembled and having spread out their customary gifts,
+consisting of beaver tails, smoked moose tongues and pemmican, one of
+the leading braves arose and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Men who pretend to give us life, do you wish us to die! You know what
+beaver is worth and the trouble we have to take it. You call yourselves
+our brothers, and yet will not give us what those give who make no such
+profession. Accept our gifts, and let us barter, or we will visit you
+no more. We have but to travel a hundred leagues and we will encounter
+the English, whose offers we have heard."</p>
+
+<p>On the conclusion of this harangue, silence reigned for some moments.
+All eyes were turned on the two white traders. Feeling that now or never
+was the time to exhibit firmness, Radisson, without rising to his feet,
+addressed the whole assemblage in haughty accents.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom dost thou wish I should answer? I have heard a dog bark; when a
+man shall speak, he will see I know how to defend my conduct and my
+terms. We love our brothers and we deserve their love in return. For
+have we not saved them all from the treachery of the English?"</p>
+
+<p>Uttering these words fearlessly, he leaped to his feet and drew a long
+hunting-knife from his belt. Seizing by the scalp-lock the chief of the
+tribe, who had already adopted him as his son, he asked: "Who art thou?"
+To which the chief responded, as was customary: "Thy father."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," cried Radisson, "if that is so, and thou art my father, speak
+for me. Thou art the master of my goods; but as for that dog who has
+spoken, what is he doing in this company? Let him go to his brothers,
+the English, at the head of the Bay. Or he need not travel so far. He
+may, if he chooses, see them starving and helpless on yonder island;
+answering to my words of command.</p>
+
+<p>"I know how to speak to my Indian father," continued Radisson, "of the
+perils of the woods, of the abandonment of his squaws and children, of
+the risks of hunger and the peril of death by foes. All these you avoid
+by trading with us here. But although I am mightily angry, I will take
+pity on this wretch and let him still live. Go," addressing the brave
+with his weapon outstretched, "take this as my gift to you, and depart.
+When you meet your brothers, the English, tell them my name, and add
+that we are soon coming to treat them and their factory yonder as we
+have treated this one."</p>
+
+<p>The speaker knew enough of the Indian character, especially in affairs
+of trade, to be aware that a point once yielded them is never recovered.
+And it is but just to say that the terms he then made of three axes for
+a beaver were thereafter adopted, and that his firmness saved the
+Company many a cargo of these implements. His harangue produced an
+immediate impression upon all save the humiliated brave, who declared
+that, if the Assiniboines came hither to barter, he would lie in ambush
+and kill them.</p>
+
+<p>The French trader's reply to this was, to the Indian mind, a terrible
+one.</p>
+
+<p>"I will myself travel into thy country," said he, "and eat sagamite in
+thy grandmother's skull."</p>
+
+<p>While the brave and his small circle of friends were livid with fear and
+anger, Radisson ordered three fathoms of tobacco to be distributed;
+observing, contemptuously, to the hostile minority that, as for them,
+they might go and smoke women's tobacco in the country of the lynxes.
+The barter began and, when at nightfall the Indians departed, not a skin
+was left amongst them.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Beckles Willson</span>: "The Great Company."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Brook" id="Brook"></a>THE BROOK</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>I come from haunts of coot and hern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I make a sudden sally,<br /></span>
+<span>And sparkle out among the fern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To bicker down a valley.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>By thirty hills I hurry down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or slip between the ridges,<br /></span>
+<span>By twenty thorps, a little town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And half a hundred bridges.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Till last by Philip's farm I flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span>For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on for ever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I chatter over stony ways,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In little sharps and trebles,<br /></span>
+<span>I bubble into eddying bays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I babble on the pebbles.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>With many a curve my banks I fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By many a field and fallow,<br /></span>
+<span>And many a fairy foreland set<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With willow-weed and mallow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I chatter, chatter, as I flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span>For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on for ever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I wind about, and in and out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With here a blossom sailing,<br /></span>
+<span>And here and there a lusty trout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And here and there a grayling,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And here and there a foamy flake<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon me, as I travel<br /></span>
+<span>With many a silvery waterbreak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Above the golden gravel,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And draw them all along, and flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span>For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on for ever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I steal by lawns and grassy plots,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I slide by hazel covers;<br /></span>
+<span>I move the sweet forget-me-nots<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That grow for happy lovers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Among my skimming swallows;<br /></span>
+<span>I make the netted sunbeam dance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Against my sandy shallows.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I murmur under moon and stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In brambly wildernesses;<br /></span>
+<span>I linger by my shingly bars;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I loiter round my cresses;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And out again I curve and flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span>For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on for ever.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>As good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Many a man lives a burden
+to the earth, but a good book is the precious life blood of a
+master-spirit.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Milton</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Seek" id="Seek"></a>"DO SEEK THEIR MEAT FROM GOD"</h2>
+
+
+<p>There was a solitary cabin in the thick of the woods a mile or more from
+the nearest neighbour, a substantial frame house in the midst of a large
+and well-tilled clearing. The owner of the cabin, a shiftless fellow who
+spent his days for the most part at the corner tavern three miles
+distant, had suddenly grown disgusted with a land wherein one must work
+to live, and had betaken himself with his seven-year-old boy to seek
+some more indolent clime.</p>
+
+<p>The five-year-old son of the prosperous owner of the frame house and the
+older boy had been playmates. The little boy, unaware of his comrade's
+departure, had stolen away, late in the afternoon, along the lonely
+stretch of wood road, and had reached the cabin only to find it empty.
+As the dusk gathered, he grew afraid to start for home and crept
+trembling into the cabin, whose door would not stay shut. Desperate with
+fear and loneliness, he lifted up his voice piteously. In the terrifying
+silence, he listened hard to hear if anyone or anything were coming.
+Then again his shrill childish wailings arose, startling the unexpectant
+night, and piercing the forest depths, even to the ears of two great
+panthers which had set forth to seek their meat from God.</p>
+
+<p>The lonely cabin stood some distance, perhaps a quarter of a mile, back
+from the highway connecting the settlements. Along this main road a man
+was plodding wearily. All day he had been walking, and now as he neared
+home his steps began to quicken with anticipation of rest. Over his
+shoulder projected a double-barrelled fowling-piece, from which was
+slung a bundle of such necessities as he had purchased in town that
+morning. It was the prosperous settler, the master of the frame house,
+who had chosen to make the tedious journey on foot.</p>
+
+<p>He passed the mouth of the wood road leading to the cabin and had gone
+perhaps a furlong beyond, when his ears were startled by the sound of a
+child crying in the woods. He stopped, lowered his burden to the road,
+and stood straining ears and eyes in the direction of the sound. It was
+just at this time that the two panthers also stopped, and lifted their
+heads to listen. Their ears were keener than those of the man, and the
+sound had reached them at a greater distance.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the settler realized whence the cries were coming. He called
+to mind the cabin; but he did not know the cabin's owner had departed.
+He cherished a hearty contempt for the drunken squatter; and on the
+drunken squatter's child he looked with small favour, especially as a
+playmate for his own boy. Nevertheless he hesitated before resuming his
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little fellow!" he muttered, half in wrath. "I reckon his precious
+father's drunk down at 'the Corners,' and him crying for loneliness!"
+Then he re-shouldered his burden and strode on doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>But louder, shriller, more hopeless and more appealing, arose the
+childish voice, and the settler paused again, irresolute, and with
+deepening indignation. In his fancy he saw the steaming supper his wife
+would have awaiting him. He loathed the thought of retracing his steps,
+and then stumbling a quarter of a mile through the stumps and bog of the
+wood road. He was foot-sore as well as hungry, and he cursed the
+vagabond squatter with serious emphasis; but in that wailing was a
+terror which would not let him go on. He thought of his own little one
+left in such a position, and straightway his heart melted. He turned,
+dropped his bundle behind some bushes, grasped his gun, and made speed
+back for the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows," he said to himself, "but that drunken idiot has left his
+youngster without a bite to eat in the whole miserable shanty? Or maybe
+he's locked out, and the poor little beggar's half scared to death.
+<em>Sounds</em> as if he was scared;" and at this thought the settler quickened
+his pace.</p>
+
+<p>As the hungry panthers drew near the cabin, and the cries of the lonely
+child grew clearer, they hastened their steps, and their eyes opened to
+a wider circle, flaming with a greener fire. It would be thoughtless
+superstition to say the beasts were cruel. They were simply keen with
+hunger, and alive with the eager passion of the chase. They were not
+ferocious with any anticipation of battle, for they knew the voice was
+the voice of a child, and something in the voice told them the child was
+solitary. Theirs was no hideous or unnatural rage, as it is the custom
+to describe it. They were but seeking with the strength, the cunning,
+the deadly swiftness given them to that end, the food convenient for
+them. On their success in accomplishing that for which nature had so
+exquisitely designed them, depended not only their own, but the lives of
+their blind and helpless young, now whimpering in the cave on the slope
+of the moon-lit ravine. They crept through a wet alder thicket, bounded
+lightly over the ragged brush fence, and paused to reconnoitre on the
+edge of the clearing, in the full glare of the moon. At the same moment,
+the settler emerged from the darkness of the wood road on the opposite
+side of the clearing. He saw the two great beasts, heads down and snouts
+thrust forward, gliding toward the open cabin door.</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments the child had been silent. Now his voice rose again in
+pitiful appeal, a very ecstasy of loneliness and terror. There was a
+note in the cry that shook the settler's soul. He had a vision of his
+own boy, at home with his mother, safe-guarded from even the thought of
+peril. And here was this little one left to the wild beasts! "Thank God!
+Thank God I came!" murmured the settler, as he dropped on one knee to
+take a surer aim. There was a loud report (not like the sharp crack of a
+rifle), and the female panther, shot through the loins, fell in a heap,
+snarling furiously and striking with her fore-paws.</p>
+
+<p>The male walked around her in fierce and anxious amazement. Presently,
+as the smoke lifted, he discerned the settler kneeling for a second
+shot. With a high screech of fury, the lithe brute sprang upon his
+enemy, taking a bullet full in his chest without seeming to know he was
+hit. Ere the man could slip in another cartridge the beast was upon him,
+bearing him to the ground and fixing keen fangs in his shoulder. Without
+a word, the man set his strong fingers desperately into the brute's
+throat, wrenched himself partly free, and was struggling to rise, when
+the panther's body collapsed upon him all at once, a dead weight which
+he easily flung aside. The bullet had done its work just in time.</p>
+
+<p>Quivering from the swift and dreadful contest, bleeding profusely from
+his mangled shoulder, the settler stepped up to the cabin door and
+peered in. He heard sobs in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be scared, sonny," he said, in a reassuring voice. "I'm going to
+take you home along with me. Poor little lad, <em>I'll</em> look after you, if
+folks that ought to don't."</p>
+
+<p>Out of the dark corner came a shout of delight, in a voice which made
+the settler's heart stand still. "<em>Daddy</em>, Daddy," it said, "I <em>knew</em>
+you'd come. I was so frightened when it got dark!" And a little figure
+launched itself into the settler's arms, and clung to him trembling. The
+man sat down on the threshold and strained the child to his breast. He
+remembered how near he had been to disregarding the far-off cries, and
+great beads of sweat broke out upon his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>Not many weeks afterwards the settler was following the fresh trail of a
+bear which had killed his sheep. The trail led him at last along the
+slope of a deep ravine, from whose bottom came the brawl of a swollen
+and obstructed stream. In the ravine he found a shallow cave, behind a
+great white rock. The cave was plainly a wild beast's lair, and he
+entered circumspectly. There were bones scattered about, and on some dry
+herbage in the deepest corner of the den, he found the dead bodies of
+two small panther cubs.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Charles G.&nbsp;D. Roberts</span>: "Earth's Enigmas."<br />
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>So nigh is grandeur to our dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So near is God to man,<br /></span>
+<span>When Duty whispers low, "<em>Thou must</em>,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The youth replies, "<em>I can</em>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Emerson</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Sea" id="Sea"></a>A SONG OF THE SEA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!<br /></span>
+<span>The blue, the fresh, the ever free!<br /></span>
+<span>Without a mark, without a bound,<br /></span>
+<span>It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;<br /></span>
+<span>It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;<br /></span>
+<span>Or like a cradled creature lies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I'm on the Sea! I'm on the Sea!<br /></span>
+<span>I am where I would ever be;<br /></span>
+<span>With the blue above, and the blue below,<br /></span>
+<span>And silence wheresoe'er I go;<br /></span>
+<span>If a storm should come and awake the deep,<br /></span>
+<span>What matter? <em>I</em> shall ride and sleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I love (oh! <em>how</em> I love) to ride<br /></span>
+<span>On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,<br /></span>
+<span>When every mad wave drowns the moon,<br /></span>
+<span>Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,<br /></span>
+<span>And tells how goeth the world below,<br /></span>
+<span>And why the south-west blasts do blow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I never was on the dull, tame shore,<br /></span>
+<span>But I loved the great Sea more and more,<br /></span>
+<span>And backwards flew to her billowy breast,<br /></span>
+<span>Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;<br /></span>
+<span>And a mother she <em>was</em> and <em>is</em> to me;<br /></span>
+<span>For I was born on the open Sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The waves were white, and red the morn,<br /></span>
+<span>In the noisy hour when I was born;<br /></span>
+<span>And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled<br /></span>
+<span>And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;<br /></span>
+<span>And never was heard such an outcry wild<br /></span>
+<span>As welcomed to life the Ocean-child!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I've lived since then, in calm and strife,<br /></span>
+<span>Full fifty summers a sailor's life,<br /></span>
+<span>With wealth to spend, and a power to range,<br /></span>
+<span>But never have sought nor sighed for change;<br /></span>
+<span>And Death whenever he comes to me,<br /></span>
+<span>Shall come on the wide unbounded Sea!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">B.&nbsp;W. Procter</span>: ("Barry Cornwall")</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Daffydowndilly" id="Daffydowndilly"></a>LITTLE DAFFYDOWNDILLY</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;<br /></span>
+<span>I woke, and found that life was duty."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>Daffydowndilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
+flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
+no delight in labour of any kind. But while Daffydowndilly was yet a
+little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
+under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
+Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
+very worthy character; and that he had done more good, both to children
+and grown people, than anybody else in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly he had lived long enough to do a great deal of good; for, if
+all stories be true, he had dwelt upon earth ever since Adam was driven
+from the garden of Eden.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, Mr. Toil had a severe and ugly countenance, especially for
+such little boys or big men as were inclined to be idle; his voice, too,
+was harsh; and all his ways and customs seemed very disagreeable to our
+friend Daffydowndilly. The whole day long this terrible schoolmaster sat
+at his desk overlooking the scholars, or stalked about the school-room
+with a certain awful birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the
+shoulders of a boy whom Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a
+whole class who were behindhand with their lessons; and, in short,
+unless a lad chose to attend quietly and constantly to his book, he had
+no chance of enjoying a quiet moment in the school-room of Mr. Toil.</p>
+
+<p>"This will never do for me," thought Daffydowndilly.</p>
+
+<p>Now the whole of Daffydowndilly's life had hitherto been passed with his
+dear mother, who had a much sweeter face than old Mr. Toil, and who had
+always been very indulgent to her little boy. No wonder, therefore, that
+poor Daffydowndilly found it a woeful change to be sent away from the
+good lady's side and put under the care of this ugly-visaged
+schoolmaster, who never gave him any apples or cakes, and seemed to
+think that little boys were created only to get lessons.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffydowndilly to himself, when he
+had been at school about a week. "I'll run away and try to find my dear
+mother; and, at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so
+disagreeable as this old Mr. Toil!"</p>
+
+<p>So the very next morning, off started poor Daffydowndilly, and began his
+rambles about the world, with only some bread and cheese for his
+breakfast, and very little pocket-money to pay his expenses. But he had
+gone only a short distance when he overtook a man of grave and sedate
+appearance, who was trudging at a moderate pace along the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning, my lad," said the stranger; and his voice seemed hard and
+severe, but yet had a sort of kindness in it. "Whence do you come so
+early, and whither are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>Little Daffydowndilly was a boy of a very ingenuous disposition, and had
+never been known to tell a lie in all his life. Nor did he tell one now.
+He hesitated a moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away
+from school, on account of his great dislike for Mr. Toil; and that he
+was resolved to find some place in the world where he should never see
+or hear of the old schoolmaster again.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well, my little friend!" answered the stranger. "Then we will
+go together; for I, likewise, have had a good deal to do with Mr. Toil,
+and should be glad to find some place where he was never heard of."</p>
+
+<p>Our friend Daffydowndilly would have been better pleased with a
+companion of his own age, with whom he might have gathered flowers along
+the road-side, or have chased butterflies, or have done many other
+things to make the journey pleasant. But he had wisdom enough to
+understand that he should get along through the world much easier by
+having a man of experience to show him the way. So he accepted the
+stranger's proposal, and they walked on very sociably together.</p>
+
+<p>They had not gone far, when the road passed by a field where some
+haymakers were at work, mowing down the tall grass and spreading it out
+in the sun to dry. Daffydowndilly was delighted with the sweet smell of
+the new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make
+hay in the sunshine under the blue sky, and with the birds singing
+sweetly in the neighbouring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a
+dismal school-room, learning lessons all day long, and continually
+scolded by old Mr. Toil. But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he
+was stopping to peep over the stone wall, he started back and caught
+hold of his companion's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Quick, quick!" cried he. "Let us run away, or he will catch us!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffydowndilly. "Don't you
+see him amongst the haymakers?"</p>
+
+<p>And Daffydowndilly pointed to an elderly man, who seemed to be the owner
+of the field, and the employer of the men at work there. He had stripped
+off his coat and waistcoat, and was busily at work in his shirt sleeves.
+The drops of sweat stood upon his brow; but he gave himself not a
+moment's rest, and kept crying out to the haymakers to make hay while
+the sun shone. Now, strange to say, the figure and features of this old
+farmer were precisely the same as those of old Mr. Toil, who, at that
+very moment, must have been just entering his school-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and the
+people say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
+trouble you unless you become a labourer on the farm."</p>
+
+<p>Little Daffydowndilly believed what his companion said, but he was very
+glad, nevertheless, when they were out of sight of the old farmer, who
+bore such a singular resemblance to Mr. Toil. The two travellers had
+gone but little farther, when they came to a spot where some carpenters
+were erecting a house. Daffydowndilly begged his companion to stop a
+moment; for it was a very pretty sight to see how neatly the carpenters
+did their work, with their broad-axes and saws, and planes, and hammers,
+shaping out the doors, and putting in the window-sashes, and nailing on
+the clap-boards; and he could not help thinking that he should like to
+take a broad-axe, a saw, a plane, and a hammer, and build a little house
+for himself. And then, when he should have a house of his own, old Mr.
+Toil would never dare to molest him.</p>
+
+<p>But, just while he was delighting himself with this idea, little
+Daffydowndilly beheld something that made him catch hold of his
+companion's hand, all in a fright.</p>
+
+<p>"Make haste. Quick, quick!" cried he. "There he is again!" "Who?" asked
+the stranger, very quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Mr. Toil," said Daffydowndilly, trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"There! he that is overseeing the carpenters. 'Tis my old schoolmaster,
+as sure as I'm alive!"</p>
+
+<p>The stranger cast his eyes where Daffydowndilly pointed his finger; and
+he saw an elderly man, with a carpenter's rule and compass in his hand.
+This person went to and fro about the unfinished house, measuring pieces
+of timber and marking out the work that was to be done, and continually
+exhorting the other carpenters to be diligent. And wherever he turned
+his hard and wrinkled visage, the men seemed to feel that they had a
+task-master over them, and sawed, and hammered, and planed, as if for
+dear life.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! this is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster," said the stranger. "It
+is another brother of his, who follows the trade of carpenter."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad to hear it," quoth Daffydowndilly; "but if you please,
+sir, I should like to get out of his way as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>Then they went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum
+and fife. Daffydowndilly pricked up his ears at this, and besought his
+companion to hurry forward, that they might not miss seeing the
+soldiers. Accordingly they made what haste they could, and soon met a
+company of soldiers gaily dressed, with beautiful feathers in their
+caps, and bright muskets on their shoulders. In front marched two
+drummers and two fifers, beating on their drums and making such lively
+music that little Daffydowndilly would gladly have followed them to the
+end of the world. And if he was only a soldier, then, he said to
+himself, old Mr. Toil would never venture to look him in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.</p>
+
+<p>Little Daffydowndilly started, in great dismay; for this voice which had
+spoken to the soldiers sounded precisely the same as that which he had
+heard every day in Mr. Toil's school-room, out of Mr. Toil's own mouth.
+And, turning his eyes to the captain of the company, what should he see
+but the very image of old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather
+on his head, a pair of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on
+his back, a purple sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a
+birch rod, in his hand. And though he held his head so high, and
+strutted like a turkey-cock, still he looked quite as ugly and
+disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in the school-room.</p>
+
+<p>"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffydowndilly, in a trembling
+voice. "Let us run away for fear he should make us enlist in his
+company!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
+composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
+his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a terribly
+severe fellow; but you and I need not be afraid of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said little Daffydowndilly, "but if you please, sir, I
+don't want to see the soldiers any more."</p>
+
+<p>So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
+they came to a house by the road-side, where a number of people were
+making merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their
+faces, were dancing to the sound of a fiddle. It was the pleasantest
+sight that Daffydowndilly had yet met with, and it comforted him for all
+his disappointments.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let us stop here," cried he to his companion; "for Mr. Toil will
+never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and where people
+are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here!"</p>
+
+<p>But these last words died away upon Daffydowndilly's tongue; for,
+happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again
+but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle-bow instead of a birch
+rod, and flourishing it with as much ease and dexterity as if he had
+been a fiddler all his life! He had somewhat the air of a Frenchman, but
+still looked exactly like the old schoolmaster; and Daffydowndilly even
+fancied that he nodded and winked at him, and made signs for him to join
+in the dance.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear me!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was
+nobody but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing
+on a fiddle!"</p>
+
+<p>"This is not your old schoolmaster," observed the stranger, "but another
+brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
+of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
+Monsieur le Plaisir; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known
+him best think him still more disagreeable than his brothers."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, take me back!&mdash;take me back!" cried poor little Daffydowndilly,
+bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
+may just as well go back to the school-house!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yonder it is,&mdash;there is the school-house!" said the stranger, for
+though he and Daffydowndilly had taken a great many steps, they had
+travelled in a circle instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go back
+to school together."</p>
+
+<p>There was something in his companion's voice that little Daffydowndilly
+now remembered, and it is strange that he had not remembered it sooner.
+Looking up into his face, behold! there again was the likeness of old
+Mr. Toil; so that the poor child had been in company with Toil all day,
+even while he was doing his best to run away from him. Some people, to
+whom I have told little Daffydowndilly's story, are of the opinion that
+old Mr. Toil was a magician, and possessed the power of multiplying
+himself into as many shapes as he saw fit.</p>
+
+<p>Be this as it may, little Daffydowndilly had learned a good lesson, and
+from that time forward was diligent at his task, because he knew that
+diligence is not a whit more toilsome than sport or idleness. And when
+he became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began to think that his
+ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old schoolmaster's
+smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as even that of
+Daffydowndilly's mother.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Nathaniel Hawthorne</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Sandpiper" id="Sandpiper"></a>THE SANDPIPER</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Across the narrow beach we flit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One little sandpiper and I;<br /></span>
+<span>And fast I gather, bit by bit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The scattered driftwood bleached and dry.<br /></span>
+<span>The wild waves reach their hands for it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,<br /></span>
+<span>As up and down the beach we flit,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One little sandpiper and I.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Above our heads the sullen clouds<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Scud black and swift across the sky:<br /></span>
+<span>Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stand out the white lighthouses high.<br /></span>
+<span>Almost as far as eye can reach<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I see the close-reefed vessels fly,<br /></span>
+<span>As fast we flit along the beach,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One little sandpiper and I.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I watch him as he skims along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;<br /></span>
+<span>He starts not at my fitful song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or flash of fluttering drapery;<br /></span>
+<span>He has no thought of any wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He scans me with a fearless eye.<br /></span>
+<span>Stanch friends are we, well-tried and strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The little sandpiper and I.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the loosed storm breaks furiously?<br /></span>
+<span>My driftwood-fire will burn so bright!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To what warm shelter canst thou fly?<br /></span>
+<span>I do not fear for thee, though wroth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The tempest rushes through the sky:<br /></span>
+<span>For are we not God's children both,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou, little sandpiper, and I?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Celia Thaxter</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Sermon" id="Sermon"></a>FROM "THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT"</h2>
+
+
+<p>Blessed are the poor in spirit: for their's is the kingdom of heaven.
+Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are
+the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do
+hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed
+are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in
+heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they
+shall be called the children of God.</p>
+
+<p>Again, ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou
+shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths.
+But I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God's
+throne: nor by the earth; for it is his footstool: neither by Jerusalem;
+for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou swear by thy
+head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black.</p>
+
+<p>Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and
+hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that
+curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which
+despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of
+your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the
+evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.
+For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the
+publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more
+than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even
+as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">St. Matthew</span>, V.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Legend" id="Legend"></a>THE LEGEND OF SAINT CHRISTOPHER</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>For many a year Saint Christopher<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Served God in many a land;<br /></span>
+<span>And master painters drew his face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With loving heart and hand,<br /></span>
+<span>On altar fronts and churches' walls;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And peasants used to say,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>To look on good Saint Christopher<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Brought luck for all the day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>For many a year, in lowly hut,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The giant dwelt content<br /></span>
+<span>Upon the bank, and back and forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Across the stream he went;<br /></span>
+<span>And on his giant shoulders bore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All travellers who came,<br /></span>
+<span>By night, by day, or rich or poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All in King Jesus' name.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But much he doubted if the King<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His work would note or know,<br /></span>
+<span>And often with a weary heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He waded to and fro.<br /></span>
+<span>One night, as wrapped in sleep he lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He sudden heard a call,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>"O Christopher, come, carry me!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He sprang, looked out, but all<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Was dark and silent on the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"It must be that I dreamed,"<br /></span>
+<span>He said, and laid him down again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But instantly there seemed<br /></span>
+<span>Again the feeble, distant cry,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Oh, come and carry me!"<br /></span>
+<span>Again he sprang and looked: again<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No living thing could see.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The third time came the plaintive voice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like infant's, soft and weak;<br /></span>
+<span>With lantern strode the giant forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">More carefully to seek.<br /></span>
+<span>Down on the bank a little child<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He found,&mdash;a piteous sight,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Who weeping, earnestly implored<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To cross that very night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>With gruff good will he picked him up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on his neck to ride<br /></span>
+<span>He tossed him, as men play with babes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And plunged into the tide.<br /></span>
+<span>But as the water closed around<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His knees, the infant's weight<br /></span>
+<span>Grew heavier, and heavier,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Until it was so great<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The giant scarce could stand upright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His staff shook in his hand,<br /></span>
+<span>His mighty knees bent under him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He barely reached the land.<br /></span>
+<span>And, staggering, set the infant down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And turned to scan his face;<br /></span>
+<span>When, lo! he saw a halo bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which lit up all the place.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Then Christopher fell down, afraid<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At marvel of the thing,<br /></span>
+<span>And dreamed not that it was the face<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of Jesus Christ, his King.<br /></span>
+<span>Until the infant spoke, and said:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"O Christopher, behold!<br /></span>
+<span>I am the Lord whom thou hast served,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rise up, be glad and bold!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"For I have seen and noted well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy works of charity;<br /></span>
+<span>And that thou art my servant good<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A token thou shalt see.<br /></span>
+<span>Plant firmly here upon this bank<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy stalwart staff of pine,<br /></span>
+<span>And it shall blossom and bear fruit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This very hour, in sign."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Then, vanishing, the infant smiled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The giant, left alone,<br /></span>
+<span>Saw on the bank, with luscious dates,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His stout pine staff bent down.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I think the lesson is as good<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-day as it was then&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>As good to us called Christians<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As to the heathen men&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>The lesson of Saint Christopher,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who spent his strength for others,<br /></span>
+<span>And saved his soul by working hard<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To help and save his brothers!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Helen Hunt Jackson</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="William" id="William"></a>WILLIAM TELL AND HIS SON</h2>
+
+
+<p>The sun already shone brightly as William Tell entered the town of
+Altorf, and he advanced at once to the public place, where the first
+object that caught his eyes was a handsome cap, embroidered with gold,
+stuck upon the end of a long pole. Soldiers were walking around it in
+silence, and the people of Altorf, as they passed, bowed their head to
+the symbol of authority. The cap had been set up by Gessler, the
+Austrian commander, for the purpose of discovering those who were not
+submissive to the Austrian power, which had ruled the people of the
+Swiss Cantons for a long time with great severity. He suspected that the
+people were about to break into rebellion, and with a view to learn who
+were the most discontented, he had placed the ducal cap of Austria on
+this pole, publicly proclaiming that every one passing near, or within
+sight of it, should bow before it, in proof of his homage to the duke.</p>
+
+<p>Tell was much surprised at this new and strange attempt to humble the
+people, and, leaning on his cross-bow, gazed scornfully on them and the
+soldiers. Berenger, captain of the guard, at length observed this man,
+who alone amidst the cringing crowd carried his head erect. He ordered
+him to be seized and disarmed by the soldiers, and then conducted him to
+Gessler, who put some questions to him, which he answered so haughtily
+that Gessler was both surprised and angry. Suddenly, he was struck by
+the likeness between him and the boy Walter Tell, whom he had seized and
+put in prison the previous day for uttering some seditious words; he
+immediately asked his name, which he no sooner heard than he knew him to
+be the archer so famous, as the best marksman in the Canton.</p>
+
+<p>Gessler at once resolved to punish both father and son at the same time,
+by a method which was perhaps the most refined act of torture which man
+ever imagined. As soon, then, as the youth was brought out, the governor
+turned to Tell, and said: "I have often heard of thy great skill as an
+archer, and I now intend to put it to the proof. Thy son shall be placed
+at a distance of a hundred yards, with an apple on his head. If thou
+strikest the apple with thy arrow, I will pardon you both; but if thou
+refusest this trial, thy son shall die before thine eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Tell implored Gessler to spare him so cruel a trial, in which he might
+perhaps kill his beloved boy with his own hand. The governor would not
+alter his purpose; so Tell at last agreed to shoot at the apple, as the
+only chance of saving his son's life. Walter stood with his back to a
+linden tree. Gessler, some distance behind, watched every motion. His
+cross-bow and one arrow were handed to Tell; he tried the point, broke
+the weapon, and demanded his quiver. It was brought to him and emptied
+at his feet. He stooped down, and taking a long time to choose an arrow,
+he managed to hide a second in his girdle.</p>
+
+<p>After being in doubt a long time, his whole soul beaming in his face,
+his love for his son rendering him almost powerless, he at length roused
+himself&mdash;drew the bow&mdash;aimed&mdash;shot&mdash;and the apple, struck to the core,
+was carried away by the arrow.</p>
+
+<p>The market-place of Altorf was filled by loud cheers. Walter flew to
+embrace his father, who, overcome by his emotion, fell fainting to the
+ground, thus exposing the second arrow to view. Gessler stood over him,
+awaiting his recovery, which speedily taking place, Tell rose, and
+turned away from the governor with horror. The latter, however,
+scarcely yet believing his senses, thus addressed him: "Incomparable
+archer, I will keep my promise; but what needed you with that second
+arrow which I see in your girdle?"</p>
+
+<p>Tell replied: "It is the custom of the bowmen of Uri to have always one
+arrow in reserve."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay," said Gessler, "tell me thy real motive; and, whatever it may
+have been, speak frankly, and thy life is spared."</p>
+
+<p>"The second shaft," replied Tell, "was to pierce thy heart, tyrant, if I
+had chanced to harm my son."</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Chamber's</span> "Tracts."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Midsummer" id="Midsummer"></a>A MIDSUMMER SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>O, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,<br /></span>
+<span>And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay,<br /></span>
+<span>And whistling down the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill,<br /></span>
+<span>While mother from the kitchen door is calling with a will:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Polly!&mdash;Polly!&mdash;The cows are in the corn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, where's Polly?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>From all the misty morning air there comes a summer sound&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>A murmur as of waters from skies and trees and ground.<br /></span>
+<span>The birds they sing upon the wing, the pigeons bill and coo,<br /></span>
+<span>And over hill and hollow rings again the loud halloo:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Polly!&mdash;Polly!&mdash;The cows are in the corn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, where's Polly?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Above the trees the honey-bees swarm by with buzz and boom,<br /></span>
+<span>And in the field and garden a thousand blossoms bloom.<br /></span>
+<span>Within the farmer's meadow a brown-eyed daisy blows,<br /></span>
+<span>And down at the edge of the hollow a red and thorny rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But Polly!&mdash;Polly!&mdash;The cows are in the corn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, where's Polly?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>How strange at such a time of day the mill should stop its clatter!<br /></span>
+<span>The farmer's wife is listening now and wonders what's the matter.<br /></span>
+<span>O, wild the birds are singing in the wood and on the hill,<br /></span>
+<span>While whistling up the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But Polly!&mdash;Polly!&mdash;The cows are in the corn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, where's Polly?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Richard Watson Gilder</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Relief" id="Relief"></a>THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW</h2>
+
+
+<p>On every side death stared us in the face; no human skill could avert it
+any longer. We saw the moment approach when we must bid farewell to
+earth, yet without feeling that unutterable horror which must have been
+experienced by the unhappy victims at Cawnpore. We were resolved rather
+to die than yield, and were fully persuaded that in twenty-four hours
+all would be over. The engineer had said so, and all knew the worst. We
+women strove to encourage each other, and to perform the light duties
+which had been assigned to us, such as conveying orders to the
+batteries, and supplying the men with provisions, especially cups of
+coffee, which we prepared day and night.</p>
+
+<p>I had gone out to try to make myself useful, in company with Jessie
+Brown, the wife of a corporal in my husband's regiment. Poor Jessie had
+been in a state of restless excitement all through the siege, and had
+fallen away visibly within the last few days. A constant fever consumed
+her, and her mind wandered occasionally, especially that day when the
+recollections of home seemed powerfully present to her. At last,
+overcome with fatigue, she lay down on the ground, wrapped up in her
+plaid. I sat beside her, promising to awaken her when, as she said, her
+"father should return from the ploughing."</p>
+
+<p>She fell at length into a profound slumber, motionless and apparently
+breathless, her head resting in my lap. I myself could no longer resist
+the inclination to sleep, in spite of the continual roar of the cannon.
+Suddenly I was aroused by a wild, unearthly scream close to my ear; my
+companion stood upright beside me, her arms raised, and her head bent
+forward in the attitude of listening.</p>
+
+<p>A look of intense delight broke over her countenance. She grasped my
+hand, drew me toward her, and exclaimed: "Dinna ye hear it? dinna ye
+hear it? Aye. I'm no dreaming: it's the slogan o' the Highlanders!
+We're saved! we're saved!" Then, flinging herself on her knees, she
+thanked God with passionate fervour.</p>
+
+<p>I felt utterly bewildered; my English ears heard only the roar of
+artillery, and I thought my poor Jessie was still raving, but she darted
+to the batteries, and I heard her cry incessantly to the men: "Courage!
+courage! Hark to the slogan&mdash;to the Macgregor, the grandest of them a'!
+Here's help at last!"</p>
+
+<p>To describe the effect of these words upon the soldiers would be
+impossible. For a moment they ceased firing, and every soul listened
+with intense anxiety. Gradually, however, there arose a murmur of bitter
+disappointment, and the wailing of the women, who had flocked to the
+spot, burst out anew as the colonel shook his head. Our dull Lowland
+ears heard only the rattle of the musketry.</p>
+
+<p>A few moments more of this deathlike suspense, of this agonizing hope,
+and Jessie, who had again sunk on the ground, sprang to her feet, and
+cried in a voice so clear and piercing that it was heard along the whole
+line: "Will ye no believe it noo? The slogan has ceased, indeed, but the
+Campbells are comin'! D'ye hear? d'ye hear?"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment all seemed, indeed, to hear the voice of God in the
+distance, when the pibroch of the Highlanders brought us tidings of
+deliverance; for now there was no longer any doubt of the fact. That
+shrill, penetrating, ceaseless sound, which rose above all other sounds,
+could come neither from the advance of the enemy nor from the work of
+the sappers. No, it was, indeed, the blast of the Scottish bagpipes, now
+shrill and harsh, as threatening vengeance on the foe, then in softer
+tones, seeming to promise succour to their friends in need.</p>
+
+<p>Never, surely, was there such a scene as that which followed. Not a
+heart in the residency of Lucknow but bowed itself before God. All, by
+one simultaneous impulse, fell upon their knees, and nothing was heard
+but bursting sobs and the murmured voice of prayer. Then all arose, and
+there rang out from a thousand lips a great shout of joy, which
+resounded far and wide, and lent new vigour to that blessed pibroch.</p>
+
+<p>To our cheer of "God save the Queen," they replied by the well-known
+strain that moves every Scot to tears, "Should auld acquaintance be
+forgot." After that, nothing else made any impression on me. I scarcely
+remember what followed. Jessie was presented to the general on his
+entrance into the fort, and at the officers' banquet her health was
+drunk by all present, while the pipers marched around the table, playing
+once more the familiar air of "Auld Lang Syne."</p>
+
+<p class="citation">"Letter from an officer's wife."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Camp" id="Camp"></a>THE SONG IN CAMP</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Give us a song!" the soldiers cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The outer trenches guarding,<br /></span>
+<span>When the heated guns of the camps allied<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grew weary of bombarding.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The dark Redan, in silent scoff,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lay, grim and threatening, under;<br /></span>
+<span>And the tawny mound of the Malakoff<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No longer belched its thunder.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>There was a pause. A guardsman said:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"We storm the forts to-morrow;<br /></span>
+<span>Sing while we may, another day<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will bring enough of sorrow."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>They lay along the battery's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Below the smoking cannon:<br /></span>
+<span>Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And from the banks of Shannon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>They sang of love, and not of fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forgot was Britain's glory:<br /></span>
+<span>Each heart recalled a different name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But all sang "Annie Laurie."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Voice after voice caught up the song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Until its tender passion<br /></span>
+<span>Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their battle-eve confession.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But, as the song grew louder,<br /></span>
+<span>Something upon the soldier's cheek<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Washed off the stains of powder.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Beyond the darkening ocean burned<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bloody sunset's embers,<br /></span>
+<span>While the Crimean valleys learned<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How English love remembers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And once again a fire of hell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rained on the Russian quarters,<br /></span>
+<span>With scream of shot, and burst of shell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bellowing of the mortars!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And Irish Nora's eyes are dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For a singer, dumb and gory;<br /></span>
+<span>And English Mary mourns for him<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who sang of "Annie Laurie."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sleep, soldiers! still in honoured rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your truth and valour wearing:<br /></span>
+<span>The bravest are the tenderest,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The loving are the daring.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Bayard Taylor</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Afterglow" id="Afterglow"></a>AFTERGLOW</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>After the clangour of battle<br /></span>
+<span>There comes a moment of rest,<br /></span>
+<span>And the simple hopes and the simple joys<br /></span>
+<span>And the simple thoughts are best.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>After the victor's p&aelig;an,<br /></span>
+<span>After the thunder of gun,<br /></span>
+<span>There comes a lull that must come to all<br /></span>
+<span>Before the set of the sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Then what is the happiest memory?<br /></span>
+<span>Is it the foe's defeat?<br /></span>
+<span>Is it the splendid praise of a world<br /></span>
+<span>That thunders by at your feet?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Nay, nay, to the life-worn spirit<br /></span>
+<span>The happiest thoughts are those<br /></span>
+<span>That carry us back to the simple joys<br /></span>
+<span>And the sweetness of life's repose.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>A simple love and a simple trust<br /></span>
+<span>And a simple duty done,<br /></span>
+<span>Are truer torches to light to death<br /></span>
+<span>Than a whole world's victories won.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Wilfred Campbell</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="King" id="King"></a>KING RICHARD AND SALADIN</h2>
+
+
+<p>Saladin led the way to a splendid pavilion where was everything that
+royal luxury could devise. De Vaux, who was in attendance, then removed
+the long riding-cloak which Richard wore, and he stood before Saladin in
+the close dress which showed to advantage the strength and symmetry of
+his person, while it bore a strong contrast to the flowing robes which
+disguised the thin frame of the Eastern monarch. It was Richard's
+two-handed sword that chiefly attracted the attention of the Saracen&mdash;a
+broad straight blade, the seemingly unwieldy length of which extended
+wellnigh from the shoulder to the heel of the wearer.</p>
+
+<p>"Had I not," said Saladin, "seen this brand flaming in the front of
+battle, like that of Azrael, I had scarce believed that human arm could
+wield it. Might I request to see the Melech Ric strike one blow with it
+in peace and in pure trial of strength?"</p>
+
+<p>"Willingly, noble Saladin," answered Richard; and looking around for
+something whereon to exercise his strength, he saw a steel mace, held by
+one of the attendants, the handle being of the same metal, and about an
+inch and a half in diameter. This he placed on a block of wood.</p>
+
+<p>The glittering broadsword, wielded by both his hands, rose aloft to the
+king's left shoulder, circled round his head, descended with the sway of
+some terrific engine, and the bar of iron rolled on the ground in two
+pieces, as a woodman would sever a sapling with a hedging-bill.</p>
+
+<p>"By the head of the Prophet, a most wonderful blow!" said the Soldan,
+critically and accurately examining the iron bar which had been cut
+asunder; and the blade of the sword was so well tempered as to exhibit
+not the least token of having suffered by the feat it had performed. He
+then took the king's hand, and looking on the size and muscular strength
+which it exhibited, laughed as he placed it beside his own, so lank and
+thin, so inferior in brawn and sinew.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, look well," said De Vaux in English, "it will be long ere your long
+jackanape's fingers do such a feat with your fine gilded reaping-hook
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence, De Vaux," said Richard; "by Our Lady, he understands or
+guesses thy meaning&mdash;be not so broad, I pray thee."</p>
+
+<p>The Soldan, indeed, presently said: "Something I would fain attempt,
+though wherefore should the weak show their inferiority in presence of
+the strong? Yet, each land hath its own exercises, and this may be new
+to the Melech Ric." So saying, he took from the floor a cushion of silk
+and down, and placed it upright on one end. "Can thy weapon, my brother,
+sever that cushion?" he said to King Richard.</p>
+
+<p>"No, surely," replied the king; "no sword on earth, were it the
+Excalibur of King Arthur, can cut that which opposes no steady
+resistance to the blow."</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, then," said Saladin; and tucking up the sleeve of his gown,
+showed his arm, thin indeed and spare, but which constant exercise had
+hardened into a mass consisting of nought but bone, brawn, and sinew. He
+unsheathed his scimitar, a curved and narrow blade, which glittered not
+like the swords of the Franks, but was, on the contrary, of a dull blue
+colour, marked with ten millions of meandering lines, which showed how
+anxiously the metal had been welded by the armourer. Wielding this
+weapon, apparently so inefficient when compared to that of Richard, the
+Soldan stood resting his weight upon his left foot, which was slightly
+advanced; he balanced himself a little as if to steady his aim, then,
+stepping at once forward, drew the scimitar across the cushion, applying
+the edge so dexterously and with so little apparent effort, that the
+cushion seemed rather to fall asunder than to be divided by violence.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a juggler's trick," said De Vaux, darting forward and snatching
+up the portion of the cushion which had been cut off, as if to assure
+himself of the reality of the feat; "there is gramarye in this."</p>
+
+<p>The Soldan seemed to comprehend him, for he undid the sort of veil which
+he had hitherto worn, laid it double along the edge of his sabre,
+extended the weapon edgeways in the air, and drawing it suddenly through
+the veil, although it hung on the blade entirely loose, severed that
+also into two parts, which floated to different sides of the tent,
+equally displaying the extreme temper and sharpness of the weapon and
+the exquisite dexterity of him who used it.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, in good faith, my brother," said Richard, "thou art even matchless
+at the trick of the sword, and right perilous were it to meet thee.
+Still, however, I put some faith in a downright English blow, and what
+we cannot do by sleight we eke out by strength. Nevertheless, in truth
+thou art as expert in inflicting wounds as my sage Hakim in curing them.
+I trust I shall see the learned leech; I have much to thank him for, and
+had brought some small present."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, Saladin exchanged his turban for a Tartar cap. He had no
+sooner done so, than De Vaux opened at once his extended mouth and his
+large round eyes, and Richard gazed with scarce less astonishment, while
+the Soldan spoke in a grave and altered voice: "The sick man, sayeth the
+poet, while he is yet infirm, knoweth the physician by his step; but
+when he is recovered, he knoweth not even his face when he looks upon
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"A miracle!&mdash;a miracle!" exclaimed Richard.</p>
+
+<p>"Of Mahound's working, doubtless," said Thomas de Vaux.</p>
+
+<p>"That I should lose my learned Hakim," said Richard, "merely by absence
+of his cap and robe, and that I should find him again in my royal
+brother Saladin!"</p>
+
+<p>"Such is oft the fashion of the world," answered the Soldan: "the
+tattered robe makes not always the dervish."</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Scott</span>: "The Talisman."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="England" id="England"></a>ENGLAND'S DEAD</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Son of the Ocean Isle!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where sleep your mighty dead?<br /></span>
+<span>Show me what high and stately pile<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is reared o'er Glory's bed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Go, stranger! track the deep&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Free, free, the white sail spread!<br /></span>
+<span>Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where rest not England's dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">On Egypt's burning plains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the pyramid o'erswayed,<br /></span>
+<span>With fearful power the noonday reigns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the palm trees yield no shade;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But let the angry sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From heaven look fiercely red,<br /></span>
+<span>Unfelt by those whose task is done!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There slumber England's dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The hurricane hath might<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Along the Indian shore,<br /></span>
+<span>And far by Ganges' banks at night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is heard the tiger's roar;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But let the sound roll on!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It hath no tone of dread<br /></span>
+<span>For those that from their toils are gone,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There slumber England's dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Loud rush the torrent-floods<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Western wilds among,<br /></span>
+<span>And free, in green Columbia's woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hunter's bow is strung;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But let the floods rush on!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let the arrow's flight be sped!<br /></span>
+<span>Why should they reck whose task is done?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There slumber England's dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The mountain-storms rise high<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the snowy Pyrenees,<br /></span>
+<span>And toss the pine-boughs through the sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like rose-leaves on the breeze;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But let the storm rage on!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let the fresh wreaths be shed!<br /></span>
+<span>For the Roncesvalles' field is won,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There slumber England's dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">On the frozen deep's repose<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis a dark and dreadful hour,<br /></span>
+<span>When round the ship the ice-fields close,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the northern night-clouds lower;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But let the ice drift on!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let the cold-blue desert spread!<br /></span>
+<span>Their course with mast and flag is done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even there sleep England's dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The warlike of the isles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The men of field and wave!<br /></span>
+<span>Are not the rocks their funeral piles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The seas and shores their grave?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Go, stranger! track the deep&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Free, free the white sail spread!<br /></span>
+<span>Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where rest not England's dead.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Felicia Hemans</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Hohenlinden" id="Hohenlinden"></a>HOHENLINDEN</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>On Linden, when the sun was low,<br /></span>
+<span>All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow,<br /></span>
+<span>And dark as winter was the flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But Linden saw another sight,<br /></span>
+<span>When the drum beat, at dead of night,<br /></span>
+<span>Commanding fires of death to light<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The darkness of her scenery.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>By torch and trumpet fast arrayed<br /></span>
+<span>Each horseman drew his battle-blade,<br /></span>
+<span>And furious every charger neighed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the dreadful revelry.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Then shook the hills with thunder riven,<br /></span>
+<span>Then rushed the steed to battle driven,<br /></span>
+<span>And louder than the bolts of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far flashed the red artillery.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But redder yet that light shall glow<br /></span>
+<span>On Linden's hills of stain&egrave;d snow,<br /></span>
+<span>And bloodier yet the torrent flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of Iser, rolling rapidly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun<br /></span>
+<span>Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,<br /></span>
+<span>Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The combat deepens. On, ye brave,<br /></span>
+<span>Who rush to glory, or the grave!<br /></span>
+<span>Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And charge with all thy chivalry!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Few, few, shall part where many meet!<br /></span>
+<span>The snow shall be their winding-sheet,<br /></span>
+<span>And every turf beneath their feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Dream" id="Dream"></a>THE DREAM OF THE OAK TREE</h2>
+
+
+<p>There stood in a wood, high on the bank near the open sea-shore, such a
+grand old oak tree! It was three hundred and sixty-five years old; but
+all this length of years had seemed to the tree scarcely more than so
+many days appear to us men and women, boys and girls.</p>
+
+<p>A tree's life is not quite the same as a man's: we wake during the day,
+and sleep and dream during the night; but a tree wakes throughout three
+seasons of the year, and has no sleep till winter comes. The winter is
+its sleeping time&mdash;its night after the long day which we call spring,
+summer, and autumn.</p>
+
+<p>It was just at the holy Christmas-tide that the oak tree dreamed his
+most beautiful dream. He seemed to hear the church-bells ringing all
+around, and to feel as if it were a mild, warm summer day. Fresh and
+green he reared his mighty crown on high, and the sunbeams played among
+his leaves. As in a festive procession, all that the tree had beheld in
+his life now passed by.</p>
+
+<p>Knights and ladies, with feathers in their caps and hawks perching on
+their wrists, rode gaily through the wood; dogs barked, and the huntsman
+sounded his bugle.</p>
+
+<p>Then came foreign soldiers in bright armour and gay vestments, bearing
+spurs and halberds, setting up their tents, and presently taking them
+down again. Then watch-fires blazed up and bands of wild outlaws sang,
+revelled, and slept under the tree's outstretched boughs; or happy
+lovers met in quiet moonlight and carved their initials on the grayish
+bark.</p>
+
+<p>At one time a guitar and an &AElig;olian harp had been hung among the old
+oak's boughs by merry travelling apprentices; now they hung there again,
+and the wind played sweetly with their strings.</p>
+
+<p>And now the dream changed. A new and stronger current of life flowed
+through him, down to his lowest roots, up to his highest twigs, even to
+the very leaves. The tree felt in his roots that a warm life stirred in
+the earth, and that he was growing taller and taller; his trunk shot up
+more and more, his crown grew fuller; and still he soared and spread.
+He felt that his power grew, too, and he longed to advance higher and
+higher to the warm, bright sun.</p>
+
+<p>Already he towered above the clouds, which drifted below him, now like a
+troop of dark-plumaged birds of passage, now like flocks of large, white
+swans. The stars became visible by daylight, so large and bright, each
+one sparkling like a mild, clear eye.</p>
+
+<p>It was a blessed moment! and yet, in the height of his joy, the oak tree
+felt a desire and longing that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and
+flowers of the wood might be lifted up with him to share in his glory
+and gladness. He could not be fully blessed unless he might have all,
+small and great, blessed with him.</p>
+
+<p>The tree's crown bowed itself as though it had missed something, and
+looked backward. Then he felt the fragrance of honeysuckle and violets,
+and fancied he could hear the birds. And so it was! for now peeped forth
+through the clouds the green summits of the wood; the other trees below
+had grown and lifted themselves up likewise; bushes and herbs shot high
+into the air, some tearing themselves loose from their roots to mount
+the faster.</p>
+
+<p>Like a flash of white lightning the birch, moving fastest of all, shot
+upward its slender stem. Even the feathery brown reeds had pierced their
+way through the clouds, and the birds sang and sang, and on the grass
+that fluttered to and fro like a streaming ribbon perched the
+grasshopper, while cockchafers hummed and bees buzzed. All was music and
+gladness.</p>
+
+<p>"But the little blue flower near the water&mdash;I want that, too," said the
+oak; "and the bellflower, and the dear little daisy." "We are here! we
+are here!" chanted sweet low voices on all sides.</p>
+
+<p>"But the pretty anemones, and the bed of lilies of the valley, and all
+the flowers that bloomed so long ago,&mdash;would that they were here!" "We
+are here! we are here!" was the answer, and it seemed to come from the
+air above, as if they had fled upward first.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, this is too great happiness!" exclaimed the oak tree; and now he
+felt that his own roots were loosening themselves from the earth. "This
+is best of all," he said. "Now no bounds shall detain me. I can soar to
+the heights of light and glory, and I have all my dear ones with me."</p>
+
+<p>Such was the oak tree's Christmas dream. And all the while a mighty
+storm swept the sea and land; the ocean rolled his heavy billows on the
+shore, the tree cracked, and was rent and torn up by the roots at the
+very moment when he dreamed that he was soaring to the skies.</p>
+
+<p>Next day the sea was calm again, and a large vessel that had weathered
+the storm hoisted all its flags for Merry Christmas. "The tree is
+gone&mdash;the old oak tree, our beacon! How can its place ever be supplied?"
+said the crew. This was the tree's funeral eulogium, while the Christmas
+hymn re-echoed from the wood.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Hans Christian Andersen</span><br />
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Prayer" id="Prayer"></a>A PRAYER</h2>
+
+
+<p>The day returns and brings us the petty round of irritating concerns and
+duties. Help us to play the man, help us to perform them with laughter
+and kind faces; let cheerfulness abound with industry. Give us to go
+blithely on our business all this day, bring us to our resting beds
+weary and content and undishonoured; and grant us in the end the gift of
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">R.&nbsp;L. Stevenson</span></p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image08" id="image08"></a>
+<a href="images/image8.jpg">
+<img src="images/image8-th.jpg" width="385" height="211"
+alt="IN THE PASTURE" title="IN THE PASTURE" />
+</a>
+<p class="caption">IN THE PASTURE</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Death" id="Death"></a>THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,<br /></span>
+<span>Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.<br /></span>
+<span>Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;<br /></span>
+<span>They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.<br /></span>
+<span>The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs, the jay,<br /></span>
+<span>And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood<br /></span>
+<span>In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?<br /></span>
+<span>Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers<br /></span>
+<span>Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.<br /></span>
+<span>The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain<br /></span>
+<span>Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,<br /></span>
+<span>And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;<br /></span>
+<span>But on the hill the goldenrod, and the aster in the wood,<br /></span>
+<span>And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,<br /></span>
+<span>Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,<br /></span>
+<span>And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,<br /></span>
+<span>To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home,<br /></span>
+<span>When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,<br /></span>
+<span>And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,<br /></span>
+<span>The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,<br /></span>
+<span>And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Bryant</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Last" id="Last"></a>'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>'Tis the last rose of summer<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Left blooming alone;<br /></span>
+<span>All her lovely companions<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are faded and gone;<br /></span>
+<span>No flower of her kindred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No rosebud is nigh,<br /></span>
+<span>To reflect back her blushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or give sigh for sigh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To pine on the stem;<br /></span>
+<span>Since the lovely are sleeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Go, sleep thou with them.<br /></span>
+<span>Thus kindly I scatter<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy leaves o'er the bed,<br /></span>
+<span>Where thy mates of the garden<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lie scentless and dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>So soon may I follow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When friendships decay,<br /></span>
+<span>And from Love's shining circle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The gems drop away.<br /></span>
+<span>When true hearts lie withered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fond ones are flown,<br /></span>
+<span>Oh! who would inhabit<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This bleak world alone!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Moore</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Roman" id="Roman"></a>A ROMAN'S HONOUR</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Romans had suffered a terrible defeat in B.C. 251, and Regulus, a
+famous soldier and senator, had been captured and dragged into Carthage
+where the victors feasted and rejoiced through half the night, and
+testified their thanks to their god by offering in his fires the bravest
+of their captives.</p>
+
+<p>Regulus himself was not, however, one of these victims. He was kept a
+close prisoner for two years, pining and sickening in his loneliness;
+while, in the meantime, the war continued, and at last a victory so
+decisive was gained by the Romans, that the people of Carthage were
+discouraged, and resolved to ask terms of peace. They thought that no
+one would be so readily listened to at Rome as Regulus, and they
+therefore sent him there with their envoys, having first made him swear
+that he would come back to his prison, if there should neither be peace
+nor an exchange of prisoners. They little knew how much more a
+true-hearted Roman cared for his city than for himself&mdash;for his word
+than for his life.</p>
+
+<p>Worn and dejected, the captive warrior came to the outside of the gates
+of his own city and there paused, refusing to enter. "I am no longer a
+Roman citizen," he said; "I am but the barbarian's slave, and the Senate
+may not give audience to strangers within the walls."</p>
+
+<p>His wife, Marcia, ran out to greet him, with his two sons, but he did
+not look up, and received their caresses as one beneath their notice, as
+a mere slave, and he continued, in spite of all entreaty, to remain
+outside the city, and would not even go to the little farm he had loved
+so well.</p>
+
+<p>The Roman Senate, as he would not come in to them, came out to hold
+their meeting in the Campagna.</p>
+
+<p>The ambassadors spoke first; then Regulus, standing up, said, as one
+repeating a task: "Conscript fathers, being a slave to the
+Carthaginians, I come on the part of my masters to treat with you
+concerning peace and an exchange of prisoners." He then turned to go
+away with the ambassadors, as a stranger might not be present at the
+deliberations of the Senate. His old friends pressed him to stay and
+give his opinion as a senator, who had twice been consul; but he refused
+to degrade that dignity by claiming it, slave as he was. But, at the
+command of his Carthaginian masters, he remained, though not taking his
+seat.</p>
+
+<p>Then he spoke. He told the senators to persevere in the war. He said he
+had seen the distress of Carthage, and that a peace would be only to her
+advantage, not to that of Rome, and therefore he strongly advised that
+the war should continue. Then, as to the exchange of prisoners, the
+Carthaginian generals, who were in the hands of the Romans, were in full
+health and strength, whilst he himself was too much broken down to be
+fit for service again; and, indeed, he believed that his enemies had
+given him a slow poison, and that he could not live long. Thus he
+insisted that no exchange of prisoners should be made.</p>
+
+<p>It was wonderful, even to Romans, to hear a man thus pleading against
+himself; and their chief priest came forward and declared that, as his
+oath had been wrested from him by force, he was not bound by it to
+return to his captivity. But Regulus was too noble to listen to this for
+a moment. "Have you resolved to dishonour me?" he said. "I am not
+ignorant that death and the extremest tortures are preparing for me; but
+what are these to the shame of an infamous action, or the wounds of a
+guilty mind? Slave as I am to Carthage, I have still the spirit of a
+Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty to go; let the gods take
+care of the rest."</p>
+
+<p>The Senate decided to follow the advice of Regulus, though they bitterly
+regretted his sacrifice. His wife wept and entreated in vain that they
+would detain him&mdash;they could merely repeat their permission to him to
+remain; but nothing could prevail with him to break his word, and he
+turned back to the chains and death he expected, as calmly as if he had
+been returning to his home. This was in the year B.C. 249.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Charlotte M. Yonge</span>: "Book of Golden Deeds."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Fighting" id="Fighting"></a>THE FIGHTING T&Eacute;M&Eacute;RAIRE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>It was eight bells ringing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the morning watch was done,<br /></span>
+<span>And the gunner's lads were singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As they polished every gun.<br /></span>
+<span>It was eight bells ringing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the gunner's lads were singing<br /></span>
+<span>For the ship she rode a-swinging,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As they polished every gun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<i><span class="i2">Oh! to see the linstock lighting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">T&eacute;m&eacute;raire! T&eacute;m&eacute;raire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Oh! to hear the round shot biting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">T&eacute;m&eacute;raire! T&eacute;m&eacute;raire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Oh! to see the linstock lighting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And to hear the round shot biting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For we're all in love with fighting<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On the Fighting T&eacute;m&eacute;raire.<br /></span></i>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>It was noontide ringing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the battle just begun,<br /></span>
+<span>When the ship her way was winging,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As they loaded every gun.<br /></span>
+<span>It was noontide ringing<br /></span>
+<span>When the ship her way was winging,<br /></span>
+<span>And the gunner's lads were singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As they loaded every gun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<i><span class="i2">There'll be many grim and gory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">T&eacute;m&eacute;raire! T&eacute;m&eacute;raire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There'll be few to tell the story,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">T&eacute;m&eacute;raire! T&eacute;m&eacute;raire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There'll be many grim and gory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There'll be few to tell the story,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But we'll all be one in glory<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With the Fighting T&eacute;m&eacute;raire.<br /></span></i>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>There's a far bell ringing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At the setting of the sun,<br /></span>
+<span>And a phantom voice is singing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the great days done.<br /></span>
+<span>There's a far bell ringing,<br /></span>
+<span>And a phantom voice is singing<br /></span>
+<span>Of renown for ever clinging<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the great days done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<i><span class="i2">Now the sunset breezes shiver,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">T&eacute;m&eacute;raire! T&eacute;m&eacute;raire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And she's fading down the river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">T&eacute;m&eacute;raire! T&eacute;m&eacute;raire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now the sunset breezes shiver,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And she's fading down the river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But in England's song for ever<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She's the Fighting T&eacute;m&eacute;raire.<br /></span></i>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Henry Newbolt</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Windmills" id="Windmills"></a>DON QUIXOTE'S FIGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS</h2>
+
+
+<p>"I beseech your worship, Sir Knight-errant," quoth Sancho to his master,
+"be sure you don't forget what you promised me about the island; for I
+dare say I shall make shift to govern it, let it be never so big."</p>
+
+<p>"You must know, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "that it has been
+the constant practice of knights-errant in former ages to make their
+squires governors of the islands or kingdoms they conquered."</p>
+
+<p>As they were thus discoursing, they discovered some thirty or forty
+windmills that are in that plain; and as soon as the knight had spied
+them, "Fortune," cried he, "directs our affairs better than we ourselves
+could have wished: look yonder, friend Sancho, there are at least thirty
+outrageous giants, whom I intend to encounter; and having deprived them
+of life, we will begin to enrich ourselves with their spoils; for they
+are lawful prize; and the extirpation of that cursed brood will be an
+acceptable service to Heaven."</p>
+
+<p>"What giants?" quoth Sancho Panza.</p>
+
+<p>"Those whom thou seest yonder," answered Don Quixote, "with their long
+extended arms; some of that detested race have arms of so immense a
+size, that sometimes they reach two leagues in length."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray look better, sir," quoth Sancho; "those things yonder are no
+giants, but windmills, and the arms you fancy, are their sails, which
+being whirled about by the wind, make the mill go."</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a sign," cried Don Quixote, "thou art but little acquainted with
+adventures! I tell thee, they are giants; and therefore if thou art
+afraid, go aside and say thy prayers, for I am resolved to engage in a
+dreadful unequal combat against them all." This said, he clapped spurs
+to his horse Rozinante, without giving ear to his squire Sancho, who
+bawled out to him, and assured him that they were windmills, and no
+giants. But he was so fully possessed with a strong conceit of the
+contrary, that he did not so much as hear his squire's outcry, nor was
+he sensible of what they were, although he was already very near them;
+far from that: "Stand, cowards," cried he, as loud as he could; "stand
+your ground, ignoble creatures, and fly not basely from a single knight,
+who dares encounter you all!"</p>
+
+<p>At the same time, the wind rising, the mill-sails began to move, which
+when Don Quixote spied, "Base miscreants," cried he, "though you move
+more arms than the giant Briareus, you shall pay for your arrogance."</p>
+
+<p>He most devoutly recommended himself to his Lady Dulcinea, imploring her
+assistance in this perilous adventure; and, so covering himself with his
+shield, and couching his lance, he rushed with Rozinante's utmost speed
+upon the first windmill he could come at, and running his lance into the
+sail, the wind whirled it about with such swiftness, that the rapidity
+of the motion presently broke the lance into shivers, and hurled away
+both knight and horse along with it, till down he fell, rolling a good
+way off in the field.</p>
+
+<p>Sancho Panza ran as fast as his ass could drive to help his master, whom
+he found lying, and not able to stir, such a blow had he and Rozinante
+received. "Mercy o' me!" cried Sancho, "did not I give your worship fair
+warning? Did not I tell you they were windmills, and that nobody could
+think otherwise, unless he had also windmills in his head!"</p>
+
+<p>"Peace, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote: "there is nothing so
+subject to the inconstancy of fortune as war. I am verily persuaded that
+cursed necromancer, Freston, who carried away my study and my books, has
+transformed these giants into windmills to deprive me of the honour of
+the victory; such is his inveterate malice against me; but in the end,
+all his pernicious wiles and stratagems shall prove ineffectual against
+the prevailing edge of my sword."</p>
+
+<p>"Amen, say I," replied Sancho.</p>
+
+<p>And so heaving him up again upon his legs, once more the knight mounted
+poor Rozinante, that was half shoulder-slipped with his fall.</p>
+
+<p>This adventure was the subject of their discourse, as they made the best
+of their way towards the pass of Lapice, for Don Quixote took that road,
+believing he could not miss of adventure in one so mightily frequented.
+However, the loss of his lance was no small affliction to him; and as he
+was making his complaint about it to his squire, "I have read," said he,
+"friend Sancho, that a certain Spanish knight, having broken his sword
+in the heat of an engagement, pulled up by the roots a huge oak tree, or
+at least tore down a massy branch, and did such wonderful execution,
+crushing and grinding so many Moors with it that day, that he won
+himself and his posterity the surname of The Pounder, or Bruiser. I tell
+thee this, because I intend to tear up the next oak or holm tree we
+meet; with the trunk whereof I hope to perform such wondrous deeds that
+thou wilt esteem thyself particularly happy in having had the honour to
+behold them, and been the ocular witness of achievements which posterity
+will scarce be able to believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven grant you may," cried Sancho; "I believe it all, because your
+worship says it. But, an't please you, sit a little more upright in your
+saddle; you ride sideling methinks; but that, I suppose, proceeds from
+your being bruised by the fall."</p>
+
+<p>"It does so," replied Don Quixote; "and if I do not complain of the
+pain, it is because a knight-errant must never complain of his wounds."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I have no more to say," quoth Sancho; "and yet Heaven knows my
+heart, I should be glad to hear your worship groan a little now and then
+when something ails you: for my part, I shall not fail to bemoan myself
+when I suffer the smallest pain, unless, indeed, it can be proved that
+the rule of not complaining extends to the squires as well as knights."</p>
+
+<p>Don Quixote could not forbear smiling at the simplicity of his squire;
+and told him he gave him leave to complain not only when he pleased, but
+as much as he pleased, whether he had any cause or no; for he had never
+yet read anything to the contrary in any books of chivalry.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Cervantes</span>: "The Adventures of Don Quixote."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Romance" id="Romance"></a>THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Little Ellie sits alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Mid the beeches of a meadow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By a stream-side on the grass,<br /></span>
+<span>And the trees are showering down<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Doubles of their leaves in shadow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On her shining hair and face.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>She has thrown her bonnet by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And her feet she has been dipping<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the shallow water's flow.<br /></span>
+<span>Now she holds them nakedly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In her hands, all sleek and dripping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While she rocketh to and fro.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Little Ellie sits alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the smile she softly uses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fills the silence like a speech,<br /></span>
+<span>While she thinks what shall be done,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the sweetest pleasure chooses<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For her future within reach.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Little Ellie in her smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Chooses ... "I will have a lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Riding on a steed of steeds!<br /></span>
+<span>He shall love me without guile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And to <em>him</em> I will discover<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The swan's nest among the reeds.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"And the steed shall be red-roan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the lover shall be noble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With an eye that takes the breath.<br /></span>
+<span>And the lute he plays upon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall strike ladies into trouble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As his sword strikes men to death.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"And the steed it shall be shod<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All in silver, housed in azure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the mane shall swim the wind;<br /></span>
+<span>And the hoofs along the sod<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall flash onward and keep measure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till the shepherds look behind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"But my lover will not prize<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the glory that he rides in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When he gazes in my face.<br /></span>
+<span>He will say: 'O Love, thine eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Build the shrine my soul abides in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I kneel here for thy grace.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Then, ay, then&mdash;he shall kneel low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the red-roan steed anear him<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which shall seem to understand&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Till I answer: 'Rise and go!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the world must love and fear him<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whom I gift with heart and hand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Then he will arise so pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I shall feel my own lips tremble<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a <em>yes</em> I must not say,<br /></span>
+<span>Nathless maiden-brave, 'Farewell,'<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I will utter, and dissemble&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Light to-morrow with to-day.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Then he'll ride among the hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the wide world past the river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There to put away all wrong;<br /></span>
+<span>To make straight distorted wills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And to empty the broad quiver<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which the wicked bear along.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Three times shall a young foot-page<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Swim the stream and climb the mountain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And kneel down beside my feet&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>'Lo, my master sends this gage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lady, for thy pity's counting!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What wilt thou exchange for it?'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"And the first time, I will send<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A white rosebud for a guerdon,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the second time, a glove;<br /></span>
+<span>But the third time&mdash;I may bend<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From my pride, and answer: 'Pardon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If he comes to take my love.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"Then the young foot-page will run&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then my lover will ride faster,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till he kneeleth at my knee:<br /></span>
+<span>'I am a duke's eldest son!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thousand serfs do call me master,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But, O Love, I love but <em>thee!</em>'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"He will kiss me on the mouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then, and lead me as a lover<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through the crowds that praise his deeds:<br /></span>
+<span>And, when soul-tied by one troth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Unto <em>him</em> I will discover<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That swan's nest among the reeds."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Little Ellie, with her smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not yet ended, rose up gaily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe,<br /></span>
+<span>And went homeward, round a mile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Just to see, as she did daily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What more eggs were with the two.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Pushing through the elm tree copse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Winding up the stream, light-hearted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the osier pathway leads&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Past the boughs she stoops&mdash;and stops.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lo, the wild swan had deserted,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And a rat had gnawed the reeds.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Ellie went home sad and slow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If she found the lover ever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With his red-roan steed of steeds,<br /></span>
+<span>Sooth I know not! but I know<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She could never show him&mdash;never,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That swan's nest among the reeds.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">E.&nbsp;B. Browning</span></p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image09" id="image09"></a>
+<a href="images/image9.jpg">
+<img src="images/image9-th.jpg" width="319" height="210"
+alt="DEEP SEA FISHERS" title="DEEP SEA FISHERS" />
+</a>
+<p class="caption">DEEP SEA FISHERS</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Moonlight" id="Moonlight"></a>MOONLIGHT SONATA</h2>
+
+
+<p>It happened at Bonn. One moonlight winter's evening I called upon
+Beethoven; for I wished him to take a walk, and afterwards sup with me.
+In passing through a dark, narrow street, he suddenly paused. "Hush!" he
+said, "what sound is that? It is from my Sonata in F. Hark! how well it
+is played!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a little, mean dwelling, and we paused outside and listened. The
+player went on; but, in the midst of the finale, there was a sudden
+break; then the voice of sobbing: "I cannot play any more. It is too
+beautiful; it is utterly beyond my power to do it justice. Oh! what
+would I not give to go to the concert at Cologne!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! my sister," said her companion; "why create regrets when there is
+no remedy? We can scarcely pay our rent."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, and yet I wish for once in my life to hear some really
+good music. But it is of no use."</p>
+
+<p>Beethoven looked at me. "Let us go in," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Go in!" I exclaimed. "What can we go in for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will play to her," he said, in an excited tone. "Here is
+feeling&mdash;genius&mdash;understanding! I will play to her, and she will
+understand it."</p>
+
+<p>And before I could prevent him his hand was upon the door. It opened and
+we entered.</p>
+
+<p>A pale young man was sitting by the table, making shoes, and near him,
+leaning sorrowfully upon an old-fashioned piano, sat a young girl, with
+a profusion of light hair falling over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," said Beethoven, "but I heard music and was tempted to
+enter. I am a musician."</p>
+
+<p>The girl blushed, and the young man looked grave and somewhat annoyed.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I also overheard something of what you said," continued my friend.
+"You wish to hear&mdash;that is, you would like&mdash;that is&mdash;shall I play for
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>There was something so odd in the whole affair, and something so comical
+and pleasant in the manner of the speaker, that the spell was broken in
+a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you!" said the shoemaker; "but our piano is so wretched, and we
+have no music."</p>
+
+<p>"No music!" echoed my friend; "how, then, does the young lady&mdash;" he
+paused and coloured; for, as he looked in the girl's face, he saw that
+she was blind. "I&mdash;I entreat your pardon," he stammered. "I had not
+perceived before. Then you play by ear? But when do you hear the music,
+since you frequent no concerts?"</p>
+
+<p>"We lived at Bruhl for two years, and while there I used to hear a lady
+practising near us. During the summer evenings her windows were
+generally open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen to her."</p>
+
+<p>She seemed so shy that Beethoven said no more, but seated himself
+quietly before the piano and began to play. He had no sooner struck the
+first chord than I knew what would follow. Never, during all the years I
+knew him, did I hear him play as he then played to that blind girl and
+her brother. He seemed to be inspired; and, from the instant that his
+fingers began to wander along the keys, the very tones of the
+instrument seemed to grow sweeter and more equal.</p>
+
+<p>The brother and sister were silent with wonder and rapture. The former
+laid aside his work; the latter, with her head bent slightly forward,
+and her hands pressed tightly over her breast, crouched down near the
+end of the piano, as if fearful lest even the beating of her heart
+should break the flow of those magical sounds.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the flame of the single candle wavered, sank, flickered, and
+went out. Beethoven paused, and I threw open the shutters, admitting a
+flood of brilliant moonlight. The room was almost as light as before,
+the moon rays falling strongest upon the piano and the player. His head
+dropped upon his breast; his hands rested upon his knees; he seemed
+absorbed in deep thought. He remained thus for some time. At length the
+young shoemaker arose and approached him eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful man!" he said, in a low tone. "Who and what are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen!" said Beethoven, and he played the opening bars of the Sonata
+in F. A cry of recognition burst from them both, and exclaiming: "Then
+you are Beethoven!" they covered his hands with tears and kisses.</p>
+
+<p>He rose to go, but we held him back with entreaties.</p>
+
+<p>"Play to us once more&mdash;only once more!"</p>
+
+<p>He suffered himself to be led back to the instrument. The moon shone
+brightly in through the window, and lighted up his glorious, rugged head
+and massive figure.</p>
+
+<p>"I will improvise a Sonata to the Moonlight!" said he, looking up
+thoughtfully to the sky and stars. Then his hands dropped on the keys,
+and he began playing a sad and infinitely lovely movement, which crept
+gently over the instrument, like the calm flow of moonlight over the
+dark earth. This was followed by a wild, elfin passage in triple time&mdash;a
+sort of grotesque interlude, like the dance of spirits upon the lawn.
+Then came a swift agitato finale&mdash;a breathless, hurrying, trembling
+movement, descriptive of flight, and uncertainty, and vague impulsive
+terror, which carried us away on its rustling wings, and left us all in
+emotion and wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell to you!" said Beethoven, pushing back his chair, and turning
+towards the door&mdash;"farewell to you!"</p>
+
+<p>"You will come again?" asked they in one breath.</p>
+
+<p>He paused and looked compassionately, almost tenderly, at the face of
+the blind girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," he said hurriedly, "I will come again, and give the young
+lady some lessons! Farewell! I will come again!"</p>
+
+<p>Their looks followed us in silence more eloquent than words till we were
+out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us make haste back," said Beethoven, "that I may write out that
+Sonata while I can yet remember it."</p>
+
+<p>We did so, and he sat over it till long past day dawn. And this was the
+origin of the Moonlight Sonata with which we are all so fondly
+acquainted.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Unknown</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Blackbird" id="Blackbird"></a>THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Black beneath as the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With wings of a morning glow,<br /></span>
+<span>From his sooty throat three syllables float,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ravishing, liquid, low;<br /></span>
+<span>And 'tis oh, for the joy of June,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the bliss that ne'er can flee<br /></span>
+<span>From that exquisite call, with its sweet, sweet fall&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Long ago as a child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the bough of a blossoming quince,<br /></span>
+<span>That melody came to thrill my frame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And whenever I've caught it since,<br /></span>
+<span>The spring-soft blue of the sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the spring-bright bloom of the tree<br /></span>
+<span>Are a part of the strain&mdash;ah, hear it again!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And the night is tenderly black,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The morning eagerly bright,<br /></span>
+<span>For that old, old spring is blossoming<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the soul and in the sight.<br /></span>
+<span>The red-winged blackbird brings<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My lost youth back to me,<br /></span>
+<span>When I hear in the swale, from a gray fence rail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Ethelwyn Wetherald</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Cuckoo" id="Cuckoo"></a>TO THE CUCKOO</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou messenger of spring!<br /></span>
+<span>Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And woods thy welcome sing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>What time the daisy decks the green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy certain voice we hear.<br /></span>
+<span>Hast thou a star to guide thy path,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or mark the rolling year?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Delightful visitant! with thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I hail the time of flowers,<br /></span>
+<span>And hear the sound of music sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From birds among the bowers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The school-boy, wandering through the wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To pull the primrose gay,<br /></span>
+<span>Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And imitates thy lay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>What time the pea puts on the bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou fliest thy vocal vale,<br /></span>
+<span>An annual guest in other lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another spring to hail.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy sky is ever clear;<br /></span>
+<span>Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No winter in thy year!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We'd make, with joyful wing,<br /></span>
+<span>Our annual visit o'er the globe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Companions of the Spring.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">John Logan</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Stone" id="Stone"></a>THE STORY OF A STONE</h2>
+
+
+<p>A great many years ago, when nearly the whole of Canada was covered with
+water, and the Northern Ocean, which washed the highest crests of the
+Alleghanies, made an island of the Laurentian Hills, and wrote its name
+on the Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior, there lived somewhere near
+Toronto, in the Province of Ontario, a little animal called a Polyp. He
+was a curious creature, very small, not unlike a flower in appearance, a
+plant-animal.</p>
+
+<p>One day, the sun shone down into the water and set this little fellow
+free from the egg in which he was confined. For a time he floated about
+near the bottom of the ocean, but at last settled down on a bit of
+shell, and fastened himself to it. Then he made an opening in his upper
+side, formed for himself a mouth and stomach, thrust out a whole row of
+feelers, and began catching whatever morsels of food came in his way. He
+had a great many strange ways, but the strangest of all was his
+gathering little bits of limestone from the water and building them up
+round him, as a person does who builds a well.</p>
+
+<p>But this little Favosite, for that was his name, became lonesome on the
+bottom of that old ocean; so one night, when he was fast asleep and
+dreaming as only a coral animal can dream, there sprouted out of his
+side another little Favosite, who very soon began to wall himself up as
+his parent had done. From these, other little Favosites were formed,
+till at last there were so many of them, and they were so crowded
+together, that, to economize the limestone they built with, they had to
+make their cells six-sided, like those of a honey-comb: on this account
+they are called Favosites.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image10" id="image10"></a>
+<img src="images/image10.png" width="330" height="259" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>The colony thrived for a long time, and accumulated quite a stock of
+limestone. But at last a change came: there was a great rush of muddy
+water from the land, and all the Favosites died, leaving only a stony
+skeleton to prove that industrious Polyps had ever existed there.</p>
+
+<p>This skeleton remained undisturbed for ages, until the earth began to
+rise inch by inch out of the water. Then our Favosites' home rose above
+the deep, and with it came all that was left of its old acquaintances
+the Trilobites, who were the ancestors of our crabs and lobsters.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<a name="image11" id="image11"></a>
+<img src="images/image11.png" width="182" height="298" alt="Trilobite" title="Trilobite" />
+<p class="caption">Trilobite</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then the first fishes made their appearance, great fierce-looking
+fellows like the gar pike of our lakes, but larger, and armed with
+scales as hard as the armour of a crocodile. Next came the sharks, as
+savage and voracious as they now are, with teeth like knives. But the
+time of these old fishes and of many more animals came and went, and
+still the home of the Favosites lay in the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the long, hot, damp epoch, when thick mists hung over the
+earth, and great ferns and rushes, as stout as an oak and as tall as a
+steeple, grew in Nova Scotia, in Pennsylvania, and in other parts of
+America where coal is now found. Huge reptiles, with enormous jaws and
+teeth like cross-cut saws, and smaller ones with wings like bats, next
+appeared and added to the strangeness of the scene.</p>
+
+<p>But the reptiles died; the ferns and the rush-trees fell into their
+native swamps, and were covered up and packed away under great layers of
+clay and sand brought down by the rivers, till at last they were turned
+into coal, forming for us, what someone has called, beds of petrified
+sunshine. But all this while the skeleton of the Favosites lay
+undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p>Then the mists cleared away as gradually as they had come, the sun shone
+out, the grass grew, and strange four-footed animals came and fed upon
+it. Among these were odd-looking little horses no bigger than foxes;
+great hairy monsters larger than elephants, with tremendous tusks; hogs
+with snouts nearly as long as their bodies; and other strange creatures
+that no man has ever seen alive. But still the house of the Favosites
+remained where it was.</p>
+
+<p>Next came the great winter, and it continued to snow till the mountains
+were hidden. Then the snow was packed into ice, and Canada became one
+solid glacier. This ice age continued for many thousands of years.</p>
+
+<p>At last the ice began to melt, and the glacier came slowly down the
+slopes, tearing up rocks, little and big, and crushing and grinding and
+carrying away everything in its course. It ploughed its way across
+Ontario, and the skeleton of our Favosites was rooted out from the quiet
+place where it had lain so long, and was caught up in a crevice of the
+ice. The glacier slid along, melting all the while, and covering the
+land with clay, pebbles, and boulders. At last it stopped, and as it
+gradually melted away, all the rocks and stones and dirt it had carried
+with it thus far, were deposited into one great heap, and the home of
+the Favosites along with them.</p>
+
+<p>Ages afterwards a farmer, near Toronto, when ploughing a field, picked
+up a curious bit of "petrified honey-comb," and gave it to a geologist
+to hear what he would say about it. And now you have read what he said.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">D.&nbsp;B.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Snow-Storm" id="Snow-Storm"></a>THE SNOW-STORM</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>The sun that brief December day<br /></span>
+<span>Rose cheerless over hills of gray,<br /></span>
+<span>And, darkly circled, gave at noon<br /></span>
+<span>A sadder light than waning moon.<br /></span>
+<span>A chill no coat, however stout,<br /></span>
+<span>Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,<br /></span>
+<span>A hard, dull bitterness of cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That checked, mid-vein, the circling race<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of life-blood in the sharpened face,<br /></span>
+<span>The coming of the snow-storm told.<br /></span>
+<span>The wind blew east: we heard the roar<br /></span>
+<span>Of Ocean on his wintry shore,<br /></span>
+<span>And felt the strong pulse throbbing there<br /></span>
+<span>Beat with low rhythm our inland air.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Brought in the wood from out of doors,<br /></span>
+<span>Littered the stalls, and from the mows<br /></span>
+<span>Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows:<br /></span>
+<span>Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;<br /></span>
+<span>And, sharply clashing horn on horn,<br /></span>
+<span>Impatient down the stanchion rows<br /></span>
+<span>The cattle shake their walnut bows;<br /></span>
+<span>While, peering from his early perch<br /></span>
+<span>Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,<br /></span>
+<span>The cock his crested helmet bent<br /></span>
+<span>And down his querulous challenge sent.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Unwarmed by any sunset light<br /></span>
+<span>The gray day darkened into night,<br /></span>
+<span>A night made hoary with the swarm<br /></span>
+<span>And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,<br /></span>
+<span>As zigzag wavering to and fro<br /></span>
+<span>Crossed and recrossed the wing&egrave;d snow:<br /></span>
+<span>And ere the early bed-time came<br /></span>
+<span>The white drift piled the window-frame,<br /></span>
+<span>And through the glass the clothes-line posts<br /></span>
+<span>Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>So all night long the storm roared on:<br /></span>
+<span>The morning broke without a sun;<br /></span>
+<span>And, when the second morning shone,<br /></span>
+<span>We looked upon a world unknown,<br /></span>
+<span>On nothing we could call our own.<br /></span>
+<span>Around the glistening wonder bent<br /></span>
+<span>The blue walls of the firmament,<br /></span>
+<span>No cloud above, no earth below,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>A universe of sky and snow!<br /></span>
+<span>The old familiar sights of ours<br /></span>
+<span>Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers<br /></span>
+<span>Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,<br /></span>
+<span>Or garden wall, or belt of wood;<br /></span>
+<span>A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,<br /></span>
+<span>A fenceless drift what once was road;<br /></span>
+<span>The bridle-post an old man sat<br /></span>
+<span>With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;<br /></span>
+<span>The well-curb had a Chinese roof;<br /></span>
+<span>And even the long sweep, high aloof,<br /></span>
+<span>In its slant splendour, seemed to tell<br /></span>
+<span>Of Pisa's leaning miracle.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>A prompt, decisive man, no breath<br /></span>
+<span>Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!"<br /></span>
+<span>Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy<br /></span>
+<span>Count such a summons less than joy?)<br /></span>
+<span>Our buskins on our feet we drew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With mittened hands, and caps drawn low<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To guard our necks and ears from snow,<br /></span>
+<span>We cut the solid whiteness through.<br /></span>
+<span>And, where the drift was deepest made<br /></span>
+<span>A tunnel walled and overlaid<br /></span>
+<span>With dazzling crystal: we had read<br /></span>
+<span>Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave,<br /></span>
+<span>And to our own his name we gave,<br /></span>
+<span>With many a wish the luck were ours<br /></span>
+<span>To test his lamp's supernal powers.<br /></span>
+<span>We reached the barn with merry din,<br /></span>
+<span>And roused the prisoned brutes within.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The old horse thrust his long head out,<br /></span>
+<span>And grave with wonder gazed about;<br /></span>
+<span>The cock his lusty greeting said,<br /></span>
+<span>And forth his speckled harem led;<br /></span>
+<span>The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked,<br /></span>
+<span>And mild reproach of hunger looked;<br /></span>
+<span>The horn&egrave;d patriarch of the sheep,<br /></span>
+<span>Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep,<br /></span>
+<span>Shook his sage head with gesture mute,<br /></span>
+<span>And emphasized with stamp of foot.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>All day the gusty north wind bore<br /></span>
+<span>The loosening drift its breath before;<br /></span>
+<span>Low circling round its southern zone,<br /></span>
+<span>The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Whittier</span>: "Snow-bound."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Heroine" id="Heroine"></a>THE HEROINE OF VERCH&Egrave;RES</h2>
+
+
+<p>Verch&egrave;res was a fort on the south shore of the St. Lawrence, about
+twenty miles below Montreal. A strong block-house stood outside the
+fort, and was connected with it by a covered way. On the morning of the
+twenty-second of October, (1692) the inhabitants were at work in the
+fields, and nobody was left in the place but two soldiers, two boys, an
+old man of eighty, and a number of women and children. The commandant
+was on duty at Quebec; his wife was at Montreal; and their daughter,
+Madeline, fourteen years of age, was at the landing-place not far from
+the gate of the fort, with a man-servant.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she heard firing from the direction where the settlers were at
+work, and an instant after the servant called out: "Run, miss!&mdash;run!
+here come the Indians!" She turned and saw forty or fifty of them at the
+distance of a pistol-shot. She ran to the fort as quickly as possible,
+while the bullets whistled about her ears, and made the time seem very
+long. As soon as she was near enough to be heard, she cried out: "To
+arms!&mdash;to arms!" hoping that somebody would come out and help her; but
+it was of no use. The two soldiers in the fort were so scared that they
+had hidden in the block-house.</p>
+
+<p>When she had seen certain breaches in the palisade stopped, she went to
+the block-house, where the ammunition was kept; and there she found the
+two soldiers, one hiding in a corner, and the other with a lighted match
+in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do with that match?" she asked. He answered:
+"Light the powder and blow us all up." "You are a miserable coward!"
+said she. "Go out of this place." She then threw off her bonnet, put on
+a hat, and taking a gun in her hand she said to her two brothers: "Let
+us fight to the death. We are fighting for our country and our
+religion."</p>
+
+<p>The boys, who were ten and twelve years old, aided by the soldiers, whom
+her words had inspired with some little courage, began to fire from the
+loop-holes on the Indians, who, ignorant of the weakness of the
+garrison, showed their usual reluctance to attack a fortified place, and
+occupied themselves with chasing and butchering the people in the
+neighbouring fields. Madeline ordered a cannon to be fired, partly to
+deter the enemy from an assault, and partly to warn some of the soldiers
+who were hunting at a distance.</p>
+
+<p>A canoe was presently seen approaching the landing-place. In it was a
+settler named Fontaine, trying to reach the fort with his family. The
+Indians were still near; and Madeline feared that the new-comers would
+be killed, if something were not done to aid them. Distrusting the
+soldiers, she herself went alone to the landing-place.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought," she said, in her account of the affair, "that the savages
+would suppose it to be a ruse to draw them towards the fort, in order
+to make a sortie upon them. They did suppose so; and thus I was able to
+save the Fontaine family. When they were all landed, I made them march
+before me in full sight of the enemy. We put so bold a face on it, that
+they thought they had more to fear than we. Strengthened by this
+reinforcement, I ordered that the enemy should be fired on whenever they
+showed themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"After sunset a violent north-east wind began to blow, accompanied with
+snow and hail, which told us that we should have a terrible night. The
+Indians were all this time lurking about us; and I judged by all their
+movements that, instead of being deterred by the storm, they would climb
+into the fort under cover of darkness."</p>
+
+<p>She then assembled her troops, who numbered six, all told, and spoke to
+them encouraging words. With two old men she took charge of the fort,
+and sent Fontaine and the two soldiers with the women and children to
+the block-house. She placed her two brothers on two of the bastions, and
+an old man on a third, while she herself took charge of the fourth. All
+night, in spite of wind, snow, and hail, the cry of "All's well" was
+kept up from the block-house to the fort, and from the fort to the
+block-house. One would have supposed that the place was full of
+soldiers. The Indians thought so, and were completely deceived, as they
+afterwards confessed.</p>
+
+<p>At last the daylight came again; and as the darkness disappeared, the
+anxieties of the little garrison seemed to disappear with it. Fontaine
+said he would never abandon the place while Madeline remained in it. She
+declared that she would never abandon it: she would rather die than give
+it up to the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>She did not eat or sleep for twice twenty-four hours. She did not go
+once into her father's house, but kept always on the bastion, except
+when she went to the block-house to see how the people there were
+behaving. She always kept a cheerful and smiling face, and encouraged
+her little company with the hope of speedy succour.</p>
+
+<p>"We were a week in constant alarm," she continues, "with the enemy
+always about us. At last a lieutenant, sent by the governor, arrived in
+the night with forty men. As he did not know whether the fort was taken
+or not, he approached as silently as possible. One of our sentinels,
+hearing a slight sound, cried: 'Who goes there?' I was at the time
+dozing, with my head on a table and my gun lying across my arms. The
+sentinel told me that he heard voices from the river. I went at once to
+the bastion to see whether they were Indians or Frenchmen who were
+there. I asked: 'Who are you?' One of them answered: 'We are Frenchmen
+come to bring you help.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I caused the gate to be opened, placed a sentinel there, and went down
+to the river to meet them. As soon as I saw the lieutenant I saluted
+him, and said: 'I surrender my arms to you.' He answered gallantly:
+'They are in good hands, Miss.' He inspected the fort, and found
+everything in order, and a sentinel on each bastion. 'It is time to
+relieve them,' said I; 'we have not been off our bastions for a week.'"</p>
+
+<p>A band of converts from St. Louis arrived soon afterwards, followed the
+trail of their heathen countrymen, overtook them on Lake Champlain, and
+recovered twenty or more French prisoners.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Parkman</span>: "Frontenac and New France."<br />
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Jacques" id="Jacques"></a>JACQUES CARTIER</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>In the seaport of St. Malo, 'twas a smiling morn in May,<br /></span>
+<span>When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed away;<br /></span>
+<span>In the crowded old Cathedral, all the town were on their knees,<br /></span>
+<span>For the safe return of kinsmen from the undiscovered seas;<br /></span>
+<span>And every autumn blast that swept o'er pinnacle and pier,<br /></span>
+<span>Filled manly hearts with sorrow, and gentle hearts with fear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>A year passed o'er St. Malo&mdash;again came round the day,<br /></span>
+<span>When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed away;<br /></span>
+<span>But no tidings from the absent had come the way they went,<br /></span>
+<span>And tearful were the vigils that many a maiden spent;<br /></span>
+<span>And manly hearts were filled with gloom, and gentle hearts with fear,<br /></span>
+<span>When no tidings came from Cartier at the closing of the year.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But the earth is as the Future, it hath its hidden side,<br /></span>
+<span>And the Captain of St. Malo was rejoicing in his pride;<br /></span>
+<span>In the forests of the North&mdash;while his townsmen mourned his loss&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>He was rearing on Mount Royal the <i>fleur-de-lis</i> and cross;<br /></span>
+<span>And when two months were over, and added to the year,<br /></span>
+<span>St. Malo hailed him home again, cheer answering to cheer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>He told them of a region, hard, iron-bound and cold,<br /></span>
+<span>Nor seas of pearl abounded, nor mines of shining gold;<br /></span>
+<span>Where the wind from Thule freezes the word upon the lip,<br /></span>
+<span>And the ice in spring comes sailing athwart the early ship;<br /></span>
+<span>He told them of the frozen scene, until they thrilled with fear,<br /></span>
+<span>And piled fresh fuel on the hearth to make them better cheer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But when he changed the strain,&mdash;he told how soon is cast<br /></span>
+<span>In early Spring, the fetters that hold the waters fast;<br /></span>
+<span>How the Winter causeway, broken, is drifted out to sea,<br /></span>
+<span>And the rills and rivers sing with pride the anthem of the free;<br /></span>
+<span>How the magic wand of Summer clad the landscape to his eyes,<br /></span>
+<span>Like the dry bones of the just when they wake in Paradise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>He told them of the Algonquin braves&mdash;the hunters of the wild;<br /></span>
+<span>Of how the Indian mother in the forest rocks her child;<br /></span>
+<span>Of how, poor souls, they fancy in every living thing<br /></span>
+<span>A spirit good or evil, that claims their worshipping;<br /></span>
+<span>Of how they brought their sick and maimed for him to breathe upon;<br /></span>
+<span>And of the wonders wrought for them, thro' the Gospel of St. John.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>He told them of the river, whose mighty current gave<br /></span>
+<span>Its freshness for a hundred leagues to ocean's briny wave;<br /></span>
+<span>He told them of the glorious scene presented to his sight,<br /></span>
+<span>What time he reared the cross and crown on Hochelaga's height;<br /></span>
+<span>And of the fortress cliff, that keeps of Canada the key;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>And they welcomed back Jacques Cartier from perils over sea.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Ants" id="Ants"></a>ANTS AND THEIR SLAVES</h2>
+
+
+<p>Peter Huber, the son of the noted observer of the ways and habits of
+bees, was walking one day in a field near Geneva, Switzerland, when he
+saw on the ground an army of reddish-coloured ants on the march. He
+decided to follow them and to find out, if possible, the object of their
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>On the sides of the column, as if to keep it in order, a few of the
+insects sped to and fro. After marching for about a quarter of an hour,
+the army halted before an ant-hill, the home of a colony of small, black
+ants. These swarmed out to meet the red ones, and, to Huber's surprise,
+a combat, short but fierce, took place at the foot of the hill.</p>
+
+<p>A small number of the blacks fought bravely to the last, but the rest
+soon fled, panic-stricken, through the gates farthest from the
+battle-field, carrying away some of their young. They seemed to know it
+was the young ants that the invaders were seeking. The red warriors
+quickly forced their way into the tiny city and returned, loaded with
+children of the blacks.</p>
+
+<p>Carrying their living booty, the kidnappers left the pillaged town and
+started toward their home, whither Huber followed them. Great was his
+astonishment when, at the threshold of the red ants' dwelling, he saw
+numbers of black ants come forward to receive the young captives and to
+welcome them&mdash;children of their own race, doomed to be bond-servants in
+a strange land.</p>
+
+<p>Here, then, was a miniature city, in which strong red ants lived in
+peace with small black ones. But what was the province of the latter?
+Huber soon discovered that, in fact, these did all the work. They alone
+were able to build the houses in which both races lived; they alone
+brought up the young red ants and the captives of their own species;
+they alone gathered the supplies of food, and waited upon and fed their
+big masters, who were glad to have their little waiters feed them so
+attentively.</p>
+
+<p>The masters themselves had no occupation except that of war. When not
+raiding some village of the blacks, the red soldiers did nothing but
+wander lazily about.</p>
+
+<p>Huber wanted to learn what would be the result if the red ants found
+themselves without servants. Would the big creatures know how to supply
+their own needs? He put a few of the red insects in a glass case, having
+some honey in a corner. They did not go near it. They did not know
+enough to feed themselves. Some of them died of starvation, with food
+before them. Then he put into the case one black ant. It went straight
+to the honey, and with it fed its big, starving, silly masters. Here was
+a wonder, truly!</p>
+
+<p>The little blacks exert in many things a moral force whose signs are
+plainly visible. For example, those tiny wise creatures will not give
+permission to any of the great red ones to go out alone. Nor are these
+at liberty to go out even in a body, if their small helpers fear a
+storm, or if the day is far advanced. When a raid proves fruitless, the
+soldiers coming back without any living booty are forbidden by the
+blacks to enter the city, and are ordered to attack some other village.</p>
+
+<p>Not wishing to rely entirely on his own conclusions, Huber asked one of
+the great naturalists of Switzerland, Jurine, to decide whether or not
+mistakes had been made regarding these customs of the ants. This
+witness, and indeed others, found that Huber's reports were true.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet, after all," says Huber, "I still doubted. But on a later day I
+again saw in the park of Fontainebleau, near Paris, the same workings of
+ant life and wisdom. A well-known naturalist was with me then, and his
+conclusions were the same as mine.</p>
+
+<p>"It was half-past four in the afternoon of a very warm day. From a pile
+of stones there came forth a column of about five hundred reddish ants.
+They marched rapidly toward a field of turf, order in their ranks being
+kept by their sergeants. These watched the flanks, and would not permit
+any to straggle.</p>
+
+<p>"Suddenly the army disappeared. There was no sign of an ant-hill in the
+turf, but, after awhile, we detected a little hole. Through this the
+ants had vanished. We supposed it was an entrance to their home. In a
+minute they showed us that our supposition was incorrect. They issued in
+a throng, nearly every one of them carrying a small black captive.</p>
+
+<p>"From the short time they had taken, it was plain that they knew the
+place and the weakness of its citizens. Perhaps it was not the reds'
+first attack on this city of the little blacks. These swarmed out in
+great numbers; and, truly, I pitied them. They did not attempt to fight.
+They seemed terror-stricken, and made no attempt to oppose the warrior
+ants, except by clinging to them. One of the marauders was stopped thus,
+but a comrade that was free relieved him of his burden, and thereupon
+the black ant let go his grasp.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in fact a painful sight. The soldiers succeeded in carrying off
+nearly five hundred children. About three feet from the entrance to the
+ant-hill the plundered black parents ceased to follow the red robbers,
+and resigned themselves to the loss of their young. The whole raid did
+not occupy more than ten minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"The parties were, as we have seen, very unequal in strength, and the
+attack was clearly an outrage&mdash;an outrage no doubt often repeated. The
+big red ants, knowing their power, played the part of tyrants; and,
+whenever they wanted more slaves, despoiled the small weak blacks of
+their greatest treasures&mdash;their children."</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Michelet</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Lead" id="Lead"></a>LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Lead Thou me on;<br /></span>
+<span>The night is dark, and I am far from home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Lead Thou me on.<br /></span>
+<span>Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see<br /></span>
+<span>The distant scene; one step enough for me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shouldst lead me on;<br /></span>
+<span>I loved to choose and see my path; but now<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Lead Thou me on.<br /></span>
+<span>I loved the garish day; and, spite of fears,<br /></span>
+<span>Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Will lead me on<br /></span>
+<span>O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The night is gone,<br /></span>
+<span>And with the morn those angel faces smile,<br /></span>
+<span>Which I have loved long since, and lost a while.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Newman</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Jolly" id="Jolly"></a>THE JOLLY SANDBOYS</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Jolly Sandboys was a small road-side inn with a sign, representing
+three Sandboys, creaking and swinging on its post on the opposite side
+of the road. As the travellers had observed many indications of their
+drawing nearer to the race town, such as gypsy camps, showmen of various
+kinds, and beggars and trampers of every degree, Mr. Codlin was fearful
+of finding the accommodation forestalled; but had the gratification of
+finding that his fears were without foundation, for the landlord was
+leaning against the door-post, looking lazily at the rain which had
+begun to descend heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"Make haste in out of the wet, Tom," said the landlord; "when it came on
+to rain I told 'em to make the fire up, and there's a glorious blaze in
+the kitchen, I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Codlin followed with a willing mind. A mighty fire was blazing on
+the hearth and roaring up the wide chimney with a cheerful sound, which
+a large iron cauldron, bubbling and simmering in the heat, lent its
+pleasant aid to swell. There was a deep red ruddy blush upon the room,
+and when the landlord stirred the fire, sending the flame skipping and
+leaping up&mdash;when he took off the lid of the iron pot and there rushed
+out a savoury smell, while the bubbling sound grew deeper and more rich,
+and an unctuous steam came floating out, hanging in a delicious mist
+above their heads&mdash;when he did this, Mr. Codlin's heart was touched.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down in the chimney-corner and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Codlin sat smiling in the chimney-corner, eyeing the landlord as
+with a roguish look he held the cover in his hand, and feigning that his
+doing so was needful to the welfare of the cookery, suffered the
+delightful steam to tickle the nostrils of his guest. The glow of the
+fire was upon the landlord's bald head, and upon his twinkling eye, and
+upon his watering mouth, and upon his pimpled face, and upon his round
+fat figure. Mr. Codlin drew his sleeve across his lips, and said in a
+murmuring voice: "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a stew of tripe," said the landlord, smacking his lips, "and
+cow-heel," smacking them again, "and bacon," smacking them once more,
+"and steak," smacking them for the fourth time, "and peas, cauliflowers,
+new potatoes, and sparrow-grass, all working up together in one
+delicious gravy." Having come to the climax, he smacked his lips a great
+many times, and taking a long, hearty sniff of the fragrance that was
+hovering about, put on the cover again with the air of one whose toils
+on earth were over.</p>
+
+<p>"At what time will it be ready?" asked Mr. Codlin, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"It'll be done to a turn," said the landlord looking up to the
+clock&mdash;and the very clock had a colour in its fat white face, and looked
+a clock for Jolly Sandboys to consult&mdash;"it'll be done to a turn at
+twenty-two minutes before eleven."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Codlin now bethought him of his companions, and acquainted mine host
+of the Sandboys that his partner Short, Nell and her grandfather might
+shortly be looked for. At length they arrived drenched with rain and
+presenting a most miserable appearance. But their steps were no sooner
+heard upon the road than the landlord, who had been at the outer door
+anxiously watching for their coming, rushed into the kitchen and took
+the cover off. The effect was electrical. They all came in with smiling
+faces though the wet was dripping from their clothes upon the floor, and
+Short's first remark was: "What a delicious smell!"</p>
+
+<p>It is not very difficult to forget rain and mud by the side of a
+cheerful fire, and in a bright room. They were furnished with slippers
+and such dry garments as the house or their own bundles afforded, and
+seating themselves, as Mr. Codlin had already done, in the warm
+chimney-corner, soon forgot their late troubles or only remembered them
+as enhancing the delights of the present time.</p>
+
+<p>Strange footsteps were now heard without, and fresh company entered.
+These were no other than four very dismal dogs, who came pattering in
+one after the other, headed by an old bandy dog of particularly mournful
+aspect, who, stopping when the last of his followers had got as far as
+the door, erected himself upon his hind legs and looked round at his
+companions, who immediately stood upon their hind legs, in a grave and
+melancholy row. Nor was this the only remarkable circumstance about
+these dogs, for each of them wore a kind of little coat of some gaudy
+colour trimmed with tarnished spangles, and one of them had a cap upon
+his head, tied very carefully under his chin, which had fallen down upon
+his nose and completely obscured one eye; add to this, that the gaudy
+coats were all wet through and discoloured with rain, and that the
+wearers were splashed and dirty, and some idea may be formed of the
+unusual appearance of these new visitors to the Jolly Sandboys.</p>
+
+<p>Neither Short nor the landlord nor Thomas Codlin, however, was in the
+least surprised, merely remarking that these were Jerry's dogs, and that
+Jerry could not be far behind. So there the dogs stood, patiently
+winking and gaping and looking extremely hard at the boiling pot, until
+Jerry himself appeared, when they all dropped down at once, and walked
+about the room in their natural manner. This posture, it must be
+confessed, did not much improve their appearance, as their own personal
+tails and their coat tails&mdash;both capital things in their way&mdash;did not
+agree together.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry, the manager of these dancing dogs, was a tall black-whiskered man
+in a velveteen coat, who seemed well known to the landlord and his
+guests and accosted them with great cordiality. Disencumbering himself
+of a barrel organ which he placed upon a chair, and retaining in his
+hand a small whip wherewith to awe his company of comedians, he came up
+to the fire to dry himself, and entered into conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Your people don't usually travel in character, do they?" said Short,
+pointing to the dresses of the dogs. "It must come expensive, if they
+do."</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Jerry, "no, it's not the custom with us. But we've been
+playing a little on the road to-day, and we come out with a new wardrobe
+at the races, so I didn't think it worth while to stop to undress. Down,
+Pedro!"</p>
+
+<p>This was addressed to the dog with the cap on, who, being a new member
+of the company, and not quite certain of his duty, kept his unobscured
+eye anxiously on his master, and was perpetually starting up on his hind
+legs when there was no occasion, and falling down again.</p>
+
+<p>The landlord now busied himself in laying the cloth, in which process
+Mr. Codlin obligingly assisted by setting forth his own knife and fork
+in the most convenient place and establishing himself behind them. When
+everything was ready, the landlord took off the cover for the last time,
+and then, indeed, there burst forth such a goodly promise of supper,
+that if he had offered to put it on again or had hinted at postponement,
+he would certainly have been sacrificed on his own hearth.</p>
+
+<p>However, he did nothing of the kind, but instead assisted a stout
+servant girl in turning the contents of the cauldron into a large
+tureen; a proceeding which the dogs, proof against various hot splashes
+which fell upon their noses, watched with terrible eagerness. At length
+the dish was lifted on the table, and mugs of ale having been previously
+set round, little Nell ventured to say grace, and supper began.</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture the poor dogs were standing on their hind legs quite
+surprisingly; the child, having pity on them, was about to cast some
+morsels of food to them before she tasted it herself, hungry though she
+was, when their master interposed.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear, no, not an atom from anybody's hand but mine if you
+please. That dog," said Jerry, pointing out the old leader of the troop,
+and speaking in a terrible voice, "lost a halfpenny to-day. <em>He</em> goes
+without his supper."</p>
+
+<p>The unfortunate creature dropped upon his forelegs directly, wagged his
+tail, and looked imploringly at his master.</p>
+
+<p>"You must be more careful, sir," said Jerry, walking coolly to the chair
+where he had placed the organ, and setting the stop. "Come here. Now,
+sir, you play away at that, while we have supper, and leave off if you
+dare."</p>
+
+<p>The dog immediately began to grind most mournful music. His master,
+having shown him the whip, resumed his seat and called up the others,
+who, at his directions, formed in a row, standing upright as a file of
+soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, gentlemen," said Jerry, looking at them attentively: "The dog
+whose name's called, eats. The dogs whose names an't called, keep quiet.
+Carlo."</p>
+
+<p>The lucky individual whose name was called, snapped up the morsel thrown
+towards him, but none of the others moved a muscle. In this manner they
+were fed at the discretion of their master. Meanwhile the dog in
+disgrace ground hard at the organ, sometimes in quick time, sometimes in
+slow, but never leaving off for an instant. When the knives and forks
+rattled very much, or any of his fellows got an unusually large piece of
+fat, he accompanied the music with a short howl, but he immediately
+checked it on his master looking round, and applied himself with
+increased diligence to the Old Hundredth.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Dickens</span>: "Old Curiosity Shop."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>So, when a great man dies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For years beyond our ken,<br /></span>
+<span>The light he leaves behind him lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon the paths of men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Longfellow</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Gladness" id="Gladness"></a>THE GLADNESS OF NATURE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When our mother Nature laughs around;<br /></span>
+<span>When even the deep blue heavens look glad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;<br /></span>
+<span>The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the wilding bee hums merrily by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The clouds are at play in the azure space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,<br /></span>
+<span>And here they stretch to the frolic chase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And there they roll on the easy gale.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>There's a dance of leaves on that aspen bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,<br /></span>
+<span>There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,<br /></span>
+<span>On the leaping waters and gay young isles;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Bryant</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Old" id="Old"></a>OLD ENGLISH LIFE</h2>
+
+
+<p>When the sun rose on England of olden time, its faint red light stirred
+every sleeper from the sack of straw, which formed the only bed of the
+age. Springing from this rustling couch, where he had lain naked, and
+throwing off the coarse coverlets, usually of sheepskin, the subject of
+King Alfred donned the day's dress. Gentlemen wore linen or woollen
+tunics, which reached to the knee; and, over these, long fur-lined
+cloaks, fastened with a brooch of ivory or gold. Strips of cloth or
+leather, bandaged crosswise from the ankle to the knee over red and blue
+stockings; and black, pointed shoes, slit along the instep almost to the
+toes and fastened with two thongs, completed the costume of an
+Anglo-Saxon gentleman. The ladies, wrapping a veil of linen or silk upon
+their delicate curls, laced a loose-flowing gown over a tight-sleeved
+bodice, and pinned the graceful folds of their mantles with golden
+butterflies and other tasteful trinkets.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast consisted probably of bread, meat, and ale, but was a lighter
+repast than that taken when the hurry of the day lay behind. Often it
+was eaten in the bower or private apartment.</p>
+
+<p>The central picture in Old English life&mdash;the great event of the day&mdash;was
+<em>Noon-meat</em>, or dinner in the great hall. A little before three, the
+chief and all his household, with any stray guests who might have
+dropped in, met in the hall, which stood in the centre of its encircling
+bowers&mdash;the principal apartment of every Old English house. Clouds of
+wood smoke, rolling up from a fire which blazed in the middle of the
+floor, blackened the carved rafters of the arched roof before they found
+their way out of the hole above which did duty as a chimney.</p>
+
+<p>Tapestries, dyed purple, or glowing with variegated pictures of saints
+and heroes, hung, and if the day was stormy, flapped upon the chinky
+walls. In palaces and in earls' mansions coloured tiles, wrought into a
+mosaic, formed a clean and pretty pavement; but the common flooring of
+the time was clay, baked dry with the heat of winter evenings and summer
+noons. The only articles of furniture always in the hall were wooden
+benches; some of which, especially the <em>high settle</em> or seat of the
+chieftain, boasted cushions, or at least a rug.</p>
+
+<p>While the hungry crowd, fresh from woodland and furrow, were lounging
+near the fire or hanging up their weapons on the pegs and hooks that
+jutted from the wall, a number of slaves, dragging in a long, flat,
+heavy board, placed it on movable legs, and spread on its upper half a
+handsome cloth. Then were arranged with other utensils for the meal some
+flattish dishes, baskets of ash-wood for holding bread, a scanty
+sprinkling of steel knives shaped like our modern razors, platters of
+wood, and bowls for the universal broth.</p>
+
+<p>The ceremony of "laying the board," as the Old English phrased it, being
+completed, the work of demolition began. Great round cakes of
+bread&mdash;huge junks of boiled bacon&mdash;vast rolls of broiled eel&mdash;cups of
+milk&mdash;horns of ale&mdash;wedges of cheese&mdash;lumps of salt butter&mdash;and smoking
+piles of cabbages and beans, melted like magic from the board under the
+united attack of greasy fingers and grinding jaws. Kneeling slaves
+offered to the lord and his honoured guests long skewers or spits, on
+which steaks of beef or venison smoked and sputtered, ready for the
+hacking blade.</p>
+
+<p>Poultry, too, and game of every variety, filled the spaces of the upper
+board; but the crowd of <em>loaf-eaters</em>, as old English domestics were
+suggestively called, saw little of these daintier kinds of food, except
+the naked bones. Nor did they much care, if, to their innumerable
+hunches of bread, they could add enough pig to appease their hunger.
+Hounds, sitting eager-eyed by their masters, snapped with sudden jaws at
+scraps of fat flung to them, or retired into private life below the
+board with some sweet bone that fortune sent them.</p>
+
+<p>The solid part of the banquet ended with the washing of hands, performed
+for the honoured occupants of the high settle by officious slaves. The
+board was then dragged out of the hall; the loaf-eaters slunk away to
+have a nap in the byre, or sat drowsily in corners of the hall; and the
+drinking began. During the progress of the meal, Welsh ale had flowed
+freely in horns or vessels of twisted glass. Mead and, in very grand
+houses, wine now began to circle in goblets of gold and silver, or of
+wood inlaid with those precious metals. In humbler houses, story-telling
+and songs, sung to the music of the harp by each guest in turn, formed
+the principal amusement of the drinking-bout.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime the music and the mead did their work in maddening brains; the
+revelry grew louder; riddles, which had flown thick around the board at
+first, gave place to banter, taunts, and fierce boasts of prowess; angry
+eyes gleamed defiance; and it was well if, in the morning, the household
+slaves had not to wash blood-stains from the pavement of the hall, or in
+the still night, when the drunken brawlers lay stupid on the floor, to
+drag a dead man from the red plash in which he lay.</p>
+
+<p>From the reek and riot of the hall the ladies of the household soon
+withdrew to the bower, where they reigned supreme. There, in the earlier
+part of the day, they had arrayed themselves in their bright-coloured
+robes, plying tweezers and crisping-irons on their yellow hair, and
+often heightening the blush that Nature gave them with a shade of rouge.
+There, too, they used to scold their female slaves, and beat them, with
+a violence which said more for their strength of lung and muscle than
+for the gentleness of their womanhood.</p>
+
+<p>When their needles were fairly set a-going upon those pieces of delicate
+embroidery, known and prized over all Europe as "English work," some
+gentlemen dropped in, perhaps harp in hand, to chat and play for their
+amusement, or to engage in games of hazard and skill, which seem to have
+resembled modern dice and chess. When in later days supper came into
+fashion, the round table of the bower was usually spread for
+<em>Evening-food</em>, as this meal was called. And not long afterwards, those
+bags of straw, from which they sprang at sunrise, received for another
+night their human burden, worn out with the labours and the revels of
+the day.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">W.&nbsp;F. Collier</span><br />
+(Adapted)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Puck" id="Puck"></a>PUCK'S SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>See you the dimpled track that runs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All hollow through the wheat?<br /></span>
+<span>O that was where they hauled the guns<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That smote King Philip's fleet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>See you our little mill that clacks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So busy by the brook?<br /></span>
+<span>She has ground her corn and paid her tax<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ever since Domesday Book.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>See you our stilly woods of oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the dread ditch beside?<br /></span>
+<span>O that was where the Saxons broke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the day that Harold died.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>See you the windy levels spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">About the gates of Rye?<br /></span>
+<span>O that was where the Northmen fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When Alfred's ships came by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>See you our pastures wide and lone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where the red oxen browse?<br /></span>
+<span>O there was a City thronged and known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ere London boasted a house.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And see you, after rain, the trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of mound and ditch and wall?<br /></span>
+<span>O that was a Legion's camping-place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When Caesar sailed from Gaul.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And see you marks that show and fade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like shadows on the Downs?<br /></span>
+<span>O they are the lines the Flint Men made<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To guard their wondrous towns.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Trackway and Camp and City lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Salt Marsh where now is corn;<br /></span>
+<span>Old Wars, old Peace, old Arts that cease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And so was England born!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>She is not any common Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Water or wood or air,<br /></span>
+<span>But Merlin's Isle of Gramarye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where you and I will fare.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Kipling</span>: "Puck of Pook's Hill."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Queenston" id="Queenston"></a>THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTON HEIGHTS</h2>
+
+
+<p>The thirteenth of October, 1812, is a day ever to be remembered in
+Canada. All along the Niagara river the greatest excitement had
+prevailed: many of the inhabitants had removed with their portable
+property into the back country; small bodies of soldiers, regulars and
+volunteers, were posted in the towns and villages; Indians were roving
+in the adjacent woods; and sentinels, posted along the banks of the
+river, were looking eagerly for the enemy that was to come from the
+American shore and attempt the subjugation of a free, a happy, and a
+loyal people.</p>
+
+<p>In the village of Queenston, that nestles at the foot of an eminence
+overlooking the mighty waters of Niagara, two companies of the
+Forty-ninth Regiment, or "Green Tigers," as the Americans afterwards
+termed them, with one hundred Canadian militia, were posted under the
+command of Captain Dennis.</p>
+
+<p>When tattoo sounded on the night of the twelfth, the little garrison
+retired to rest. All was silent but the elements, which raged furiously
+throughout the night. Nothing was to be heard but the howling of the
+wind and the sound of falling rain mingled with the distant roar of the
+great cataract. Dripping with rain and shivering with cold, the sentries
+paced their weary rounds, from time to time casting a glance over the
+swollen tide of the river towards the American shore. At length, when
+the gray dawn of morning appeared, a wary sentinel descried a number of
+boats, filled with armed men, pushing off from the opposite bank below
+the village of Lewiston. Immediately the alarm was given. The soldiers
+were roused from their peaceful slumbers, and marched down to the
+landing-place. Meanwhile, a battery of one gun, posted on the heights,
+and another about a mile below, began to play on the enemy's boats,
+sinking some and disabling others.</p>
+
+<p>Finding it impossible to effect a landing in the face of such
+opposition, the Americans, leaving a few of their number to occupy the
+attention of the troops on the bank, disembarked some distance up the
+river, and succeeded in gaining the summit of the height by a difficult
+and unprotected pathway. With loud cheers they captured the one-gun
+battery, and rushed down upon Captain Dennis and his command; who,
+finding themselves far outnumbered by the enemy, retired slowly towards
+the north end of the village. Here they were met by General Brock, who
+had set out in advance of reinforcements from the town of Niagara,
+accompanied only by two officers. Placing himself at the head of the
+little band, the gallant general cried: "Follow me!" and, amid the
+cheers of regulars and militia, he led his men back to the height from
+which they had been forced to retire. At the foot of the hill the
+general dismounted, under the sharp fire of the enemy's riflemen, who
+were posted among the trees on its summit, climbed over a high stone
+wall, and waving his sword, charged up the hill at the head of his
+soldiers. This intrepid conduct at once attracted the notice of the
+enemy. One of their sharp-shooters advanced a few paces, took deliberate
+aim, and shot the general in the breast. It was a mortal wound. Thus
+fell Sir Isaac Brock, the hero of Upper Canada, whose name will outlive
+the noble monument which a grateful country has erected to his memory.</p>
+
+<p>The fall of their beloved commander infuriated his followers. With loud
+cheers of "Revenge the general!" they pressed forward up the hill, and
+drove the enemy from their position. But reinforcements were continually
+pouring in from the American shore; and after a deadly struggle, in
+which Colonel Macdonell, Captain Dennis, and most of the other officers
+fell, these brave men were again compelled to retire. They took refuge
+under the guns of the lower battery, there awaiting the arrival of
+reinforcements from Niagara. About mid-day the first of these arrived,
+consisting of a band of fifty Mohawks, under their chiefs, Norton and
+Brant. These Indian allies boldly engaged the enemy, and maintained for
+a short time a sharp skirmish, but finally retired on the main
+reinforcement. This arrived in the course of the afternoon, under the
+command of Major-General Sheaffe. Instead of meeting the enemy on the
+old ground, the officer now in command moved his whole force of one
+thousand men to the right of the enemy's position, and sent forward his
+left flank to attack the American right. This left flank was of a very
+varied character, consisting of one company of the Forty-first Regiment
+of the line, a company of coloured men, and a body of volunteer militia
+and Indians, united, in spite of their difference of colour and race, by
+loyalty to the British crown and heart-hatred of foreign aggression.
+This division advanced in gallant style. After delivering a volley, the
+whole line of white, red, and black charged the enemy, and drove in his
+right wing at the point of the bayonet.</p>
+
+<p>General Sheaffe now led on the main body, and forced the lately
+victorious Americans to retreat rapidly over the ridge. The struggle on
+their part was of short duration. In front was a foe thirsting for
+revenge; behind, the steep banks and swiftly-flowing waters of Niagara.
+The "Green Tigers," the Indians, their most despised slaves, and last,
+but certainly not least, the gallant Canadian militia, were objects of
+terror to them. Some few in despair threw themselves over the precipices
+into the river; but the majority of the survivors surrendered themselves
+prisoners of war, to the number of nine hundred and fifty, among whom
+was their commander, General Wadsworth. The leader of the expedition,
+General Van Rensselaer, had retired to Lewiston&mdash;as he said, for
+reinforcements&mdash;in the early part of the day. The loss of the Americans
+in this memorable action was about five hundred killed and wounded;
+while that of the Canadian forces amounted to one hundred and fifty.</p>
+
+<p>Throughout Canada the news of the victory of Queenston Heights awakened
+universal joy and enthusiasm, second only to that with which the taking
+of Detroit was hailed. But the joy and enthusiasm were damped by the sad
+tidings, that he who had first taught Canada's sons the way to victory
+had given his life for her defence, and slept in a soldier's grave with
+many of her best and bravest.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Unknown</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Bugle" id="Bugle"></a>THE BUGLE SONG</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The splendour falls on castle walls<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And snowy summits old in story:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The long light shakes across the lakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And the wild cataract leaps in glory.<br /></span>
+<span>Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span>
+<span>Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And thinner, clearer, farther going!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O sweet and far from cliff and scar<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!<br /></span>
+<span>Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:<br /></span>
+<span>Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">O love, they die in yon rich sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They faint on hill or field or river:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our echoes roll from soul to soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And grow for ever and for ever.<br /></span>
+<span>Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span>
+<span>And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Charity" id="Charity"></a>CHARITY</h2>
+
+
+<p>Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not
+charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though
+I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all
+knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove
+mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all
+my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and
+have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity
+vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly,
+seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth
+not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things,
+believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity
+never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether
+there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall
+vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that
+which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.</p>
+
+<p>When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I
+thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
+For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I
+know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now
+abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is
+charity.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">I. Corinthians</span>, XIII.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Christmas" id="Christmas"></a>A CHRISTMAS CAROL</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"What means this glory round our feet,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Magi mused, "more bright than morn?"<br /></span>
+<span>And voices chanted clear and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"To-day the Prince of Peace is born."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>"What means that star," the Shepherds said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That brightens through the rocky glen?"<br /></span>
+<span>And angels, answering overhead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sang, "Peace on earth, good-will to men!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>'Tis eighteen hundred years and more<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since those sweet oracles were dumb;<br /></span>
+<span>We wait for Him, like them of yore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Alas, He seems so slow to come!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But it was said, in words of gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No time or sorrow e'er shall dim,<br /></span>
+<span>That little children might be bold<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In perfect trust to come to Him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>All round about our feet shall shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A light like that the wise men saw,<br /></span>
+<span>If we our living wills incline<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To that sweet Life which is the Law.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>So shall we learn to understand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The simple faith of shepherds then,<br /></span>
+<span>And, clasping kindly, hand in hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sing, "Peace on earth, good-will to men."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And they who do their souls no wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But keep at eve the faith of morn,<br /></span>
+<span>Shall daily hear the angel song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"To-day the Prince of Peace is born!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Lowell</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Barren" id="Barren"></a>THE BARREN LANDS</h2>
+
+
+<p>Long before the treeless wastes are reached, the forests cease to be
+forests except by courtesy. The trees&mdash;black and white spruce, the
+Canadian larch, and the gray pine, willow, alder, etc.&mdash;have an
+appearance of youth; so that the traveller would hardly suppose them to
+be more than a few years old, at first sight. Really this juvenile
+appearance is a species of second childhood; for, on the shores of the
+Great Bear Lake, four centuries are necessary for the growth of a trunk
+not as thick as a man's wrist. The further north the more lamentably
+decrepit becomes the appearance of these woodlands, until, presently,
+their sordidness is veiled by thick growths of gray lichens&mdash;the
+"caribou moss," as it is called&mdash;which clothe the trunks and hang down
+from the shrivelled boughs. And still further north the trees become
+mere stunted stems, set with blighted buds that have never been able to
+develop themselves into branches; until, finally, the last vestiges of
+arboreal growth take refuge under a thick carpet of lichens and mosses,
+the characteristic vegetation of the Barren Grounds.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing more dismal than the winter aspect of these wastes can be
+imagined. The Northern forests are silent enough in winter time, but the
+silence of the Barren Grounds is far more profound. Even in the depths
+of midwinter the North-Western bush has voices and is full of animal
+life. The barking cry of the crows (these birds are the greatest
+imaginable nuisance to the trapper, whose baits they steal even before
+his back is turned) is still heard; the snow-birds and other small
+winged creatures are never quiet between sunset and sunrise; the
+jack-rabbit, whose black bead-like eye betrays his presence among the
+snow-drifts in spite of his snow-white fur, is common enough; and the
+childlike wailing of the coyotes is heard every night. But with the
+exception of the shriek of the snow-owl or the yelping of a fox emerged
+from his lair, there is no sound of life during seven or eight or nine
+months of winter on the Barren Grounds; unless the traveller is able to
+hear the rushing sound&mdash;some can hear it, others cannot&mdash;of the shifting
+Northern lights.</p>
+
+<p>In May, however, when the snows melt and the swamps begin to thaw, the
+Barren Grounds become full of life. To begin with, the sky is literally
+darkened with enormous flights of wild-fowl, whom instinct brings from
+the southern reaches of the Mississippi and its tributaries to these
+sub-Arctic wildernesses, where they find an abundance of food, and at
+the same time build their nests and rear their young in safety. The
+snow-geese are the first to arrive; next come the common and eider-duck;
+after them the great northern black-and-red-throated divers; and last of
+all the pin-tail and the long-tail ducks. Some of these go no further
+than just beyond the outskirts of the forest region; others, flying
+further northward, lay their eggs in the open on the moss. Eagles and
+hawks prey on these migratory hosts; troops of ptarmigan (they are said
+to go to no place where the mercury does not freeze) seek food among the
+stunted willows on the shores of the lakes and sloughs; and in sunny
+weather the snow-bunting's song is heard.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after the arrival of the migratory birds the wilderness becomes
+newly clothed in green and gray. The snow, which never once thaws during
+the long winter, forms a safe protection for vegetable life.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the lengthening summer's day has thawed this coverlet of
+snows, vegetation comes on at a surprising rate&mdash;a week's sunshine on
+the wet soil completely transforming the aspect of the country. It is
+then that the caribou leave their winter quarters in the forest region
+and journey to the Barren Grounds.</p>
+
+<p>Just as the prairies might have been called "Buffalo-land" thirty years
+ago, and the intervening enforested country may still be styled
+"Moose-land"&mdash;not that the moose is nearly so common in Saskatchewan and
+Athabaska as it was before the rebellion of 1885 opened up that
+country&mdash;so from the hunter's point of view "Caribou-land" would be an
+exceedingly apt name for the <em>tundra</em> of Greater Canada. Only the
+Indians and the Eskimos (the former living on the confines of the
+forests, and the latter along the far Arctic coasts) visit these
+territories, and but for the presence of the vast herds of caribou, it
+is pretty certain that such mosquito-haunted wastes would never be
+trodden by man. It is true that the musk-ox is an important inhabitant
+of the wastes, but the numbers of that strange beast, which seems to be
+half sheep, half ox, are not nearly so great, and there are reasons to
+believe that it is being slowly but surely driven from its ancient
+pastures by the caribou, just as, in so many parts of the world, the
+nations of the antelope have receded before the deer-tribes.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">E.&nbsp;B. Osborn:</span> "Greater Canada."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Spring" id="Spring"></a>A SPRING MORNING</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>There was a roaring in the wind all night;<br /></span>
+<span>The rain came heavily and fell in floods:<br /></span>
+<span>But now the sun is rising calm and bright,<br /></span>
+<span>The birds are singing in the distant woods,<br /></span>
+<span>Over his own sweet voice the stock-dove broods,<br /></span>
+<span>The jay makes answer as the magpie chatters,<br /></span>
+<span>And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>All things that love the sun are out of doors,<br /></span>
+<span>The sky rejoices in the morning's birth,<br /></span>
+<span>The grass is bright with rain-drops;&mdash;on the moors<br /></span>
+<span>The hare is running races in her mirth;<br /></span>
+<span>And with her feet, she from the plashy earth<br /></span>
+<span>Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,<br /></span>
+<span>Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<p>For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers
+appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the
+voice of the turtle is heard in our land.</p>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Solomon's Song.</span> II, 11, 12</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Crossing" id="Crossing"></a>CROSSING THE BAR</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sunset and evening star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And one clear call for me!<br /></span>
+<span>And may there be no moaning of the bar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When I put out to sea,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But such a tide as moving seems asleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Too full for sound and foam,<br /></span>
+<span>When that which drew from out the boundless deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Turns again home.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Twilight and evening bell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And after that the dark!<br /></span>
+<span>And may there be no sadness of farewell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When I embark;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flood may bear me far,<br /></span>
+<span>I hope to see my Pilot face to face<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When I have crost the bar.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers, by 
+Ontario Ministry of Education
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+</body>
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+
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@@ -0,0 +1,9802 @@
+Project Gutenberg's The Ontario Readers, by Ontario Ministry of Education
+
+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: The Ontario Readers
+       Third Book
+
+Author: Ontario Ministry of Education
+
+Release Date: June 12, 2006 [EBook #18561]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ONTARIO READERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Karina Aleksandrova and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: One Flag
+One Fleet
+One Throne
+
+The Union Jack]
+
+
+
+
+                  THE ONTARIO READERS
+
+                      THIRD BOOK
+
+
+                     AUTHORIZED BY
+
+              THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION
+
+
+
+The price of this book to the purchaser is not the total cost.
+    During the present period of abnormal and fluctuating
+     trade conditions, an additional sum, which may vary
+        from time to time, is paid to the Publisher
+              by the Department of Education.
+
+
+
+Entered, according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year 1909,
+       in the office of the Minister of Agriculture by the
+              Minister of Education for Ontario.
+
+
+
+                      TORONTO:
+               THE T. EATON Co LIMITED
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
+
+
+THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION is indebted to Rudyard Kipling, Henry
+Newbolt, Beckles Willson, E. B. Osborn, F. T. Bullen, Flora Annie Steel;
+Charles G. D. Roberts, W. Wilfred Campbell, Ethelwyn Wetherald, Jean
+Blewett, Robert Reid, "Ralph Connor," John Waugh, S. T. Wood; Henry Van
+Dyke, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward, and Richard Watson Gilder for
+special permission to reproduce, in this Reader, selections from their
+writings.
+
+He is indebted to Lord Tennyson for special permission to reproduce the
+poems from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson; to Lloyd Osbourne for
+permission to reproduce the selection from the works of Robert Louis
+Stevenson; and to J. F. Edgar for permission to reproduce one of Sir
+James D. Edgar's poems.
+
+He is also indebted to Macmillan & Co., Limited, for special permission,
+to reproduce selections from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Rudyard
+Kipling, and Flora Annie Steel; to Smith, Elder & Co., for the extract
+from F. T. Bullen's "The Cruise of the Cachalot"; to Elkin Mathews for
+Henry Newbolt's poem from "The Island Race"; to Sampson Low, Marston &
+Company for the extract from R. D. Blackmore's "Lorna Doone"; to Thomas
+Nelson & Sons for the extract from W. F. Collier's "History of the
+British Empire"; to Chatto and Windus for the extract from E. B. Osborn's
+"Greater Canada"; to Houghton Mifflin Company for "The Chase" from
+Charles Dudley Warner's "A-Hunting of the Deer," "Mary Elizabeth" by
+Mrs. Phelps Ward, and the poems by Celia Thaxter and by Richard Watson
+Gilder; to The Century Company for Jacob A. Riis' "The Story of a Fire"
+from "_The Century Magazine_"; to The Copp Clark Co., Limited, for the
+selections from Charles G. D. Roberts' works; to The Westminster Co.,
+Limited, for the extract from "Ralph Connor's" "The Man from Glengarry."
+
+The Minister is grateful to these authors and publishers and to others,
+not mentioned here, through whose courtesy he has been able to include
+in this Reader so many copyright selections.
+
+Toronto, May, 1909.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+              PAGE
+
+_To-day_
+       _Thomas Carlyle_
+              1
+
+Fortune and the Beggar
+       _Ivan Kirloff_
+              2
+
+_The Lark and the Rook_
+       _Unknown_
+              4
+
+The Pickwick Club on the Ice
+       _Charles Dickens_
+              6
+
+_Tubal Cain_
+       _Charles Mackay_
+              11
+
+Professor Frog's Lecture
+       _M. A. L. Lane_
+              14
+
+_A Song for April_
+       _Charles G. D. Roberts_
+              25
+
+How the Crickets Brought Good Fortune
+       _P. J. Stahl_
+              26
+
+_The Battle of Blenheim_
+       _Robert Southey_
+              31
+
+The Ride for Life
+       _"Ralph Connor"_
+              34
+
+_Iagoo, the Boaster_
+       _Henry W. Longfellow_
+              39
+
+The Story of a Fire
+       _Jacob A. Riis_
+              40
+
+_The Quest_
+       _Eudora S. Bumstead_
+              43
+
+The Jackal and the Partridge
+       _Flora Annie Steel_
+              44
+
+_Hide and Seek_
+       _Henry Van Dyke_
+              50
+
+The Burning of the "Goliath"
+       _Dean Stanley_
+              52
+
+_Hearts of Oak_
+       _David Garrick_
+              55
+
+_A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea_
+       _Allan Cunningham_
+              56
+
+The Talents
+       _Bible_
+              57
+
+_A Farewell_
+       _Charles Kingsley_
+              59
+
+_An Apple Orchard in the Spring_
+       _William Martin_
+              60
+
+The Bluejay
+       _"Mark Twain"_
+              61
+
+_A Canadian Camping Song_
+       _Sir James David Edgar_
+              65
+
+The Argonauts
+       _John Waugh_
+              66
+
+_The Minstrel-Boy_
+       _Thomas Moore_
+              71
+
+Mary Elizabeth
+       _Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward_
+              72
+
+_The Frost_
+       _Hannah Flagg Gould_
+              83
+
+_Corn-fields_
+       _Mary Howitt_
+              84
+
+South-West Wind, Esq.
+       _John Ruskin_
+              86
+
+_The Meeting of the Waters_
+       _Thomas Moore_
+              97
+
+Love
+       _Bible_
+              98
+
+_The Robin's Song_
+       _Unknown_
+              99
+
+Work or Play
+       _"Mark Twain"_
+              100
+
+_Burial of Sir John Moore_
+       _Charles Wolfe_
+              106
+
+The Whistle
+       _Benjamin Franklin_
+              108
+
+_A Canadian Boat Song_
+       _Thomas Moore_
+              109
+
+The Little Hero of Haarlem
+       _Sharpe's London Magazine_
+              110
+
+_Father William_
+       _"Lewis Carroll"_
+              115
+
+David and Goliath
+       _Bible_
+              117
+
+_Charge of the Light Brigade_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              123
+
+Maggie Tulliver
+       _George Eliot_
+              125
+
+_The Corn Song_
+       _John G. Whittier_
+              134
+
+Sports in Norman England
+       _William Fitzstephen_
+              136
+
+_A Song of Canada_
+       _Robert Reid_
+              140
+
+A Mad Tea Party
+       _"Lewis Carroll"_
+              142
+
+_The Slave's Dream_
+       _Henry W. Longfellow_
+              149
+
+The Chase
+       _Charles Dudley Warner_
+              152
+
+_The Inchcape Rock_
+       _Robert Southey_
+              158
+
+A Rough Ride
+       _Richard D. Blackmore_
+              161
+
+_The Arab and His Steed_
+       _The Honourable Mrs. Norton_
+              169
+
+_The Poet's Song_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              173
+
+Adventure with a Whale
+       _Frank T. Bullen_
+              174
+
+_The Maple_
+       _H. F. Darnell_
+              179
+
+Damon and Pythias
+       _Charlotte M. Yonge_
+              181
+
+_The Wreck of the Orpheus_
+       _C. A. L._
+              184
+
+_The Tide River_
+       _Charles Kingsley_
+              185
+
+Wisdom the Supreme Prize
+       _Bible_
+              187
+
+_The Orchard_
+       _Jean Blewett_
+              188
+
+Inspired by the Snow
+       _Samuel T. Wood_
+              189
+
+_The Squirrel_
+       _William Cowper_
+              192
+
+_Soldier, Rest_
+       _Sir Walter Scott_
+              192
+
+Fishing
+       _Thomas Hughes_
+              193
+
+_The Fountain_
+       _James Russell Lowell_
+              199
+
+_Break, Break, Break_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              201
+
+The Bed of Procrustes
+       _Charles Kingsley_
+              202
+
+_"Bob White"_
+       _George Cooper_
+              208
+
+Radisson and the Indians
+       _Beckles Willson_
+              209
+
+_The Brook_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              212
+
+"Do Seek Their Meat From God"
+       _Charles G. D. Roberts_
+              215
+
+_A Song of the Sea_
+       _"Barry Cornwall"_
+              222
+
+Little Daffydowndilly
+       _Nathaniel Hawthorne_
+              223
+
+_The Sandpiper_
+       _Celia Thaxter_
+              234
+
+From "The Sermon on the Mount"
+       _Bible_
+              236
+
+_The Legend of Saint Christopher_
+       _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+              237
+
+William Tell and His Son
+       _Chamber's "Tracts"_
+              241
+
+_A Midsummer Song_
+       _Richard Watson Gilder_
+              244
+
+The Relief of Lucknow
+       _"Letter from an officer's wife"_
+              246
+
+_The Song in Camp_
+       _Bayard Taylor_
+              250
+
+_Afterglow_
+       _William Wilfred Campbell_
+              252
+
+King Richard and Saladin
+       _Sir Walter Scott_
+              253
+
+_England's Dead_
+       _Felicia Hemans_
+              258
+
+_Hohenlinden_
+       _Thomas Campbell_
+              260
+
+The Dream of the Oak Tree
+       _Hans Christian Andersen_
+              262
+
+A Prayer
+       _Robert Louis Stevenson_
+              266
+
+_The Death of the Flowers_
+       _William Cullen Bryant_
+              267
+
+_'Tis the Last Rose of Summer_
+       _Thomas Moore_
+              269
+
+A Roman's Honour
+       _Charlotte M. Yonge_
+              270
+
+_The Fighting Temeraire_
+       _Henry Newbolt_
+              273
+
+Don Quixote's Fight with the Windmills
+       _Miguel de Cervantes_
+              275
+
+_The Romance of the Swan's Nest_
+       _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
+              281
+
+Moonlight Sonata
+       _Unknown_
+              285
+
+_The Red-Winged Blackbird_
+       _Ethelwyn Wetherald_
+              290
+
+_To the Cuckoo_
+       _John Logan_
+              291
+
+The Story of a Stone
+       _D. B._
+              293
+
+_The Snow-Storm_
+       _John G. Whittier_
+              298
+
+The Heroine of Vercheres
+       _Francis Parkman_
+              301
+
+_Jacques Cartier_
+       _Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee_
+              307
+
+Ants and Their Slaves
+       _Jules Michelet_
+              310
+
+_Lead, Kindly Light_
+       _John Henry Newman_
+              315
+
+The Jolly Sandboys
+       _Charles Dickens_
+              316
+
+_The Gladness of Nature_
+       _William Cullen Bryant_
+              324
+
+Old English Life
+       _William F. Collier_
+              325
+
+_Puck's Song_
+       _Rudyard Kipling_
+              330
+
+The Battle of Queenston Heights
+       _Unknown_
+              332
+
+_The Bugle Song_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              337
+
+Charity
+       _Bible_
+              338
+
+_A Christmas Carol_
+       _James Russell Lowell_
+              339
+
+The Barren Lands
+       _E. B. Osborn_
+              341
+
+_A Spring Morning_
+       _William Wordsworth_
+              345
+
+_Crossing the Bar_
+       _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_
+              346
+
+
+
+
+EMPIRE DAY
+
+
+I want you to remember what Empire Day means. Empire Day is the festival
+on which every British subject should reverently remember that the
+British Empire stands out before the whole world as the fearless
+champion of freedom, fair play and equal rights; that its watchwords are
+responsibility, duty, sympathy and self-sacrifice, and that a special
+responsibility rests with you individually to be true to the traditions
+and to the mission of your race.
+
+I also want you to remember that one day Canada will become, if her
+people are faithful to their high British traditions, the most powerful
+of all the self-governing nations, not excluding the people of the
+United Kingdom, which make up the British Empire, and that it rests with
+each one of you individually to do your utmost by your own conduct and
+example to make Canada not only the most powerful, but the noblest of
+all the self-governing nations that are proud to owe allegiance to the
+King.
+
+Earl Grey.
+Governor-General of Canada
+
+
+
+
+THIRD READER
+
+
+
+
+TO-DAY
+
+
+    So here hath been dawning
+      Another blue day;
+    Think, wilt thou let it
+      Slip useless away?
+
+    Out of Eternity
+      This new day is born;
+    Into Eternity
+      At night will return.
+
+    Behold it aforetime
+      No eye ever did;
+    So soon it forever
+      From all eyes is hid.
+
+    Here hath been dawning
+      Another blue day;
+    Think, wilt thou let it
+      Slip useless away?
+
+CARLYLE
+
+
+
+
+FORTUNE AND THE BEGGAR
+
+
+One day a ragged beggar was creeping along from house to house. He
+carried an old wallet in his hand, and was asking at every door for a
+few cents to buy something to eat. As he was grumbling at his lot, he
+kept wondering why it was that folks who had so much money were never
+satisfied but were always wanting more.
+
+"Here," said he, "is the master of this house--I know him well. He was
+always a good business man, and he made himself wondrously rich a long
+time ago. Had he been wise he would have stopped then. He would have
+turned over his business to some one else, and then he could have spent
+the rest of his life in ease. But what did he do instead? He built ships
+and sent them to sea to trade with foreign lands. He thought he would
+get mountains of gold.
+
+"But there were great storms on the water; his ships were wrecked, and
+his riches were swallowed up by the waves. Now all his hopes lie at the
+bottom of the sea, and his great wealth has vanished.
+
+"There are many such cases. Men seem to be never satisfied unless they
+gain the whole world.
+
+"As for me, if I had only enough to eat and to wear, I would not want
+anything more."
+
+Just at that moment Fortune came down the street. She saw the beggar and
+stopped. She said to him:
+
+"Listen! I have long wished to help you. Hold your wallet and I will
+pour this gold into it, but only on this condition: all that falls into
+the wallet shall be pure gold; but every piece that falls upon the
+ground shall become dust. Do you understand?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I understand," said the beggar.
+
+"Then have a care," said Fortune. "Your wallet is old, so do not load it
+too heavily."
+
+The beggar was so glad that he could hardly wait. He quickly opened his
+wallet, and a stream of yellow dollars poured into it. The wallet grew
+heavy.
+
+"Is that enough?" asked Fortune.
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Isn't it cracking?"
+
+"Never fear."
+
+The beggar's hands began to tremble. Ah, if the golden stream would only
+pour for ever!
+
+"You are the richest man in the world now!"
+
+"Just a little more, add just a handful or two."
+
+"There, it's full. The wallet will burst."
+
+"But it will hold a little, just a little more!"
+
+Another piece was added, and the wallet split. The treasure fell upon
+the ground and was turned to dust. Fortune had vanished. The beggar had
+now nothing but his empty wallet, and it was torn from top to bottom. He
+was as poor as before.
+
+IVAN KIRLOFF
+
+
+
+
+THE LARK AND THE ROOK
+
+
+    "Good-night, Sir Rook!" said a little lark,
+    "The daylight fades; it will soon be dark;
+    I've bathed my wings in the sun's last ray;
+    I've sung my hymn to the parting day;
+    So now I haste to my quiet nook
+    In yon dewy meadow--good-night, Sir Rook!"
+
+    "Good-night, poor Lark," said his titled friend
+    With a haughty toss and a distant bend;
+    "I also go to my rest profound,
+    But not to sleep on the cold, damp ground.
+    The fittest place for a bird like me
+    Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine tree.
+
+    "I opened my eyes at peep of day
+    And saw you taking your upward way,
+    Dreaming your fond romantic dreams,
+    An ugly speck in the sun's bright beams,
+    Soaring too high to be seen or heard;
+    And I said to myself: 'What a foolish bird!'
+
+    "I trod the park with a princely air;
+    I filled my crop with the richest fare;
+    I cawed all day 'mid a lordly crew,
+    And I made more noise in the world than you!
+    The sun shone forth on my ebon wing;
+    I looked and wondered--good-night, poor thing!"
+
+    "Good-night, once more," said the lark's sweet voice,
+    "I see no cause to repent my choice;
+    You build your nest in the lofty pine,
+    But is your slumber more sweet than mine?
+    You make more noise in the world than I,
+    But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy?"
+
+UNKNOWN
+
+
+
+
+    What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?
+    Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just;
+    And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
+    Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
+
+SHAKESPEARE
+
+
+
+
+THE PICKWICK CLUB ON THE ICE
+
+
+"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.
+
+"Ye-yes; oh, yes," replied Mr. Winkle. "I--I--am _rather_ out of
+practice."
+
+"Oh, _do_ skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to see it so much."
+
+"Oh, it is _so_ graceful," said another young lady. A third young lady
+said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her opinion that it was
+"swan-like."
+
+"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening; "but I
+have no skates."
+
+This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had got a couple of pair,
+and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more downstairs,
+whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely
+uncomfortable.
+
+Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and the fat boy
+and Mr. Weller, having shovelled and swept away the snow which had
+fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a
+dexterity which to Mr. Winkle seemed perfectly marvellous, and described
+circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon
+the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant
+and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick,
+Mr. Tupman, and the ladies; which reached a pitch of positive
+enthusiasm, when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by the
+aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions, which they
+called a reel.
+
+All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,
+had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his
+skates on with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very
+complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass,
+who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however,
+with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly
+screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.
+
+"Now, then, sir," said Sam in an encouraging tone; "off vith you, and
+show 'em how to do it."
+
+"Stop, Sam, stop," said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching
+hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. "How slippery it
+is, Sam!"
+
+"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Hold up,
+sir."
+
+This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstration
+Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet
+into the air and dash the back of his head on the ice.
+
+"These--these--are very awkward skates; ain't they, Sam?" inquired Mr.
+Winkle, staggering.
+
+"I'm afeerd there's an orkard gen'lm'n in 'em, sir," replied Sam.
+
+"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was
+anything the matter. "Come, the ladies are all anxiety."
+
+"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. "I'm coming."
+
+"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavouring to disengage himself.
+"Now, sir, start off."
+
+"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately
+to Mr. Weller. "I find I've a couple of coats at home that I don't want,
+Sam. You may have them, Sam."
+
+"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
+
+"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You
+needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five
+shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it to you
+this afternoon, Sam."
+
+"You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
+
+"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr. Winkle. "There--that's
+right. I shall soon get into the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not
+too fast."
+
+Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled up, was being
+assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like
+manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite
+bank--
+
+"Sam!"
+
+"Sir?" said Mr. Weller.
+
+"Here. I want you."
+
+"Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor a-callin'? Let go,
+sir!"
+
+With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of
+the agonized Pickwickian; and, in so doing, administered a considerable
+impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of
+dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman
+bore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, at the very moment when
+Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr.
+Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell
+heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his
+feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind in
+skates. He was seated on the ice making spasmodic efforts to smile; but
+anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.
+
+"Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.
+
+"Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard.
+
+"I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin, with great
+eagerness.
+
+"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly.
+
+"I really think you had better," said Allen.
+
+"Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle "I'd rather not."
+
+"What do _you_ think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob Sawyer.
+
+Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and
+said in a stern voice:
+
+"Take his skates off."
+
+The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in
+silence.
+
+"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.
+
+Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and,
+beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and
+uttered in a low but distinct and emphatic tone these remarkable words:
+
+"You're a humbug, sir."
+
+"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.
+
+"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir."
+
+With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel and rejoined
+his friends.
+
+DICKENS: "The Pickwick Papers."
+
+
+
+
+TUBAL CAIN
+
+
+    Old Tubal Cain was a man of might,
+      In the days when earth was young;
+    By the fierce red light of his furnace bright,
+      The strokes of his hammer rung:
+    And he lifted high his brawny hand
+      On the iron glowing clear,
+    Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers,
+      As he fashioned the sword and spear.
+    And he sang--"Hurrah for my handiwork!
+      Hurrah for the spear and sword!
+    Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,
+      For he shall be king and lord!"
+
+    To Tubal Cain came many a one,
+      As he wrought by his roaring fire;
+    And each one prayed for a strong steel blade,
+      As the crown of his desire;
+    And he made them weapons sharp and strong,
+      Till they shouted loud for glee;
+    And they gave him gifts of pearls and gold,
+      And spoils of the forest free.
+    And they sang--"Hurrah for Tubal Cain,
+      Who hath given us strength anew!
+    Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire,
+      And hurrah for the metal true!"
+
+    But a sudden change came o'er his heart,
+      Ere the setting of the sun;
+    And Tubal Cain was filled with pain
+      For the evil he had done:
+    He saw that men, with rage and hate,
+      Made war upon their kind,
+    That the land was red with the blood they shed,
+      In their lust for carnage blind.
+    And he said--"Alas! that I ever made,
+      Or that skill of mine should plan,
+    The spear and the sword for men whose joy
+      Is to slay their fellow-man!"
+
+    And for many a day old Tubal Cain
+      Sat brooding o'er his woe;
+    And his hand forbore to smite the ore,
+      And his furnace smouldered low.
+    But he rose at last with a cheerful face,
+      And a bright courageous eye,
+    And bared his strong right arm for work,
+      While the quick flames mounted high.
+    And he sang--"Hurrah for my handiwork!"
+      And the red sparks lit the air;
+    "Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made,"
+      And he fashioned the first ploughshare.
+
+    And men, taught wisdom from the past,
+      In friendship joined their hands;
+    Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,
+      And ploughed the willing lands:
+    And sang--"Hurrah for Tubal Cain!
+      Our stanch good friend is he;
+    And for the ploughshare and the plough,
+      To him our praise shall be.
+    But while oppression lifts its head,
+      Or a tyrant would be lord;
+    Though we may thank him for the plough,
+      We'll not forget the sword!"
+
+CHARLES MACKAY
+
+
+
+
+PROFESSOR FROG'S LECTURE
+
+
+Bobby was not quite sure that he was awake, but when he opened his eyes
+there was the blue sky, with the soft, white clouds drifting across it,
+the big pine waving its spicy branches over his head, and beyond, the
+glint of sunshine on the waters of the pond. Presently Bobby heard
+voices talking softly.
+
+"This is a good specimen," said one voice. "See how stout and strong he
+looks!"
+
+"I wonder who that is, and what he has found," thought Bobby. "I wish it
+wasn't such hard work to keep my eyes open." He made a great effort,
+however, and raised his heavy lids. At first he could see nothing. Then
+he caught a glimpse of a mossy log, with a row of frogs and toads
+sitting upon it. They were looking solemnly at him. Bobby felt a little
+uncomfortable under that steady gaze.
+
+"The toads are making their spring visit to the pond to lay their eggs,"
+thought the boy. "I forgot that they were due this week."
+
+"He must have done a good deal of mischief in his day," said an old
+bull-frog, gravely. A chill crept over Bobby. "In his day."--What did
+that mean?
+
+A toad hopped out from the line and came so close to Bobby that he could
+have touched her but for the strange spell which held him fast.
+
+"Yes," said she; "this is one of the species. We are very fortunate to
+have caught him. Now we shall be ready to listen to Professor Rana's
+remarks."
+
+Still Bobby could not move. What were they going to do? In a moment
+there was a rustling among the dry leaves and dozens of frogs and toads
+were seen hurrying towards the pine tree. Among them was a ponderous
+frog, carrying a roll of manuscript under his arm. He wore huge goggles,
+and looked so wise that Bobby did not dare to laugh.
+
+"I am very sleepy," murmured a portly toad near Bobby's left ear. "I
+laid over eight thousand eggs last night, and I have a long journey
+before me. But I must stay to hear this. We may never have such a chance
+again."
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," began the professor, in a sonorous tone that was
+easily heard for several feet, "this is a specimen of the creature known
+to us as the human tadpole. You will kindly observe his long legs. They
+were doubtless given to him for the purpose of protection. Being
+possessed of a most mischievous and reckless spirit, the species is
+always getting into difficulties, and would probably become extinct if
+it had not the power to run away."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Bobby under his breath. There was a murmur of interest
+and curiosity among the crowd. Bobby felt his legs twitch nervously, but
+his power over them was gone.
+
+"Otherwise," went on the lecturer, "he is not at all adapted to his
+surroundings. Observe how carefully we are dressed. The frogs have the
+green and brown tints of their homes by the water-side. The toads look
+like lumps of dirt, so that they may not be too readily snapped up by
+birds of prey. But the Boy--to call him by his scientific name--has no
+such protection. Look at this red shirt and these white trousers, and
+this hat as big as a trout pool! Could anything be more ridiculous? Even
+a giraffe does not look so absurd as this."
+
+A red flush mounted to Bobby's freckled cheeks, but this time he did not
+try to speak.
+
+"Now," said the professor, "as far as we have been able to learn, the
+human tadpole is absolutely useless. We are, therefore, doing no harm in
+experimenting upon this specimen. There are plenty of them, and this one
+will not be a serious loss."
+
+"Stop!" said Bobby, so unexpectedly that everybody jumped. "What are you
+going to do with me?"
+
+"You will be so kind as to lie still," said the professor severely. "At
+present you are only a specimen."
+
+There was no help for it. Bobby found it impossible to move hand or
+foot. He could wriggle a little,--but that was all.
+
+"Not only is the Boy entirely useless," went on the professor, "but he
+is often what might be called a pest, even to his own kind. He is
+endured in the world for what he may become when he is full-grown, and
+even then he is sometimes disappointing. You are familiar with many of
+his objectionable ways towards the animal world, but I am sure you would
+be surprised if you knew what a care and trouble he frequently is to his
+own people. He can be trusted to do few kinds of work. It is difficult
+to keep him clean. He doesn't know how to get his own dinner. He has a
+genius for making weaker things miserable. He likes fishing, and he
+longs for a gun; he collects birds' eggs; he puts butterflies on pins;
+he teases his little sisters."
+
+"Why isn't the species exterminated?" asked another frog angrily.
+
+Then the toad near Bobby's ear spoke timidly: "I think you are a little
+unjust, Professor. I have known boys who were comparatively harmless."
+
+"It is true there may be a few, Mrs. Bufo," said the professor with
+great politeness, "but as a class they may be fairly set down as of very
+doubtful value. Speak up, Tadpole, and say if I have made any false
+statements so far."
+
+Bobby fairly shouted in his eagerness to be heard.
+
+"We do work," he said. "We have to go to school every day."
+
+"What a help that must be to your parents and to the world at large!"
+said the frog with sarcasm. "I am surprised that we never see the
+results of such hard labour. Do you know how useful even our smallest
+tadpoles are? Without them this pond would be no longer beautiful, but
+foul and ill-smelling. As for what we do when we are grown up, modesty
+forbids me to praise the frogs, but you know what a toad is worth to
+mankind?"
+
+"No," said Bobby. "About two cents, I guess." Bobby didn't intend to be
+rude. He thought this a liberal valuation.
+
+"Twenty dollars a year, as estimated by the Department of Agriculture!"
+cried the frog triumphantly. "What do you think of that?"
+
+"I should like to know why," said Bobby, looking as if he thought
+Professor Rana was making fun of him.
+
+"What are the greatest enemies of mankind?" asked the professor, peering
+over his goggles at poor Bobby.
+
+"Tigers," said Bobby, promptly; "or wolves."
+
+"Wrong," said the lecturer. "Insects. Insects destroy property on this
+continent to the amount of over four hundred million dollars annually.
+Insects destroy the crops upon which man depends for his food. Going to
+school hasn't made you very wise, has it? Well, the toads are insect
+destroyers. That's their business. If the State only knew enough to make
+use of them, millions of dollars might be saved every year. Does it seem
+to you that the human animal is so clever as it might be, when it allows
+such numbers of toads to be destroyed?"
+
+"It's a shame!" chimed in a voice from the front seats. "We keep out of
+the way as much as we can; we eat every kind of troublesome worm and
+insect,--the cutworm, canker-worm, tent caterpillar, army-worm,
+rose-beetle, and the common house-fly; we ask for no wages or food or
+care,--and what do we get in return? Not even protection and common
+kindness. If we had places where we could live in safety, who could tell
+the amount of good we might do? Yet I would not have this poor boy hurt
+if a word of mine could prevent it."
+
+"This is a scientific meeting," observed the professor; "and benevolent
+sentiments are quite out of place. We will now proceed to notice the
+delicate nervous system of the creature. Stand closer, my friends, if
+you please."
+
+"Nervous system, indeed!" said Bobby. "Boys don't have such silly things
+as nerves!"
+
+Suddenly Bobby felt a multitude of tiny pin pricks over the entire
+surface of his body. The suffering was not intense, but the irritation
+made him squirm and wince. He could not discover the cause of his
+discomfort, but at the professor's command it suddenly ceased.
+
+"That will do," said the frog. "Each hair on his head is also connected
+with a nerve. Pull his hair, please!"
+
+"Oh, don't!" said Bobby. "That hurts!"
+
+Nobody listened to him. It did hurt, more than you would think, for tiny
+hands were pulling each hair separately. When the ordeal was over,
+Bobby heard a faint noise in the grass as if some very small creatures
+were scurrying away, but he could see nothing. He was winking his eyes
+desperately to keep from crying.
+
+"The assistants may go now," said the professor; and the sound of little
+feet died away in the distance.
+
+"How interesting this is!" murmured a plain-looking toad who had been
+watching the experiments attentively.
+
+"I think it's mean," protested poor Bobby, "to keep a fellow fastened up
+like this, and then torment him."
+
+"Does it hurt as much as being skinned, or having your legs cut off?"
+demanded the professor.
+
+"Or should you prefer to be stepped on, or burned up in a rubbish pile?"
+asked Mrs. Bufo.
+
+"How should you like to be stoned or kicked, for a change?" said another
+toad sharply.
+
+"Perhaps you would choose a fish-hook in the corner of your mouth?" said
+a voice from the pond.
+
+"Or one run the entire length of your body?" came a murmur from the
+ground under Bobby's head.
+
+"Wait a minute," said the professor, more gently. "We will give you a
+chance to defend yourself. It is not customary to inquire into the moral
+character of specimens, but we do not wish to be unjust. Perhaps you can
+explain why you made a bonfire the very week after the toads came out of
+their winter-quarters. Dozens of lives were destroyed before that fire
+was put out."
+
+"I forgot about the toads," began Bobby.
+
+"Carelessness!" said the professor. "Now you may tell us why you like to
+throw stones at us."
+
+"To see you jump," said Bobby, honestly.
+
+"Thoughtlessness!" said the professor. "That's worse."
+
+"Why do you kick us, instead of lifting us gently when we are in your
+way?" inquired a toad in a stern voice.
+
+"Because you will give me warts if I touch you," said Bobby, pleased to
+think that he had a good reason at last.
+
+"Ignorance!" cried the professor. "The toad is absolutely harmless. It
+has about it a liquid that might cause pain to a cut finger or a
+sensitive tissue like that of the mouth or eye, but the old story that a
+toad is poisonous is a silly fable."
+
+"Will you tell me, please," asked a toad in a plaintive voice, "if you
+are the boy who, last year, carried home some of my babies in a tin pail
+and let them die?"
+
+"I'm afraid I am," said Bobby, sorrowfully.
+
+"Do explain why you dislike us!" said Mrs. Bufo in such a frank fashion
+that Bobby felt that he must tell the truth.
+
+"I suppose it's your looks," said the boy, unable to frame his answer in
+more polite terms.
+
+"Well, upon my word!" interrupted the professor. "I thought better of a
+boy than that. So you prefer boys with pretty faces and soft, curling
+hair, and nice clothes, to those who can climb and jump and who are not
+afraid of a day's tramp in the woods."
+
+"Of course I don't," said indignant Bobby. "I hate boys who are always
+thinking about their clothes."
+
+"Oh, you do!" said the frog. "Now answer me a few more questions. Have
+you ever stolen birds' eggs?"
+
+"Yes," said truthful Bobby.
+
+"Have you collected butterflies?"
+
+"Yes," said Bobby.
+
+"Have you taken nuts from the squirrels' cupboards?"
+
+"Yes," said Bobby.
+
+"Do you think we ought to have a very friendly feeling towards you?"
+went on the questioner.
+
+"No," said Bobby; "I don't."
+
+"We have shown that you are not only useless, but careless and
+thoughtless and ignorant," said the frog. "Is there any very good reason
+why we should let you go?"
+
+Poor Bobby racked his brains to think of something that should appeal to
+his captors.
+
+"I have a right to live, haven't I?" he said at last.
+
+"Because you are so pretty?" suggested the professor, and Bobby's eyes
+fell with shame.
+
+"Any better right than we have?" came a chorus of voices. Bobby was
+silent. He felt very helpless and insignificant. There was a long pause.
+Then the frog professor smiled broadly at Bobby.
+
+"Come," he said; "I like you. You are not afraid to be honest, and
+that's something."
+
+"If you will let me go," said Bobby, "I'll see that the boys don't hurt
+you any more."
+
+"I felt pretty sure that we'd converted you," said the professor; "and
+I'm going to let you go back and preach to the heathen, as the grown
+people say. You can see for yourself how much harm a boy can do if he
+doesn't think."
+
+Bobby felt that he was free, and scrambled to his feet, rubbing first
+one arm and then the other to take the prickly feeling out of them. The
+frogs had vanished; there was only the blue sky, the waving pine tree,
+and the quiet pond.
+
+"Well!" said Bobby with a long breath of amazement.
+
+"Kerjunk!" came the warning voice of a frog, somewhere near the water's
+edge.
+
+"Yes sir, I'll remember," said Bobby in the meekest of meek tones.
+
+M. A. L. LANE
+
+
+
+
+A SONG FOR APRIL
+
+
+    List! list! The buds confer.
+    This noonday they've had news of her;
+    The south bank has had views of her;
+    The thorn shall exact his dues of her;
+      The willows adream
+      By the freshet stream
+    Shall ask what boon they choose of her.
+
+    Up! up! The world's astir;
+    The would-be green has word of her;
+    Root and germ have heard of her,
+      Coming to break
+      Their sleep and wake
+    Their hearts with every bird of her.
+
+    See! see! How swift concur
+    Sun, wind, and rain at the name of her,
+    A-wondering what became of her;
+    The fields flower at the flame of her;
+      The glad air sings
+      With dancing wings
+    And the silvery shrill acclaim of her.
+
+CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS
+
+
+[Illustration: ALEXANDRA THE QUEEN MOTHER]
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE CRICKETS BROUGHT GOOD FORTUNE
+
+
+My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
+which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
+appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
+He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
+waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
+perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop.
+
+[Illustration: UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO]
+
+"Ma'am," said he to the baker's wife, "Mother sent me for a loaf of
+bread." The woman took from the shelf a four-pound loaf, the best one
+she could find, and put it into the arms of the little boy.
+
+My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
+the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
+countenance of the large loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.
+
+"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.
+
+The little boy's eyes grew sad.
+
+"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
+mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.
+
+My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
+into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
+big loaf, whom he had supposed to be half-way home, standing stock-still
+behind him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
+also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"
+
+"Oh, yes, ma'am!" said the child.
+
+"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
+longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
+scolding."
+
+The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.
+
+The baker's wife went up to him and gave him a friendly tap on the
+shoulder. "What are you thinking about?" said she.
+
+"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is that that sings?"
+
+"There is no singing," said she.
+
+"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"
+
+My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
+unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers
+houses.
+
+"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
+bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"
+
+"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
+They sing in the bake-house because we are lighting the oven, and they
+like to see the fire."
+
+"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said she, good-humouredly. The child's face lighted
+up.
+
+"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
+it very much if you would give me a cricket."
+
+"A cricket," said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
+you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
+there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."
+
+"O, ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
+clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
+crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
+mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."
+
+"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
+joining in the conversation.
+
+"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
+and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."
+
+My friend took the child, and with him the large loaf, into his arms,
+and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
+who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
+bake-house. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box
+with holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to
+the child, who went away perfectly happy.
+
+When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
+squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
+she took down her account-book, and, finding the page where the mother's
+charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
+wrote at the bottom, "Paid."
+
+Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
+in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
+begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
+cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
+that she had a son who would one day be her pride and joy.
+
+They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
+haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
+short legs, could not run very fast, so that when he reached home, he
+found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
+from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
+
+The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
+which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
+Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
+have taken place in his mother's fortunes?
+
+P. J. STAHL
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM
+
+
+    It was a summer evening,
+      Old Kaspar's work was done,
+    And he before his cottage door
+      Was sitting in the sun,
+    And by him sported on the green
+    His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
+
+    She saw her brother Peterkin
+      Roll something large and round,
+    Which he beside the rivulet
+      In playing there had found:
+    He came to ask what he had found,
+    That was so large, and smooth, and round.
+
+    Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
+      Who stood expectant by:
+    And then the old man shook his head,
+      And, with a natural sigh,
+    "'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
+    "Who fell in the great victory.
+
+    "I find them in the garden,
+      For there's many here about;
+    And often when I go to plough,
+      The ploughshare turns them out!
+    For many thousand men," said he,
+    "Were slain in that great victory."
+
+    "Now tell me what 'twas all about,"
+      Young Peterkin, he cries;
+    And little Wilhelmine looks up
+      With wonder-waiting eyes;
+    "Now tell us all about the war,
+    And what they fought each other for."
+
+    "It was the English," Kaspar cried,
+      "Who put the French to rout;
+    But what they fought each other for,
+      I could not well make out;
+    But everybody said," quoth he,
+    "That 'twas a famous victory.
+
+    "My father lived at Blenheim then,
+      Yon little stream hard by;
+    They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
+      And he was forced to fly;
+    So with his wife and child he fled,
+    Nor had he where to rest his head.
+
+    "They say it was a shocking sight
+      After the field was won;
+    For many thousand bodies here
+      Lay rotting in the sun;
+    But things like that, you know, must be
+    After a famous victory.
+
+    "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
+      And our good prince Eugene."
+    "Why 'twas a very wicked thing!"
+      Said little Wilhelmine.
+    "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,
+    "It was a famous victory.
+
+    "And everybody praised the Duke
+      Who this great fight did win."
+    "But what good came of it at last?"
+      Quoth little Peterkin.
+    "Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
+    "But 'twas a famous victory."
+
+SOUTHEY
+
+
+
+
+THE RIDE FOR LIFE
+
+
+Away off towards the swamp, which they were avoiding, the long,
+heart-chilling cry of a mother-wolf quavered on the still night air. In
+spite of herself, Mrs. Murray shivered, and the boys looked at each
+other.
+
+"There is only one," said Ranald in a low voice to Don, but they both
+knew that where the she-wolf is there is a pack not far off. "And we
+will be through the bush in five minutes."
+
+"Come, Ranald! Come away, you can talk to Don any time. Good-night,
+Don." And so saying she headed her pony toward the clearing and was off
+at a gallop, and Ranald, shaking his head at his friend, ejaculated:
+
+"Man alive! what do you think of that?" and was off after the pony.
+
+Together they entered the bush. The road was well beaten and the horses
+were keen to go, so that before many minutes were over they were half
+through the bush. Ranald's spirits rose and he began to take some
+interest in his companion's observations upon the beauty of the lights
+and shadows falling across their path.
+
+"Look at that very dark shadow from the spruce there, Ranald," she
+cried, pointing to a deep, black turn in the road. For answer there came
+from behind them the long, mournful hunting-cry of the wolf. He was on
+their track. Immediately it was answered by a chorus of howls from the
+bush on the swamp side, but still far away. There was no need of
+command; the pony sprang forward with a snort and the colt followed, and
+after a few minutes' running, passed her.
+
+"Whow-oo-oo-oo-ow," rose the long cry of the pursuer, summoning help,
+and drawing nearer.
+
+"Whw-ee-wow," came the shorter, sharper answer from the swamp, but much
+nearer than before and more in front. They were trying to head off their
+prey.
+
+Ranald tugged at his colt till he got him back with the pony.
+
+"It is a good road," he said, quietly; "you can let the pony go. I will
+follow you." He swung in behind the pony, who was now running for dear
+life and snorting with terror at every jump.
+
+"God preserve us!" said Ranald to himself. He had caught sight of a dark
+form as it darted through the gleam of light in front.
+
+"What did you say, Ranald?" The voice was quiet and clear.
+
+"It is a great pony to run," said Ranald, ashamed of himself.
+
+"Is she not?"
+
+Ranald glanced over his shoulder. Down the road, running with silent,
+awful swiftness, he saw the long, low body of the leading wolf flashing
+through the bars of moonlight across the road, and the pack following
+hard.
+
+"Let her go, Mrs. Murray," cried Ranald. "Whip her and never stop." But
+there was no need; the pony was wild with fear, and was doing her best
+running.
+
+Ranald meantime was gradually holding in the colt, and the pony drew
+away rapidly. But as rapidly the wolves were closing in behind him. They
+were not more than a hundred yards away, and gaining every second.
+Ranald, remembering the suspicious nature of the brutes, loosened his
+coat and dropped it on the road; with a chorus of yelps they paused,
+then threw themselves upon it, and in another minute took up the chase.
+
+But now the clearing was in sight. The pony was far ahead, and Ranald
+shook out his colt with a yell. He was none too soon, for the pursuing
+pack, now uttering short, shrill yelps, were close at the colt's heels.
+Lizette, fleet as the wind, could not shake them off. Closer and ever
+closer they came, snapping and snarling. Ranald could see them over his
+shoulder. A hundred yards more and he would reach his own back lane. The
+leader of the pack seemed to feel that his chances were slipping swiftly
+away. With a spurt he gained upon Lizette, reached the saddle-girths,
+gathered himself into two short jumps, and sprang for the colt's throat.
+Instinctively Ranald stood up in his stirrups, and kicking his foot
+free, caught the wolf under the jaw. The brute fell with a howl under
+the colt's feet, and next moment they were in the lane and safe.
+
+The savage brutes, discouraged by their leader's fall, slowed down their
+fierce pursuit, and hearing the deep bay of the Macdonalds' great
+deer-hound, Bugle, up at the house, they paused, sniffed the air a few
+minutes, then turned and swiftly and silently slid into the dark
+shadows. Ranald, knowing that they would hardly dare enter the lane,
+checked the colt, and wheeling, watched them disappear.
+
+"I'll have some of your hides some day," he cried, shaking his fist
+after them. He hated to be made to run.
+
+He had hardly set the colt's face homeward when he heard something
+tearing down the lane to meet him. The colt snorted, swerved, and then
+dropping his ears, stood still. It was Bugle, and after him came Mrs.
+Murray on the pony.
+
+"Oh, Ranald!" she panted, "thank God you are safe. I was afraid
+you--you--" Her voice broke in sobs. Her hood had fallen back from her
+white face, and her eyes were shining like two stars. She laid her hand
+on Ranald's arm, and her voice grew steady as she said: "Thank God, my
+boy, and thank you with all my heart. You risked your life for mine. You
+are a brave fellow! I can never forget this!"
+
+"Oh, pshaw!" said Ranald, awkwardly. "You are better stuff than I am.
+You came back with Bugle. And I knew Liz could beat the pony." Then they
+walked their horses quietly to the stable, and nothing more was said by
+either of them; but from that hour Ranald had a friend ready to offer
+life for him, though he did not know it then nor till years afterward.
+
+RALPH CONNOR: "The Man from Glengarry."
+
+
+
+
+Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his
+friends.
+
+ST. JOHN, XV. 13
+
+
+
+
+IAGOO, THE BOASTER
+
+
+      And Iagoo, the great boaster,
+    He the marvellous story-teller,
+    He the friend of old Nokomis,
+    Saw in all the eyes around him,
+    Saw in all their looks and gestures,
+    That the wedding guests assembled,
+    Longed to hear his pleasant stories,
+    His immeasurable falsehoods.
+
+      Very boastful was Iagoo;
+    Never heard he an adventure
+    But himself had met a greater;
+    Never any deed of daring
+    But himself had done a bolder;
+    Never any marvellous story
+    But himself could tell a stranger.
+
+      Would you listen to his boasting,
+    Would you only give him credence,
+    No one ever shot an arrow
+    Half so far and high as he had;
+    Ever caught so many fishes,
+    Ever killed so many reindeer,
+    Ever trapped so many beaver!
+
+      None could run so fast as he could,
+    None could dive so deep as he could,
+    None could swim so far as he could;
+    None had made so many journeys,
+    None had seen so many wonders,
+    As this wonderful Iagoo,
+    As this marvellous story-teller!
+
+      Thus his name became a by-word
+    And a jest among the people;
+    And whene'er a boastful hunter
+    Praised his own address too highly,
+    Or a warrior, home returning,
+    Talked too much of his achievements,
+    All his hearers cried: "Iagoo!
+    Here's Iagoo come among us!"
+
+LONGFELLOW: "Hiawatha."
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF A FIRE
+
+
+Thirteen years have passed since, but it is all to me as if it had
+happened yesterday,--the clanging of the fire-bells, the hoarse shouts
+of the firemen, the wild rush and terror of the streets; then the great
+hush that fell upon the crowd; the sea of upturned faces with the fire
+glow upon it; and up there, against the background of black smoke that
+poured from roof to attic, the boy clinging to the narrow ledge, so far
+up that it seemed humanly impossible that help could ever come.
+
+But even then it was coming. Up from the street, while the crew of the
+truck company were labouring with the heavy extension ladder that at its
+longest stretch was many feet too short, crept four men upon long,
+slender poles with cross-bars, iron-hooked at the end. Standing in one
+window, they reached up and thrust the hook through the next one above,
+then mounted a story higher. Again the crash of glass, and again the
+dizzy ascent. Straight up the wall they crept, looking like human flies
+on the ceiling, and clinging as close, never resting, reaching one
+recess only to set out for the next; nearer and nearer in the race for
+life, until but a single span separated the foremost from the boy. And
+now the iron hook fell at his feet, and the fireman stood upon the step
+with the rescued lad in his arms, just as the pent-up flames burst lurid
+from the attic window, reaching with impotent fury for their prey. The
+next moment they were safe upon the great ladder waiting to receive them
+below.
+
+Then such a shout went up! Men fell on each other's necks, and cried and
+laughed at once. Strangers slapped one another on the back with
+glistening faces, shook hands, and behaved generally like men gone
+suddenly mad. Women wept in the street. The driver of a car stalled in
+the crowd, who had stood through it all speechless, clutching the reins,
+whipped his horses into a gallop and drove away, yelling like a
+Comanche, to relieve his feelings. The boy and his rescuer were carried
+across the street without anyone knowing how. Policemen forgot their
+dignity and shouted with the rest. Fire, peril, terror, and loss were
+alike forgotten in the one touch of nature that makes the whole world
+kin.
+
+Fireman John Binns was made captain of his crew, and the Bennett medal
+was pinned on his coat on the next parade day.
+
+JACOB A. RIIS
+
+
+
+
+    Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
+    Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,
+      Our hearts in glad surprise
+      To higher levels rise.
+
+LONGFELLOW
+
+
+
+
+THE QUEST
+
+
+        There once was a restless boy
+          Who dwelt in a home by the sea,
+        Where the water danced for joy,
+          And the wind was glad and free;
+    But he said: "Good mother, O let me go!
+    For the dullest place in the world, I know,
+          Is this little brown house,
+          This old brown house,
+          Under the apple tree.
+
+        "I will travel east and west;
+          The loveliest homes I'll see;
+        And when I have found the best,
+          Dear mother, I'll come for thee.
+    I'll come for thee in a year and a day,
+    And joyfully then we'll haste away
+          From this little brown house,
+          This old brown house,
+          Under the apple tree."
+
+        So he travelled here and there,
+          But never content was he,
+        Though he saw in lands most fair
+          The costliest homes there be.
+    He something missed from the sea or sky,
+    Till he turned again with a wistful sigh
+          To the little brown house,
+          The old brown house,
+          Under the apple tree.
+
+        Then the mother saw and smiled,
+          While her heart grew glad and free.
+        "Hast thou chosen a home, my child?
+          Ah, where shall we dwell?" quoth she.
+    And he said: "Sweet mother, from east to west,
+    The loveliest home, and the dearest and best,
+          Is a little brown house,
+          An old brown house,
+          Under an apple tree."
+
+EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD
+
+
+
+
+THE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE
+
+
+A Jackal and a Partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was
+very exacting and jealous. "You don't do half as much for me as I do for
+you," he used to say, "and yet you talk a great deal of your friendship.
+Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me laugh or cry,
+give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You couldn't do that!"
+
+"Let us see," answered the Partridge; "follow me at a little distance,
+and if I don't make you laugh soon you may eat me!"
+
+So she flew on till she met two travellers trudging along, one behind
+the other. They were both foot-sore and weary, and the first carried his
+bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his shoes in
+his hand.
+
+Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveller's
+stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on; but the second traveller, seeing
+the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to himself:
+"What a chance for a supper!" and immediately flung his shoes at it,
+they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the
+shoes knocked off the first traveller's turban.
+
+"What a plague do you mean?" cried he, angrily turning on his companion.
+"Why did you throw your shoes at my head?"
+
+"Brother!" replied the other, mildly, "do not be vexed. I didn't throw
+them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick."
+
+"On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?" shouted the injured man, in a
+great rage. "Don't tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you insult
+me, and then you lie like a coward; but I'll teach you manners!"
+
+Then he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they fought
+until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were
+bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of
+laughing.
+
+"Are you satisfied?" asked the Partridge of her friend.
+
+"Well," answered the Jackal, "you have certainly made me laugh, but I
+doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is
+more difficult to excite the higher emotions."
+
+"Let us see," retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; "there is a
+huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that
+hollow tree and watch me; if you don't weep scalding tears, you must
+have no feeling in you!"
+
+The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began
+fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she
+flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs
+smelled him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the
+huntsman came up and, seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the
+tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts' content, and
+finally left him for dead.
+
+By and by he opened his eyes--for he was only foxing--and saw the
+Partridge sitting on a branch above him.
+
+"Did you cry?" she asked anxiously. "Did I rouse your higher emo--"
+
+"Be quiet, will you!" snarled the Jackal; "I'm half-dead with fear!"
+
+So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his
+bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.
+
+"Now is the time for friendship!" said he to the Partridge. "Get me a
+good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend."
+
+"Very well!" replied the Partridge; "only watch me, and help yourself
+when the time comes."
+
+Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners to
+the harvest-field.
+
+The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along
+from bush to bush as if she were wounded.
+
+"A wounded bird!--a wounded bird!" cried the women; "we can easily catch
+it!"
+
+Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a
+thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they
+put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The
+Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with
+a good dinner.
+
+"Are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.
+
+"Well," returned the Jackal, "I confess you have given me a very good
+dinner; you have also made me laugh--and cry--ahem! But, after all, the
+great test of friendship is beyond you--you couldn't save my life!"
+
+"Perhaps not," acquiesced the Partridge, mournfully. "I am so small and
+weak. But it grows late--we should be going home; and as it is a long
+way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend, the
+crocodile, will carry us over."
+
+Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly
+consented to carry them across; so they sat on his broad back, and he
+ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the
+Partridge remarked: "I believe the crocodile intends to play us a trick.
+How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!"
+
+"Awkward for you, too!" replied the Jackal, turning pale.
+
+"Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven't."
+
+On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the crocodile,
+in a grewsome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted a good meal,
+the wretched creature hadn't a word to say.
+
+"Pooh!" cried the Partridge, airily, "don't try tricks on us--I should
+fly away, and as for my friend, the Jackal, you couldn't hurt _him_. He
+is not such a fool as to take his life with him on these little
+excursions; he leaves it at home locked up in the cupboard."
+
+"Is that a fact?" asked the crocodile, surprised.
+
+"Certainly!" retorted the Partridge. "Try to eat him if you like, but
+you will only tire yourself to no purpose."
+
+"Dear me! how very odd!" gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken aback
+that he carried the Jackal safe to shore.
+
+"Well, are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.
+
+"My dear madam!" quoth the Jackal, "you have made me laugh, you have
+made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my
+life; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend: so,
+good-bye!"
+
+And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.
+
+FLORA ANNIE STEEL: "Tales from the Punjab."
+
+
+
+
+HIDE AND SEEK
+
+
+    All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still,
+    All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill;
+    Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June,
+    Hark! a little hunter's voice comes running with a tune.
+
+                "Hide and seek!
+                "When I speak,
+                "You must answer me:
+                "Call again,
+                "Merry men,
+              "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
+
+    Now I hear his footsteps, rustling through the grass:
+    Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass?
+    Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns,
+    Leaps upon me laughing, rolls me in the ferns.
+
+                "Hold him fast,
+                "Caught at last!
+                "Now you're it, you see.
+                "Hide your eye,
+                "Till I cry,
+              "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
+
+    Long ago he left me, long and long ago:
+    Now I wander through the world and seek him high and low;
+    Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,--
+    Ah, if I could hear his voice, I soon should find his face.
+
+                Far away,
+                Many a day,
+                Where can Barney be?
+                Answer, dear,
+                Don't you hear?
+              "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
+
+    Birds that in the spring-time thrilled his heart with joy,
+    Flowers he loved to pick for me, 'mind me of my boy.
+    Surely he is waiting till my steps come nigh;
+    Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.
+
+                Heart be glad,
+                The little lad
+                Will call some day to thee:
+                "Father dear,
+                "Heaven is here,
+              "Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
+
+HENRY VAN DYKE
+
+
+
+
+THE BURNING OF THE "GOLIATH"
+
+     (Owing to the excellent discipline which Captain Bourchier had
+     established, and to the courage of the boys, only twelve lives
+     were lost out of the crew of five hundred).
+
+
+Let me give you an example of self-denial which comes from near home. I
+will speak to you of what has been done by little boys of seven, of
+eight, of twelve, of thirteen;--little English boys, and English boys
+with very few advantages of birth; not brought up, as most of you are,
+in quiet, orderly homes, but taken from the London workhouses. I will
+speak to you of what such little boys have done, not fifteen hundred, or
+even two hundred years ago, but last week--last Wednesday, on the river
+Thames.
+
+Do you know of whom I am thinking? I am thinking of the little boys,
+nearly five hundred, who were taken from different workhouses in London,
+and put to school to be trained as sailors on board the ship which was
+called after the name of the giant whom David slew--the training-ship
+Goliath.
+
+About eight o'clock on Wednesday morning that great ship suddenly caught
+fire, from the upsetting of a can of oil in the lamp-room. It was hardly
+daylight. In a very few minutes the ship was on fire from one end to the
+other, and the fire-bell rang to call the boys to their posts. What did
+they do? Think of the sudden surprise, the sudden danger--the flames
+rushing all around them, and the dark, cold water below them! Did they
+cry, or scream, or fly about in confusion? No; they ran each to his
+proper place.
+
+They had been trained to do that--they knew that it was their duty; and
+no one forgot himself; no one lost his presence of mind. They all, as
+the captain said: "behaved like men." Then, when it was found impossible
+to save the ship, those who could swim jumped into the water by order of
+the captain, and swam for their lives. Some, also at his command, got
+into a boat; and then, when the sheets of flame and the clouds of smoke
+came pouring out of the ship, the smaller boys for a moment were
+frightened, and wanted to push away.
+
+But there was one among them--the little mate: his name was William
+Bolton: we are proud that he came from Westminster: a quiet boy, much
+loved by his comrades--who had the sense and courage to say: "No; we
+must stay and help those that are still in the ship." He kept the barge
+alongside the ship as long as possible, and was thus the means of saving
+more than one hundred lives!
+
+There were others who were still in the ship while the flames went on
+spreading. They were standing by the good captain, who had been so kind
+to them all, and whom they all loved so much. In that dreadful crisis
+they thought more of him than of themselves. One threw his arms round
+his neck and said: "You'll be burnt, Captain;" and another said: "Save
+yourself before the rest." But the captain gave them the best of all
+lessons for that moment. He said: "That's not the way at sea, my boys."
+
+He meant to say--and they quite understood what he meant--that the way
+at sea is to prepare for danger beforehand, to meet it manfully when it
+comes, and to look at the safety, not of oneself, but of others. The
+captain had not only learned that good old way himself, but he also knew
+how to teach it to the boys under his charge.
+
+DEAN STANLEY
+
+
+
+
+HEARTS OF OAK
+
+
+    Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
+    To add something more to this wonderful year,
+    To honour we call you, not press you like slaves,
+    For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
+    Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men,
+            We always are ready,
+            Steady, boys, steady,
+    We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
+
+    Still Britain shall triumph, her ships plough the sea,
+    Her standard be justice, her watchword "Be free;"
+    Then, cheer up, my lads, with one heart let us sing
+    Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen, our king.
+    Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men,
+            We always are ready,
+            Steady, boys, steady,
+    We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
+
+DAVID GARRICK
+
+
+
+
+A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA
+
+
+    A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
+      A wind that follows fast,
+    And fills the white and rustling sail,
+      And bends the gallant mast;
+    And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
+      While, like the eagle free,
+    Away the good ship flies, and leaves
+      Old England on the lee!
+
+    "O for a soft and gentle wind!"
+      I heard a fair one cry;
+    But give to me the snoring breeze
+      And white waves heaving high;
+    And white waves heaving high, my boys,
+      The good ship tight and free,--
+    The world of waters is our home,
+      And merry men are we.
+
+    There's tempest in yon horned moon,
+      And lightning in yon cloud;
+    And hark the music, mariners,
+      The wind is piping loud!
+    The wind is piping loud, my boys,
+      The lightning flashes free,--
+    While the hollow oak our palace is,
+      Our heritage the sea.
+
+ALLAN CUNNINGHAM
+
+
+
+
+THE TALENTS
+
+
+The kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who
+called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one
+he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one; to every man
+according to his several ability; and straightway took his journey.
+
+Then he that had received the five talents went and traded with the
+same, and made them other five talents. And likewise he that had
+received two, he also gained other two. But he that had received one
+went and digged in the earth, and hid his lord's money. After a long
+time the lord of those servants cometh, and reckoneth with them.
+
+And so he that had received five talents came and brought other five
+talents saying, "Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents: behold, I
+have gained beside them five talents more." His lord said unto him,
+"Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over
+a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into
+the joy of thy lord."
+
+He also that had received two talents came and said, "Lord, thou
+deliveredst unto me two talents: behold, I have gained two other talents
+beside them." His lord said unto him, "Well done, good and faithful
+servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee
+ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord."
+
+Then he which had received the one talent came and said, "Lord, I knew
+thee that thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and
+gathering where thou hast not strawed; and I was afraid, and went and
+hid thy talent in the earth: lo, there thou hast that is thine." His
+lord answered and said unto him, "Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou
+knewest that I reap where I sowed not, and gather where I have not
+strawed: thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the
+exchangers, and then at my coming I should have received mine own with
+usury. Take therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him which
+hath ten talents. For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he
+shall have abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away
+even that which he hath. And cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer
+darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."
+
+ST. MATTHEW, XXV. 14-30
+
+
+
+
+A FAREWELL
+
+
+    My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
+      No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
+    Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
+            For every day.
+
+    I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol
+      Than lark who hails the dawn or breezy down,
+    To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel
+            Than Shakespeare's crown.
+
+    Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
+      Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
+    And so make life, death, and that vast forever,
+            One grand, sweet song.
+
+KINGSLEY
+
+
+
+
+AN APPLE ORCHARD IN THE SPRING
+
+
+    Have you seen an apple orchard in the spring?
+            In the spring?
+    An English apple orchard in the spring?
+      When the spreading trees are hoary
+      With their wealth of promised glory,
+      And the mavis sings its story,
+            In the spring.
+
+    Have you plucked the apple blossoms in the spring?
+            In the spring?
+    And caught their subtle odours in the spring?
+      Pink buds pouting at the light,
+      Crumpled petals baby white
+      Just to touch them a delight--
+            In the spring.
+
+    Have you walked beneath the blossoms in the spring?
+            In the spring?
+    Beneath the apple blossoms in the spring?
+      When the pink cascades are falling,
+      And the silver brooklets brawling,
+      And the cuckoo bird soft calling,
+            In the spring.
+
+    If you have not, then you know not, in the spring,
+            In the spring,
+    Half the colour, beauty, wonder of the spring,
+      No sweet sight can I remember
+      Half so precious, half so tender,
+      As the apple blossoms render,
+            In the spring.
+
+WILLIAM MARTIN
+
+
+
+
+THE BLUEJAY
+
+
+Said Jim Baker: "There's more to a bluejay than to any other creature.
+He has more kinds of feeling than any other creature; and mind you,
+whatever a bluejay feels, he can put into words. No common words either,
+but out-and-out book-talk. You never see a jay at a loss for a word.
+
+"You may call a jay a bird. Well, so he is, because he has feathers on
+him. Otherwise, he is just as human as you are.
+
+"Yes, sir; a jay is everything that a man is. A jay can laugh, a jay can
+gossip, a jay can feel ashamed, just as well as you do, maybe better.
+And there's another thing: in good, clean, out-and-out scolding, a
+bluejay can beat anything alive.
+
+"Seven years ago the last man about here but me moved away. There stands
+his house--a log house with just one big room and no more: no ceiling,
+nothing between the rafters and the floor.
+
+"Well, one Sunday morning I was sitting out here in front of my cabin,
+with my cat, taking the sun, when a bluejay flew down on that house with
+an acorn in his mouth.
+
+"'Hello,' says he, 'I reckon here's something.' When he spoke, the acorn
+fell out of his mouth and rolled down on the roof. He didn't care; his
+mind was on the thing he had found.
+
+"It was a knot-hole in the roof. He cocked his head to one side, shut
+one eye, and put the other to the hole, like a 'possum looking down a
+jug.'
+
+"Then he looked up, gave a wink or two with his wings, and says: 'It
+looks like a hole, it's placed like a hole--and--if I don't think it is
+a hole!'
+
+"Then he cocked his head down and took another look. He looked up with
+joy, this time winked his wings and his tail both, and says: 'If I ain't
+in luck! Why it's an elegant hole!'
+
+"So he flew down and got that acorn and dropped it in, and was tilting
+his head back with a smile when a queer look of surprise came over his
+face. Then he says: 'Why, I didn't hear it fall.'
+
+"He cocked his eye at the hole again and took a long look; rose up and
+shook his head; went to the other side of the hole and took another look
+from that side; shook his head again. No use.
+
+"So after thinking awhile, he says: 'I reckon it's all right. I'll try
+it, anyway.'
+
+"So he flew off and brought another acorn and dropped it in, and tried
+to get his eye to the hole quick enough to see what became of it. He was
+too late. He got another acorn and tried to see where it went, but he
+couldn't.
+
+"He says: 'Well, I never saw such a hole as this before. I reckon it's a
+new kind.' Then he got angry and walked up and down the roof. I never
+saw a bird take on so.
+
+"When he got through, he looked in the hole for half a minute; then he
+says: 'Well, you're a long hole, and a deep hole, and a queer hole, but
+I have started to fill you, and I'll do it if it takes a hundred
+years.'
+
+"And with that away he went. For two hours and a half you never saw a
+bird work so hard. He did not stop to look in any more, but just threw
+acorns in and went for more.
+
+"Well, at last he could hardly flap his wings he was so tired out. So he
+bent down for a look. He looked up, pale with rage. He says: 'I've put
+in enough acorns to keep the family thirty years, and I can't see a sign
+of them.'
+
+"Another jay was going by and heard him. So he stopped to ask what was
+the matter. Our jay told him the whole story. Then he went and looked
+down the hole and came back and said: 'How many tons did you put in
+there?' 'Not less than two,' said our jay.
+
+"The other jay looked again, but could not make it out; so he gave a
+yell and three more jays came. They all talked at once for awhile, and
+then called in more jays.
+
+"Pretty soon the air was blue with jays, and every jay put his eye to
+the hole and told what he thought. They looked the house all over, too.
+The door was partly open, and at last one old jay happened to look in.
+There lay the acorns all over the floor.
+
+"He flapped his wings and gave a yell: 'Come here, everybody! Ha! Ha!
+He's been trying to fill a house with acorns!'
+
+"As each jay took a look, the fun of the thing struck him, and how he
+did laugh. And for an hour after they roosted on the housetop and trees,
+and laughed like human beings. It isn't any use to tell me a bluejay
+hasn't any fun in him. I know better."
+
+SAMUEL L. CLEMENS (Mark Twain)
+
+
+
+
+A CANADIAN CAMPING SONG
+
+
+    A white tent pitched by a glassy lake,
+      Well under a shady tree,
+    Or by rippling rills from the grand old hills,
+      Is the summer home for me.
+    I fear no blaze of the noontide rays,
+      For the woodland glades are mine,
+    The fragrant air, and that perfume rare,
+      The odour of forest pine.
+
+    A cooling plunge at the break of day,
+      A paddle, a row, or sail,
+    With always a fish for a mid-day dish,
+      And plenty of Adam's ale.
+    With rod or gun, or in hammock swung,
+      We glide through the pleasant days;
+    When darkness falls on our canvas walls,
+      We kindle the camp fire's blaze.
+
+    From out the gloom sails the silv'ry moon,
+      O'er forests dark and still,
+    Now far, now near, ever sad and clear,
+      Comes the plaint of the whip-poor-will;
+    With song and laugh, and with kindly chaff,
+      We startle the birds above,
+    Then rest tired heads on our cedar beds,
+      To dream of the ones we love.
+
+SIR J. D. EDGAR: "This Canada of Ours."
+
+
+
+
+THE ARGONAUTS
+
+
+Now, when the building of the ship Argo was finished, the fifty heroes
+came to look upon her, and joy filled their hearts. "Surely," said they,
+"this is the greatest ship that ever sailed the sea."
+
+So eager were they to make trial of the long oars that some, leaping on
+the shoulders of their comrades and grasping the shrouds, clambered over
+the bulwarks upon the thwarts and drew the rest in after them. Orpheus,
+upon the mighty shoulders of Jason the leader of the expedition, seized
+hold of the arm of the azure-eyed goddess, the figure-head of the ship,
+and, as he climbed on board, her whisper reached his ear. "Orpheus, sing
+me something." This was the song:
+
+    "How sweet upon the surge to ride,
+    And leap from wave to wave,
+    While oars flash fast above the tide
+    And lordly tempests rave.
+    How sweet it is across the main,
+    In wonder-land to roam,
+    To win rich treasure, endless fame,
+    And earn a welcome home."
+
+Then the good ship Argo stirred in all her timbers and longing for the
+restless sea came upon her and she rushed headlong down the grooves till
+the lips of the goddess tasted the salt sea spray.
+
+Many a day they sailed through laughing seas and ever they spoke
+together of the glory of the Golden Fleece which they hoped to bring
+home from far off Colchis.
+
+When they were come to the land of Colchis, King AEetes summoned them to
+his palace. Beside him was seated his daughter, the beautiful witch
+maiden, Medea. She looked upon the Greeks and upon Jason, fairest and
+noblest of them all, and her spirit leaped forth to meet his. And
+knowing what lay before them, "surely," she thought, "it were an evil
+thing that men so bold and comely should perish."
+
+When Jason demanded the Golden Fleece, the rage of the King rushed up
+like a whirlwind, but he curbed his speech and spake a fair word.
+"Choose ye now him who is boldest among you and let him perform the
+labours I shall set."
+
+That night Medea stole from the palace to warn the hero of the toils and
+dangers that awaited him,--to tame a span of brazen-footed
+fire-breathing bulls, with them to plough four acres of unbroken land in
+the field of Ares, to sow the tilth with serpents' teeth, to slay its
+crop of warriors, to cross a river, and climb a lofty wall, to snatch
+the Fleece from a tree round which lay coiled the sleepless dragon. "How
+can these things be accomplished and that before the setting of another
+sun?" But Jason used flattering words, singing the song of Chiron:
+
+    "No river so deep but an arm may swim,
+    No wall so steep but a foot may climb,
+    No dragon so dread but a sword may slay,
+    No fiend so fierce but your charms may stay."
+
+Medea, seeing that he knew not fear, gave him a magic ointment which
+should give him the strength of seven men and protect him from fire and
+steel.
+
+All the people assembled at sunrise in the field of Ares. When the
+fire-breathing bulls saw Jason standing in the middle of the field, fury
+shot from their eyes. Fierce was their onset and the multitude waited
+breathless to see what the end would be. As the bulls came on with
+lowered heads, and tails in air, Jason leaped nimbly to one side, and
+the monsters shot past him with bellowings that shook the earth. They
+turned and Jason poised for the leap. As they passed a second time, he
+grasped the nearest by the horn and lightly vaulted upon its back. The
+bull, unused to the burden, sank cowering to the ground. Jason patted
+its neck caressing it, and gladly it shared the yoke with its fellow.
+
+When the ground was ploughed and sown with the teeth of the serpent, a
+thousand warriors sprang full-armed from the brown earth. Then King
+AEetes greatly rejoiced, but Medea, trembling at the sight, laid a spell
+upon them that they might not clearly distinguish friend from foe.
+
+One among them came forth and Jason advanced to meet him, walking with a
+halt. His adversary laughed aloud, but Jason with a mighty bound sprang
+upon the shoulders of his enemy and bore him helmetless to the ground.
+The hero quickly replaced the fallen helmet with his own, giving a
+golden helmet for a brazen. The other rose and fled back among his
+fellows who, thinking it was Jason come among them, fell upon and slew
+him and strove with each other for the golden helmet until all were
+slain but one who, wounded unto death, rose up from the fray and
+shouting "Victory" sank upon knee and elbow never to rise again.
+
+The rest of the task was quickly accomplished, for Medea by her spells
+cast a deep sleep upon the dragon. So the Golden Fleece was won and
+brought once more to Iolchos with a prize still more precious, for Jason
+bore home with him Medea, the beautiful witch maiden, who became his
+bride and ruled with him, let us hope, many happy years.
+
+JOHN WAUGH
+
+
+
+
+    In the elder days of Art,
+      Builders wrought with greatest care
+    Each minute and unseen part;
+      For the Gods see everywhere.
+    Let us do our work as well,
+      Both the unseen and the seen;
+    Make the house, where Gods may dwell,
+      Beautiful, entire and clean.
+
+LONGFELLOW
+
+
+
+
+THE MINSTREL-BOY
+
+
+    The Minstrel-boy to the war is gone,
+      In the ranks of death you'll find him;
+    His father's sword he has girded on,
+      And his wild harp slung behind him.
+    "Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,
+      "Tho' all the world betrays thee,
+    _One_ sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
+      _One_ faithful harp shall praise thee!"
+
+    The Minstrel fell! but the foeman's chain
+      Could not bring his proud soul under;
+    The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
+      For he tore its chords asunder;
+    And said: "No chains shall sully thee,
+      Thou soul of love and bravery!
+    Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
+      They shall never sound in slavery."
+
+MOORE
+
+
+
+
+    Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,
+    In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side;
+    Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside.
+
+LOWELL
+
+
+
+
+MARY ELIZABETH
+
+
+Mary Elizabeth was a little girl with a long name. She was poor, she was
+sick, she was ragged, she was dirty, she was cold, she was hungry, she
+was frightened. She had no home, she had no mother, she had no father.
+She had no supper, she had had no dinner, she had had no breakfast. She
+had no place to go and nobody to care where she went.
+
+In fact, Mary Elizabeth had not much of anything but a short pink calico
+dress, a little red cotton-and-wool shawl, and her long name. Besides
+this, she had a pair of old rubbers, too large for her.
+
+She was walking up Washington Street. It was late in the afternoon of a
+bitter January day.
+
+"God made so many people," thought Mary Elizabeth, "He must have made so
+many suppers. Seems as if there'd ought to be one for one extry little
+girl."
+
+But she thought this in a gentle way. She was a very gentle little girl.
+All girls who hadn't anything were not like Mary Elizabeth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So now she was shuffling up Washington Street, not knowing exactly what
+to do next,--peeping into people's faces, timidly looking away from
+them, heart-sick (for a very little girl can be very heart-sick),
+colder, she thought, every minute, and hungrier each hour than she was
+the hour before.
+
+The child left Washington Street at last, where everybody had homes and
+suppers without one extra one to spare for a little girl, and turned
+into a short, bright, showy street, where stood a great hotel.
+
+Whether the door-keeper was away, or busy, or sick, or careless, or
+whether the head-waiter at the dining-room was so tall that he couldn't
+see so short a beggar, or whether the clerk at the desk was so noisy
+that he couldn't hear so still a beggar, or however it was, Mary
+Elizabeth did get in; by the door-keeper, past the head-waiter, under
+the shadow of the clerk, over the smooth, slippery marble floor the
+child crept on.
+
+She came to the office door and stood still. She looked around her with
+wide eyes. She had never seen a place like that. Lights flashed over it,
+many and bright. Gentlemen sat in it smoking and reading. They were all
+warm. Not one of them looked as if he had had no dinner and no
+breakfast and no supper.
+
+"How many extry suppers," thought the little girl, "it must ha' taken to
+feed 'em all. I guess maybe there'll be one for me in here."
+
+Mary Elizabeth stood in the middle of it, in her pink calico dress and
+red plaid shawl. The shawl was tied over her head and about her neck
+with a ragged tippet. Her bare feet showed in the old rubbers. She began
+to shuffle about the room, holding out one purple little hand.
+
+One or two of the gentlemen laughed; some frowned; more did nothing at
+all; most did not notice, or did not seem to notice, the child. One
+said: "What's the matter here?"
+
+Mary Elizabeth shuffled on. She went from one to the other, less
+timidly; a kind of desperation had taken possession of her. The odours
+from the dining-room came in, of strong, hot coffee, and strange roast
+meats. Mary Elizabeth thought of Jo.
+
+It seemed to her she was so hungry that, if she could not get a supper,
+she should jump up and run and rush about and snatch something and steal
+like Jo. She held out her hand, but only said: "I'm hungry!"
+
+A gentleman called her. He was the gentleman who had asked: "What's the
+matter here?" He called her in behind his daily paper which was big
+enough to hide three of Mary Elizabeth, and when he saw that nobody was
+looking he gave her a five-cent piece in a hurry, as if he had committed
+a sin, and said quickly: "There, there, child! go now, go!"
+
+Then he began to read his newspaper quite hard and fast and to look
+severe, as one does who never gives anything to beggars, as a matter of
+principle.
+
+But nobody else gave anything to Mary Elizabeth. She shuffled from one
+to another, hopelessly. Every gentleman shook his head. One called for a
+waiter to put her out. This frightened her and she stood still.
+
+Over by a window, in a lonely corner of the great room, a young man was
+sitting apart from the others. He sat with his elbows on the table and
+his face buried in his arms. He was a well-dressed young man, with
+brown, curling hair.
+
+Mary Elizabeth wondered why he looked so miserable and why he sat alone.
+She thought, perhaps, that if he weren't so happy as the other
+gentlemen, he would be more sorry for cold and hungry girls. She
+hesitated, then walked along and directly up to him.
+
+One or two gentlemen laid down their papers and watched this; they
+smiled and nodded to each other. The child did not see them to wonder
+why. She went up and put her hand upon the young man's arm.
+
+He started. The brown, curly head lifted itself from the shelter of his
+arms; a young face looked sharply at the beggar girl,--a beautiful young
+face it might have been.
+
+It was haggard now and dreadful to look at,--bloated and badly marked
+with the unmistakable marks of a wicked week's debauch. He roughly said:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"I'm hungry," said Mary Elizabeth.
+
+"I can't help that. Go away."
+
+"I haven't had anything to eat for a whole day--a whole day!" repeated
+the child.
+
+Her lip quivered. But she spoke distinctly. Her voice sounded through
+the room. One gentleman after another laid down his paper or his pipe.
+Several were watching this little scene.
+
+"Go away!" repeated the young man, irritably. "Don't bother me. I
+haven't had anything to eat for three days!"
+
+His face went down into his arms again. Mary Elizabeth stood staring at
+the brown, curling hair. She stood perfectly still for some moments. She
+evidently was greatly puzzled. She walked away a little distance, then
+stopped and thought it over.
+
+And now paper after paper and pipe after cigar went down. Every
+gentleman in the room began to look on. The young man with the beautiful
+brown curls, and dissipated, disgraced, and hidden face was not stiller
+than the rest.
+
+The little figure in the pink calico and the red shawl and big rubbers
+stood for a moment silent among them all. The waiter came to take her
+out but the gentlemen motioned him away.
+
+Mary Elizabeth turned her five-cent piece over and over in her purple
+hand. Her hand shook. The tears came. The smell of the dinner from the
+dining-room grew savoury and strong. The child put the piece of money to
+her lips as if she could have eaten it, then turned and, without further
+hesitation, went back.
+
+She touched the young man--on the bright hair this time--with her
+trembling little hand.
+
+The room was so still now that what she said rang out to the corridor,
+where the waiters stood, with the clerk behind looking over the desk to
+see.
+
+"I'm sorry you are so hungry. If you haven't had anything for three
+days, you must be hungrier than me. I've got five cents. A gentleman
+gave it me. I wish you would take it. I've only gone one day. You can
+get some supper with it, and--maybe--I--can get some somewheres! I wish
+you'd please to take it!"
+
+Mary Elizabeth stood quite still, holding out her five-cent piece. She
+did not understand the stir that went all over the bright room. She did
+not see that some of the gentlemen coughed and wiped their spectacles.
+
+She did not know why the brown curls before her came up with such a
+start, nor why the young man's wasted face flushed red and hot with a
+noble shame.
+
+She did not in the least understand why he flung the five-cent piece
+upon the table, and, snatching her in his arms, held her fast and hid
+his face on her plaid shawl and sobbed. Nor did she seem to know what
+could be the reason that nobody seemed amused to see this gentleman
+cry.
+
+The gentleman who had given her the money came up, and some more came
+up, and they gathered around, and she in the midst of them, and they all
+spoke kindly, and the young man with the bad face that might have been
+so beautiful stood up, still clinging to her, and said aloud:
+
+"She's shamed me before you all, and she's shamed me to myself! I'll
+learn a lesson from this beggar, so help me God!"
+
+So then he took the child upon his knee, and the gentlemen came up to
+listen, and the young man asked her what her name was.
+
+"Mary Elizabeth, sir."
+
+"Names used to mean things--in the Bible--when I was as little as you. I
+read the Bible then. Does Mary Elizabeth mean angel of rebuke?"
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"Where do you live, Mary Elizabeth?"
+
+"Nowhere, sir."
+
+"Where do you sleep?"
+
+"In Mrs. O'Flynn's shed, sir. It's too cold for the cows. She's so kind,
+she lets us stay."
+
+"Whom do you stay with?"
+
+"Nobody, only Jo."
+
+"Is Jo your brother?"
+
+"No, sir. Jo is a girl. I haven't got only Jo."
+
+"What does Jo do for a living?"
+
+"She--gets it, sir."
+
+"And what do you do?"
+
+"I beg. It's better than to--get it, sir, I think."
+
+"Where's your mother?"
+
+"Dead."
+
+"What did she die of?"
+
+"Drink, sir," said Mary Elizabeth, in her distinct and gentle tone.
+
+"Ah--well. And your father?"
+
+"He is dead. He died in prison."
+
+"What sent him to prison?"
+
+"Drink, sir."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I had a brother once," continued Mary Elizabeth, who grew quite
+eloquent with so large an audience, "but he died, too."
+
+"I do want my supper," she added, after a pause, speaking in a whisper,
+as if to Jo or to herself, "and Jo'll be wondering for me."
+
+"Wait, then," said the young man. "I'll see if I can't beg enough to get
+you your supper."
+
+"I thought there must be an extry one among so many folks!" cried Mary
+Elizabeth; for now, she thought, she should get back her five cents.
+
+And, truly, the young man put the five cents into his hat, to begin
+with. Then he took out his purse, and put in something that made less
+noise than the five-cent piece and something more and more and more.
+
+Then he passed around the great room, walking still unsteadily, and the
+gentleman who gave the five cents and all the gentlemen put something
+into the young man's hat.
+
+So, when he came back to the table, he emptied the hat and counted the
+money, and, truly, it was forty dollars.
+
+"Forty dollars!"
+
+Mary Elizabeth looked frightened.
+
+"It's yours," said the young man. "Now come to supper. But see! this
+gentleman who gave you the five-cent piece shall take care of the money
+for you. You can trust him. He's got a wife, too. But we'll come to
+supper now."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So the young man took her by the hand, and the gentleman whose wife knew
+all about what to do with orphans took her by the other hand, and one or
+two more gentlemen followed, and they all went into the dining-room, and
+put Mary Elizabeth in a chair at a clean white table, and asked her
+what she wanted for her supper.
+
+Mary Elizabeth said that a little dry toast and a cup of milk would do
+nicely. So all the gentlemen laughed. And she wondered why.
+
+And the young man with the brown curls laughed, too, and began to look
+quite happy. But he ordered chicken and cranberry sauce and mashed
+potatoes and celery and rolls and butter and tomatoes and an ice cream
+and a cup of tea and nuts and raisins and cake and custard and apples
+and grapes.
+
+And Mary Elizabeth sat in her pink dress and red shawl and ate the
+whole; and why it didn't kill her nobody knows; but it didn't.
+
+The young man with the face that might have been beautiful--that might
+be yet, one would have thought who had seen him then--stood watching the
+little girl.
+
+"She's preached me the best sermon," he said below his breath, "I ever
+heard. May God bless her! I wish there were a thousand like her in this
+selfish world!"
+
+And when I heard about it I wished so, too.
+
+ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS WARD
+
+
+
+
+    Oh, there is nothing on earth half so holy
+    As the innocent heart of a child.
+
+DICKENS
+
+
+
+
+THE FROST
+
+
+    The Frost looked forth, one still clear night,
+    And whispered: "Now I shall be out of sight;
+    So through the valley and over the height,
+      In silence I'll take my way:
+    I will not go on like that blustering train,
+    The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
+    Who make so much bustle and noise in vain,
+      But I'll be as busy as they."
+
+    Then he flew to the mountain and powdered its crest;
+    He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
+    In diamond beads--and over the breast
+      Of the quivering lake he spread
+    A coat of mail, that it need not fear
+    The downward point of many a spear
+    That he hung on its margin, far and near,
+      Where a rock could rear its head.
+
+    He went to the windows of those who slept,
+    And over each pane, like a fairy, crept;
+    Wherever he breathed, wherever he stept,
+      By the light of the moon were seen
+    Most beautiful things:--there were flowers and trees;
+    There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees:
+    There were cities with temples and towers; and these
+      All pictured in silver sheen.
+
+    But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
+    He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
+    That all had forgotten for him to prepare--
+      "Now just to set them a-thinking,
+    I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he,
+    "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three,
+    And the glass of water they've left for me
+      Shall 'Tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking."
+
+H. F. GOULD
+
+
+
+
+CORN-FIELDS
+
+
+    When on the breath of Autumn's breeze,
+      From pastures dry and brown,
+    Goes floating, like an idle thought,
+      The fair, white thistle-down,--
+    Oh, then what joy to walk at will
+    Upon the golden harvest-hill!
+
+    What joy in dreaming ease to lie
+      Amid a field new shorn;
+    And see all round, on sunlit slopes,
+      The piled-up shocks of corn;
+    And send the fancy wandering o'er
+    All pleasant harvest-fields of yore!
+
+    I feel the day; I see the field;
+      The quivering of the leaves;
+    And good old Jacob, and his house,--
+      Binding the yellow sheaves!
+    And at this very hour I seem
+    To be with Joseph in his dream!
+
+    I see the fields of Bethlehem,
+      And reapers many a one
+    Bending unto their sickles' stroke,
+      And Boaz looking on;
+    And Ruth, the Moabitess fair,
+    Among the gleaners stooping there!
+
+    Again, I see a little child,
+      His mother's sole delight,--
+    God's living gift of love unto
+      The kind, good Shunammite;
+    To mortal pangs I see him yield,
+    And the lad bear him from the field.
+
+    The sun-bathed quiet of the hills,
+      The fields of Galilee,
+    That eighteen hundred years ago
+      Were full of corn, I see;
+    And the dear Saviour take his way
+    'Mid ripe ears on the Sabbath day.
+
+    Oh, golden fields of bending corn,
+      How beautiful they seem!
+    The reaper-folk, the piled-up sheaves,
+      To me are like a dream;
+    The sunshine, and the very air
+    Seem of old time, and take me there!
+
+MARY HOWITT
+
+
+
+
+SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQ.
+
+
+Treasure Valley belonged to three brothers--Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck.
+The two elder brothers were rich, cruel, quarrelsome men who never gave
+anything in charity. The youngest brother, Gluck, was twelve years old,
+and kind to everyone. He had to act as cook and servant to his brothers.
+
+One cold, wet day the brothers went out, telling Gluck to roast a leg of
+mutton on the spit, let nobody into the house, and let nothing out.
+After a time some one knocked at the door. Gluck went to the window,
+opened it, and put his head out to see who it was.
+
+It was the most extraordinary-looking little gentleman. He had a very
+large nose, slightly brass-coloured; very round and very red cheeks;
+merry eyes, long hair, and moustaches that curled twice round like a
+corkscrew on each side of his mouth. He was four feet six inches high,
+and wore a pointed cap as long as himself. It was decorated with a black
+feather about three feet long. Around his body was folded an enormous
+black, glossy-looking cloak much too long for him. As he knocked again
+he caught sight of Gluck.
+
+"Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
+door; I'm wet, let me in."
+
+To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_ wet. His feather hung down
+between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella;
+and from the ends of his moustaches the water was running into his
+waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't."
+
+"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
+
+"I can't let you in, sir,--I can't, indeed; my brothers would beat me to
+death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
+
+"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly, "I want fire and shelter;
+and there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the
+walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to warm
+myself."
+
+Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he
+began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned and
+saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright
+tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savoury
+smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
+be burning away for nothing. "He does look _very_ wet," said little
+Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he went to
+the door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, through
+the house came a gust of wind that made the old chimneys totter.
+
+"That's a good boy," said the little gentleman. "Never mind your
+brothers. I'll talk to them."
+
+"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
+till they come; they'd be the death of me."
+
+"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that. How
+long may I stay?"
+
+"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
+brown."
+
+Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down on
+the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it
+was a great deal too high for the roof. "You'll soon dry there, sir,"
+said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the mutton. But the old gentleman
+did _not_ dry there, but went on drip, drip, dripping among the cinders,
+and the fire fizzed and sputtered, and began to look very black and
+uncomfortable; never was such a cloak; every fold in it ran like a
+gutter.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the water
+spreading in long quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarter
+of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?"
+
+"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Your cap, sir?"
+
+"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.
+
+"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but--really,
+sir--you're putting the fire out."
+
+"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then," replied his visitor, dryly.
+
+Gluck was very much puzzled by the behaviour of his guest; it was such a
+strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string
+meditatively for another five minutes.
+
+"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman, at length. "Can't
+you give me a little bit?"
+
+"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
+
+"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat
+yesterday, nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the
+knuckle!"
+
+He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
+heart. "They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give
+you that, but not a bit more."
+
+"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
+
+Then Gluck warmed a plate and sharpened a knife. "I don't care if I do
+get beaten for it," thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of
+the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman
+jumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm.
+Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts at
+exactitude, and ran to open the door.
+
+"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
+walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.
+
+"Ay! what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an
+educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen.
+
+"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.
+
+"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
+standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible
+velocity.
+
+"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning to
+Gluck with a fierce frown.
+
+"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.
+
+"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
+
+"My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so _very_ wet!"
+
+The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but at the instant the
+old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
+shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
+odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap than it flew out of
+Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
+corner at the farther end of the room.
+
+"Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him.
+
+"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
+
+"I'm a poor, old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly,
+"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
+enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying-house."
+
+"It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray
+hairs." They hung down to his shoulders.
+
+"Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"
+
+"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
+I go?"
+
+"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
+our bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?"
+
+"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
+you!"
+
+"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Be off!" said Schwartz.
+
+"Pray, gentlemen--"
+
+"Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had
+no sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went after
+the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner
+on the top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old
+gentleman to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when away
+he went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the
+wall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
+
+Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite
+direction; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly
+about him; clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it
+could not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an
+additional twist to his corkscrew moustaches, and replied with perfect
+coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good-morning. At twelve o'clock
+to-night I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I have
+just experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the last I
+ever pay you."
+
+"If I ever catch you here again," muttered Schwartz, coming,
+half-frightened, out of the corner--but before he could finish his
+sentence, the old gentleman had shut the house door behind him with a
+great bang; and past the window, at the same instant, drove a wreath of
+ragged cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all manner
+of shapes; turning over and over in the air, and melting away at last in
+a gush of rain.
+
+"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz. "Dish the
+mutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again--bless me, why
+the mutton's been cut!"
+
+"You promised me one slice, brother, you know," said Gluck.
+
+"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the
+gravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave the
+room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call
+you."
+
+Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much mutton
+as they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get
+very drunk after dinner.
+
+Such a night as it was! Howling wind and rushing rain, without
+intermission.
+
+The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the shutters, and
+double-bar the door, before they went to bed. They usually slept in the
+same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were both awakened by a
+tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a violence that shook the
+house from top to bottom.
+
+"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.
+
+"Only I," said the little gentleman.
+
+The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness.
+The room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its way
+through a hole in the shutter, they could see, in the midst of it, an
+enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a
+cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old
+gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for the
+roof was off.
+
+"Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, ironically. "I'm afraid
+your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's room;
+I've left the ceiling on there."
+
+They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wet
+through, and in an agony of terror.
+
+"You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the old gentleman called
+after them. "Remember, the _last_ visit."
+
+"Pray Heaven it may be!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe
+disappeared.
+
+Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's little
+window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and
+desolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and
+left, in their stead, a waste of red sand and gray mud. The two brothers
+crept, shivering and horror-struck, into the kitchen. The water had
+gutted the whole first floor: corn, money, almost every movable thing
+had been swept away, and there was left only a small white card on the
+kitchen table. On it, in large, breezy, long-legged letters, were
+engraved the words:--
+
+     SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE.
+
+RUSKIN: "The King of the Golden River."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+    The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
+    The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
+    Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;
+    And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
+    Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
+    As dreams are made on, and our little life
+    Is rounded with a sleep.
+
+SHAKESPEARE
+
+
+
+
+THE MEETING OF THE WATERS
+
+
+    There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
+    As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
+    Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
+    Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
+
+    Yet it _was_ not that Nature had shed o'er the scene
+    Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
+    'Twas _not_ her soft magic of streamlet or hill,
+    Oh! no,--it was something more exquisite still.
+
+    'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
+    Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
+    And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve,
+    When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
+
+    Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
+    In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
+    Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,
+    And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
+
+MOORE
+
+
+
+
+LOVE
+
+
+Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you. Bless them that curse
+you, and pray for them which despitefully use you. And as ye would that
+men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise. For if ye love them
+which love you, what thank have ye? for sinners also love those that
+love them. And if ye do good to them which do good to you, what thank
+have ye? for sinners also do even the same. And if ye lend to them of
+whom ye hope to receive, what thank have ye? for sinners also lend to
+sinners, to receive as much again. But love ye your enemies, and do
+good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your reward shall be
+great, and ye shall be the children of the Highest: for he is kind unto
+the unthankful and to the evil. Be ye therefore merciful, as your
+Father also is merciful. Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn
+not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.
+Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and
+shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For
+with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you
+again.
+
+ST. LUKE, VI. 27-38
+
+
+
+
+THE ROBIN'S SONG
+
+
+    "When the willows gleam along the brooks,
+    And the grass grows green in sunny nooks,
+      In the sunshine and the rain
+      I hear the robin in the lane
+        Singing, 'Cheerily,
+        Cheer up, cheer up;
+        Cheerily, cheerily,
+          Cheer up.'
+
+    "But the snow is still
+    Along the walls and on the hill.
+      The days are cold, the nights forlorn,
+      For one is here and one is gone.
+        'Tut, tut. Cheerily,
+        Cheer up, cheer up;
+        Cheerily, cheerily,
+          Cheer up.'
+
+    "When spring hopes seem to wane,
+    I hear the joyful strain--
+      A song at night, a song at morn,
+      A lesson deep to me is borne,
+        Hearing, 'Cheerily,
+        Cheer up, cheer up;
+        Cheerily, cheerily,
+          Cheer up.'"
+
+UNKNOWN
+
+
+
+
+WORK OR PLAY
+
+
+Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh
+and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the
+heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every
+face, and a spring in every step. The locust trees were in bloom, and
+the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air.
+
+Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a
+long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and the gladness went out of
+nature, and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards
+of board fence nine feet high! It seemed to him that life was hollow,
+and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it
+along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared
+the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of
+unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged.
+
+He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his
+sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all
+sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of
+him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire.
+
+He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles and
+trash; enough to buy an exchange of work maybe, but not enough to buy so
+much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened
+means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys.
+
+At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him. Nothing
+less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and
+went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently; the very
+boy of all boys whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the
+hop, skip, and jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his
+anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long melodious
+whoop at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding dong dong, ding dong
+dong, for he was personating a steamboat.
+
+Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamer. Ben stared a
+moment, and then said--
+
+"Hi-yi! You're a stump, ain't you!"
+
+No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist; then
+he gave his brush another gentle sweep, and surveyed the result as
+before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the
+apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said--
+
+"Hello, old chap; you got to work, hey?"
+
+"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing."
+
+"Say, I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of
+course you'd druther work, wouldn't you? 'Course you would!"
+
+Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said--
+
+"What do you call work?"
+
+"Why ain't that work?"
+
+Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly--
+
+"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know is, it suits Tom
+Sawyer."
+
+"Oh, come now, you don't mean to let on that you like it?"
+
+The brush continued to move.
+
+"Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a
+chance to whitewash a fence every day?"
+
+That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom
+swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the
+effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again, Ben
+watching every move, and getting more and more interested, more and more
+absorbed. Presently he said--
+
+"Say, Tom, let me whitewash a little."
+
+Tom considered; was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No, no;
+I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful
+particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know--but if
+it was the back fence I wouldn't mind, and she wouldn't. Yes, she's
+awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I
+reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can
+do it the way it's got to be done."
+
+"No--is that so? Oh, come now; lemme just try, only just a little. I'd
+let you, if you was me, Tom."
+
+"Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do
+it, but she wouldn't let him. Sid wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let
+Sid. Now, don't you see how I am fixed? If you was to tackle this fence,
+and anything was to happen to it--"
+
+"Oh, shucks; I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you
+the core of my apple."
+
+"Well, here. No, Ben; now don't; I'm afeard--"
+
+"I'll give you all of it!"
+
+Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his
+heart. And while Ben worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist
+sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his
+apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of
+material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but
+remained to whitewash.
+
+By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy
+Fisher for a kite in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller
+bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with; and so on, and
+so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from
+being a poor, poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally
+rolling in wealth.
+
+He had, besides the things I have mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a
+jew's harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a
+spool-cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk,
+a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six
+fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a
+dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of
+orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window-sash. He had had a nice, good,
+idle time all the while--plenty of company--and the fence had three
+coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash, he would
+have bankrupted every boy in the village.
+
+Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world after all. He
+had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it, namely,
+that, in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only
+necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great
+and wise philosopher, he would have comprehended that Work consists of
+whatever a body is _obliged_ to do, and that Play consists of whatever a
+body is _not_ obliged to do.
+
+MARK TWAIN: "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer."
+
+
+
+
+BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE
+
+
+    Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
+      As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;
+    Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
+      O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
+
+    We buried him darkly at dead of night,
+      The sods with our bayonets turning;
+    By the struggling moon-beam's misty light,
+      And the lantern dimly burning.
+
+    No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
+      Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
+    But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
+      With his martial cloak around him.
+
+    Few and short were the prayers we said,
+      And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
+    But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
+      And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
+
+    We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed,
+      And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
+    That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
+      And we far away on the billow.
+
+    Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
+      And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,--
+    But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on,
+      In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
+
+    But half of our heavy task was done
+      When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
+    And we heard the distant and random gun
+      That the foe was sullenly firing.
+
+    Slowly and sadly we laid him down
+      From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
+    We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
+      But we left him alone with his glory.
+
+C. WOLFE
+
+
+
+
+THE WHISTLE
+
+
+When I was a boy of seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my
+pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for
+children, and being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by
+the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all
+my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the
+house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My
+brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had
+made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth; put
+me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the
+money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with
+vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave
+me pleasure.
+
+This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing in
+my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary
+thing, I said to myself: "Don't give too much for the whistle;" and I
+saved my money.
+
+As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I
+thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.
+
+When I saw any one fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in
+politics, neglecting his own affairs and ruining them by that neglect,
+"He pays, indeed," said I, "too much for his whistle."
+
+If I saw one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine horses, all
+above his fortune, for which he contracted debts and ended his career in
+poverty, "Alas!" said I, "he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle."
+
+In short, I believed that a great part of the miseries of mankind were
+brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of
+things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.
+
+BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
+
+
+
+
+A CANADIAN BOAT SONG
+
+
+    Faintly as tolls the evening chime
+    Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
+    Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
+    We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
+    Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
+    The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
+
+      Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
+    There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;
+    But, when the wind blows off the shore,
+    Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.
+    Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
+    The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
+
+      Utawas' tide! this trembling moon
+    Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
+    Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers,
+    Oh, grant us cool heavens and favouring airs.
+    Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
+    The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
+
+MOORE
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE HERO OF HAARLEM
+
+
+At an early period in the history of Holland, a boy was born in Haarlem,
+a town remarkable for its variety of fortune in war, but happily still
+more so for its manufactures and inventions in peace.
+
+His father was a sluicer--that is, one whose employment it was to open
+and shut the sluices or large oak gates which, placed at certain regular
+distances, close the entrances of the canals, and secure Holland from
+the danger to which it seems exposed, of finding itself under water,
+rather than above it. When water is wanted, the sluicer raises the
+sluices more or less, as required, as the cook turns the cock of a
+fountain, and closes them again carefully at night; otherwise the water
+would flow into the canals, then overflow them, and inundate the whole
+country; so that even the little children in Holland are fully aware of
+the importance of a punctual discharge of the sluicer's duties.
+
+The boy was about eight years old when, one day, he asked permission to
+take some cakes to a poor blind man, who lived at the other side of the
+dike. His father gave him leave, but charged him not to stay too late.
+The child promised, and set off on his little journey. The blind man
+thankfully partook of his young friend's cakes, and the boy, mindful of
+his father's orders, did not wait, as usual, to hear one of the old
+man's stories, but as soon as he had seen him eat one muffin, took leave
+of him to return home.
+
+As he went along by the canals, then quite full, for it was in October,
+and the autumn rains had swelled the waters,--the boy now stooped to
+pull the little blue flowers which his mother loved so well, now, in
+childish gaiety, hummed some merry song. The road gradually became more
+solitary, and soon neither the joyous shout of the villager returning to
+his cottage home, nor the rough voice of the carter grumbling at his
+lazy horses, was any longer to be heard. The little fellow now perceived
+that the blue of the flowers in his hands was scarcely distinguishable
+from the green of the surrounding herbage, and he looked up in some
+dismay. The night was falling; not, however, a dark, winter night, but
+one of those beautiful, clear, moonlight nights, in which every object
+is perceptible, though not as distinctly as by day.
+
+The child thought of his father, of his injunction, and was preparing to
+quit the ravine in which he was almost buried, and to regain the beach,
+when suddenly a slight noise, like the trickling of water upon pebbles,
+attracted his attention. He was near one of the large sluices, and he
+now carefully examined it, and soon discovered a hole in the wood,
+through which the water was flowing. With the instant perception which
+every child in Holland would have, the boy saw that the water must soon
+enlarge the hole through which it was now only dropping, and that utter
+and general ruin would be the consequence of the inundation of the
+country that must follow. To see, to throw away the flowers, to climb
+from stone to stone till he reached the hole, and to put his finger into
+it, was the work of a moment, and to his delight he found that he had
+succeeded in stopping the flow of the water.
+
+This was all very well for a little while, and the child thought only of
+the success of his device. But the night was closing in, and with the
+night came the cold. The little boy looked around in vain. No one came.
+He shouted--he called loudly--no one answered. He resolved to stay there
+all night, but alas! the cold was becoming every moment more biting, and
+the poor finger fixed in the hole began to feel benumbed, and the
+numbness soon extended to the hand, and thence throughout the whole arm.
+The pain became still greater, still harder to bear, but yet the boy
+moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his father, of
+his mother, of his little bed, where he might now be sleeping so
+soundly; but still the little fellow stirred not, for he knew that did
+he remove the small slender finger which he had opposed to the escape of
+the water, not only would he himself be drowned, but his father, his
+brothers, his neighbours--nay, the whole village.
+
+We know not what faltering of purpose, what momentary failures of
+courage there might have been during that long and terrible night; but
+certain it is, that at daybreak he was found in the same painful
+position by a clergyman returning from attendance on a deathbed, who, as
+he advanced, thought he heard groans, and bending over the dike,
+discovered a child seated on a stone, writhing from pain, and with pale
+face and tearful eyes.
+
+"In the name of wonder, boy," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?"
+
+"I am hindering the water from running out," was the answer, in perfect
+simplicity, of the child, who, during that whole night, had been
+evincing such heroic fortitude and undaunted courage.
+
+The Muse of History has handed down to posterity many a warrior, the
+destroyer of thousands of his fellow-men--but she has left us in
+ignorance of the name of this real little hero of Haarlem.
+
+SHARPE'S LONDON MAGAZINE
+
+
+
+
+    Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
+    Are a substantial world, both pure and good.
+
+WORDSWORTH
+
+
+
+
+FATHER WILLIAM
+
+
+"Repeat 'You are old, Father William,'" said the Caterpillar.
+
+Alice folded her hands, and began:--
+
+    "You are old, Father William," the young man said,
+      "And your hair has become very white;
+    And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
+      Do you think, at your age, it is right?"
+
+    "In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
+      "I feared it might injure the brain;
+    But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
+      Why, I do it again and again."
+
+    "You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
+      And have grown most uncommonly fat;
+    Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door--
+      Pray, what is the reason of that?"
+
+    "In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
+      "I kept all my limbs very supple
+    By the use of this ointment--one shilling the box--
+      Allow me to sell you a couple."
+
+    "You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
+      For anything tougher than suet;
+    Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak.
+      Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
+
+    "In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
+      And argued each case with my wife;
+    And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
+      Has lasted the rest of my life."
+
+    "You are old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose
+      That your eye was as steady as ever;
+    Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--
+      What made you so awfully clever?"
+
+    "I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
+      Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
+    Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
+      Be off, or I'll kick you down-stairs!"
+
+"That is not said right," said the Caterpillar.
+
+"Not _quite_ right, I'm afraid," said Alice timidly; "some of the words
+have got altered."
+
+"It is wrong from beginning to end," said the Caterpillar decidedly, and
+there was silence for some minutes.
+
+LEWIS CARROLL: "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland."
+
+
+
+
+DAVID AND GOLIATH
+
+
+Now the Philistines gathered together their armies to battle, and Saul
+and the men of Israel were gathered together, and pitched by the valley
+of Elah, and set the battle in array against the Philistines. And the
+Philistines stood on a mountain on the one side, and Israel stood on a
+mountain on the other side: and there was a valley between them.
+
+And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named
+Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. And he had an
+helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail; and
+the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of brass. And he had
+greaves of brass upon his legs, and a target of brass between his
+shoulders. And the staff of his spear was like a weaver's beam; and his
+spear's head weighed six hundred shekels of iron: and one bearing a
+shield went before him.
+
+And he stood and cried unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them,
+Why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am not I a Philistine,
+and ye servants to Saul? Choose you a man for you, and let him come down
+to me. If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be
+your servants: but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then shall ye
+be our servants, and serve us. And the Philistine said, I defy the
+armies of Israel this day; give me a man, that we may fight together.
+When Saul and all Israel heard those words of the Philistine, they were
+dismayed, and greatly afraid.
+
+And David rose up early in the morning, and left the sheep with a
+keeper, and took, and went, as Jesse had commanded him; and he came to
+the trench, as the host was going forth to the fight, and shouted for
+the battle. For Israel and the Philistines had put the battle in array,
+army against army. And David left his carriage in the hand of the keeper
+of the carriage, and ran into the army, and came and saluted his
+brethren. And as he talked with them, behold, there came up the
+champion, the Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, out of the armies of
+the Philistines, and spake according to the same words: and David heard
+them. And all the men of Israel, when they saw the man, fled from him,
+and were sore afraid. And the men of Israel said, Have ye seen this man
+that is come up? surely to defy Israel is he come up: and it shall be,
+that the man who killeth him, the king will enrich him with great
+riches, and will give him his daughter, and make his father's house free
+in Israel. And David spake to the men that stood by him, saying, What
+shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine, and taketh away
+the reproach from Israel? For who is this Philistine, that he should
+defy the armies of the living God? And the people answered him after
+this manner, saying, So shall it be done to the man that killeth him.
+And when the words were heard which David spake, they rehearsed them
+before Saul: and he sent for him.
+
+And David said to Saul, Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy
+servant will go and fight with this Philistine. And Saul said to David,
+Thou art not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him: for
+thou art but a youth, and he a man of war from his youth. And David said
+unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and there came a lion,
+and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock: And I went out after him,
+and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose
+against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy
+servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this Philistine shall be as
+one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of the living God. David
+said moreover, The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion,
+and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of
+this Philistine. And Saul said unto David, Go, and the Lord be with
+thee.
+
+And Saul armed David with his armour, and he put a helmet of brass upon
+his head; also he armed him with a coat of mail. And David girded his
+sword upon his armour, and he assayed to go; for he had not proved it.
+And David said unto Saul, I cannot go with these; for I have not proved
+them. And David put them off him. And he took his staff in his hand, and
+chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a
+shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip; and his sling was in his
+hand: and he drew near to the Philistine.
+
+And the Philistine came on and drew near unto David; and the man that
+bare the shield went before him. And when the Philistine looked about,
+and saw David, he disdained him: for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and
+of a fair countenance. And the Philistine said unto David, Am I a dog,
+that thou comest to me with staves? And the Philistine cursed David by
+his gods.
+
+And the Philistine said to David, Come to me, and I will give thy flesh
+unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field.
+
+Then said David to the Philistine, Thou comest to me with a sword, and
+with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the
+Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
+This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite
+thee, and take thine head from thee; and I will give the carcases of the
+host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to the
+wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know that there is a
+God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth not
+with sword and spear: for the battle is the Lord's, and he will give you
+into our hands.
+
+And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and drew nigh
+to meet David, that David hasted, and ran toward the army to meet the
+Philistine. And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone,
+and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone
+sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth. So David
+prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and smote
+the Philistine, and slew him; but there was no sword in the hand of
+David. Therefore David ran, and stood upon the Philistine, and took his
+sword, and drew it out of the sheath thereof, and slew him, and cut off
+his head therewith. And when the Philistines saw their champion was
+dead, they fled.
+
+I. SAMUEL, XVII.
+
+[Illustration: AT THE END OF THE MEAL]
+
+
+
+
+THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE
+
+
+    Half a league, half a league,
+      Half a league onward,
+    All in the valley of Death
+      Rode the six hundred.
+    "Forward, the Light Brigade!
+    Charge for the guns!" he said:
+    Into the valley of Death
+      Rode the six hundred.
+
+    "Forward, the Light Brigade!"
+    Was there a man dismay'd?
+    Not tho' the soldier knew
+      Some one had blunder'd:
+    Their's not to make reply,
+    Their's not to reason why,
+    Their's but to do and die:
+    Into the valley of Death
+      Rode the six hundred.
+
+    Cannon to right of them,
+    Cannon to left of them,
+    Cannon in front of them
+      Volley'd and thunder'd;
+    Storm'd at with shot and shell,
+    Boldly they rode and well,
+    Into the jaws of Death,
+    Into the mouth of Hell
+      Rode the six hundred.
+
+    Flash'd all their sabres bare,
+    Flash'd as they turn'd in air
+    Sabring the gunners there,
+    Charging an army, while
+      All the world wonder'd:
+    Plunged in the battery-smoke
+    Right thro' the line they broke;
+    Cossack and Russian
+    Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
+      Shatter'd and sunder'd.
+    Then they rode back, but not
+      Not the six hundred.
+
+    Cannon to right of them,
+    Cannon to left of them,
+    Cannon behind them
+      Volley'd and thunder'd;
+    Storm'd at with shot and shell,
+    While horse and hero fell,
+    They that had fought so well
+    Came thro' the jaws of Death,
+    Back from the mouth of Hell,
+    All that was left of them,
+      Left of six hundred.
+
+    When can their glory fade?
+    O the wild charge they made!
+      All the world wonder'd.
+    Honour the charge they made!
+    Honour the Light Brigade,
+      Noble six hundred!
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+MAGGIE TULLIVER
+
+
+Maggie and Tom came in from the garden with their father and their Uncle
+Glegg. Maggie had thrown her bonnet off very carelessly, and, coming in
+with her hair rough as well as out of curl, rushed at once to Lucy. The
+contrast between the two cousins was like the contrast between a rough,
+dark, overgrown puppy and a white kitten. Lucy put up the neatest little
+rosebud mouth to be kissed: everything about her was neat.
+
+"Heyday!" said Aunt Glegg, with loud emphasis. "Do little boys and girls
+come into a room without taking notice of their uncles and aunts? That
+wasn't the way when I was a little girl."
+
+"Go and speak to your aunts and uncles, my dears," said Mrs. Tulliver.
+She wanted to whisper to Maggie a command to go and have her hair
+brushed.
+
+"Well, and how do you do? And I hope you're good children, are you?"
+said Aunt Glegg, in the same loud, emphatic way. "Look up, Tom, look up.
+Look at me now. Put your hair behind your ears, Maggie, and keep your
+frock on your shoulder."
+
+Aunt Glegg always spoke to them in this loud, emphatic way, as if she
+considered them deaf.
+
+"Well, my dears," said Aunt Pullet, "you grow wonderfully fast,--I doubt
+they'll outgrow their strength. I think the girl has too much hair. I'd
+have it thinned and cut shorter, sister, if I were you; it isn't good
+for her health. It's that makes her skin so brown,--don't you think so,
+sister Deane?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sister," said Mrs. Deane, shutting her lips
+close and looking at Maggie.
+
+"No, no," said Mr. Tulliver, "the child's healthy enough: there's
+nothing ails her. There's red wheat as well as white, for that matter,
+and some like the dark grain best. But it would be as well if Bessie
+would have the child's hair cut so it would lie smooth."
+
+"Maggie," said Mrs. Tulliver, beckoning Maggie to her, and whispering in
+her ear, "go and get your hair brushed,--do, for shame! I told you not
+to come in without going to Martha first; you know I did."
+
+"Tom, come out with me," whispered Maggie, pulling his sleeve as she
+passed him; and Tom followed willingly enough.
+
+"Come upstairs with me, Tom," she whispered, when they were outside the
+door. "There's something I want to do before dinner."
+
+"There's no time to play at anything before dinner," said Tom.
+
+"Oh, yes, there is time for this--_do_ come, Tom."
+
+Tom followed Maggie upstairs into her mother's room, and saw her go at
+once to a drawer from which she took out a large pair of scissors.
+
+"What are they for, Maggie?" said Tom, feeling his curiosity awakened.
+
+Maggie answered by seizing her front locks and cutting them straight
+across the middle of her forehead.
+
+"Oh, my buttons, Maggie, you'll catch it!" exclaimed Tom; "you'd better
+not cut any more off."
+
+Snip! went the great scissors again while Tom was speaking; and he could
+hardly help feeling it was rather good fun--Maggie looking so queer.
+
+"Here, Tom, cut it behind for me," said Maggie, excited by her own
+daring, and anxious to finish the deed.
+
+"You'll catch it, you know," said Tom, hesitating a little as he took
+the scissors.
+
+"Never mind--make haste!" said Maggie, giving a little stamp with her
+foot. Her cheeks were quite flushed.
+
+The black locks were so thick,--nothing could be more tempting to a lad
+who had already tasted the forbidden pleasure of cutting the pony's
+mane. One delicious grinding snip, and then another and another, and the
+hinder locks fell heavily on the floor. Maggie stood cropped in a
+jagged, uneven manner, but with a sense of clearness and freedom, as if
+she had emerged from a wood into the open plain.
+
+"Oh, Maggie," said Tom, jumping round her and slapping his knees as he
+laughed; "oh, my buttons, what a queer thing you look! Look at yourself
+in the glass."
+
+Maggie felt an unexpected pang. She had thought beforehand chiefly of
+her own deliverance from her teasing hair and teasing remarks about it,
+and something also of the triumph she should have over her mother and
+her aunts by this very decided course of action. She didn't want her
+hair to look pretty--that was out of the question--she only wanted
+people to think her a clever little girl and not to find fault with her.
+But now, when Tom began to laugh at her, the affair had quite a new
+aspect. She looked in the glass, and still Tom laughed and clapped his
+hands, and Maggie's flushed cheeks began to pale, and her lips to
+tremble a little.
+
+"Oh, Maggie, you'll have to go down to dinner directly," said Tom. "Oh,
+my!"
+
+"Don't laugh at me, Tom," said Maggie, in a passionate tone, and with an
+outburst of angry tears, stamping, and giving him a push.
+
+"Now, then, spitfire!" said Tom. "What did you cut it off for, then? I
+shall go down: I can smell the dinner going in."
+
+Tom hurried down-stairs and left poor Maggie. As she stood crying before
+the glass, she felt it impossible that she should go down to dinner and
+endure the severe eyes and severe words of her aunts, while Tom, and
+Lucy, and Martha, who waited at table, and perhaps her father and her
+uncles, would laugh at her. If Tom had laughed at her, of course every
+one else would; and, if she had only let her hair alone, she could have
+sat with Tom and Lucy, and had the apricot pudding and the custard! What
+could she do but sob?
+
+"Miss Maggie, you're to come down this minute," said Kezia, entering the
+room hurriedly. "What have you been a-doing? I never saw such a fright!"
+
+"Don't, Kezia," said Maggie, angrily. "Go away!"
+
+"But I tell you, you're to come down, Miss, this minute: your mother
+says so," said Kezia, going up to Maggie and taking her by the hand to
+raise her from the floor.
+
+"Get away, Kezia; I don't want any dinner," said Maggie, resisting
+Kezia's arm. "I shan't come."
+
+"Oh, well, I can't stay. I've got to wait at dinner," said Kezia, going
+out again.
+
+"Maggie, you little silly," said Tom, peeping into the room ten minutes
+after, "why don't you come and have your dinner? There's lots o'
+goodies, and mother says you're to come. What are you crying for?"
+
+Oh, it was dreadful! Tom was so hard and unconcerned; if _he_ had been
+crying on the floor, Maggie would have cried, too. And there was the
+dinner, so nice; and she was _so_ hungry. It was very bitter.
+
+But Tom was not altogether hard. He went and put his head near her, and
+said, in a lower, comforting tone: "Won't you come, then, Maggie? Shall
+I bring you a bit of pudding when I've had mine--and a custard and
+things?"
+
+"Ye-e-es," said Maggie, beginning to feel life a little more tolerable.
+
+"Very well," said Tom, going away. But he turned again at the door and
+said: "But you'd better come, you know. There's the dessert, you know."
+
+Maggie's tears had ceased, and she looked reflective as Tom left her.
+His good nature had taken off the keenest edge of her suffering.
+
+Slowly she rose from among her scattered locks, and slowly she made her
+way down-stairs. Then she stood leaning with one shoulder against the
+frame of the dining-parlour door, peeping in when it was ajar. She saw
+Tom and Lucy with an empty chair between them, and there were the
+custards on a side-table--it was too much. She slipped in and went
+towards the empty chair. But she had no sooner sat down than she
+repented, and wished herself back again.
+
+Mrs. Tulliver gave a little scream as she saw her, and dropped the large
+gravy-spoon into the dish with the most serious results to the
+tablecloth.
+
+Mrs. Tulliver's scream made all eyes turn towards the same point as her
+own, and Maggie's cheeks and ears began to burn, while Uncle Glegg, a
+kind-looking, white-haired old gentleman, said: "Heyday! what little
+girl's this? Why, I don't know her. Is it some little girl you've picked
+up in the road, Kezia?"
+
+"Why, she's gone and cut her hair herself," said Mr. Tulliver in an
+undertone to Mr. Deane, laughing with much enjoyment.
+
+"Why, little Miss, you've made yourself look very funny," said Uncle
+Pullet.
+
+"Fie, for shame!" said Aunt Glegg, in her severest tone of reproof.
+"Little girls that cut their own hair should be whipped and fed on bread
+and water, not come and sit down with their aunts and uncles."
+
+"Aye, aye," said Uncle Glegg, meaning to give a playful turn, "she must
+be sent to jail, I think, and they'll cut the rest of her hair off
+there, and make it all even."
+
+"She's more like a gypsy than ever," said Aunt Pullet in a pitying tone.
+
+"She's a naughty child, that'll break her mother's heart," said Mrs.
+Tulliver, with the tears in her eyes.
+
+Maggie seemed to be listening to a chorus of reproach and derision. Her
+first flush came from anger. Tom thought she was braving it out,
+supported by the recent appearance of the pudding and custard.
+
+He whispered: "Oh, my! Maggie, I told you you'd catch it." He meant to
+be friendly, but Maggie felt convinced that Tom was rejoicing in her
+ignominy.
+
+Her feeble power of defiance left her in an instant, her heart swelled,
+and, getting up from her chair, she ran to her father, hid her face on
+his shoulder, and burst out into loud sobbing. "Come, come," said her
+father, soothingly, putting his arm round her, "never mind; give over
+crying: father'll take your part."
+
+Delicious words of tenderness! Maggie never forgot any of these moments
+when her father "took her part"; she kept them in her heart, and thought
+of them long years after, when every one else said that her father had
+done very ill by his children.
+
+GEORGE ELIOT: "The Mill on the Floss."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+THE CORN SONG
+
+
+    Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard!
+      Heap high the golden corn!
+    No richer gift has Autumn poured
+      From out her lavish horn!
+
+    Let other lands, exulting, glean
+      The apple from the pine,
+    The orange from its glossy green,
+      The cluster from the vine;
+
+    We better love the hardy gift
+      Our rugged vales bestow,
+    To cheer us when the storm shall drift
+      Our harvest-fields with snow.
+
+    Through vales of grass and meads of flowers,
+      Our ploughs their furrows made,
+    While on the hills the sun and showers
+      Of changeful April played.
+
+    We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain,
+      Beneath the sun of May,
+    And frightened from our sprouting grain
+      The robber crows away.
+
+    All through the long, bright days of June
+      Its leaves grew green and fair,
+    And waved in hot midsummer's noon
+      Its soft and yellow hair.
+
+    And now, with autumn's moon-lit eves,
+      Its harvest-time has come,
+    We pluck away the frosted leaves,
+      And bear the treasure home.
+
+    There, richer than the fabled gift
+      Apollo showered of old,
+    Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,
+      And knead its meal of gold.
+
+    Let vapid idlers loll in silk
+      Around their costly board;
+    Give us the bowl of samp and milk,
+      By homespun beauty poured!
+
+    Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth
+      Sends up its smoky curls,
+    Who will not thank the kindly earth,
+      And bless our farmer girls!
+
+WHITTIER
+
+
+
+
+SPORTS IN NORMAN ENGLAND
+
+
+After dinner all the youth of the city go into the field of the suburbs,
+and address themselves to the famous game of football. The scholars of
+each school have their peculiar ball; and the particular trades have,
+most of them, theirs. The elders of the city, the fathers of the
+parties, and the rich and wealthy, come to the field on horseback, in
+order to behold the exercises of the youth, and in appearance are
+themselves as youthful as the youngest; seeming to be revived at the
+sight of so much agility, and in a participation of the diversion of
+their festive sons.
+
+At Easter the diversion is prosecuted on the water; a target is strongly
+fastened to a trunk or mast fixed in the middle of the river, and a
+youngster standing upright in the stern of a boat, made to move as fast
+as the oars and current can carry it, is to strike the target with his
+lance; and if, in hitting it, he breaks his lance and keeps his place in
+the boat, he gains his point and triumphs; but if it happens the lance
+is not shivered by the force of the blow, he is, of course, tumbled into
+the water, and away goes his vessel without him.
+
+However, a couple of boats full of young men are placed one on each side
+of the target, so as to be ready to take up the unsuccessful adventurer
+the moment he emerges from the stream and comes fairly to the surface.
+The bridge and the balconies on the banks are filled with spectators,
+whose business is to laugh. On holidays, in summer, the pastime of the
+youth is to exercise themselves in archery, in running, leaping,
+wrestling, casting of stones, and flinging to certain distances, and,
+lastly, with bucklers.
+
+In the winter holidays when that vast lake which waters the walls of the
+City towards the north is hard frozen, the youth, in great numbers, go
+to divert themselves on the ice. Some, taking a small run, place their
+feet at the proper distance, and are carried, sliding sideways, a great
+way; others will make a large cake of ice, and seating one of their
+companions upon it, they take hold of one another's hands, and draw him
+along: when it sometimes happens that, moving so swiftly on so slippery
+a plain, they all fall down headlong.
+
+Others there are who are still more expert in these amusements on the
+ice; they place certain bones, the leg bones of some animal, under the
+soles of their feet by tying them round their ankles, and, then, taking
+a pole shod with iron into their hands, they push themselves forward by
+striking it against the ice, and are carried along with a velocity equal
+to the flight of a bird, or a bolt discharged from a cross-bow.
+Sometimes two of them thus furnished agree to start opposite one to
+another, at a great distance; they meet, elevate their poles, attack and
+strike each other, when one or both of them fall, and not without some
+bodily hurt; and even after their fall they shall be carried a good
+distance from each other by the rapidity of the motion. Very often the
+leg or the arm of the party that falls, if he chances to light upon
+them, is broken; but youth is an age ambitious of glory, fond and
+covetous of victory, and that in future time it may acquit itself boldly
+and valiantly in real engagements, it will run these hazards in sham
+ones.
+
+Hawking and hunting were sports only for persons of quality, and woe be
+to the unhappy man of the lower orders who indulged in either of these
+sports. If caught he would be severely punished and might have his eyes
+put out.
+
+[Illustration: IN THE HIGHLANDS OF ONTARIO]
+
+After breakfast, knights with their ladies ride out, each bearing upon
+his wrist a falcon with scarlet hood and collar of gold. As they near
+the river a heron, who had been fishing for his breakfast among the
+reeds near the bank, hears them and spreading his wings flies upward. A
+knight slips the hood from the falcon's head and next instant he sees
+the heron. Away he darts, while knights and ladies rein in their horses
+and watch. Up, and up, he goes until he passes the heron and still he
+flies higher. Next instant he turns and, with a terrible swoop
+downwards, pounces upon the heron and kills it.
+
+The knight sounds his whistle and instantly the falcon turns and darts
+back to him for the dainty food which is given as a reward for his good
+hunting. Then he is chained and hooded again till another bird rises. So
+the morning passes, and many a bird do the falcons bring down before the
+knights and ladies return to the castle for "noon-meat."
+
+WILLIAM FITZSTEPHEN
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+    And He that doth the ravens feed,
+    Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
+    Be comfort to my age!
+
+SHAKESPEARE
+
+
+
+
+A SONG OF CANADA
+
+
+    Sing me a song of the great Dominion!
+      Soul-felt words for a patriot's ear!
+    Ring out boldly the well-turned measure,
+      Voicing your notes that the world may hear;
+    Here is no starveling--Heaven-forsaken--
+      Shrinking aside where the Nations throng;
+    Proud as the proudest moves she among them--
+      Worthy is she of a noble song!
+
+    Sing me the might of her giant mountains,
+      Baring their brows in the dazzling blue;
+    Changeless alone, where all else changes,
+      Emblems of all that is grand and true:
+    Free, as the eagles around them soaring;
+      Fair, as they rose from their Maker's hand:
+    Shout, till the snow-caps catch the chorus--
+      The white-topp'd peaks of our mountain land.
+
+    Sing me the calm of her tranquil forests,
+      Silence eternal, and peace profound,
+    In whose great heart's deep recesses
+      Breaks no tempest, and comes no sound;
+    Face to face with the deathlike stillness,
+      Here, if at all, man's soul might quail:
+    Nay! 'tis the love of that great peace leads us
+      Thither, where solace will never fail!
+
+    Sing me the pride of her stately rivers,
+      Cleaving their way to the far-off sea;
+    Glory of strength in their deep-mouth'd music--
+      Glory of mirth in their tameless glee.
+    Hark! 'tis the roar of the tumbling rapids;
+      Deep unto deep through the dead night calls;
+    Truly, I hear but the voice of Freedom
+      Shouting her name from her fortress walls!
+
+    Sing me the joy of her fertile prairies,
+      League upon league of the golden grain:
+    Comfort, housed in the smiling homestead--
+      Plenty, throned on the lumbering wain.
+    Land of Contentment! May no strife vex you,
+      Never war's flag on your plains be unfurl'd;
+    Only the blessings of mankind reach you--
+      Finding the food for a hungry world!
+
+    Sing me the charm of her blazing camp fires;
+      Sing me the quiet of her happy homes,
+    Whether afar 'neath the forest arches,
+      Or in the shade of the city's domes;
+    Sing me her life, her loves, her labours;
+      All of a mother a son would hear;
+    For when a lov'd one's praise is sounding,
+      Sweet are the strains to the lover's ear.
+
+    Sing me the worth of each Canadian,
+      Roamer in wilderness--toiler in town--
+    Search earth over you'll find none stancher,
+      Whether his hands be white or brown;
+    Come of a right good stock to start with,
+      Best of the world's blood in each vein;
+    Lords of ourselves, and slaves to no one,
+      For us or from us, you'll find we're--MEN!
+
+    Sing me the song, then; sing it bravely;
+      Put your soul in the words you sing;
+    Sing me the praise of this glorious country--
+      Clear on the ear let the deep notes ring.
+    Here is no starveling--Heaven-forsaken--
+      Crouching apart where the Nations throng;
+    Proud as the proudest moves she among them--
+      Well is she worthy a noble song!
+
+ROBERT REID
+
+
+
+
+A MAD TEA PARTY
+
+
+There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the
+March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting
+between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion,
+resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. "Very
+uncomfortable for the Dormouse," thought Alice; "only, as it's asleep,
+I suppose it doesn't mind."
+
+The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at
+one corner of it: "No room! No room!" they cried out when they saw Alice
+coming. "There's _plenty_ of room!" said Alice, indignantly, and she sat
+down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.
+
+"Your hair wants cutting," said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice
+for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.
+
+"You should learn not to make personal remarks," Alice said with some
+severity: "it's very rude."
+
+The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he _said_
+was: "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"
+
+"Come, we shall have some fun now!" thought Alice. "I'm glad they've
+begun asking riddles--I believe I can guess that," she added aloud.
+
+"Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" said the
+March Hare.
+
+"Exactly so," said Alice.
+
+"Then you should say what you mean," the March Hare went on.
+
+"I do," Alice hastily replied; "at least--at least I mean what I
+say--that's the same thing, you know."
+
+"Not the same thing a bit!" said the Hatter. "Why, you might just as
+well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I
+see'!"
+
+"You might just as well say," added the March Hare, "that 'I like what I
+get' is the same thing as 'I get what I like'!"
+
+"You might just as well say," added the Dormouse, who seemed to be
+talking in its sleep, "that 'I breathe when I sleep' is the same thing
+as 'I sleep when I breathe'!"
+
+"It _is_ the same thing with you," said the Hatter, and here the
+conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice
+thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks,
+which wasn't much.
+
+"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Alice
+again.
+
+"No, I give it up," Alice replied: "what's the answer?"
+
+"I haven't the slightest idea," said the Hatter.
+
+"Nor I," said the March Hare.
+
+Alice sighed wearily. "I think you might do something better with the
+time," she said, "than wasting it in asking riddles that have no
+answers."
+
+"Suppose we change the subject," the March Hare interrupted, yawning.
+"I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story."
+
+"I'm afraid I don't know one," said Alice, rather alarmed at the
+proposal.
+
+"Then the Dormouse shall!" they both cried.
+
+"Wake up, Dormouse!" And they pinched it on both sides at once.
+
+The Dormouse slowly opened its eyes. "I wasn't asleep," it said in a
+hoarse, feeble voice, "I heard every word you fellows were saying."
+
+"Tell us a story!" said the March Hare.
+
+"Yes, please do!" pleaded Alice.
+
+"And be quick about it," added the Hatter, "or you'll be asleep again
+before it's done."
+
+"Once upon a time there were three little sisters," the Dormouse began
+in a great hurry, "and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and
+they lived at the bottom of a well--"
+
+"What did they live on?" said Alice, who always took a great interest in
+questions of eating and drinking.
+
+"They lived on treacle," said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or
+two.
+
+"They couldn't have done that, you know," Alice gently remarked: "they'd
+have been ill."
+
+"So they were," said the Dormouse, "_very_ ill."
+
+Alice tried a little to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary way
+of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on:
+"But why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
+
+"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.
+
+"I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't
+take more."
+
+"You mean you can't take _less_," said the Hatter: "It's very easy to
+take _more_ than nothing."
+
+"Nobody asked _your_ opinion," said Alice.
+
+"Who's making personal remarks now?" the Hatter asked triumphantly.
+
+Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to
+some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and
+repeated her question. "Why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
+
+The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then
+said: "It was a treacle-well."
+
+"There's no such thing!" Alice was beginning very angrily, but the
+Hatter and the March Hare went "Sh! Sh!" and the Dormouse sulkily
+remarked: "If you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for
+yourself."
+
+"No, please go on!" Alice said, very humbly, "I won't interrupt you
+again. I dare say there may be _one_."
+
+"One, indeed!" said the Dormouse, indignantly. However it consented to
+go on. "And so these three little sisters--they were learning to draw,
+you know--"
+
+"What did they draw?" said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.
+
+"Treacle," said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.
+
+"I want a clean cup," interrupted the Hatter, "let's all move one place
+on."
+
+He moved as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare
+moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice, rather unwillingly, took the
+place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any
+advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than
+before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk jug into his plate.
+
+Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very
+cautiously: "But I don't understand. Where did they draw the treacle
+from?"
+
+"You can draw water out of a water-well," said the Hatter; "so I should
+think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well--eh stupid?"
+
+"But they were _in_ the well," Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing
+to notice this last remark.
+
+"Of course they were," said the Dormouse,--"well in."
+
+This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for
+some time without interrupting it.
+
+"They were learning to draw," the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing
+its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; "and they drew all manner of
+things--everything that begins with an M--"
+
+"Why with an M?" said Alice.
+
+"Why not?" said the March Hare.
+
+Alice was silent.
+
+The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a
+doze, but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a
+little shriek, and went on, "--that begins with an M, such as
+mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness--you know you say
+things are 'much of a muchness'--did you ever see such a thing as a
+drawing of a muchness?"
+
+"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't
+think--"
+
+"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.
+
+This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in
+great disgust, and walked off: the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and
+neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she
+looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her:
+the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into
+the teapot.
+
+LEWIS CARROLL: "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland."
+
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE'S DREAM
+
+
+    Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
+      His sickle in his hand;
+    His breast was bare, his matted hair
+      Was buried in the sand.
+    Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
+      He saw his Native Land.
+
+    Wide through the landscape of his dreams
+      The lordly Niger flowed;
+    Beneath the palm trees on the plain
+      Once more a king he strode;
+    And heard the tinkling caravans
+      Descend the mountain road.
+
+    He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
+      Among her children stand;
+    They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
+      They held him by the hand!--
+    A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
+      And fell into the sand.
+
+    And then at furious speed he rode
+      Along the Niger's bank;
+    His bridle-reins were golden chains,
+      And, with a martial clank,
+    At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
+      Smiting his stallion's flank.
+
+    Before him, like a blood-red flag,
+      The bright flamingoes flew;
+    From morn till night he followed their flight,
+      O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
+    Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
+      And the ocean rose to view.
+
+    At night he heard the lion roar,
+      And the hyena scream,
+    And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds,
+      Beside some hidden stream;
+    And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
+      Through the triumph of his dream.
+
+    The forests, with their myriad tongues,
+      Shouted of liberty;
+    And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
+      With a voice so wild and free,
+    That he started in his sleep and smiled
+      At their tempestuous glee.
+
+    He did not feel the driver's whip,
+      Nor the burning heat of day;
+    For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
+      And his lifeless body lay
+    A worn-out fetter, that the soul
+      Had broken and thrown away!
+
+LONGFELLOW
+
+
+
+
+Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact
+man. Histories make men wise; poets, witty; the mathematics, subtle;
+logic and rhetoric, able to contend.
+
+BACON
+
+
+
+
+THE CHASE
+
+
+Early one August morning a doe was feeding on Basin Mountain.
+
+The sole companion of the doe was her only child, a charming little
+fawn, whose brown coat was just beginning to be mottled with beautiful
+spots.
+
+The buck, his father, had been that night on a long tramp across the
+mountain to Clear Pond, and had not yet returned. He went to feed on the
+lily pads there.
+
+The doe was daintily cropping tender leaves and turning from time to
+time to regard her offspring. The fawn had taken his morning meal and
+now lay curled up on a bed of moss.
+
+If the mother stepped a pace or two farther away in feeding, the fawn
+made a half-movement, as if to rise and follow her. If, in alarm, he
+uttered a plaintive cry, she bounded to him at once.
+
+It was a pretty picture,--maternal love on the one part, and happy trust
+on the other.
+
+The doe lifted her head with a quick motion. Had she heard something?
+Probably it was only the south wind in the balsams. There was silence
+all about in the forest. With an affectionate glance at her fawn, she
+continued picking up her breakfast.
+
+But suddenly she started, head erect, eyes dilated, a tremor in her
+limbs. She turned her head to the south; she listened intently.
+
+There was a sound, a distinct, prolonged note, pervading the woods. It
+was repeated. The doe had no doubt now. It was the baying of a
+hound--far off, at the foot of the mountain.
+
+Time enough to fly; time enough to put miles between her and the hound
+before he should come upon her fresh trail; yes, time enough. But there
+was the fawn.
+
+The cry of the hound was repeated, more distinct this time. The mother
+bounded away a few paces. The fawn started up with an anxious bleat. The
+doe turned; she came back; she couldn't leave him.
+
+She walked away toward the west, and the little thing skipped after her.
+It was slow going for the slender legs, over the fallen logs and through
+the rasping bushes. The doe bounded in advance and waited. The fawn
+scrambled after her, slipping and tumbling along, and whining a good
+deal because his mother kept always moving away from him.
+
+Whenever the fawn caught up, he was quite content to frisk about. He
+wanted more breakfast, for one thing; and his mother wouldn't stand
+still. She moved on continually; and his weak legs were tangled in the
+roots of the narrow deer path.
+
+Suddenly came a sound that threw the doe into a panic of terror,--a
+short, sharp yelp, followed by a prolonged howl, caught up and re-echoed
+by other bayings along the mountain side. The danger was certain now; it
+was near. She could not crawl on in this way; the dogs would soon be
+upon them. She turned again for flight. The fawn, scrambling after her,
+tumbled over, and bleated piteously. Flight with the fawn was
+impossible.
+
+The doe returned, stood by him, head erect and nostrils distended.
+Perhaps she was thinking. The fawn lay down contentedly, and the doe
+licked him for a moment. Then, with the swiftness of a bird, she dashed
+away, and in a moment was lost in the forest. She went in the direction
+of the hounds.
+
+She descended the slope of the mountain until she reached the more open
+forest of hard wood. She was going due east, when she turned away toward
+the north, and kept on at a good pace.
+
+In five minutes more she heard the sharp yelp of discovery, and then the
+deep-mouthed howl of pursuit. The hounds had struck her trail where she
+turned, and the fawn was safe.
+
+For the moment fear left her, and she bounded on with the exaltation of
+triumph. For a quarter of an hour she went on at a slapping pace,
+clearing the bushes with bound after bound, flying over the fallen logs,
+pausing neither for brook nor ravine. The baying of the hounds grew
+fainter behind.
+
+After running at high speed perhaps half a mile farther, it occurred to
+her that it would be safe now to turn to the west, and, by a wide
+circuit, seek her fawn. But at the moment she heard a sound that chilled
+her heart. It was the cry of a hound to the west of her. There was
+nothing to do but to keep on, and on she went, with the noise of the
+pack behind her.
+
+In five minutes more she had passed into a hillside clearing. She heard
+a tinkle of bells. Below her, down the mountain slope, were other
+clearings broken by patches of woods. A mile or two down lay the valley
+and the farmhouses. That way also her enemies were. Not a merciful heart
+in all that lovely valley. She hesitated; it was only for an instant.
+
+She must cross the Slide Brook valley, if possible, and gain the
+mountain opposite. She bounded on; she stopped. What was that? From the
+valley ahead came the cry of a searching hound. Every way was closed but
+one, and that led straight down the mountain to the cluster of houses.
+The hunted doe went down "the open," clearing the fences, flying along
+the stony path.
+
+As she approached Slide Brook, she saw a boy standing by a tree with a
+raised rifle. The dogs were not in sight, but she could hear them coming
+down the hill. There was no time for hesitation. With a tremendous burst
+of speed she cleared the stream, and as she touched the bank heard the
+"ping" of a rifle bullet in the air above her. The cruel sound gave
+wings to the poor thing.
+
+In a moment more she leaped into the travelled road. Women and children
+ran to the doors and windows; men snatched their rifles. There were
+twenty people who were just going to shoot her, when the doe leaped the
+road fence, and went away across a marsh toward the foothills.
+
+By this time the dogs, panting and lolling out their tongues, came
+swinging along, keeping the trail, like stupids, and consequently
+losing ground when the deer doubled. But when the doe had got into the
+timber, she heard the savage brutes howling across the meadow. (It is
+well enough, perhaps, to say that nobody offered to shoot the dogs.)
+
+The courage of the panting fugitive was not gone, but the fearful pace
+at which she had been going told on her. Her legs trembled, and her
+heart beat like a trip-hammer. She slowed her speed, but still fled up
+the right bank of the stream. The dogs were gaining again, and she
+crossed the broad, deep brook. The fording of the river threw the hounds
+off for a time. She used the little respite to push on until the baying
+was faint in her ears.
+
+Late in the afternoon she staggered down the shoulder of Bartlett, and
+stood upon the shore of the lake. If she could put that piece of water
+between her and her pursuers, she would be safe. Had she strength to
+swim it?
+
+At her first step into the water she saw a sight that sent her back with
+a bound. There was a boat mid-lake; two men were in it. One was rowing;
+the other had a gun in his hand. What should she do? With only a
+moment's hesitation she plunged into the lake. Her tired legs could not
+propel the tired body rapidly.
+
+The doe saw the boat nearing her. She turned to the shore whence she
+came; the dogs were lapping the water and howling there. She turned
+again to the centre of the lake. The brave, pretty creature was quite
+exhausted now. In a moment more the boat was on her, and the man at the
+oars had leaned over and caught her.
+
+"Knock her on the head with that paddle!" he shouted to the gentleman in
+the stern. The gentleman _was_ a gentleman, with a kind face. He took
+the paddle in his hand. Just then the doe turned her head and looked at
+him with her great appealing eyes.
+
+"I can't do it! I can't do it!" and he dropped the paddle. "Oh, let her
+go!"
+
+But the guide slung the deer round, and whipped out his hunting-knife.
+And the gentleman ate that night of the venison.
+
+CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+THE INCHCAPE ROCK
+
+
+    No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
+    The ship was as still as she could be;
+    Her sails from heaven received no motion,
+    Her keel was steady in the ocean.
+
+    Without either sign or sound of their shock,
+    The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;
+    So little they rose, so little they fell,
+    They did not move the Inchcape Bell.
+
+    The pious Abbot of Aberbrothock
+    Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
+    On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
+    And over the waves its warning rung.
+
+    When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell,
+    The mariners heard the warning bell;
+    And then they knew the perilous Rock,
+    And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothock.
+
+    The sun in heaven was shining gay;
+    All things were joyful on that day;
+    The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round,
+    And there was joyance in their sound.
+
+    The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen,
+    A darker speck on the ocean green;
+    Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
+    And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
+
+    He felt the cheering power of spring;
+    It made him whistle, it made him sing:
+    His heart was mirthful to excess,
+    But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.
+
+    His eye was on the Inchcape float;
+    Quoth he: "My men, put out the boat,
+    And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
+    And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothock."
+
+    The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
+    And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
+    Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
+    And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.
+
+    Down sank the bell, with a gurgling sound,
+    The bubbles rose and burst around;
+    Quoth Sir Ralph: "The next who comes to the Rock
+    Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothock."
+
+    Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away;
+    He scoured the seas for many a day;
+    And now, grown rich with plundered store,
+    He steers his course for Scotland's shore.
+
+    So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
+    They cannot see the sun on high;
+    The wind hath blown a gale all day,
+    At evening it hath died away.
+
+    On the deck the Rover takes his stand;
+    So dark it is, they see no land.
+    Quoth Sir Ralph: "It will be lighter soon,
+    For there is the dawn of the rising moon."
+
+    "Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar?
+    For methinks we should be near the shore."
+    "Now where we are I cannot tell,
+    But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell."
+
+    They hear no sound; the swell is strong;
+    Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,
+    Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock;
+    Cried they: "It is the Inchcape Rock!"
+
+    Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
+    He cursed himself in his despair:
+    The waves rush in on every side;
+    The ship is sinking beneath the tide.
+
+    But, even in his dying fear,
+    One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,--
+    A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell,
+    The fiends below were ringing his knell.
+
+SOUTHEY
+
+
+
+
+A ROUGH RIDE
+
+
+"Well, young ones, what be gaping at?"
+
+"Your mare," said I, standing stoutly up, being a tall boy now; "I never
+saw such a beauty, sir. Will you let me have a ride on her?"
+
+"Think thou couldst ride her, lad? She will have no burden but mine.
+Thou couldst never ride her! Tut! I would be loath to kill thee."
+
+"Ride her!" I cried, with the bravest scorn, for she looked so kind and
+gentle; "there never was a horse upon Exmoor but I could tackle in half
+an hour. Only I never ride upon saddle. Take those leathers off of her."
+
+He looked at me with a dry little whistle, and thrust his hands into his
+pockets, and so grinned that I could not stand it. And Annie laid hold
+of me in such a way that I was almost mad with her. And he laughed, and
+approved her for doing so. And the worst of all was--he said nothing.
+
+"Get away, Annie. Do you think I'm a fool, good sir? Only trust me with
+her, and I will not override her."
+
+"For that I will go bail, my son. She is liker to override thee. But the
+ground is soft to fall upon after all this rain. Now come out into the
+yard, young man, for the sake of your mother's cabbages. And the mellow
+strawbed will be softer for thee, since pride must have its fall. I am
+thy mother's cousin, boy, and I'm going up to the house. Tom Faggus is
+my name, as everybody knows, and this is my young mare, Winnie."
+
+What a fool I must have been not to know it at once! Tom Faggus, the
+great highwayman, and his young blood mare, the strawberry.
+
+Already her fame was noised abroad nearly as much as her master's, and
+my longing to ride her grew tenfold, but fear came at the back of it.
+Not that I had the smallest fear of what the mare could do to me, by
+fair play and horse-trickery, but that the glory of sitting upon her
+seemed to be too great for me; especially as there were rumours abroad
+that she was not a mare, after all, but a witch.
+
+Mr. Faggus gave his mare a wink, and she walked demurely after him, a
+bright young thing, flowing over with life, yet dropping her soul to a
+higher one, and led by love to anything, as the manner is of such
+creatures, when they know what is best for them. Then Winnie trod
+lightly upon the straw, because it had soft muck under it, and her
+delicate feet came back again.
+
+"Up for it still, boy, be ye?" Tom Faggus stopped, and the mare stopped
+there; and they looked at me provokingly.
+
+"Is she able to leap, sir? There is good take-off on this side of the
+brook."
+
+Mr. Faggus laughed very quietly, turning round to Winnie so that she
+might enter into it. And she, for her part, seemed to know exactly where
+the fun lay.
+
+"Good tumble-off, you mean, my boy. Well, there can be small harm to
+thee. I am akin to thy family, and know the substance of their skulls."
+
+"Let me get up," said I, waxing wroth, for reasons I cannot tell you,
+because they are too manifold; "take off your saddle-bag things. I will
+try not to squeeze her ribs in, unless she plays nonsense with me."
+
+Then Mr. Faggus was up on his mettle at this proud speech of mine, and
+John Fry was running up all the while, and Bill Dadds, and half a dozen
+others. Tom Faggus gave one glance around, and then dropped all regard
+for me. The high repute of his mare was at stake, and what was my life
+compared to it? Through my defiance, and stupid ways, here was I in a
+duello, and my legs not come to their strength yet, and my arms as limp
+as a herring.
+
+Something of this occurred to him, even in his wrath with me, for he
+spoke very softly to the filly, who now could scarcely subdue herself;
+but she drew in her nostrils, and breathed to his breath, and did all
+she could to answer him.
+
+"Not too hard, my dear," he said; "let him gently down on the mixen.
+That will be quite enough." Then he turned the saddle off, and I was up
+in a moment. She began at first so easily, and pricked her ears so
+lovingly, and minced about as if pleased to find so light a weight upon
+her, that I thought she knew I could ride a little, and feared to show
+any capers. "Gee wugg, Polly!" cried I, for all the men were now looking
+on, being then at the leaving-off time; "Gee wugg, Polly, and show what
+thou be'est made of." With that I plugged my heels into her, and Billy
+Dadds flung his hat up.
+
+Nevertheless, she outraged not, though her eyes were frightening Annie,
+and John Fry took a pick to keep him safe; but she curbed to and fro
+with her strong forearms rising like springs ingathered, waiting and
+quivering grievously, and beginning to sweat about it. Then her master
+gave a shrill, clear whistle, when her ears were bent towards him, and
+I felt her form beneath me gathering up like whalebone, and her hind
+legs coming under her, and I knew that I was in for it.
+
+First she reared upright in the air, and struck me full on the nose with
+her comb, till I bled worse than Robin Snell made me; and then down with
+her forefeet deep in the straw, and with her hind feet going to heaven.
+Finding me stick to her still like wax, for my mettle was up as hers
+was, away she flew with me swifter than ever I went before or since, I
+trow.
+
+She drove full head at the cob wall--"Oh, Jack, slip off!" screamed
+Annie--then she turned like light, when I thought to crush her, and
+ground my left knee against it. "Dear me!" I cried, for my breeches were
+broken, and short words went the furthest--"if you kill me, you shall
+die with me." Then she took the courtyard gate at a leap, knocking my
+words between my teeth, and then right over a quick-set hedge, as if the
+sky were a breath to her; and away for the water meadows, while I lay on
+her neck like a child, and wished I had never been born.
+
+Straight away, all in the front of the wind, and scattering clouds
+around her, all I knew of the speed we made was the frightful flash of
+her shoulders, and her mane like trees in a tempest. I felt the earth
+under us rushing away, and the air left far behind us, and my breath
+came and went, and I prayed to God, and was sorry to be so late of it.
+
+All the long swift while, without power of thought, I clung to her crest
+and shoulders, and was proud of holding on so long, though sure of being
+beaten. Then in her fury at feeling me still, she rushed at another
+device for it, and leaped the wide water-trough sideways across, to and
+fro, till no breath was left in me. The hazel boughs took me too hard in
+the face, and the tall dog-briers got hold of me, and the ache of my
+back was like crimping a fish, till I longed to give it up, thoroughly
+beaten, and lie there and die in the cresses.
+
+But there came a shrill whistle from up the home hill, where the people
+had hurried to watch us, and the mare stopped as if with a bullet, then
+set off for home with the speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and
+silently. I never had dreamed of such delicate motion, fluent, and
+graceful, and ambient, soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but
+swift as the summer lightning.
+
+I sat up again, but my strength was all spent, and no time left to
+recover it; and though she rose at our gate like a bird, I tumbled off
+into the soft mud.
+
+"Well done, lad," Mr. Faggus said, good-naturedly; for all were now
+gathered round me, as I rose from the ground, somewhat tottering, and
+miry, and crest-fallen, but otherwise none the worse (having fallen upon
+my head, which is of uncommon substance); "not at all bad work, my boy;
+we may teach you to ride by and by, I see; I thought not to see you
+stick on so long--"
+
+"I should have stuck on much longer, sir, if her sides had not been wet.
+She was so slippery--"
+
+"Boy, thou art right. She hath given many the slip. Ha! ha! Vex not,
+Jack, that I laugh at thee. She is like a sweetheart to me, and better
+than any of them be. It would have gone to my heart if thou hadst
+conquered. None but I can ride my Winnie mare."
+
+R. D. BLACKMORE: "Lorna Doone."
+
+
+
+
+    Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+      The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
+    Full many a flower is born to blush unseen
+      And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+GRAY
+
+
+
+
+THE ARAB AND HIS STEED
+
+
+    My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,
+    With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye;
+    Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy winged speed,
+    I may not mount on thee again--thou'rt sold, my Arab steed.
+
+    Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind,
+    The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind;
+    The stranger hath thy bridle-rein--thy master hath his gold--
+    Fleet-limbed and beautiful! farewell! thou'rt sold, my steed, thou'rt sold!
+
+    Farewell! those free untired limbs full many a mile must roam,
+    To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home;
+    Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed prepare;
+    The silky mane I braided once must be another's care.
+
+    The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee
+    Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where we were wont to be:
+    Evening shall darken on the earth; and o'er the sandy plain,
+    Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home again.
+
+    Yes, thou must go! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky,
+    Thy master's home--from all of these my exiled one must fly.
+    Thy proud, dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet,
+    And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet.
+
+    Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye glancing bright;
+    Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light;
+    And when I raise my dreaming arm to check or cheer thy speed,
+    Then must I, starting, wake to feel--thou'rt sold, my Arab steed!
+
+    Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel hand may chide,
+    Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested waves, along thy panting side,
+    And the rich blood that's in thee swells in thy indignant pain,
+    Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each startled vein.
+
+    Will they ill-use thee? If I thought--but no, it cannot be--
+    Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed; so gentle, yet so free.
+    And yet, if haply, when thou'rt gone my lonely heart should yearn,
+    Can the hand which casts thee from it now, command thee to return?
+
+    Return! alas! my Arab steed! what shall thy master do,
+    When thou who wert his all of joy, hast vanished from his view?
+    When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and through the gathering tears,
+    Thy bright form for a moment, like the false mirage appears?
+
+    Slow and unmounted will I roam, with weary step alone,
+    Where with fleet step and joyous bound thou oft hast borne me on!
+    And sitting down by that green well, I'll pause and sadly think:
+    It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him drink!
+
+    When last I saw thee drink!--Away! the fevered dream is o'er;
+    I could not live a day, and know that we should meet no more!
+    They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger's power is strong,
+    They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long.
+
+    Who said that I had given thee up, who said that thou wert sold?
+    'Tis false--'tis false, my Arab steed! I fling them back their gold.
+    Thus, thus I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains,
+    Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains!
+
+THE HONOURABLE MRS. NORTON
+
+
+
+
+THE POET'S SONG
+
+
+    The rain had fallen, the Poet arose,
+      He pass'd by the town and out of the street,
+    A light wind blew from the gates of the sun,
+      And waves of shadow went over the wheat,
+    And he sat him down in a lonely place,
+      And chanted a melody loud and sweet,
+    That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud,
+      And the lark drop down at his feet.
+
+    The swallow stopt as he hunted the fly,
+      The snake slipt under a spray,
+    The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak,
+      And stared, with his foot on the prey,
+    And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs,
+      But never a one so gay,
+    For he sings of what the world will be
+      When the years have died away."
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+Never to tire, never to grow cold; to be patient, sympathetic, tender;
+to look for the budding flower, and the opening heart; to hope always,
+like God, to love always--this is duty.
+
+AMIEL
+
+
+
+
+ADVENTURE WITH A WHALE
+
+
+I gaily flung myself into my place in the mate's boat one morning, as we
+were departing in chase of a magnificent cachalot that had been raised
+just after breakfast. There were no other vessels in sight,--much to our
+satisfaction,--the wind was light, with a cloudless sky, and the whale
+was dead to leeward of us. We sped along at a good rate towards our
+prospective victim, who was, in his leisurely enjoyment of life, calmly
+lolling on the surface, occasionally lifting his enormous tail out of
+water and letting it fall flat upon the surface with a boom audible for
+miles.
+
+We were, as usual, first boat; but, much to the mate's annoyance, when
+we were a short half-mile from the whale our main-sheet parted. It
+became immediately necessary to roll the sail up, lest its flapping
+should alarm the watchful monster, and this delayed us sufficiently to
+allow the other boats to shoot ahead of us. Thus the second mate got
+fast some seconds before we arrived on the scene, seeing which, we
+furled sail, unshipped the mast, and went in on him with the oars only.
+At first the proceedings were quite of the usual character, our chief
+wielding his lance in most brilliant fashion, while not being fast to
+the animal allowed us much greater freedom in our evolutions; but that
+fatal habit of the mate's--of allowing his boat to take care of herself
+so long as he was getting in some good home-thrusts--once more asserted
+itself. Although the whale was exceedingly vigorous, churning the sea
+into yeasty foam over an enormous area, there we wallowed close to him,
+right in the middle of the turmoil, actually courting disaster.
+
+He had just settled down for a moment, when, glancing over the gunwale,
+I saw his tail, like a vast shadow, sweeping away from us towards the
+second mate, who was lying off the other side of him. Before I had time
+to think, the mighty mass of gristle leaped into the sunshine, curved
+back from us like a huge bow. Then with a roar it came at us, released
+from its tension of Heaven knows how many tons. Full on the broadside it
+struck us, sending every soul but me flying out of the wreckage as if
+fired from catapults. I did not go because my foot was jammed somehow in
+the well of the boat, but the wrench nearly pulled my thighbone out of
+its socket. I had hardly released my foot when, towering above me, came
+the colossal head of the great creature, as he ploughed through the
+bundle of _debris_ that had just been a boat. There was an appalling
+roar of water in my ears, and darkness that might be felt all around.
+Yet, in the midst of it all, one thought predominated as clearly as if I
+had been turning it over in my mind in the quiet of my bunk
+aboard--"What if he should swallow me?" Nor to this day can I understand
+how I escaped the portals of his gullet, which, of course, gaped wide as
+a church door. But the agony of holding my breath soon overpowered every
+other feeling and thought, till just as something was going to snap
+inside my head, I rose to the surface. I was surrounded by a welter of
+bloody froth, which, made it impossible for me to see; but oh, the air
+was sweet!
+
+I struck out blindly, instinctively, although I could feel so strong an
+eddy that voluntary progress was out of the question. My hand touched
+and clung to a rope, which immediately towed me in some direction--I
+neither knew nor cared whither. Soon the motion ceased, and, with a
+seaman's instinct, I began to haul myself along by the rope I grasped,
+although no definite idea was in my mind as to where it was attached.
+Presently I came butt up against something solid, the feel of which
+gathered all my scattered wits into a compact knob of dread. It was the
+whale! "Any port in a storm," I murmured, beginning to haul away again
+on my friendly line. By dint of hard work I pulled myself right up the
+sloping, slippery bank of blubber, until I reached the iron, which, as
+luck would have it, was planted in that side of the carcass now
+uppermost.
+
+Carcass I said--well, certainly I had no idea of there being any life
+remaining within the vast mass beneath me; yet I had hardly time to take
+a couple of turns round myself with the rope (or whale-line, as I had
+proved it to be), when I felt the great animal quiver all over, and
+begin to forge ahead. I was now composed enough to remember that help
+could not be far away, and that my rescue, providing that I could keep
+above water, was but a question of a few minutes. But I was hardly
+prepared for the whale's next move. Being very near his end, the boat,
+or boats, had drawn off a bit, I supposed, for I could see nothing of
+them. Then I remembered the flurry.
+
+Almost at the same moment it began; and there was I, who, with fearful
+admiration had so often watched the titanic convulsions of a dying
+cachalot, actually involved in them. The turns were off my body, but I
+was able to twist a couple of turns round my arms, which, in case of his
+sounding, I could readily let go. Then all was lost in roar and rush, as
+of the heart of some mighty cataract, during which I was sometimes
+above, sometimes beneath, the water, but always clinging, with every
+ounce of energy still left, to the line. Now, one thought was
+uppermost--"What if he should breach?" I had seen them do so when in
+flurry, leaping full twenty feet in the air. Then I prayed.
+
+Quickly as all the preceding changes had passed, came perfect peace.
+There I lay, still alive, but so weak that, although I could feel the
+turns slipping off my arms, and knew that I should slide off the slope
+of the whale's side into the sea if they did, I could make no effort to
+secure myself. Everything then passed away from me, just as if I had
+gone to sleep. I do not at all understand how I kept my position, nor
+how long, but I awoke to the blessed sound of voices, and saw the second
+mate's boat alongside.
+
+FRANK T. BULLEN: "The Cruise of the Cachalot."
+
+
+
+
+THE MAPLE
+
+
+    All hail to the broad-leaved Maple!
+      With her fair and changeful dress--
+    A type of our youthful country
+      In its pride and loveliness;
+    Whether in Spring or Summer,
+      Or in the dreary Fall,
+    'Mid Nature's forest children,
+      She's fairest of them all.
+
+    Down sunny slopes and valleys
+      Her graceful form is seen,
+    Her wide, umbrageous branches
+      The sunburnt reaper screen;
+    'Mid the dark-browed firs and cedars
+      Her livelier colours shine,
+    Like the dawn of the brighter future
+      On the settler's hut of pine.
+
+    She crowns the pleasant hilltop,
+      Whispers on breezy downs,
+    And casts refreshing shadows
+      O'er the streets of our busy towns;
+    She gladdens the aching eyeball,
+      Shelters the weary head,
+    And scatters her crimson glories
+      On the graves of the silent dead.
+
+    When winter's frosts are yielding
+      To the sun's returning sway,
+    And merry groups are speeding
+      To sugar-woods away;
+    The sweet and welling juices,
+      Which form their welcome spoil,
+    Tell of the teeming plenty,
+      Which here waits honest toil.
+
+    When sweet-toned Spring, soft-breathing,
+      Breaks Nature's icy sleep,
+    And the forest boughs are swaying
+      Like the green waves of the deep;
+    In her fair and budding beauty,
+      A fitting emblem, she,
+    Of this our land of promise,
+      Of hope, of liberty.
+
+    And when her leaves, all crimson,
+      Droop silently and fall,
+    Like drops of life-blood welling
+      From a warrior brave and tall;
+    They tell how fast and freely
+      Would her children's blood be shed,
+    Ere the soil of our faith and freedom
+      Should echo a foeman's tread.
+
+    Then hail to the broad-leaved Maple!
+      With her fair and changeful dress--
+    A type of our youthful country
+      In its pride and loveliness;
+    Whether in Spring or Summer,
+      Or in the dreary Fall,
+    'Mid Nature's forest children,
+      She's fairest of them all.
+
+H. F. DARNELL
+
+
+
+
+DAMON AND PYTHIAS
+
+
+In Syracuse there was so hard a ruler that the people made a plot to
+drive him out of the city. The plot was discovered, and the king
+commanded that the leaders should be put to death. One of these, named
+Damon, lived at some distance from Syracuse. He asked that before he was
+put to death he might be allowed to go home to say good-bye to his
+family, promising that he would then come back to die at the appointed
+time.
+
+The king did not believe that he would keep his word, and said: "I will
+not let you go unless you find some friend who will come and stay in
+your place. Then, if you are not back on the day set for execution, I
+shall put your friend to death in your stead." The king thought to
+himself: "Surely no one will ever take the place of a man condemned to
+death."
+
+Now, Damon had a very dear friend, named Pythias, who at once came
+forward and offered to stay in prison while Damon was allowed to go
+away. The king was very much surprised, but he had given his word; Damon
+was therefore permitted to leave for home, while Pythias was shut up in
+prison.
+
+Many days passed, the time for the execution was close at hand, and
+Damon had not come back. The king, curious to see how Pythias would
+behave, now that death seemed so near, went to the prison.
+
+"Your friend will never return," he said to Pythias.
+
+"You are wrong," was the answer. "Damon will be here if he can possibly
+come. But he has to travel by sea, and the winds have been blowing the
+wrong way for several days. However, it is much better that I should die
+than he. I have no wife and no children, and I love my friend so well
+that it would be easier to die for him than to live without him. So I am
+hoping and praying that he may be delayed until my head has fallen."
+
+The king went away more puzzled than ever.
+
+The fatal day arrived but Damon had not come. Pythias was brought
+forward and led upon the scaffold. "My prayers are heard," he cried. "I
+shall be permitted to die for my friend. But mark my words. Damon is
+faithful and true; you will yet have reason to know that he has done his
+utmost to be here!"
+
+Just at this moment a man came galloping up at full speed, on a horse
+covered with foam! It was Damon. In an instant he was on the scaffold,
+and had Pythias in his arms. "My beloved friend," he cried, "the gods be
+praised that you are safe. What agony have I suffered in the fear that
+my delay was putting your life in danger!"
+
+There was no joy in the face of Pythias, for he did not care to live if
+his friend must die. But the king had heard all. At last he was forced
+to believe in the unselfish friendship of these two. His hard heart
+melted at the sight, and he set them both free, asking only that they
+would be his friends, also.
+
+CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
+
+
+
+
+    Honour and shame from no condition rise;
+    Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
+
+POPE
+
+
+
+
+THE WRECK OF THE ORPHEUS
+
+
+    All day, amid the masts and shrouds,
+      They hung above the wave;
+    The sky o'erhead was dark with clouds,
+      And dark beneath, their grave.
+    The water leaped against its prey,
+      Breaking with heavy crash,
+    And when some slack'ning hands gave way,
+      They fell with dull, low splash.
+
+    Captain and man ne'er thought to swerve;
+      The boats went to and fro;
+    With cheery face and tranquil nerve,
+      Each saw his brother go.
+    Each saw his brother go, and knew,
+      As night came swiftly on,
+    That less and less his own chance grew--
+      Night fell, and hope was gone.
+
+    The saved stood on the steamer's deck,
+      Straining their eyes to see
+    Their comrades clinging to the wreck
+      Upon that surging sea;
+    And still they gazed into the dark
+      Till, on their startled ears,
+    There came from that swift-sinking bark
+      A sound of gallant cheers.
+
+    Again, and yet again it rose;
+      Then silence round them fell--
+    Silence of death--and each man knows
+      It was a last farewell.
+    No cry of anguish, no wild shriek
+      Of men in agony--
+    No dropping down of watchers weak,
+      Weary and glad to die,
+
+    But death met with three British cheers--
+      Cheers of immortal fame;
+    For us the choking, blinding tears--
+      For them a glorious name.
+    Oh England, while thy sailor-host
+      Can live and die like these,
+    Be thy broad lands or won or lost,
+      Thou'rt mistress of the seas!
+
+C. A. L.
+
+
+
+
+THE TIDE RIVER
+
+
+      Clear and cool, clear and cool,
+    By laughing shallow, and dreaming pool;
+      Cool and clear, cool and clear,
+    By shining shingle, and foaming weir;
+    Under the crag where the ouzel sings,
+    And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings,
+      Undefiled, for the undefiled;
+    Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.
+
+      Dank and foul, dank and foul,
+    By the smoky town in its murky cowl;
+      Foul and dank, foul and dank,
+    By wharf and sewer and slimy bank;
+      Darker and darker the further I go,
+      Baser and baser the richer I grow;
+        Who dare sport with the sin defiled?
+    Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child.
+
+      Strong and free, strong and free,
+    The flood-gates are open, away to the sea;
+      Free and strong, free and strong,
+    Cleansing my streams as I hurry along
+    To the golden sands, and the leaping bar,
+    And the taintless tide that awaits me afar;
+    As I lose myself in the infinite main,
+    Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again.
+      Undefiled, for the undefiled,
+      Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.
+
+KINGSLEY
+
+
+
+
+The best result of all education is the acquired power of making
+yourself do what you ought to do, when you ought to do it, whether you
+like it or not.
+
+HUXLEY
+
+[Illustration: ONTARIO AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE]
+
+
+
+
+WISDOM THE SUPREME PRIZE
+
+
+    My son, despise not the chastening of the LORD;
+    Neither be weary of his reproof:
+    For whom the LORD loveth he reproveth;
+    Even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.
+
+      Happy is the man that findeth wisdom,
+      And the man that getteth understanding.
+      For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver,
+      And the gain thereof than fine gold.
+      She is more precious than rubies:
+      And none of the things thou canst desire are to be compared unto her.
+
+      Length of days is in her right hand;
+      In her left hand are riches and honour.
+      Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
+      And all her paths are peace.
+      She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her:
+      And happy is every one that retaineth her.
+
+    The LORD by wisdom founded the earth;
+    By understanding he established the heavens.
+    By his knowledge the depths were broken up,
+    And the skies drop down the dew.
+
+PROVERBS, III.
+
+
+
+
+THE ORCHARD
+
+
+    There's no garden like an orchard,
+      Nature shows no fairer thing
+    Than the apple trees in blossom
+      In these late days o' the spring.
+
+    Here the robin redbreast's nesting,
+      Here, from golden dawn till night,
+    Honey bees are gaily swimming
+      In a sea of pink and white.
+
+    Just a sea of fragrant blossoms,
+      Steeped in sunshine, drenched in dew,
+    Just a fragrant breath which tells you
+      Earth is fair again and new.
+
+    Just a breath of subtle sweetness,
+      Breath which holds the spice o' youth,
+    Holds the promise o' the summer--
+      Holds the best o' things, forsooth.
+
+    There's no garden like an orchard,
+      Nature shows no fairer thing
+    Than the apple trees in blossom
+      In these late days o' the spring.
+
+JEAN BLEWETT
+
+
+
+
+INSPIRED BY THE SNOW
+
+
+The black squirrel delights in the new-fallen snow like a boy--a real
+boy, with red hands as well as red cheeks, and an automatic mechanism of
+bones and muscles capable of all things except rest. The first snow
+sends a thrill of joy through every fibre of such a boy, and a thousand
+delights crowd into his mind. The gliding, falling coasters on the
+hills, the passing sleighs with niches on the runners for his feet, the
+flying snowballs, the sliding-places, the broad, tempting ice, all whirl
+through his mind in a delightful panorama, and he hurries out to catch
+the elusive flakes in his outstretched hands and to shout aloud in the
+gladness of his heart. And the black squirrel becomes a boy with the
+first snow. What a pity he cannot shout! There is a superabundant joy
+and life in his long, graceful bounds, when his beautiful form, in its
+striking contrast with the white snow, seems magnified to twice its real
+size. Perhaps there is vanity as well as joy in his lithe, bounding
+motions among the naked trees, for nature seems to have done her utmost
+to provide a setting that would best display his graces of form and
+motion.
+
+When the falling snow clings in light, airy masses on the spruces and
+pines, and festoons the naked tracery and clustering winter buds of the
+maples--when the still air seems to fix every twig and branch and
+clinging mass of snow in a solid medium of crystal, the spell of
+stillness is broken by the silent but joyful leaps of the hurrying
+squirrel. How alive he seems, in contrast with the silence of the snow,
+as his outlines contrast with its perfect white! His body curves and
+elongates with regular undulations, as he measures off the snow with
+twin footprints. Away in the distance he is still visible among the
+naked trunks, a moving patch of animated blackness. His free, regular
+footprints are all about, showing where he has run hither and thither,
+with no apparent purpose except to manifest his joy in life.
+
+His red-haired cousin comes to a lofty opening in a hollow tree and
+looks out with an expression of disappointment on his face. He does not
+like the snow-covered landscape spread out so artistically before him.
+It makes him tired, and he has not enough energy to scold an intruder,
+as he would in the comfortable days of summer. No amount of coaxing or
+tapping will tempt him from his lofty watch-tower, or win more
+recognition than a silent look of weary discontent. Another cousin, the
+chipmunk, no longer displays his daintily-striped coat. Oblivious in his
+burrow, he is sleeping away the days, and waiting for a more congenial
+season.
+
+But the black squirrel, now among the branches of an elm, is twitching
+from one rigid attitude to another, electrified by the crisp atmosphere
+and the inspiration of the snow. Again he is leaping over the white
+surface to clamber up the repellent bark of a tall hickory. Among the
+larger limbs he disappears. As he never attempts to hide, he must have
+retired into his own dwelling to partake of the store laid by in the
+season of plenty. Hickory nuts are his favourite food, and the hard
+shells seem but an appetizing relish. He knows the value of frugality,
+and gathers them before they are ripe, throwing down the shrivelled and
+unfilled, that the boys may not annoy him with stones and sticks. In
+winter he is the happiest of all the woodland family. He does not yield
+to the drowsy, numbing influence of the cold, nor to the depression of a
+season of scanty fare, but bounds along from tree to tree, inspired by
+the subtle spirit of winter and revelling in the joy of being alive.
+
+S. T. WOOD
+
+
+
+
+THE SQUIRREL
+
+
+    Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm
+    That age or injury has hollow'd deep,
+    Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves,
+    He has outslept the winter, ventures forth
+    To frisk a while, and bask in the warm sun,
+    The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play.
+    He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird,
+    Ascends the neighbouring beech; there whisks his brush,
+    And perks his ears, and stamps and scolds aloud,
+    With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm,
+    And anger insignificantly fierce.
+
+COWPER
+
+
+
+
+SOLDIER, REST
+
+
+    "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
+      Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
+    Dream of battled fields no more,
+      Days of danger, nights of waking.
+    In our isle's enchanted hall,
+      Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
+    Fairy strains of music fall,
+      Every sense in slumber dewing.
+    Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
+    Dream of fighting fields no more:
+    Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
+    Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
+
+    "No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
+      Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,
+    Trump nor pibroch summon here
+      Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
+    Yet the lark's shrill fife may come
+      At the daybreak from the fallow,
+    And the bittern sound his drum,
+      Booming from the sedgy shallow.
+    Ruder sounds shall none be near,
+    Guards nor warders challenge here,
+    Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
+    Shouting clans or squadrons stamping."
+
+SCOTT: "The Lady of the Lake"
+
+
+
+
+FISHING
+
+
+One fine Thursday afternoon, Tom, having borrowed East's new rod,
+started by himself to the river. He fished for some time with small
+success, not a fish would rise to him; but as he prowled along the bank,
+he was presently aware of mighty ones feeding in a pool on the opposite
+side, under the shade of a huge willow-tree. The stream was deep here,
+but some fifty yards below was a shallow, for which he made off
+hot-foot; and forgetting landlords, keepers, solemn prohibitions of the
+Doctor, and everything else, pulled up his trousers, plunged across, and
+in three minutes was creeping along on all fours towards the clump of
+willows.
+
+It isn't often that great chub, or any other coarse fish, are in earnest
+about anything; but just then they were thoroughly bent on feeding, and
+in half an hour Master Tom had deposited three thumping fellows at the
+foot of the giant willow. As he was baiting for a fourth pounder, and
+just going to throw in again, he became aware of a man coming up the
+bank not one hundred yards off. Another look told him that it was the
+under-keeper. Could he reach the shallow before him? No, not carrying
+his rod. Nothing for it but the tree. So Tom laid his bones to it,
+shinning up as fast as he could and dragging up his rod after him. He
+had just time to reach and crouch along upon a huge branch some ten feet
+up, which stretched out over the river, when the keeper arrived at the
+clump.
+
+Tom's heart beat fast as he came under the tree; two steps more and he
+would have passed, when, as ill-luck would have it, the gleam on the
+scales of the dead fish caught his eye, and he made a dead point at the
+foot of the tree. He picked up the fish one by one; his eye and touch
+told him that they had been alive and feeding within the hour.
+
+Tom crouched lower along the branch, and heard the keeper beating the
+clump. "If I could only get the rod hidden," thought he, and began
+gently shifting it to get it alongside of him: "willow-trees don't throw
+out straight hickory shoots twelve feet long, with no leaves, worse
+luck." Alas! the keeper catches the rustle, and then a sight of the rod,
+and then of Tom's hand and arm.
+
+"Oh, be up ther', be 'ee?" says he, running under the tree. "Now you
+come down this minute."
+
+"Tree'd at last," thinks Tom, making no answer, and keeping as close as
+possible, but working away at the rod, which he takes to pieces. "I'm in
+for it, unless I can starve him out."
+
+And then he begins to meditate getting along the branch for a plunge,
+and scramble to the other side; but the small branches are so thick,
+and the opposite bank so difficult, that the keeper will have lots of
+time to get round by the ford before he can get out, so he gives that
+up. And now he hears the keeper beginning to scramble up the trunk. That
+will never do; so he scrambles himself back to where his branch joins
+the trunk, and stands with lifted rod.
+
+"Hullo, Velveteens, mind your fingers if you come any higher."
+
+The keeper stops and looks up, and then with a grin says: "Oh! be you,
+be it, young measter? Well, here's luck. Now I tells 'ee to come down at
+once, and 't'll be best for 'ee."
+
+"Thank 'ee, Velveteens, I'm very comfortable," said Tom, shortening the
+rod in his hand, and preparing for battle.
+
+"Werry well, please yourself," says the keeper, descending, however, to
+the ground again, and taking his seat on the bank. "I bean't in no
+hurry, so you med take your time. I'll larn 'ee to gee honest folk names
+afore I've done with 'ee."
+
+"My luck as usual," thinks Tom; "what a fool I was to give him a black!
+If I'd called him 'keeper,' now, I might get off. The return match is
+all his way."
+
+The keeper quietly proceeded to take out his pipe, fill, and light it,
+keeping an eye on Tom, who now sat disconsolately across the branch,
+looking at the keeper--a pitiful sight for men and fishes. The more he
+thought of it the less he liked it.
+
+"It must be getting near second calling-over," thinks he. Keeper smokes
+on stolidly. "If he takes me up, I shall be flogged safe enough. I can't
+sit here all night. Wonder if he'll rise at silver."
+
+"I say, keeper," said he, meekly, "let me go for two bob?"
+
+"Not for twenty neither," grunts his persecutor.
+
+And so they sat on till long past second calling-over; and the sun came
+slanting in through the willow-branches, and telling of locking-up near
+at hand.
+
+"I'm coming down, keeper," said Tom at last, with a sigh, fairly tired
+out. "Now what are you going to do?"
+
+"Walk 'ee up to School, and give 'ee over to the Doctor; them's my
+orders," says Velveteens, knocking the ashes out of his fourth pipe, and
+standing up and shaking himself.
+
+"Very good," said Tom; "but hands off, you know. I'll go with you
+quietly, so no collaring or that sort of thing."
+
+Keeper looked at him a minute: "Werry good," said he at last. And so Tom
+descended, and wended his way drearily by the side of the keeper up to
+the School-house, where they arrived just at locking-up.
+
+As they passed the School-gates, the Tadpole and several others who were
+standing there caught the state of things, and rushed out, crying,
+"Rescue!" but Tom shook his head, so they only followed to the Doctor's
+gate, and went back sorely puzzled.
+
+How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the last time that Tom was
+up there, as the keeper told the story, not omitting to state how Tom
+had called him blackguard names. "Indeed, sir," broke in the culprit,
+"it was only Velveteens." The Doctor only asked one question.
+
+"You know the rule about the banks, Brown?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then wait for me to-morrow, after first lesson."
+
+"I thought so," muttered Tom.
+
+"And about the rod, sir?" went on the keeper. "Master's told we as we
+might have all the rods----"
+
+"Oh, please, sir," broke in Tom, "the rod isn't mine."
+
+The Doctor looked puzzled, but the keeper, who was a good-hearted
+fellow, and melted at Tom's evident distress, gave up his claim.
+
+Tom was flogged next morning, and a few days afterwards met Velveteens,
+and presented him with half a crown for giving up the rod claim, and
+they became sworn friends; and I regret to say that Tom had many more
+fish from under the willow that May-fly season, and was never caught
+again by Velveteens.
+
+HUGHES: "Tom Brown's School Days."
+
+
+
+
+THE FOUNTAIN
+
+
+    Into the sunshine,
+      Full of the light,
+    Leaping and flashing
+      From morn till night!
+
+    Into the moonlight,
+      Whiter than snow,
+    Waving so flower-like
+      When the winds blow!
+
+    Into the starlight,
+      Rushing in spray,
+    Happy at midnight,
+      Happy by day;
+
+    Ever in motion,
+      Blithesome and cheery,
+    Still climbing heavenward
+      Never aweary;--
+
+    Glad of all weathers;
+      Still seeming best,
+    Upward or downward,
+      Motion thy rest;--
+
+    Full of a nature
+      Nothing can tame,
+    Changed every moment,
+      Ever the same;--
+
+    Ceaseless aspiring,
+      Ceaseless content,
+    Darkness or sunshine
+      Thy element;--
+
+    Glorious fountain!
+      Let my heart be
+    Fresh, changeful, constant,
+      Upward, like thee!
+
+LOWELL
+
+
+
+
+BREAK, BREAK, BREAK
+
+
+    Break, break, break,
+      On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
+    And I would that my tongue could utter
+      The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+    O well for the fisherman's boy,
+      That he shouts with his sister at play!
+    O well for the sailor lad,
+      That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+    And the stately ships go on
+      To their haven under the hill;
+    But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
+      And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+    Break, break, break,
+      At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
+    But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+      Will never come back to me.
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+Try to frequent the company of your betters. In books and life, that is
+the most wholesome society; learn to admire rightly; the great pleasure
+of life is that. Note what great men admired: they admired great things;
+narrow spirits admire basely and worship meanly.
+
+THACKERAY
+
+
+
+
+THE BED OF PROCRUSTES
+
+
+A very tall and strong man, dressed in rich garments, came down to meet
+Theseus. On his arms were golden bracelets, and round his neck a collar
+of jewels; and he came forward, bowing courteously, and held out both
+his hands, and spoke:
+
+"Welcome, fair youth, to these mountains; happy am I to have met you!
+For what greater pleasure to a good man than to entertain strangers? But
+I see that you are weary. Come up to my castle, and rest yourself
+awhile."
+
+"I give you thanks," said Theseus; "but I am in haste to go up the
+valley."
+
+"Alas! you have wandered far from the right way, and you cannot reach
+your journey's end to-night, for there are many miles of mountain
+between you and it, and steep passes, and cliffs dangerous after
+nightfall. It is well for you that I met you, for my whole joy is to
+find strangers, and to feast them at my castle, and hear tales from them
+of foreign lands. Come up with me, and eat the best of venison, and
+drink the rich red wine, and sleep upon my famous bed, of which all
+travellers say that they never saw the like. For whatsoever the
+stature of my guest, however tall or short, that bed fits him to a hair,
+and he sleeps on it as he never slept before." And he laid hold on
+Theseus' hands, and would not let him go.
+
+[Illustration: NIAGARA FALLS]
+
+Theseus wished to go forwards: but he was ashamed to seem churlish to so
+hospitable a man; and he was curious to see that wondrous bed; and
+beside, he was hungry and weary: yet he shrank from the man, he knew not
+why; for, though his voice was gentle, it was dry and husky like a
+toad's; and though his eyes were gentle, they were dull and cold like
+stones. But he consented, and went with the man up a glen which led from
+the road, under the dark shadow of the cliffs.
+
+And as they went up, the glen grew narrower, and the cliffs higher and
+darker, and beneath them a torrent roared, half seen between bare
+limestone crags. And around them was neither tree nor bush, while the
+snow-blasts swept down the glen, cutting and chilling, till a horror
+fell on Theseus as he looked round at that doleful place. And he said at
+last: "Your castle stands, it seems, in a dreary region."
+
+"Yes; but once within it, hospitality makes all things cheerful. But who
+are these?" and he looked back, and Theseus also; and far below, along
+the road which they had left, came a string of laden asses, and
+merchants walking by them, watching their ware.
+
+"Ah, poor souls!" said the stranger. "Well for them that I looked back
+and saw them! And well for me, too, for I shall have the more guests at
+my feast. Wait awhile till I go down and call them, and we will eat and
+drink together the livelong night. Happy am I, to whom Heaven sends so
+many guests at once!"
+
+And he ran back down the hill, waving his hand and shouting to the
+merchants, while Theseus went slowly up the steep pass.
+
+But as he went up he met an aged man, who had been gathering driftwood
+in the torrent-bed. He had laid down his faggot in the road, and was
+trying to lift it again to his shoulder. And when he saw Theseus, he
+called to him and said:
+
+"O fair youth, help me up with my burden, for my limbs are stiff and
+weak with years."
+
+Then Theseus lifted the burden on his back. And the old man blessed him,
+and then looked earnestly upon him, and said:
+
+"Who are you, fair youth, and wherefore travel you this doleful road?"
+
+"Who I am my parents know; but I travel this doleful road because I have
+been invited by a hospitable man, who promises to feast me and to make
+me sleep upon I know not what wondrous bed."
+
+Then the old man clapped his hands together and cried:
+
+"Know, fair youth, that you are going to torment and to death, for he
+who met you (I will requite your kindness by another) is a robber and a
+murderer of men. Whatsoever stranger he meets he entices him hither to
+death; and as for this bed of which he speaks, truly it fits all comers,
+yet none ever rose alive off it save me."
+
+"Why?" asked Theseus, astonished.
+
+"Because, if a man be too tall for it, he lops his limbs till they be
+short enough, and if he be too short, he stretches his limbs till they
+be long enough; but me only he spared, seven weary years agone; for I
+alone of all fitted his bed exactly, so he spared me, and made me his
+slave. And once I was a wealthy merchant, and dwelt in a great city; but
+now I hew wood and draw water for him, the torment of all mortal men."
+
+Then Theseus said nothing; but he ground his teeth together.
+
+"Escape, then," said the old man, "for he will have no pity on thy
+youth. But yesterday he brought up hither a young man and a maiden, and
+fitted them upon his bed; and the young man's hands and feet he cut off,
+but the maiden's limbs he stretched until she died, and so both perished
+miserably--but I am tired of weeping over the slain. And therefore he is
+called Procrustes, the stretcher. Flee from him: yet whither will you
+flee? The cliffs are steep, and who can climb them? and there is no
+other road."
+
+But Theseus laid his hand upon the old man's mouth, and said: "There is
+no need to flee;" and he turned to go down the pass.
+
+"Do not tell him that I have warned you, or he will kill me by some evil
+death;" and the old man screamed after him down the glen; but Theseus
+strode on in his wrath.
+
+And he said to himself: "This is an ill-ruled land; when shall I have
+done ridding it of monsters?" And, as he spoke, Procrustes came up the
+hill, and all the merchants with him, smiling and talking gaily. And
+when he saw Theseus, he cried: "Ah, fair young guest, have I kept you
+too long waiting?"
+
+But Theseus answered: "The man who stretches his guests upon a bed and
+hews off their hands and feet, what shall be done to him, when right is
+done throughout the land?"
+
+Then Procrustes' countenance changed, and his cheeks grew as green as a
+lizard, and he felt for his sword in haste; but Theseus leaped on him,
+and cried:
+
+"Is this true, my host, or is it false?" and he clasped Procrustes round
+waist and elbow, so that he could not draw his sword.
+
+"Is this true, my host, or is it false!" But Procrustes answered never a
+word.
+
+Then Theseus flung him from him, and lifted up his dreadful club; and
+before Procrustes could strike him, he had struck and felled him to the
+ground.
+
+And once again he struck him; and his evil soul fled forth, squeaking
+like a bat into the darkness of a cave.
+
+Then Theseus stripped him of his gold ornaments, and went up to his
+house, and found there great wealth and treasure, which he had stolen
+from the passers-by. And he called the people of the country, whom
+Procrustes had spoiled a long time, and divided the spoil among them,
+and went down the mountains, and away.
+
+KINGSLEY: "The Heroes."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+"BOB WHITE"
+
+
+    I see you, on the zigzag rails,
+      You cheery little fellow!
+    While purple leaves are whirling down,
+      And scarlet, brown, and yellow.
+    I hear you when the air is full
+      Of snow-down of the thistle;
+    All in your speckled jacket trim,
+      "Bob White! Bob White!" you whistle.
+
+    Tall amber sheaves, in rustling rows,
+      Are nodding there to greet you;
+    I know that you are out for play--
+      How I should like to meet you!
+    Though blithe of voice, so shy you are,
+      In this delightful weather;
+    What splendid playmates, you and I,
+      "Bob White," would make together!
+
+    There, you are gone! but far away
+      I hear your whistle falling.
+    Ah! maybe it is hide-and-seek,
+      And that's why you are calling.
+    Along those hazy uplands wide
+      We'd be such merry rangers;
+    What! silent now, and hidden too!
+      "Bob White," don't let's be strangers.
+
+    Perhaps you teach your brood the game,
+      In yonder rainbowed thicket,
+    While winds are playing with the leaves,
+      And softly creeks the cricket.
+    "Bob White! Bob White!"--again I hear
+      That blithely whistled chorus;
+    Why should we not companions be?
+      One Father watches o'er us!
+
+GEORGE COOPER
+
+
+
+
+RADISSON AND THE INDIANS
+
+
+The tribe being assembled and having spread out their customary gifts,
+consisting of beaver tails, smoked moose tongues and pemmican, one of
+the leading braves arose and said:
+
+"Men who pretend to give us life, do you wish us to die! You know what
+beaver is worth and the trouble we have to take it. You call yourselves
+our brothers, and yet will not give us what those give who make no such
+profession. Accept our gifts, and let us barter, or we will visit you
+no more. We have but to travel a hundred leagues and we will encounter
+the English, whose offers we have heard."
+
+On the conclusion of this harangue, silence reigned for some moments.
+All eyes were turned on the two white traders. Feeling that now or never
+was the time to exhibit firmness, Radisson, without rising to his feet,
+addressed the whole assemblage in haughty accents.
+
+"Whom dost thou wish I should answer? I have heard a dog bark; when a
+man shall speak, he will see I know how to defend my conduct and my
+terms. We love our brothers and we deserve their love in return. For
+have we not saved them all from the treachery of the English?"
+
+Uttering these words fearlessly, he leaped to his feet and drew a long
+hunting-knife from his belt. Seizing by the scalp-lock the chief of the
+tribe, who had already adopted him as his son, he asked: "Who art thou?"
+To which the chief responded, as was customary: "Thy father."
+
+"Then," cried Radisson, "if that is so, and thou art my father, speak
+for me. Thou art the master of my goods; but as for that dog who has
+spoken, what is he doing in this company? Let him go to his brothers,
+the English, at the head of the Bay. Or he need not travel so far. He
+may, if he chooses, see them starving and helpless on yonder island;
+answering to my words of command.
+
+"I know how to speak to my Indian father," continued Radisson, "of the
+perils of the woods, of the abandonment of his squaws and children, of
+the risks of hunger and the peril of death by foes. All these you avoid
+by trading with us here. But although I am mightily angry, I will take
+pity on this wretch and let him still live. Go," addressing the brave
+with his weapon outstretched, "take this as my gift to you, and depart.
+When you meet your brothers, the English, tell them my name, and add
+that we are soon coming to treat them and their factory yonder as we
+have treated this one."
+
+The speaker knew enough of the Indian character, especially in affairs
+of trade, to be aware that a point once yielded them is never recovered.
+And it is but just to say that the terms he then made of three axes for
+a beaver were thereafter adopted, and that his firmness saved the
+Company many a cargo of these implements. His harangue produced an
+immediate impression upon all save the humiliated brave, who declared
+that, if the Assiniboines came hither to barter, he would lie in ambush
+and kill them.
+
+The French trader's reply to this was, to the Indian mind, a terrible
+one.
+
+"I will myself travel into thy country," said he, "and eat sagamite in
+thy grandmother's skull."
+
+While the brave and his small circle of friends were livid with fear and
+anger, Radisson ordered three fathoms of tobacco to be distributed;
+observing, contemptuously, to the hostile minority that, as for them,
+they might go and smoke women's tobacco in the country of the lynxes.
+The barter began and, when at nightfall the Indians departed, not a skin
+was left amongst them.
+
+BECKLES WILLSON: "The Great Company."
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOK
+
+
+    I come from haunts of coot and hern,
+      I make a sudden sally,
+    And sparkle out among the fern,
+      To bicker down a valley.
+
+    By thirty hills I hurry down,
+      Or slip between the ridges,
+    By twenty thorps, a little town,
+      And half a hundred bridges.
+
+    Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+      To join the brimming river,
+    For men may come and men may go,
+      But I go on for ever.
+
+    I chatter over stony ways,
+      In little sharps and trebles,
+    I bubble into eddying bays,
+      I babble on the pebbles.
+
+    With many a curve my banks I fret
+      By many a field and fallow,
+    And many a fairy foreland set
+      With willow-weed and mallow.
+
+    I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+      To join the brimming river,
+    For men may come and men may go,
+      But I go on for ever.
+
+    I wind about, and in and out,
+      With here a blossom sailing,
+    And here and there a lusty trout,
+      And here and there a grayling,
+
+    And here and there a foamy flake
+      Upon me, as I travel
+    With many a silvery waterbreak
+      Above the golden gravel,
+
+    And draw them all along, and flow
+      To join the brimming river,
+    For men may come and men may go,
+      But I go on for ever.
+
+    I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+      I slide by hazel covers;
+    I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+      That grow for happy lovers.
+
+    I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
+      Among my skimming swallows;
+    I make the netted sunbeam dance
+      Against my sandy shallows.
+
+    I murmur under moon and stars
+      In brambly wildernesses;
+    I linger by my shingly bars;
+      I loiter round my cresses;
+
+    And out again I curve and flow
+      To join the brimming river,
+    For men may come and men may go,
+      But I go on for ever.
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+As good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Many a man lives a burden
+to the earth, but a good book is the precious life blood of a
+master-spirit.
+
+MILTON
+
+
+
+
+"DO SEEK THEIR MEAT FROM GOD"
+
+
+There was a solitary cabin in the thick of the woods a mile or more from
+the nearest neighbour, a substantial frame house in the midst of a large
+and well-tilled clearing. The owner of the cabin, a shiftless fellow who
+spent his days for the most part at the corner tavern three miles
+distant, had suddenly grown disgusted with a land wherein one must work
+to live, and had betaken himself with his seven-year-old boy to seek
+some more indolent clime.
+
+The five-year-old son of the prosperous owner of the frame house and the
+older boy had been playmates. The little boy, unaware of his comrade's
+departure, had stolen away, late in the afternoon, along the lonely
+stretch of wood road, and had reached the cabin only to find it empty.
+As the dusk gathered, he grew afraid to start for home and crept
+trembling into the cabin, whose door would not stay shut. Desperate with
+fear and loneliness, he lifted up his voice piteously. In the terrifying
+silence, he listened hard to hear if anyone or anything were coming.
+Then again his shrill childish wailings arose, startling the unexpectant
+night, and piercing the forest depths, even to the ears of two great
+panthers which had set forth to seek their meat from God.
+
+The lonely cabin stood some distance, perhaps a quarter of a mile, back
+from the highway connecting the settlements. Along this main road a man
+was plodding wearily. All day he had been walking, and now as he neared
+home his steps began to quicken with anticipation of rest. Over his
+shoulder projected a double-barrelled fowling-piece, from which was
+slung a bundle of such necessities as he had purchased in town that
+morning. It was the prosperous settler, the master of the frame house,
+who had chosen to make the tedious journey on foot.
+
+He passed the mouth of the wood road leading to the cabin and had gone
+perhaps a furlong beyond, when his ears were startled by the sound of a
+child crying in the woods. He stopped, lowered his burden to the road,
+and stood straining ears and eyes in the direction of the sound. It was
+just at this time that the two panthers also stopped, and lifted their
+heads to listen. Their ears were keener than those of the man, and the
+sound had reached them at a greater distance.
+
+Presently the settler realized whence the cries were coming. He called
+to mind the cabin; but he did not know the cabin's owner had departed.
+He cherished a hearty contempt for the drunken squatter; and on the
+drunken squatter's child he looked with small favour, especially as a
+playmate for his own boy. Nevertheless he hesitated before resuming his
+journey.
+
+"Poor little fellow!" he muttered, half in wrath. "I reckon his precious
+father's drunk down at 'the Corners,' and him crying for loneliness!"
+Then he re-shouldered his burden and strode on doggedly.
+
+But louder, shriller, more hopeless and more appealing, arose the
+childish voice, and the settler paused again, irresolute, and with
+deepening indignation. In his fancy he saw the steaming supper his wife
+would have awaiting him. He loathed the thought of retracing his steps,
+and then stumbling a quarter of a mile through the stumps and bog of the
+wood road. He was foot-sore as well as hungry, and he cursed the
+vagabond squatter with serious emphasis; but in that wailing was a
+terror which would not let him go on. He thought of his own little one
+left in such a position, and straightway his heart melted. He turned,
+dropped his bundle behind some bushes, grasped his gun, and made speed
+back for the cabin.
+
+"Who knows," he said to himself, "but that drunken idiot has left his
+youngster without a bite to eat in the whole miserable shanty? Or maybe
+he's locked out, and the poor little beggar's half scared to death.
+_Sounds_ as if he was scared;" and at this thought the settler quickened
+his pace.
+
+As the hungry panthers drew near the cabin, and the cries of the lonely
+child grew clearer, they hastened their steps, and their eyes opened to
+a wider circle, flaming with a greener fire. It would be thoughtless
+superstition to say the beasts were cruel. They were simply keen with
+hunger, and alive with the eager passion of the chase. They were not
+ferocious with any anticipation of battle, for they knew the voice was
+the voice of a child, and something in the voice told them the child was
+solitary. Theirs was no hideous or unnatural rage, as it is the custom
+to describe it. They were but seeking with the strength, the cunning,
+the deadly swiftness given them to that end, the food convenient for
+them. On their success in accomplishing that for which nature had so
+exquisitely designed them, depended not only their own, but the lives of
+their blind and helpless young, now whimpering in the cave on the slope
+of the moon-lit ravine. They crept through a wet alder thicket, bounded
+lightly over the ragged brush fence, and paused to reconnoitre on the
+edge of the clearing, in the full glare of the moon. At the same moment,
+the settler emerged from the darkness of the wood road on the opposite
+side of the clearing. He saw the two great beasts, heads down and snouts
+thrust forward, gliding toward the open cabin door.
+
+For a few moments the child had been silent. Now his voice rose again in
+pitiful appeal, a very ecstasy of loneliness and terror. There was a
+note in the cry that shook the settler's soul. He had a vision of his
+own boy, at home with his mother, safe-guarded from even the thought of
+peril. And here was this little one left to the wild beasts! "Thank God!
+Thank God I came!" murmured the settler, as he dropped on one knee to
+take a surer aim. There was a loud report (not like the sharp crack of a
+rifle), and the female panther, shot through the loins, fell in a heap,
+snarling furiously and striking with her fore-paws.
+
+The male walked around her in fierce and anxious amazement. Presently,
+as the smoke lifted, he discerned the settler kneeling for a second
+shot. With a high screech of fury, the lithe brute sprang upon his
+enemy, taking a bullet full in his chest without seeming to know he was
+hit. Ere the man could slip in another cartridge the beast was upon him,
+bearing him to the ground and fixing keen fangs in his shoulder. Without
+a word, the man set his strong fingers desperately into the brute's
+throat, wrenched himself partly free, and was struggling to rise, when
+the panther's body collapsed upon him all at once, a dead weight which
+he easily flung aside. The bullet had done its work just in time.
+
+Quivering from the swift and dreadful contest, bleeding profusely from
+his mangled shoulder, the settler stepped up to the cabin door and
+peered in. He heard sobs in the darkness.
+
+"Don't be scared, sonny," he said, in a reassuring voice. "I'm going to
+take you home along with me. Poor little lad, _I'll_ look after you, if
+folks that ought to don't."
+
+Out of the dark corner came a shout of delight, in a voice which made
+the settler's heart stand still. "_Daddy_, Daddy," it said, "I _knew_
+you'd come. I was so frightened when it got dark!" And a little figure
+launched itself into the settler's arms, and clung to him trembling. The
+man sat down on the threshold and strained the child to his breast. He
+remembered how near he had been to disregarding the far-off cries, and
+great beads of sweat broke out upon his forehead.
+
+Not many weeks afterwards the settler was following the fresh trail of a
+bear which had killed his sheep. The trail led him at last along the
+slope of a deep ravine, from whose bottom came the brawl of a swollen
+and obstructed stream. In the ravine he found a shallow cave, behind a
+great white rock. The cave was plainly a wild beast's lair, and he
+entered circumspectly. There were bones scattered about, and on some dry
+herbage in the deepest corner of the den, he found the dead bodies of
+two small panther cubs.
+
+CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS: "Earth's Enigmas."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+    So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
+      So near is God to man,
+    When Duty whispers low, "_Thou must_,"
+      The youth replies, "_I can_."
+
+EMERSON
+
+
+
+
+A SONG OF THE SEA
+
+
+    The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!
+    The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
+    Without a mark, without a bound,
+    It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;
+    It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
+    Or like a cradled creature lies.
+
+    I'm on the Sea! I'm on the Sea!
+    I am where I would ever be;
+    With the blue above, and the blue below,
+    And silence wheresoe'er I go;
+    If a storm should come and awake the deep,
+    What matter? _I_ shall ride and sleep.
+
+    I love (oh! _how_ I love) to ride
+    On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
+    When every mad wave drowns the moon,
+    Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
+    And tells how goeth the world below,
+    And why the south-west blasts do blow.
+
+    I never was on the dull, tame shore,
+    But I loved the great Sea more and more,
+    And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
+    Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
+    And a mother she _was_ and _is_ to me;
+    For I was born on the open Sea.
+
+    The waves were white, and red the morn,
+    In the noisy hour when I was born;
+    And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled
+    And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
+    And never was heard such an outcry wild
+    As welcomed to life the Ocean-child!
+
+    I've lived since then, in calm and strife,
+    Full fifty summers a sailor's life,
+    With wealth to spend, and a power to range,
+    But never have sought nor sighed for change;
+    And Death whenever he comes to me,
+    Shall come on the wide unbounded Sea!
+
+B. W. PROCTER: ("Barry Cornwall")
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE DAFFYDOWNDILLY
+
+    "I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;
+    I woke, and found that life was duty."
+
+
+Daffydowndilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
+flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
+no delight in labour of any kind. But while Daffydowndilly was yet a
+little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
+under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
+Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
+very worthy character; and that he had done more good, both to children
+and grown people, than anybody else in the world.
+
+Certainly he had lived long enough to do a great deal of good; for, if
+all stories be true, he had dwelt upon earth ever since Adam was driven
+from the garden of Eden.
+
+Nevertheless, Mr. Toil had a severe and ugly countenance, especially for
+such little boys or big men as were inclined to be idle; his voice, too,
+was harsh; and all his ways and customs seemed very disagreeable to our
+friend Daffydowndilly. The whole day long this terrible schoolmaster sat
+at his desk overlooking the scholars, or stalked about the school-room
+with a certain awful birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the
+shoulders of a boy whom Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a
+whole class who were behindhand with their lessons; and, in short,
+unless a lad chose to attend quietly and constantly to his book, he had
+no chance of enjoying a quiet moment in the school-room of Mr. Toil.
+
+"This will never do for me," thought Daffydowndilly.
+
+Now the whole of Daffydowndilly's life had hitherto been passed with his
+dear mother, who had a much sweeter face than old Mr. Toil, and who had
+always been very indulgent to her little boy. No wonder, therefore, that
+poor Daffydowndilly found it a woeful change to be sent away from the
+good lady's side and put under the care of this ugly-visaged
+schoolmaster, who never gave him any apples or cakes, and seemed to
+think that little boys were created only to get lessons.
+
+"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffydowndilly to himself, when he
+had been at school about a week. "I'll run away and try to find my dear
+mother; and, at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so
+disagreeable as this old Mr. Toil!"
+
+So the very next morning, off started poor Daffydowndilly, and began his
+rambles about the world, with only some bread and cheese for his
+breakfast, and very little pocket-money to pay his expenses. But he had
+gone only a short distance when he overtook a man of grave and sedate
+appearance, who was trudging at a moderate pace along the road.
+
+"Good-morning, my lad," said the stranger; and his voice seemed hard and
+severe, but yet had a sort of kindness in it. "Whence do you come so
+early, and whither are you going?"
+
+Little Daffydowndilly was a boy of a very ingenuous disposition, and had
+never been known to tell a lie in all his life. Nor did he tell one now.
+He hesitated a moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away
+from school, on account of his great dislike for Mr. Toil; and that he
+was resolved to find some place in the world where he should never see
+or hear of the old schoolmaster again.
+
+"Oh, very well, my little friend!" answered the stranger. "Then we will
+go together; for I, likewise, have had a good deal to do with Mr. Toil,
+and should be glad to find some place where he was never heard of."
+
+Our friend Daffydowndilly would have been better pleased with a
+companion of his own age, with whom he might have gathered flowers along
+the road-side, or have chased butterflies, or have done many other
+things to make the journey pleasant. But he had wisdom enough to
+understand that he should get along through the world much easier by
+having a man of experience to show him the way. So he accepted the
+stranger's proposal, and they walked on very sociably together.
+
+They had not gone far, when the road passed by a field where some
+haymakers were at work, mowing down the tall grass and spreading it out
+in the sun to dry. Daffydowndilly was delighted with the sweet smell of
+the new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make
+hay in the sunshine under the blue sky, and with the birds singing
+sweetly in the neighbouring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a
+dismal school-room, learning lessons all day long, and continually
+scolded by old Mr. Toil. But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he
+was stopping to peep over the stone wall, he started back and caught
+hold of his companion's hand.
+
+"Quick, quick!" cried he. "Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
+
+"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
+
+"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffydowndilly. "Don't you
+see him amongst the haymakers?"
+
+And Daffydowndilly pointed to an elderly man, who seemed to be the owner
+of the field, and the employer of the men at work there. He had stripped
+off his coat and waistcoat, and was busily at work in his shirt sleeves.
+The drops of sweat stood upon his brow; but he gave himself not a
+moment's rest, and kept crying out to the haymakers to make hay while
+the sun shone. Now, strange to say, the figure and features of this old
+farmer were precisely the same as those of old Mr. Toil, who, at that
+very moment, must have been just entering his school-room.
+
+"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and the
+people say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
+trouble you unless you become a labourer on the farm."
+
+Little Daffydowndilly believed what his companion said, but he was very
+glad, nevertheless, when they were out of sight of the old farmer, who
+bore such a singular resemblance to Mr. Toil. The two travellers had
+gone but little farther, when they came to a spot where some carpenters
+were erecting a house. Daffydowndilly begged his companion to stop a
+moment; for it was a very pretty sight to see how neatly the carpenters
+did their work, with their broad-axes and saws, and planes, and hammers,
+shaping out the doors, and putting in the window-sashes, and nailing on
+the clap-boards; and he could not help thinking that he should like to
+take a broad-axe, a saw, a plane, and a hammer, and build a little house
+for himself. And then, when he should have a house of his own, old Mr.
+Toil would never dare to molest him.
+
+But, just while he was delighting himself with this idea, little
+Daffydowndilly beheld something that made him catch hold of his
+companion's hand, all in a fright.
+
+"Make haste. Quick, quick!" cried he. "There he is again!" "Who?" asked
+the stranger, very quietly.
+
+"Old Mr. Toil," said Daffydowndilly, trembling.
+
+"There! he that is overseeing the carpenters. 'Tis my old schoolmaster,
+as sure as I'm alive!"
+
+The stranger cast his eyes where Daffydowndilly pointed his finger; and
+he saw an elderly man, with a carpenter's rule and compass in his hand.
+This person went to and fro about the unfinished house, measuring pieces
+of timber and marking out the work that was to be done, and continually
+exhorting the other carpenters to be diligent. And wherever he turned
+his hard and wrinkled visage, the men seemed to feel that they had a
+task-master over them, and sawed, and hammered, and planed, as if for
+dear life.
+
+"Oh, no! this is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster," said the stranger. "It
+is another brother of his, who follows the trade of carpenter."
+
+"I am very glad to hear it," quoth Daffydowndilly; "but if you please,
+sir, I should like to get out of his way as soon as possible."
+
+Then they went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum
+and fife. Daffydowndilly pricked up his ears at this, and besought his
+companion to hurry forward, that they might not miss seeing the
+soldiers. Accordingly they made what haste they could, and soon met a
+company of soldiers gaily dressed, with beautiful feathers in their
+caps, and bright muskets on their shoulders. In front marched two
+drummers and two fifers, beating on their drums and making such lively
+music that little Daffydowndilly would gladly have followed them to the
+end of the world. And if he was only a soldier, then, he said to
+himself, old Mr. Toil would never venture to look him in the face.
+
+"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
+
+Little Daffydowndilly started, in great dismay; for this voice which had
+spoken to the soldiers sounded precisely the same as that which he had
+heard every day in Mr. Toil's school-room, out of Mr. Toil's own mouth.
+And, turning his eyes to the captain of the company, what should he see
+but the very image of old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather
+on his head, a pair of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on
+his back, a purple sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a
+birch rod, in his hand. And though he held his head so high, and
+strutted like a turkey-cock, still he looked quite as ugly and
+disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in the school-room.
+
+"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffydowndilly, in a trembling
+voice. "Let us run away for fear he should make us enlist in his
+company!"
+
+"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
+composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
+his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a terribly
+severe fellow; but you and I need not be afraid of him."
+
+"Well, well," said little Daffydowndilly, "but if you please, sir, I
+don't want to see the soldiers any more."
+
+So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
+they came to a house by the road-side, where a number of people were
+making merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their
+faces, were dancing to the sound of a fiddle. It was the pleasantest
+sight that Daffydowndilly had yet met with, and it comforted him for all
+his disappointments.
+
+"Oh, let us stop here," cried he to his companion; "for Mr. Toil will
+never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and where people
+are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here!"
+
+But these last words died away upon Daffydowndilly's tongue; for,
+happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again
+but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle-bow instead of a birch
+rod, and flourishing it with as much ease and dexterity as if he had
+been a fiddler all his life! He had somewhat the air of a Frenchman, but
+still looked exactly like the old schoolmaster; and Daffydowndilly even
+fancied that he nodded and winked at him, and made signs for him to join
+in the dance.
+
+"Oh, dear me!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was
+nobody but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing
+on a fiddle!"
+
+"This is not your old schoolmaster," observed the stranger, "but another
+brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
+of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
+Monsieur le Plaisir; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known
+him best think him still more disagreeable than his brothers."
+
+"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" cried poor little Daffydowndilly,
+bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
+may just as well go back to the school-house!"
+
+"Yonder it is,--there is the school-house!" said the stranger, for
+though he and Daffydowndilly had taken a great many steps, they had
+travelled in a circle instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go back
+to school together."
+
+There was something in his companion's voice that little Daffydowndilly
+now remembered, and it is strange that he had not remembered it sooner.
+Looking up into his face, behold! there again was the likeness of old
+Mr. Toil; so that the poor child had been in company with Toil all day,
+even while he was doing his best to run away from him. Some people, to
+whom I have told little Daffydowndilly's story, are of the opinion that
+old Mr. Toil was a magician, and possessed the power of multiplying
+himself into as many shapes as he saw fit.
+
+Be this as it may, little Daffydowndilly had learned a good lesson, and
+from that time forward was diligent at his task, because he knew that
+diligence is not a whit more toilsome than sport or idleness. And when
+he became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began to think that his
+ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old schoolmaster's
+smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as even that of
+Daffydowndilly's mother.
+
+NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
+
+
+
+
+THE SANDPIPER
+
+
+    Across the narrow beach we flit,
+      One little sandpiper and I;
+    And fast I gather, bit by bit,
+      The scattered driftwood bleached and dry.
+    The wild waves reach their hands for it,
+      The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
+    As up and down the beach we flit,--
+      One little sandpiper and I.
+
+    Above our heads the sullen clouds
+      Scud black and swift across the sky:
+    Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
+      Stand out the white lighthouses high.
+    Almost as far as eye can reach
+      I see the close-reefed vessels fly,
+    As fast we flit along the beach,--
+      One little sandpiper and I.
+
+    I watch him as he skims along,
+      Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;
+    He starts not at my fitful song,
+      Or flash of fluttering drapery;
+    He has no thought of any wrong,
+      He scans me with a fearless eye.
+    Stanch friends are we, well-tried and strong,
+      The little sandpiper and I.
+
+    Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night
+      When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
+    My driftwood-fire will burn so bright!
+      To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
+    I do not fear for thee, though wroth
+      The tempest rushes through the sky:
+    For are we not God's children both,
+      Thou, little sandpiper, and I?
+
+CELIA THAXTER
+
+
+
+
+FROM "THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT"
+
+
+Blessed are the poor in spirit: for their's is the kingdom of heaven.
+Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are
+the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do
+hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed
+are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in
+heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they
+shall be called the children of God.
+
+Again, ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou
+shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths.
+But I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God's
+throne: nor by the earth; for it is his footstool: neither by Jerusalem;
+for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou swear by thy
+head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black.
+
+Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and
+hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that
+curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which
+despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of
+your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the
+evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.
+For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the
+publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more
+than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even
+as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.
+
+ST. MATTHEW, V.
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND OF SAINT CHRISTOPHER
+
+
+    For many a year Saint Christopher
+      Served God in many a land;
+    And master painters drew his face,
+      With loving heart and hand,
+    On altar fronts and churches' walls;
+      And peasants used to say,--
+    To look on good Saint Christopher
+      Brought luck for all the day.
+
+    For many a year, in lowly hut,
+      The giant dwelt content
+    Upon the bank, and back and forth
+      Across the stream he went;
+    And on his giant shoulders bore
+      All travellers who came,
+    By night, by day, or rich or poor,
+      All in King Jesus' name.
+
+    But much he doubted if the King
+      His work would note or know,
+    And often with a weary heart
+      He waded to and fro.
+    One night, as wrapped in sleep he lay,
+      He sudden heard a call,--
+    "O Christopher, come, carry me!"
+      He sprang, looked out, but all
+
+    Was dark and silent on the shore,
+      "It must be that I dreamed,"
+    He said, and laid him down again;
+      But instantly there seemed
+    Again the feeble, distant cry,--
+      "Oh, come and carry me!"
+    Again he sprang and looked: again
+      No living thing could see.
+
+    The third time came the plaintive voice,
+      Like infant's, soft and weak;
+    With lantern strode the giant forth,
+      More carefully to seek.
+    Down on the bank a little child
+      He found,--a piteous sight,--
+    Who weeping, earnestly implored
+      To cross that very night.
+
+    With gruff good will he picked him up,
+      And on his neck to ride
+    He tossed him, as men play with babes,
+      And plunged into the tide.
+    But as the water closed around
+      His knees, the infant's weight
+    Grew heavier, and heavier,
+      Until it was so great
+
+    The giant scarce could stand upright,
+      His staff shook in his hand,
+    His mighty knees bent under him,
+      He barely reached the land.
+    And, staggering, set the infant down,
+      And turned to scan his face;
+    When, lo! he saw a halo bright
+      Which lit up all the place.
+
+    Then Christopher fell down, afraid
+      At marvel of the thing,
+    And dreamed not that it was the face
+      Of Jesus Christ, his King.
+    Until the infant spoke, and said:
+      "O Christopher, behold!
+    I am the Lord whom thou hast served,
+      Rise up, be glad and bold!
+
+    "For I have seen and noted well,
+      Thy works of charity;
+    And that thou art my servant good
+      A token thou shalt see.
+    Plant firmly here upon this bank
+      Thy stalwart staff of pine,
+    And it shall blossom and bear fruit,
+      This very hour, in sign."
+
+    Then, vanishing, the infant smiled.
+      The giant, left alone,
+    Saw on the bank, with luscious dates,
+      His stout pine staff bent down.
+
+    I think the lesson is as good
+      To-day as it was then--
+    As good to us called Christians
+      As to the heathen men--
+    The lesson of Saint Christopher,
+      Who spent his strength for others,
+    And saved his soul by working hard
+      To help and save his brothers!
+
+HELEN HUNT JACKSON
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM TELL AND HIS SON
+
+
+The sun already shone brightly as William Tell entered the town of
+Altorf, and he advanced at once to the public place, where the first
+object that caught his eyes was a handsome cap, embroidered with gold,
+stuck upon the end of a long pole. Soldiers were walking around it in
+silence, and the people of Altorf, as they passed, bowed their head to
+the symbol of authority. The cap had been set up by Gessler, the
+Austrian commander, for the purpose of discovering those who were not
+submissive to the Austrian power, which had ruled the people of the
+Swiss Cantons for a long time with great severity. He suspected that the
+people were about to break into rebellion, and with a view to learn who
+were the most discontented, he had placed the ducal cap of Austria on
+this pole, publicly proclaiming that every one passing near, or within
+sight of it, should bow before it, in proof of his homage to the duke.
+
+Tell was much surprised at this new and strange attempt to humble the
+people, and, leaning on his cross-bow, gazed scornfully on them and the
+soldiers. Berenger, captain of the guard, at length observed this man,
+who alone amidst the cringing crowd carried his head erect. He ordered
+him to be seized and disarmed by the soldiers, and then conducted him to
+Gessler, who put some questions to him, which he answered so haughtily
+that Gessler was both surprised and angry. Suddenly, he was struck by
+the likeness between him and the boy Walter Tell, whom he had seized and
+put in prison the previous day for uttering some seditious words; he
+immediately asked his name, which he no sooner heard than he knew him to
+be the archer so famous, as the best marksman in the Canton.
+
+Gessler at once resolved to punish both father and son at the same time,
+by a method which was perhaps the most refined act of torture which man
+ever imagined. As soon, then, as the youth was brought out, the governor
+turned to Tell, and said: "I have often heard of thy great skill as an
+archer, and I now intend to put it to the proof. Thy son shall be placed
+at a distance of a hundred yards, with an apple on his head. If thou
+strikest the apple with thy arrow, I will pardon you both; but if thou
+refusest this trial, thy son shall die before thine eyes."
+
+Tell implored Gessler to spare him so cruel a trial, in which he might
+perhaps kill his beloved boy with his own hand. The governor would not
+alter his purpose; so Tell at last agreed to shoot at the apple, as the
+only chance of saving his son's life. Walter stood with his back to a
+linden tree. Gessler, some distance behind, watched every motion. His
+cross-bow and one arrow were handed to Tell; he tried the point, broke
+the weapon, and demanded his quiver. It was brought to him and emptied
+at his feet. He stooped down, and taking a long time to choose an arrow,
+he managed to hide a second in his girdle.
+
+After being in doubt a long time, his whole soul beaming in his face,
+his love for his son rendering him almost powerless, he at length roused
+himself--drew the bow--aimed--shot--and the apple, struck to the core,
+was carried away by the arrow.
+
+The market-place of Altorf was filled by loud cheers. Walter flew to
+embrace his father, who, overcome by his emotion, fell fainting to the
+ground, thus exposing the second arrow to view. Gessler stood over him,
+awaiting his recovery, which speedily taking place, Tell rose, and
+turned away from the governor with horror. The latter, however,
+scarcely yet believing his senses, thus addressed him: "Incomparable
+archer, I will keep my promise; but what needed you with that second
+arrow which I see in your girdle?"
+
+Tell replied: "It is the custom of the bowmen of Uri to have always one
+arrow in reserve."
+
+"Nay, nay," said Gessler, "tell me thy real motive; and, whatever it may
+have been, speak frankly, and thy life is spared."
+
+"The second shaft," replied Tell, "was to pierce thy heart, tyrant, if I
+had chanced to harm my son."
+
+CHAMBER'S "Tracts."
+
+
+
+
+A MIDSUMMER SONG
+
+
+    O, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
+    And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay,
+    And whistling down the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill,
+    While mother from the kitchen door is calling with a will:
+      "Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
+        O, where's Polly?"
+
+    From all the misty morning air there comes a summer sound--
+    A murmur as of waters from skies and trees and ground.
+    The birds they sing upon the wing, the pigeons bill and coo,
+    And over hill and hollow rings again the loud halloo:
+      "Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
+        O, where's Polly?"
+
+    Above the trees the honey-bees swarm by with buzz and boom,
+    And in the field and garden a thousand blossoms bloom.
+    Within the farmer's meadow a brown-eyed daisy blows,
+    And down at the edge of the hollow a red and thorny rose.
+      But Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
+        O, where's Polly?
+
+    How strange at such a time of day the mill should stop its clatter!
+    The farmer's wife is listening now and wonders what's the matter.
+    O, wild the birds are singing in the wood and on the hill,
+    While whistling up the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill.
+      But Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
+        O, where's Polly?
+
+RICHARD WATSON GILDER
+
+
+
+
+THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW
+
+
+On every side death stared us in the face; no human skill could avert it
+any longer. We saw the moment approach when we must bid farewell to
+earth, yet without feeling that unutterable horror which must have been
+experienced by the unhappy victims at Cawnpore. We were resolved rather
+to die than yield, and were fully persuaded that in twenty-four hours
+all would be over. The engineer had said so, and all knew the worst. We
+women strove to encourage each other, and to perform the light duties
+which had been assigned to us, such as conveying orders to the
+batteries, and supplying the men with provisions, especially cups of
+coffee, which we prepared day and night.
+
+I had gone out to try to make myself useful, in company with Jessie
+Brown, the wife of a corporal in my husband's regiment. Poor Jessie had
+been in a state of restless excitement all through the siege, and had
+fallen away visibly within the last few days. A constant fever consumed
+her, and her mind wandered occasionally, especially that day when the
+recollections of home seemed powerfully present to her. At last,
+overcome with fatigue, she lay down on the ground, wrapped up in her
+plaid. I sat beside her, promising to awaken her when, as she said, her
+"father should return from the ploughing."
+
+She fell at length into a profound slumber, motionless and apparently
+breathless, her head resting in my lap. I myself could no longer resist
+the inclination to sleep, in spite of the continual roar of the cannon.
+Suddenly I was aroused by a wild, unearthly scream close to my ear; my
+companion stood upright beside me, her arms raised, and her head bent
+forward in the attitude of listening.
+
+A look of intense delight broke over her countenance. She grasped my
+hand, drew me toward her, and exclaimed: "Dinna ye hear it? dinna ye
+hear it? Aye. I'm no dreaming: it's the slogan o' the Highlanders!
+We're saved! we're saved!" Then, flinging herself on her knees, she
+thanked God with passionate fervour.
+
+I felt utterly bewildered; my English ears heard only the roar of
+artillery, and I thought my poor Jessie was still raving, but she darted
+to the batteries, and I heard her cry incessantly to the men: "Courage!
+courage! Hark to the slogan--to the Macgregor, the grandest of them a'!
+Here's help at last!"
+
+To describe the effect of these words upon the soldiers would be
+impossible. For a moment they ceased firing, and every soul listened
+with intense anxiety. Gradually, however, there arose a murmur of bitter
+disappointment, and the wailing of the women, who had flocked to the
+spot, burst out anew as the colonel shook his head. Our dull Lowland
+ears heard only the rattle of the musketry.
+
+A few moments more of this deathlike suspense, of this agonizing hope,
+and Jessie, who had again sunk on the ground, sprang to her feet, and
+cried in a voice so clear and piercing that it was heard along the whole
+line: "Will ye no believe it noo? The slogan has ceased, indeed, but the
+Campbells are comin'! D'ye hear? d'ye hear?"
+
+At that moment all seemed, indeed, to hear the voice of God in the
+distance, when the pibroch of the Highlanders brought us tidings of
+deliverance; for now there was no longer any doubt of the fact. That
+shrill, penetrating, ceaseless sound, which rose above all other sounds,
+could come neither from the advance of the enemy nor from the work of
+the sappers. No, it was, indeed, the blast of the Scottish bagpipes, now
+shrill and harsh, as threatening vengeance on the foe, then in softer
+tones, seeming to promise succour to their friends in need.
+
+Never, surely, was there such a scene as that which followed. Not a
+heart in the residency of Lucknow but bowed itself before God. All, by
+one simultaneous impulse, fell upon their knees, and nothing was heard
+but bursting sobs and the murmured voice of prayer. Then all arose, and
+there rang out from a thousand lips a great shout of joy, which
+resounded far and wide, and lent new vigour to that blessed pibroch.
+
+To our cheer of "God save the Queen," they replied by the well-known
+strain that moves every Scot to tears, "Should auld acquaintance be
+forgot." After that, nothing else made any impression on me. I scarcely
+remember what followed. Jessie was presented to the general on his
+entrance into the fort, and at the officers' banquet her health was
+drunk by all present, while the pipers marched around the table, playing
+once more the familiar air of "Auld Lang Syne."
+
+"Letter from an officer's wife."
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG IN CAMP
+
+
+    "Give us a song!" the soldiers cried,
+      The outer trenches guarding,
+    When the heated guns of the camps allied
+      Grew weary of bombarding.
+
+    The dark Redan, in silent scoff,
+      Lay, grim and threatening, under;
+    And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
+      No longer belched its thunder.
+
+    There was a pause. A guardsman said:
+      "We storm the forts to-morrow;
+    Sing while we may, another day
+      Will bring enough of sorrow."
+
+    They lay along the battery's side,
+      Below the smoking cannon:
+    Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde,
+      And from the banks of Shannon.
+
+    They sang of love, and not of fame;
+      Forgot was Britain's glory:
+    Each heart recalled a different name,
+      But all sang "Annie Laurie."
+
+    Voice after voice caught up the song,
+      Until its tender passion
+    Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,--
+      Their battle-eve confession.
+
+    Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,
+      But, as the song grew louder,
+    Something upon the soldier's cheek
+      Washed off the stains of powder.
+
+    Beyond the darkening ocean burned
+      The bloody sunset's embers,
+    While the Crimean valleys learned
+      How English love remembers.
+
+    And once again a fire of hell
+      Rained on the Russian quarters,
+    With scream of shot, and burst of shell,
+      And bellowing of the mortars!
+
+    And Irish Nora's eyes are dim
+      For a singer, dumb and gory;
+    And English Mary mourns for him
+      Who sang of "Annie Laurie."
+
+    Sleep, soldiers! still in honoured rest
+      Your truth and valour wearing:
+    The bravest are the tenderest,--
+      The loving are the daring.
+
+BAYARD TAYLOR
+
+
+
+
+AFTERGLOW
+
+
+    After the clangour of battle
+    There comes a moment of rest,
+    And the simple hopes and the simple joys
+    And the simple thoughts are best.
+
+    After the victor's paean,
+    After the thunder of gun,
+    There comes a lull that must come to all
+    Before the set of the sun.
+
+    Then what is the happiest memory?
+    Is it the foe's defeat?
+    Is it the splendid praise of a world
+    That thunders by at your feet?
+
+    Nay, nay, to the life-worn spirit
+    The happiest thoughts are those
+    That carry us back to the simple joys
+    And the sweetness of life's repose.
+
+    A simple love and a simple trust
+    And a simple duty done,
+    Are truer torches to light to death
+    Than a whole world's victories won.
+
+WILFRED CAMPBELL
+
+
+
+
+KING RICHARD AND SALADIN
+
+
+Saladin led the way to a splendid pavilion where was everything that
+royal luxury could devise. De Vaux, who was in attendance, then removed
+the long riding-cloak which Richard wore, and he stood before Saladin in
+the close dress which showed to advantage the strength and symmetry of
+his person, while it bore a strong contrast to the flowing robes which
+disguised the thin frame of the Eastern monarch. It was Richard's
+two-handed sword that chiefly attracted the attention of the Saracen--a
+broad straight blade, the seemingly unwieldy length of which extended
+wellnigh from the shoulder to the heel of the wearer.
+
+"Had I not," said Saladin, "seen this brand flaming in the front of
+battle, like that of Azrael, I had scarce believed that human arm could
+wield it. Might I request to see the Melech Ric strike one blow with it
+in peace and in pure trial of strength?"
+
+"Willingly, noble Saladin," answered Richard; and looking around for
+something whereon to exercise his strength, he saw a steel mace, held by
+one of the attendants, the handle being of the same metal, and about an
+inch and a half in diameter. This he placed on a block of wood.
+
+The glittering broadsword, wielded by both his hands, rose aloft to the
+king's left shoulder, circled round his head, descended with the sway of
+some terrific engine, and the bar of iron rolled on the ground in two
+pieces, as a woodman would sever a sapling with a hedging-bill.
+
+"By the head of the Prophet, a most wonderful blow!" said the Soldan,
+critically and accurately examining the iron bar which had been cut
+asunder; and the blade of the sword was so well tempered as to exhibit
+not the least token of having suffered by the feat it had performed. He
+then took the king's hand, and looking on the size and muscular strength
+which it exhibited, laughed as he placed it beside his own, so lank and
+thin, so inferior in brawn and sinew.
+
+"Ay, look well," said De Vaux in English, "it will be long ere your long
+jackanape's fingers do such a feat with your fine gilded reaping-hook
+there."
+
+"Silence, De Vaux," said Richard; "by Our Lady, he understands or
+guesses thy meaning--be not so broad, I pray thee."
+
+The Soldan, indeed, presently said: "Something I would fain attempt,
+though wherefore should the weak show their inferiority in presence of
+the strong? Yet, each land hath its own exercises, and this may be new
+to the Melech Ric." So saying, he took from the floor a cushion of silk
+and down, and placed it upright on one end. "Can thy weapon, my brother,
+sever that cushion?" he said to King Richard.
+
+"No, surely," replied the king; "no sword on earth, were it the
+Excalibur of King Arthur, can cut that which opposes no steady
+resistance to the blow."
+
+"Mark, then," said Saladin; and tucking up the sleeve of his gown,
+showed his arm, thin indeed and spare, but which constant exercise had
+hardened into a mass consisting of nought but bone, brawn, and sinew. He
+unsheathed his scimitar, a curved and narrow blade, which glittered not
+like the swords of the Franks, but was, on the contrary, of a dull blue
+colour, marked with ten millions of meandering lines, which showed how
+anxiously the metal had been welded by the armourer. Wielding this
+weapon, apparently so inefficient when compared to that of Richard, the
+Soldan stood resting his weight upon his left foot, which was slightly
+advanced; he balanced himself a little as if to steady his aim, then,
+stepping at once forward, drew the scimitar across the cushion, applying
+the edge so dexterously and with so little apparent effort, that the
+cushion seemed rather to fall asunder than to be divided by violence.
+
+"It is a juggler's trick," said De Vaux, darting forward and snatching
+up the portion of the cushion which had been cut off, as if to assure
+himself of the reality of the feat; "there is gramarye in this."
+
+The Soldan seemed to comprehend him, for he undid the sort of veil which
+he had hitherto worn, laid it double along the edge of his sabre,
+extended the weapon edgeways in the air, and drawing it suddenly through
+the veil, although it hung on the blade entirely loose, severed that
+also into two parts, which floated to different sides of the tent,
+equally displaying the extreme temper and sharpness of the weapon and
+the exquisite dexterity of him who used it.
+
+"Now, in good faith, my brother," said Richard, "thou art even matchless
+at the trick of the sword, and right perilous were it to meet thee.
+Still, however, I put some faith in a downright English blow, and what
+we cannot do by sleight we eke out by strength. Nevertheless, in truth
+thou art as expert in inflicting wounds as my sage Hakim in curing them.
+I trust I shall see the learned leech; I have much to thank him for, and
+had brought some small present."
+
+As he spoke, Saladin exchanged his turban for a Tartar cap. He had no
+sooner done so, than De Vaux opened at once his extended mouth and his
+large round eyes, and Richard gazed with scarce less astonishment, while
+the Soldan spoke in a grave and altered voice: "The sick man, sayeth the
+poet, while he is yet infirm, knoweth the physician by his step; but
+when he is recovered, he knoweth not even his face when he looks upon
+him."
+
+"A miracle!--a miracle!" exclaimed Richard.
+
+"Of Mahound's working, doubtless," said Thomas de Vaux.
+
+"That I should lose my learned Hakim," said Richard, "merely by absence
+of his cap and robe, and that I should find him again in my royal
+brother Saladin!"
+
+"Such is oft the fashion of the world," answered the Soldan: "the
+tattered robe makes not always the dervish."
+
+SCOTT: "The Talisman."
+
+
+
+
+ENGLAND'S DEAD
+
+
+      Son of the Ocean Isle!
+      Where sleep your mighty dead?
+    Show me what high and stately pile
+      Is reared o'er Glory's bed.
+
+      Go, stranger! track the deep--
+      Free, free, the white sail spread!
+    Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,
+      Where rest not England's dead.
+
+      On Egypt's burning plains,
+      By the pyramid o'erswayed,
+    With fearful power the noonday reigns,
+      And the palm trees yield no shade;--
+
+      But let the angry sun
+      From heaven look fiercely red,
+    Unfelt by those whose task is done!--
+      There slumber England's dead.
+
+      The hurricane hath might
+      Along the Indian shore,
+    And far by Ganges' banks at night,
+      Is heard the tiger's roar;--
+
+      But let the sound roll on!
+      It hath no tone of dread
+    For those that from their toils are gone,--
+      There slumber England's dead.
+
+      Loud rush the torrent-floods
+      The Western wilds among,
+    And free, in green Columbia's woods,
+      The hunter's bow is strung;--
+
+      But let the floods rush on!
+      Let the arrow's flight be sped!
+    Why should they reck whose task is done?--
+      There slumber England's dead.
+
+      The mountain-storms rise high
+      In the snowy Pyrenees,
+    And toss the pine-boughs through the sky
+      Like rose-leaves on the breeze;--
+
+      But let the storm rage on!
+      Let the fresh wreaths be shed!
+    For the Roncesvalles' field is won,--
+      There slumber England's dead.
+
+      On the frozen deep's repose
+      'Tis a dark and dreadful hour,
+    When round the ship the ice-fields close,
+      And the northern night-clouds lower;--
+
+      But let the ice drift on!
+      Let the cold-blue desert spread!
+    Their course with mast and flag is done,
+      Even there sleep England's dead.
+
+      The warlike of the isles,
+      The men of field and wave!
+    Are not the rocks their funeral piles,
+      The seas and shores their grave?
+
+      Go, stranger! track the deep--
+      Free, free the white sail spread!
+    Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,
+      Where rest not England's dead.
+
+FELICIA HEMANS
+
+
+
+
+HOHENLINDEN
+
+
+    On Linden, when the sun was low,
+    All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow,
+    And dark as winter was the flow
+      Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
+
+    But Linden saw another sight,
+    When the drum beat, at dead of night,
+    Commanding fires of death to light
+      The darkness of her scenery.
+
+    By torch and trumpet fast arrayed
+    Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
+    And furious every charger neighed,
+      To join the dreadful revelry.
+
+    Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
+    Then rushed the steed to battle driven,
+    And louder than the bolts of heaven,
+      Far flashed the red artillery.
+
+    But redder yet that light shall glow
+    On Linden's hills of stained snow,
+    And bloodier yet the torrent flow
+      Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
+
+    'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
+    Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
+    Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
+      Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.
+
+    The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
+    Who rush to glory, or the grave!
+    Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
+      And charge with all thy chivalry!
+
+    Few, few, shall part where many meet!
+    The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
+    And every turf beneath their feet
+      Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
+
+THOMAS CAMPBELL
+
+
+
+
+THE DREAM OF THE OAK TREE
+
+
+There stood in a wood, high on the bank near the open sea-shore, such a
+grand old oak tree! It was three hundred and sixty-five years old; but
+all this length of years had seemed to the tree scarcely more than so
+many days appear to us men and women, boys and girls.
+
+A tree's life is not quite the same as a man's: we wake during the day,
+and sleep and dream during the night; but a tree wakes throughout three
+seasons of the year, and has no sleep till winter comes. The winter is
+its sleeping time--its night after the long day which we call spring,
+summer, and autumn.
+
+It was just at the holy Christmas-tide that the oak tree dreamed his
+most beautiful dream. He seemed to hear the church-bells ringing all
+around, and to feel as if it were a mild, warm summer day. Fresh and
+green he reared his mighty crown on high, and the sunbeams played among
+his leaves. As in a festive procession, all that the tree had beheld in
+his life now passed by.
+
+Knights and ladies, with feathers in their caps and hawks perching on
+their wrists, rode gaily through the wood; dogs barked, and the huntsman
+sounded his bugle.
+
+Then came foreign soldiers in bright armour and gay vestments, bearing
+spurs and halberds, setting up their tents, and presently taking them
+down again. Then watch-fires blazed up and bands of wild outlaws sang,
+revelled, and slept under the tree's outstretched boughs; or happy
+lovers met in quiet moonlight and carved their initials on the grayish
+bark.
+
+At one time a guitar and an AEolian harp had been hung among the old
+oak's boughs by merry travelling apprentices; now they hung there again,
+and the wind played sweetly with their strings.
+
+And now the dream changed. A new and stronger current of life flowed
+through him, down to his lowest roots, up to his highest twigs, even to
+the very leaves. The tree felt in his roots that a warm life stirred in
+the earth, and that he was growing taller and taller; his trunk shot up
+more and more, his crown grew fuller; and still he soared and spread.
+He felt that his power grew, too, and he longed to advance higher and
+higher to the warm, bright sun.
+
+Already he towered above the clouds, which drifted below him, now like a
+troop of dark-plumaged birds of passage, now like flocks of large, white
+swans. The stars became visible by daylight, so large and bright, each
+one sparkling like a mild, clear eye.
+
+It was a blessed moment! and yet, in the height of his joy, the oak tree
+felt a desire and longing that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and
+flowers of the wood might be lifted up with him to share in his glory
+and gladness. He could not be fully blessed unless he might have all,
+small and great, blessed with him.
+
+The tree's crown bowed itself as though it had missed something, and
+looked backward. Then he felt the fragrance of honeysuckle and violets,
+and fancied he could hear the birds. And so it was! for now peeped forth
+through the clouds the green summits of the wood; the other trees below
+had grown and lifted themselves up likewise; bushes and herbs shot high
+into the air, some tearing themselves loose from their roots to mount
+the faster.
+
+Like a flash of white lightning the birch, moving fastest of all, shot
+upward its slender stem. Even the feathery brown reeds had pierced their
+way through the clouds, and the birds sang and sang, and on the grass
+that fluttered to and fro like a streaming ribbon perched the
+grasshopper, while cockchafers hummed and bees buzzed. All was music and
+gladness.
+
+"But the little blue flower near the water--I want that, too," said the
+oak; "and the bellflower, and the dear little daisy." "We are here! we
+are here!" chanted sweet low voices on all sides.
+
+"But the pretty anemones, and the bed of lilies of the valley, and all
+the flowers that bloomed so long ago,--would that they were here!" "We
+are here! we are here!" was the answer, and it seemed to come from the
+air above, as if they had fled upward first.
+
+"Oh, this is too great happiness!" exclaimed the oak tree; and now he
+felt that his own roots were loosening themselves from the earth. "This
+is best of all," he said. "Now no bounds shall detain me. I can soar to
+the heights of light and glory, and I have all my dear ones with me."
+
+Such was the oak tree's Christmas dream. And all the while a mighty
+storm swept the sea and land; the ocean rolled his heavy billows on the
+shore, the tree cracked, and was rent and torn up by the roots at the
+very moment when he dreamed that he was soaring to the skies.
+
+Next day the sea was calm again, and a large vessel that had weathered
+the storm hoisted all its flags for Merry Christmas. "The tree is
+gone--the old oak tree, our beacon! How can its place ever be supplied?"
+said the crew. This was the tree's funeral eulogium, while the Christmas
+hymn re-echoed from the wood.
+
+HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+A PRAYER
+
+
+The day returns and brings us the petty round of irritating concerns and
+duties. Help us to play the man, help us to perform them with laughter
+and kind faces; let cheerfulness abound with industry. Give us to go
+blithely on our business all this day, bring us to our resting beds
+weary and content and undishonoured; and grant us in the end the gift of
+sleep.
+
+R. L. STEVENSON
+
+[Illustration: IN THE PASTURE]
+
+
+
+
+THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS
+
+
+    The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
+    Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
+    Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
+    They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.
+    The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs, the jay,
+    And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
+
+    Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood
+    In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
+    Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers
+    Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
+    The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain
+    Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
+
+    The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,
+    And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
+    But on the hill the goldenrod, and the aster in the wood,
+    And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,
+    Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,
+    And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
+
+    And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,
+    To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home,
+    When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
+    And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
+    The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
+    And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
+
+BRYANT
+
+
+
+
+'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER
+
+
+    'Tis the last rose of summer
+      Left blooming alone;
+    All her lovely companions
+      Are faded and gone;
+    No flower of her kindred,
+      No rosebud is nigh,
+    To reflect back her blushes,
+      Or give sigh for sigh.
+
+    I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
+      To pine on the stem;
+    Since the lovely are sleeping,
+      Go, sleep thou with them.
+    Thus kindly I scatter
+      Thy leaves o'er the bed,
+    Where thy mates of the garden
+      Lie scentless and dead.
+
+    So soon may I follow,
+      When friendships decay,
+    And from Love's shining circle
+      The gems drop away.
+    When true hearts lie withered,
+      And fond ones are flown,
+    Oh! who would inhabit
+      This bleak world alone!
+
+MOORE
+
+
+
+
+A ROMAN'S HONOUR
+
+
+The Romans had suffered a terrible defeat in B.C. 251, and Regulus, a
+famous soldier and senator, had been captured and dragged into Carthage
+where the victors feasted and rejoiced through half the night, and
+testified their thanks to their god by offering in his fires the bravest
+of their captives.
+
+Regulus himself was not, however, one of these victims. He was kept a
+close prisoner for two years, pining and sickening in his loneliness;
+while, in the meantime, the war continued, and at last a victory so
+decisive was gained by the Romans, that the people of Carthage were
+discouraged, and resolved to ask terms of peace. They thought that no
+one would be so readily listened to at Rome as Regulus, and they
+therefore sent him there with their envoys, having first made him swear
+that he would come back to his prison, if there should neither be peace
+nor an exchange of prisoners. They little knew how much more a
+true-hearted Roman cared for his city than for himself--for his word
+than for his life.
+
+Worn and dejected, the captive warrior came to the outside of the gates
+of his own city and there paused, refusing to enter. "I am no longer a
+Roman citizen," he said; "I am but the barbarian's slave, and the Senate
+may not give audience to strangers within the walls."
+
+His wife, Marcia, ran out to greet him, with his two sons, but he did
+not look up, and received their caresses as one beneath their notice, as
+a mere slave, and he continued, in spite of all entreaty, to remain
+outside the city, and would not even go to the little farm he had loved
+so well.
+
+The Roman Senate, as he would not come in to them, came out to hold
+their meeting in the Campagna.
+
+The ambassadors spoke first; then Regulus, standing up, said, as one
+repeating a task: "Conscript fathers, being a slave to the
+Carthaginians, I come on the part of my masters to treat with you
+concerning peace and an exchange of prisoners." He then turned to go
+away with the ambassadors, as a stranger might not be present at the
+deliberations of the Senate. His old friends pressed him to stay and
+give his opinion as a senator, who had twice been consul; but he refused
+to degrade that dignity by claiming it, slave as he was. But, at the
+command of his Carthaginian masters, he remained, though not taking his
+seat.
+
+Then he spoke. He told the senators to persevere in the war. He said he
+had seen the distress of Carthage, and that a peace would be only to her
+advantage, not to that of Rome, and therefore he strongly advised that
+the war should continue. Then, as to the exchange of prisoners, the
+Carthaginian generals, who were in the hands of the Romans, were in full
+health and strength, whilst he himself was too much broken down to be
+fit for service again; and, indeed, he believed that his enemies had
+given him a slow poison, and that he could not live long. Thus he
+insisted that no exchange of prisoners should be made.
+
+It was wonderful, even to Romans, to hear a man thus pleading against
+himself; and their chief priest came forward and declared that, as his
+oath had been wrested from him by force, he was not bound by it to
+return to his captivity. But Regulus was too noble to listen to this for
+a moment. "Have you resolved to dishonour me?" he said. "I am not
+ignorant that death and the extremest tortures are preparing for me; but
+what are these to the shame of an infamous action, or the wounds of a
+guilty mind? Slave as I am to Carthage, I have still the spirit of a
+Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty to go; let the gods take
+care of the rest."
+
+The Senate decided to follow the advice of Regulus, though they bitterly
+regretted his sacrifice. His wife wept and entreated in vain that they
+would detain him--they could merely repeat their permission to him to
+remain; but nothing could prevail with him to break his word, and he
+turned back to the chains and death he expected, as calmly as if he had
+been returning to his home. This was in the year B.C. 249.
+
+CHARLOTTE M. YONGE: "Book of Golden Deeds."
+
+
+
+
+THE FIGHTING TEMERAIRE
+
+
+    It was eight bells ringing,
+      For the morning watch was done,
+    And the gunner's lads were singing,
+      As they polished every gun.
+    It was eight bells ringing,
+      And the gunner's lads were singing
+    For the ship she rode a-swinging,
+      As they polished every gun.
+
+        _Oh! to see the linstock lighting,
+          Temeraire! Temeraire!
+        Oh! to hear the round shot biting,
+          Temeraire! Temeraire!
+        Oh! to see the linstock lighting,
+        And to hear the round shot biting,
+        For we're all in love with fighting
+          On the Fighting Temeraire._
+
+    It was noontide ringing,
+      And the battle just begun,
+    When the ship her way was winging,
+      As they loaded every gun.
+    It was noontide ringing
+    When the ship her way was winging,
+    And the gunner's lads were singing,
+      As they loaded every gun.
+
+        _There'll be many grim and gory,
+          Temeraire! Temeraire!
+        There'll be few to tell the story,
+          Temeraire! Temeraire!
+        There'll be many grim and gory,
+        There'll be few to tell the story,
+        But we'll all be one in glory
+          With the Fighting Temeraire._
+
+    There's a far bell ringing
+      At the setting of the sun,
+    And a phantom voice is singing
+      Of the great days done.
+    There's a far bell ringing,
+    And a phantom voice is singing
+    Of renown for ever clinging
+      To the great days done.
+
+        _Now the sunset breezes shiver,
+          Temeraire! Temeraire!
+        And she's fading down the river,
+          Temeraire! Temeraire!
+        Now the sunset breezes shiver,
+        And she's fading down the river,
+        But in England's song for ever
+          She's the Fighting Temeraire._
+
+HENRY NEWBOLT
+
+
+
+
+DON QUIXOTE'S FIGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS
+
+
+"I beseech your worship, Sir Knight-errant," quoth Sancho to his master,
+"be sure you don't forget what you promised me about the island; for I
+dare say I shall make shift to govern it, let it be never so big."
+
+"You must know, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "that it has been
+the constant practice of knights-errant in former ages to make their
+squires governors of the islands or kingdoms they conquered."
+
+As they were thus discoursing, they discovered some thirty or forty
+windmills that are in that plain; and as soon as the knight had spied
+them, "Fortune," cried he, "directs our affairs better than we ourselves
+could have wished: look yonder, friend Sancho, there are at least thirty
+outrageous giants, whom I intend to encounter; and having deprived them
+of life, we will begin to enrich ourselves with their spoils; for they
+are lawful prize; and the extirpation of that cursed brood will be an
+acceptable service to Heaven."
+
+"What giants?" quoth Sancho Panza.
+
+"Those whom thou seest yonder," answered Don Quixote, "with their long
+extended arms; some of that detested race have arms of so immense a
+size, that sometimes they reach two leagues in length."
+
+"Pray look better, sir," quoth Sancho; "those things yonder are no
+giants, but windmills, and the arms you fancy, are their sails, which
+being whirled about by the wind, make the mill go."
+
+"'Tis a sign," cried Don Quixote, "thou art but little acquainted with
+adventures! I tell thee, they are giants; and therefore if thou art
+afraid, go aside and say thy prayers, for I am resolved to engage in a
+dreadful unequal combat against them all." This said, he clapped spurs
+to his horse Rozinante, without giving ear to his squire Sancho, who
+bawled out to him, and assured him that they were windmills, and no
+giants. But he was so fully possessed with a strong conceit of the
+contrary, that he did not so much as hear his squire's outcry, nor was
+he sensible of what they were, although he was already very near them;
+far from that: "Stand, cowards," cried he, as loud as he could; "stand
+your ground, ignoble creatures, and fly not basely from a single knight,
+who dares encounter you all!"
+
+At the same time, the wind rising, the mill-sails began to move, which
+when Don Quixote spied, "Base miscreants," cried he, "though you move
+more arms than the giant Briareus, you shall pay for your arrogance."
+
+He most devoutly recommended himself to his Lady Dulcinea, imploring her
+assistance in this perilous adventure; and, so covering himself with his
+shield, and couching his lance, he rushed with Rozinante's utmost speed
+upon the first windmill he could come at, and running his lance into the
+sail, the wind whirled it about with such swiftness, that the rapidity
+of the motion presently broke the lance into shivers, and hurled away
+both knight and horse along with it, till down he fell, rolling a good
+way off in the field.
+
+Sancho Panza ran as fast as his ass could drive to help his master, whom
+he found lying, and not able to stir, such a blow had he and Rozinante
+received. "Mercy o' me!" cried Sancho, "did not I give your worship fair
+warning? Did not I tell you they were windmills, and that nobody could
+think otherwise, unless he had also windmills in his head!"
+
+"Peace, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote: "there is nothing so
+subject to the inconstancy of fortune as war. I am verily persuaded that
+cursed necromancer, Freston, who carried away my study and my books, has
+transformed these giants into windmills to deprive me of the honour of
+the victory; such is his inveterate malice against me; but in the end,
+all his pernicious wiles and stratagems shall prove ineffectual against
+the prevailing edge of my sword."
+
+"Amen, say I," replied Sancho.
+
+And so heaving him up again upon his legs, once more the knight mounted
+poor Rozinante, that was half shoulder-slipped with his fall.
+
+This adventure was the subject of their discourse, as they made the best
+of their way towards the pass of Lapice, for Don Quixote took that road,
+believing he could not miss of adventure in one so mightily frequented.
+However, the loss of his lance was no small affliction to him; and as he
+was making his complaint about it to his squire, "I have read," said he,
+"friend Sancho, that a certain Spanish knight, having broken his sword
+in the heat of an engagement, pulled up by the roots a huge oak tree, or
+at least tore down a massy branch, and did such wonderful execution,
+crushing and grinding so many Moors with it that day, that he won
+himself and his posterity the surname of The Pounder, or Bruiser. I tell
+thee this, because I intend to tear up the next oak or holm tree we
+meet; with the trunk whereof I hope to perform such wondrous deeds that
+thou wilt esteem thyself particularly happy in having had the honour to
+behold them, and been the ocular witness of achievements which posterity
+will scarce be able to believe."
+
+"Heaven grant you may," cried Sancho; "I believe it all, because your
+worship says it. But, an't please you, sit a little more upright in your
+saddle; you ride sideling methinks; but that, I suppose, proceeds from
+your being bruised by the fall."
+
+"It does so," replied Don Quixote; "and if I do not complain of the
+pain, it is because a knight-errant must never complain of his wounds."
+
+"Then I have no more to say," quoth Sancho; "and yet Heaven knows my
+heart, I should be glad to hear your worship groan a little now and then
+when something ails you: for my part, I shall not fail to bemoan myself
+when I suffer the smallest pain, unless, indeed, it can be proved that
+the rule of not complaining extends to the squires as well as knights."
+
+Don Quixote could not forbear smiling at the simplicity of his squire;
+and told him he gave him leave to complain not only when he pleased, but
+as much as he pleased, whether he had any cause or no; for he had never
+yet read anything to the contrary in any books of chivalry.
+
+CERVANTES: "The Adventures of Don Quixote."
+
+
+
+
+THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST
+
+
+    Little Ellie sits alone
+      'Mid the beeches of a meadow,
+        By a stream-side on the grass,
+    And the trees are showering down
+      Doubles of their leaves in shadow,
+        On her shining hair and face.
+
+    She has thrown her bonnet by,
+      And her feet she has been dipping
+        In the shallow water's flow.
+    Now she holds them nakedly
+      In her hands, all sleek and dripping,
+        While she rocketh to and fro.
+
+    Little Ellie sits alone,
+      And the smile she softly uses,
+        Fills the silence like a speech,
+    While she thinks what shall be done,--
+      And the sweetest pleasure chooses
+        For her future within reach.
+
+    Little Ellie in her smile
+      Chooses ... "I will have a lover,
+        Riding on a steed of steeds!
+    He shall love me without guile,
+      And to _him_ I will discover
+        The swan's nest among the reeds.
+
+    "And the steed shall be red-roan,
+      And the lover shall be noble,
+        With an eye that takes the breath.
+    And the lute he plays upon,
+      Shall strike ladies into trouble,
+        As his sword strikes men to death.
+
+    "And the steed it shall be shod
+      All in silver, housed in azure;
+        And the mane shall swim the wind;
+    And the hoofs along the sod
+      Shall flash onward and keep measure,
+        Till the shepherds look behind.
+
+    "But my lover will not prize
+      All the glory that he rides in,
+        When he gazes in my face.
+    He will say: 'O Love, thine eyes
+      Build the shrine my soul abides in,
+        And I kneel here for thy grace.'
+
+    "Then, ay, then--he shall kneel low,
+      With the red-roan steed anear him
+        Which shall seem to understand--
+    Till I answer: 'Rise and go!'
+      For the world must love and fear him
+        Whom I gift with heart and hand.
+
+    "Then he will arise so pale,
+      I shall feel my own lips tremble
+        With a _yes_ I must not say,
+    Nathless maiden-brave, 'Farewell,'
+      I will utter, and dissemble--
+        'Light to-morrow with to-day.'
+
+    "Then he'll ride among the hills
+      To the wide world past the river,
+        There to put away all wrong;
+    To make straight distorted wills,
+      And to empty the broad quiver
+        Which the wicked bear along.
+
+    "Three times shall a young foot-page
+      Swim the stream and climb the mountain
+        And kneel down beside my feet--
+    'Lo, my master sends this gage,
+      Lady, for thy pity's counting!
+        What wilt thou exchange for it?'
+
+    "And the first time, I will send
+      A white rosebud for a guerdon,--
+        And the second time, a glove;
+    But the third time--I may bend
+      From my pride, and answer: 'Pardon,
+        If he comes to take my love.'
+
+    "Then the young foot-page will run--
+      Then my lover will ride faster,
+        Till he kneeleth at my knee:
+    'I am a duke's eldest son!
+      Thousand serfs do call me master,--
+        But, O Love, I love but _thee!_'
+
+    "He will kiss me on the mouth
+      Then, and lead me as a lover
+        Through the crowds that praise his deeds:
+    And, when soul-tied by one troth,
+      Unto _him_ I will discover
+        That swan's nest among the reeds."
+
+    Little Ellie, with her smile
+      Not yet ended, rose up gaily,
+        Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe,
+    And went homeward, round a mile,
+      Just to see, as she did daily,
+        What more eggs were with the two.
+
+    Pushing through the elm tree copse,
+      Winding up the stream, light-hearted,
+        Where the osier pathway leads--
+    Past the boughs she stoops--and stops.
+      Lo, the wild swan had deserted,--
+        And a rat had gnawed the reeds.
+
+    Ellie went home sad and slow.
+      If she found the lover ever,
+        With his red-roan steed of steeds,
+    Sooth I know not! but I know
+      She could never show him--never,
+        That swan's nest among the reeds.
+
+E. B. BROWNING
+
+[Illustration: DEEP SEA FISHERS]
+
+
+
+
+MOONLIGHT SONATA
+
+
+It happened at Bonn. One moonlight winter's evening I called upon
+Beethoven; for I wished him to take a walk, and afterwards sup with me.
+In passing through a dark, narrow street, he suddenly paused. "Hush!" he
+said, "what sound is that? It is from my Sonata in F. Hark! how well it
+is played!"
+
+It was a little, mean dwelling, and we paused outside and listened. The
+player went on; but, in the midst of the finale, there was a sudden
+break; then the voice of sobbing: "I cannot play any more. It is too
+beautiful; it is utterly beyond my power to do it justice. Oh! what
+would I not give to go to the concert at Cologne!"
+
+"Ah! my sister," said her companion; "why create regrets when there is
+no remedy? We can scarcely pay our rent."
+
+"You are right, and yet I wish for once in my life to hear some really
+good music. But it is of no use."
+
+Beethoven looked at me. "Let us go in," he said.
+
+"Go in!" I exclaimed. "What can we go in for?"
+
+"I will play to her," he said, in an excited tone. "Here is
+feeling--genius--understanding! I will play to her, and she will
+understand it."
+
+And before I could prevent him his hand was upon the door. It opened and
+we entered.
+
+A pale young man was sitting by the table, making shoes, and near him,
+leaning sorrowfully upon an old-fashioned piano, sat a young girl, with
+a profusion of light hair falling over her face.
+
+"Pardon me," said Beethoven, "but I heard music and was tempted to
+enter. I am a musician."
+
+The girl blushed, and the young man looked grave and somewhat annoyed.
+
+"I--I also overheard something of what you said," continued my friend.
+"You wish to hear--that is, you would like--that is--shall I play for
+you?"
+
+There was something so odd in the whole affair, and something so comical
+and pleasant in the manner of the speaker, that the spell was broken in
+a moment.
+
+"Thank you!" said the shoemaker; "but our piano is so wretched, and we
+have no music."
+
+"No music!" echoed my friend; "how, then, does the young lady--" he
+paused and coloured; for, as he looked in the girl's face, he saw that
+she was blind. "I--I entreat your pardon," he stammered. "I had not
+perceived before. Then you play by ear? But when do you hear the music,
+since you frequent no concerts?"
+
+"We lived at Bruhl for two years, and while there I used to hear a lady
+practising near us. During the summer evenings her windows were
+generally open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen to her."
+
+She seemed so shy that Beethoven said no more, but seated himself
+quietly before the piano and began to play. He had no sooner struck the
+first chord than I knew what would follow. Never, during all the years I
+knew him, did I hear him play as he then played to that blind girl and
+her brother. He seemed to be inspired; and, from the instant that his
+fingers began to wander along the keys, the very tones of the
+instrument seemed to grow sweeter and more equal.
+
+The brother and sister were silent with wonder and rapture. The former
+laid aside his work; the latter, with her head bent slightly forward,
+and her hands pressed tightly over her breast, crouched down near the
+end of the piano, as if fearful lest even the beating of her heart
+should break the flow of those magical sounds.
+
+Suddenly the flame of the single candle wavered, sank, flickered, and
+went out. Beethoven paused, and I threw open the shutters, admitting a
+flood of brilliant moonlight. The room was almost as light as before,
+the moon rays falling strongest upon the piano and the player. His head
+dropped upon his breast; his hands rested upon his knees; he seemed
+absorbed in deep thought. He remained thus for some time. At length the
+young shoemaker arose and approached him eagerly.
+
+"Wonderful man!" he said, in a low tone. "Who and what are you?"
+
+"Listen!" said Beethoven, and he played the opening bars of the Sonata
+in F. A cry of recognition burst from them both, and exclaiming: "Then
+you are Beethoven!" they covered his hands with tears and kisses.
+
+He rose to go, but we held him back with entreaties.
+
+"Play to us once more--only once more!"
+
+He suffered himself to be led back to the instrument. The moon shone
+brightly in through the window, and lighted up his glorious, rugged head
+and massive figure.
+
+"I will improvise a Sonata to the Moonlight!" said he, looking up
+thoughtfully to the sky and stars. Then his hands dropped on the keys,
+and he began playing a sad and infinitely lovely movement, which crept
+gently over the instrument, like the calm flow of moonlight over the
+dark earth. This was followed by a wild, elfin passage in triple time--a
+sort of grotesque interlude, like the dance of spirits upon the lawn.
+Then came a swift agitato finale--a breathless, hurrying, trembling
+movement, descriptive of flight, and uncertainty, and vague impulsive
+terror, which carried us away on its rustling wings, and left us all in
+emotion and wonder.
+
+"Farewell to you!" said Beethoven, pushing back his chair, and turning
+towards the door--"farewell to you!"
+
+"You will come again?" asked they in one breath.
+
+He paused and looked compassionately, almost tenderly, at the face of
+the blind girl.
+
+"Yes, yes," he said hurriedly, "I will come again, and give the young
+lady some lessons! Farewell! I will come again!"
+
+Their looks followed us in silence more eloquent than words till we were
+out of sight.
+
+"Let us make haste back," said Beethoven, "that I may write out that
+Sonata while I can yet remember it."
+
+We did so, and he sat over it till long past day dawn. And this was the
+origin of the Moonlight Sonata with which we are all so fondly
+acquainted.
+
+UNKNOWN
+
+
+
+
+THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD
+
+
+    Black beneath as the night,
+      With wings of a morning glow,
+    From his sooty throat three syllables float,
+      Ravishing, liquid, low;
+    And 'tis oh, for the joy of June,
+      And the bliss that ne'er can flee
+    From that exquisite call, with its sweet, sweet fall--
+      O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!
+
+    Long ago as a child,
+      From the bough of a blossoming quince,
+    That melody came to thrill my frame,
+      And whenever I've caught it since,
+    The spring-soft blue of the sky
+      And the spring-bright bloom of the tree
+    Are a part of the strain--ah, hear it again!--
+      O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!
+
+    And the night is tenderly black,
+      The morning eagerly bright,
+    For that old, old spring is blossoming
+      In the soul and in the sight.
+    The red-winged blackbird brings
+      My lost youth back to me,
+    When I hear in the swale, from a gray fence rail,
+      O-ke-lee, o-ke-lee, o-ke-lee!
+
+ETHELWYN WETHERALD
+
+
+
+
+TO THE CUCKOO
+
+
+    Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!
+      Thou messenger of spring!
+    Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat,
+      And woods thy welcome sing.
+
+    What time the daisy decks the green,
+      Thy certain voice we hear.
+    Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
+      Or mark the rolling year?
+
+    Delightful visitant! with thee
+      I hail the time of flowers,
+    And hear the sound of music sweet
+      From birds among the bowers.
+
+    The school-boy, wandering through the wood
+      To pull the primrose gay,
+    Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear,
+      And imitates thy lay.
+
+    What time the pea puts on the bloom,
+      Thou fliest thy vocal vale,
+    An annual guest in other lands,
+      Another spring to hail.
+
+    Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,
+      Thy sky is ever clear;
+    Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
+      No winter in thy year!
+
+    Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
+      We'd make, with joyful wing,
+    Our annual visit o'er the globe,
+      Companions of the Spring.
+
+JOHN LOGAN
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF A STONE
+
+
+A great many years ago, when nearly the whole of Canada was covered with
+water, and the Northern Ocean, which washed the highest crests of the
+Alleghanies, made an island of the Laurentian Hills, and wrote its name
+on the Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior, there lived somewhere near
+Toronto, in the Province of Ontario, a little animal called a Polyp. He
+was a curious creature, very small, not unlike a flower in appearance, a
+plant-animal.
+
+One day, the sun shone down into the water and set this little fellow
+free from the egg in which he was confined. For a time he floated about
+near the bottom of the ocean, but at last settled down on a bit of
+shell, and fastened himself to it. Then he made an opening in his upper
+side, formed for himself a mouth and stomach, thrust out a whole row of
+feelers, and began catching whatever morsels of food came in his way. He
+had a great many strange ways, but the strangest of all was his
+gathering little bits of limestone from the water and building them up
+round him, as a person does who builds a well.
+
+But this little Favosite, for that was his name, became lonesome on the
+bottom of that old ocean; so one night, when he was fast asleep and
+dreaming as only a coral animal can dream, there sprouted out of his
+side another little Favosite, who very soon began to wall himself up as
+his parent had done. From these, other little Favosites were formed,
+till at last there were so many of them, and they were so crowded
+together, that, to economize the limestone they built with, they had to
+make their cells six-sided, like those of a honey-comb: on this account
+they are called Favosites.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The colony thrived for a long time, and accumulated quite a stock of
+limestone. But at last a change came: there was a great rush of muddy
+water from the land, and all the Favosites died, leaving only a stony
+skeleton to prove that industrious Polyps had ever existed there.
+
+This skeleton remained undisturbed for ages, until the earth began to
+rise inch by inch out of the water. Then our Favosites' home rose above
+the deep, and with it came all that was left of its old acquaintances
+the Trilobites, who were the ancestors of our crabs and lobsters.
+
+[Illustration: Trilobite]
+
+Then the first fishes made their appearance, great fierce-looking
+fellows like the gar pike of our lakes, but larger, and armed with
+scales as hard as the armour of a crocodile. Next came the sharks, as
+savage and voracious as they now are, with teeth like knives. But the
+time of these old fishes and of many more animals came and went, and
+still the home of the Favosites lay in the ground.
+
+Then came the long, hot, damp epoch, when thick mists hung over the
+earth, and great ferns and rushes, as stout as an oak and as tall as a
+steeple, grew in Nova Scotia, in Pennsylvania, and in other parts of
+America where coal is now found. Huge reptiles, with enormous jaws and
+teeth like cross-cut saws, and smaller ones with wings like bats, next
+appeared and added to the strangeness of the scene.
+
+But the reptiles died; the ferns and the rush-trees fell into their
+native swamps, and were covered up and packed away under great layers of
+clay and sand brought down by the rivers, till at last they were turned
+into coal, forming for us, what someone has called, beds of petrified
+sunshine. But all this while the skeleton of the Favosites lay
+undisturbed.
+
+Then the mists cleared away as gradually as they had come, the sun shone
+out, the grass grew, and strange four-footed animals came and fed upon
+it. Among these were odd-looking little horses no bigger than foxes;
+great hairy monsters larger than elephants, with tremendous tusks; hogs
+with snouts nearly as long as their bodies; and other strange creatures
+that no man has ever seen alive. But still the house of the Favosites
+remained where it was.
+
+Next came the great winter, and it continued to snow till the mountains
+were hidden. Then the snow was packed into ice, and Canada became one
+solid glacier. This ice age continued for many thousands of years.
+
+At last the ice began to melt, and the glacier came slowly down the
+slopes, tearing up rocks, little and big, and crushing and grinding and
+carrying away everything in its course. It ploughed its way across
+Ontario, and the skeleton of our Favosites was rooted out from the quiet
+place where it had lain so long, and was caught up in a crevice of the
+ice. The glacier slid along, melting all the while, and covering the
+land with clay, pebbles, and boulders. At last it stopped, and as it
+gradually melted away, all the rocks and stones and dirt it had carried
+with it thus far, were deposited into one great heap, and the home of
+the Favosites along with them.
+
+Ages afterwards a farmer, near Toronto, when ploughing a field, picked
+up a curious bit of "petrified honey-comb," and gave it to a geologist
+to hear what he would say about it. And now you have read what he said.
+
+D. B.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW-STORM
+
+
+    The sun that brief December day
+    Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
+    And, darkly circled, gave at noon
+    A sadder light than waning moon.
+    A chill no coat, however stout,
+    Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
+    A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
+      That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
+      Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
+    The coming of the snow-storm told.
+    The wind blew east: we heard the roar
+    Of Ocean on his wintry shore,
+    And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
+    Beat with low rhythm our inland air.
+
+    Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,--
+    Brought in the wood from out of doors,
+    Littered the stalls, and from the mows
+    Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows:
+    Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
+    And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
+    Impatient down the stanchion rows
+    The cattle shake their walnut bows;
+    While, peering from his early perch
+    Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
+    The cock his crested helmet bent
+    And down his querulous challenge sent.
+
+    Unwarmed by any sunset light
+    The gray day darkened into night,
+    A night made hoary with the swarm
+    And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
+    As zigzag wavering to and fro
+    Crossed and recrossed the winged snow:
+    And ere the early bed-time came
+    The white drift piled the window-frame,
+    And through the glass the clothes-line posts
+    Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.
+
+    So all night long the storm roared on:
+    The morning broke without a sun;
+    And, when the second morning shone,
+    We looked upon a world unknown,
+    On nothing we could call our own.
+    Around the glistening wonder bent
+    The blue walls of the firmament,
+    No cloud above, no earth below,--
+    A universe of sky and snow!
+    The old familiar sights of ours
+    Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers
+    Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,
+    Or garden wall, or belt of wood;
+    A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,
+    A fenceless drift what once was road;
+    The bridle-post an old man sat
+    With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;
+    The well-curb had a Chinese roof;
+    And even the long sweep, high aloof,
+    In its slant splendour, seemed to tell
+    Of Pisa's leaning miracle.
+
+    A prompt, decisive man, no breath
+    Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!"
+    Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy
+    Count such a summons less than joy?)
+    Our buskins on our feet we drew;
+      With mittened hands, and caps drawn low
+      To guard our necks and ears from snow,
+    We cut the solid whiteness through.
+    And, where the drift was deepest made
+    A tunnel walled and overlaid
+    With dazzling crystal: we had read
+    Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave,
+    And to our own his name we gave,
+    With many a wish the luck were ours
+    To test his lamp's supernal powers.
+    We reached the barn with merry din,
+    And roused the prisoned brutes within.
+
+    The old horse thrust his long head out,
+    And grave with wonder gazed about;
+    The cock his lusty greeting said,
+    And forth his speckled harem led;
+    The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked,
+    And mild reproach of hunger looked;
+    The horned patriarch of the sheep,
+    Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep,
+    Shook his sage head with gesture mute,
+    And emphasized with stamp of foot.
+
+    All day the gusty north wind bore
+    The loosening drift its breath before;
+    Low circling round its southern zone,
+    The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.
+
+WHITTIER: "Snow-bound."
+
+
+
+
+THE HEROINE OF VERCHERES
+
+
+Vercheres was a fort on the south shore of the St. Lawrence, about
+twenty miles below Montreal. A strong block-house stood outside the
+fort, and was connected with it by a covered way. On the morning of the
+twenty-second of October, (1692) the inhabitants were at work in the
+fields, and nobody was left in the place but two soldiers, two boys, an
+old man of eighty, and a number of women and children. The commandant
+was on duty at Quebec; his wife was at Montreal; and their daughter,
+Madeline, fourteen years of age, was at the landing-place not far from
+the gate of the fort, with a man-servant.
+
+Suddenly she heard firing from the direction where the settlers were at
+work, and an instant after the servant called out: "Run, miss!--run!
+here come the Indians!" She turned and saw forty or fifty of them at the
+distance of a pistol-shot. She ran to the fort as quickly as possible,
+while the bullets whistled about her ears, and made the time seem very
+long. As soon as she was near enough to be heard, she cried out: "To
+arms!--to arms!" hoping that somebody would come out and help her; but
+it was of no use. The two soldiers in the fort were so scared that they
+had hidden in the block-house.
+
+When she had seen certain breaches in the palisade stopped, she went to
+the block-house, where the ammunition was kept; and there she found the
+two soldiers, one hiding in a corner, and the other with a lighted match
+in his hand.
+
+"What are you going to do with that match?" she asked. He answered:
+"Light the powder and blow us all up." "You are a miserable coward!"
+said she. "Go out of this place." She then threw off her bonnet, put on
+a hat, and taking a gun in her hand she said to her two brothers: "Let
+us fight to the death. We are fighting for our country and our
+religion."
+
+The boys, who were ten and twelve years old, aided by the soldiers, whom
+her words had inspired with some little courage, began to fire from the
+loop-holes on the Indians, who, ignorant of the weakness of the
+garrison, showed their usual reluctance to attack a fortified place, and
+occupied themselves with chasing and butchering the people in the
+neighbouring fields. Madeline ordered a cannon to be fired, partly to
+deter the enemy from an assault, and partly to warn some of the soldiers
+who were hunting at a distance.
+
+A canoe was presently seen approaching the landing-place. In it was a
+settler named Fontaine, trying to reach the fort with his family. The
+Indians were still near; and Madeline feared that the new-comers would
+be killed, if something were not done to aid them. Distrusting the
+soldiers, she herself went alone to the landing-place.
+
+"I thought," she said, in her account of the affair, "that the savages
+would suppose it to be a ruse to draw them towards the fort, in order
+to make a sortie upon them. They did suppose so; and thus I was able to
+save the Fontaine family. When they were all landed, I made them march
+before me in full sight of the enemy. We put so bold a face on it, that
+they thought they had more to fear than we. Strengthened by this
+reinforcement, I ordered that the enemy should be fired on whenever they
+showed themselves.
+
+"After sunset a violent north-east wind began to blow, accompanied with
+snow and hail, which told us that we should have a terrible night. The
+Indians were all this time lurking about us; and I judged by all their
+movements that, instead of being deterred by the storm, they would climb
+into the fort under cover of darkness."
+
+She then assembled her troops, who numbered six, all told, and spoke to
+them encouraging words. With two old men she took charge of the fort,
+and sent Fontaine and the two soldiers with the women and children to
+the block-house. She placed her two brothers on two of the bastions, and
+an old man on a third, while she herself took charge of the fourth. All
+night, in spite of wind, snow, and hail, the cry of "All's well" was
+kept up from the block-house to the fort, and from the fort to the
+block-house. One would have supposed that the place was full of
+soldiers. The Indians thought so, and were completely deceived, as they
+afterwards confessed.
+
+At last the daylight came again; and as the darkness disappeared, the
+anxieties of the little garrison seemed to disappear with it. Fontaine
+said he would never abandon the place while Madeline remained in it. She
+declared that she would never abandon it: she would rather die than give
+it up to the enemy.
+
+She did not eat or sleep for twice twenty-four hours. She did not go
+once into her father's house, but kept always on the bastion, except
+when she went to the block-house to see how the people there were
+behaving. She always kept a cheerful and smiling face, and encouraged
+her little company with the hope of speedy succour.
+
+"We were a week in constant alarm," she continues, "with the enemy
+always about us. At last a lieutenant, sent by the governor, arrived in
+the night with forty men. As he did not know whether the fort was taken
+or not, he approached as silently as possible. One of our sentinels,
+hearing a slight sound, cried: 'Who goes there?' I was at the time
+dozing, with my head on a table and my gun lying across my arms. The
+sentinel told me that he heard voices from the river. I went at once to
+the bastion to see whether they were Indians or Frenchmen who were
+there. I asked: 'Who are you?' One of them answered: 'We are Frenchmen
+come to bring you help.'"
+
+"I caused the gate to be opened, placed a sentinel there, and went down
+to the river to meet them. As soon as I saw the lieutenant I saluted
+him, and said: 'I surrender my arms to you.' He answered gallantly:
+'They are in good hands, Miss.' He inspected the fort, and found
+everything in order, and a sentinel on each bastion. 'It is time to
+relieve them,' said I; 'we have not been off our bastions for a week.'"
+
+A band of converts from St. Louis arrived soon afterwards, followed the
+trail of their heathen countrymen, overtook them on Lake Champlain, and
+recovered twenty or more French prisoners.
+
+PARKMAN: "Frontenac and New France."
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+JACQUES CARTIER
+
+
+    In the seaport of St. Malo, 'twas a smiling morn in May,
+    When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed away;
+    In the crowded old Cathedral, all the town were on their knees,
+    For the safe return of kinsmen from the undiscovered seas;
+    And every autumn blast that swept o'er pinnacle and pier,
+    Filled manly hearts with sorrow, and gentle hearts with fear.
+
+    A year passed o'er St. Malo--again came round the day,
+    When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed away;
+    But no tidings from the absent had come the way they went,
+    And tearful were the vigils that many a maiden spent;
+    And manly hearts were filled with gloom, and gentle hearts with fear,
+    When no tidings came from Cartier at the closing of the year.
+
+    But the earth is as the Future, it hath its hidden side,
+    And the Captain of St. Malo was rejoicing in his pride;
+    In the forests of the North--while his townsmen mourned his loss--
+    He was rearing on Mount Royal the _fleur-de-lis_ and cross;
+    And when two months were over, and added to the year,
+    St. Malo hailed him home again, cheer answering to cheer.
+
+    He told them of a region, hard, iron-bound and cold,
+    Nor seas of pearl abounded, nor mines of shining gold;
+    Where the wind from Thule freezes the word upon the lip,
+    And the ice in spring comes sailing athwart the early ship;
+    He told them of the frozen scene, until they thrilled with fear,
+    And piled fresh fuel on the hearth to make them better cheer.
+
+    But when he changed the strain,--he told how soon is cast
+    In early Spring, the fetters that hold the waters fast;
+    How the Winter causeway, broken, is drifted out to sea,
+    And the rills and rivers sing with pride the anthem of the free;
+    How the magic wand of Summer clad the landscape to his eyes,
+    Like the dry bones of the just when they wake in Paradise.
+
+    He told them of the Algonquin braves--the hunters of the wild;
+    Of how the Indian mother in the forest rocks her child;
+    Of how, poor souls, they fancy in every living thing
+    A spirit good or evil, that claims their worshipping;
+    Of how they brought their sick and maimed for him to breathe upon;
+    And of the wonders wrought for them, thro' the Gospel of St. John.
+
+    He told them of the river, whose mighty current gave
+    Its freshness for a hundred leagues to ocean's briny wave;
+    He told them of the glorious scene presented to his sight,
+    What time he reared the cross and crown on Hochelaga's height;
+    And of the fortress cliff, that keeps of Canada the key;--
+    And they welcomed back Jacques Cartier from perils over sea.
+
+THOMAS D'ARCY M'GEE
+
+
+
+
+ANTS AND THEIR SLAVES
+
+
+Peter Huber, the son of the noted observer of the ways and habits of
+bees, was walking one day in a field near Geneva, Switzerland, when he
+saw on the ground an army of reddish-coloured ants on the march. He
+decided to follow them and to find out, if possible, the object of their
+journey.
+
+On the sides of the column, as if to keep it in order, a few of the
+insects sped to and fro. After marching for about a quarter of an hour,
+the army halted before an ant-hill, the home of a colony of small, black
+ants. These swarmed out to meet the red ones, and, to Huber's surprise,
+a combat, short but fierce, took place at the foot of the hill.
+
+A small number of the blacks fought bravely to the last, but the rest
+soon fled, panic-stricken, through the gates farthest from the
+battle-field, carrying away some of their young. They seemed to know it
+was the young ants that the invaders were seeking. The red warriors
+quickly forced their way into the tiny city and returned, loaded with
+children of the blacks.
+
+Carrying their living booty, the kidnappers left the pillaged town and
+started toward their home, whither Huber followed them. Great was his
+astonishment when, at the threshold of the red ants' dwelling, he saw
+numbers of black ants come forward to receive the young captives and to
+welcome them--children of their own race, doomed to be bond-servants in
+a strange land.
+
+Here, then, was a miniature city, in which strong red ants lived in
+peace with small black ones. But what was the province of the latter?
+Huber soon discovered that, in fact, these did all the work. They alone
+were able to build the houses in which both races lived; they alone
+brought up the young red ants and the captives of their own species;
+they alone gathered the supplies of food, and waited upon and fed their
+big masters, who were glad to have their little waiters feed them so
+attentively.
+
+The masters themselves had no occupation except that of war. When not
+raiding some village of the blacks, the red soldiers did nothing but
+wander lazily about.
+
+Huber wanted to learn what would be the result if the red ants found
+themselves without servants. Would the big creatures know how to supply
+their own needs? He put a few of the red insects in a glass case, having
+some honey in a corner. They did not go near it. They did not know
+enough to feed themselves. Some of them died of starvation, with food
+before them. Then he put into the case one black ant. It went straight
+to the honey, and with it fed its big, starving, silly masters. Here was
+a wonder, truly!
+
+The little blacks exert in many things a moral force whose signs are
+plainly visible. For example, those tiny wise creatures will not give
+permission to any of the great red ones to go out alone. Nor are these
+at liberty to go out even in a body, if their small helpers fear a
+storm, or if the day is far advanced. When a raid proves fruitless, the
+soldiers coming back without any living booty are forbidden by the
+blacks to enter the city, and are ordered to attack some other village.
+
+Not wishing to rely entirely on his own conclusions, Huber asked one of
+the great naturalists of Switzerland, Jurine, to decide whether or not
+mistakes had been made regarding these customs of the ants. This
+witness, and indeed others, found that Huber's reports were true.
+
+"Yet, after all," says Huber, "I still doubted. But on a later day I
+again saw in the park of Fontainebleau, near Paris, the same workings of
+ant life and wisdom. A well-known naturalist was with me then, and his
+conclusions were the same as mine.
+
+"It was half-past four in the afternoon of a very warm day. From a pile
+of stones there came forth a column of about five hundred reddish ants.
+They marched rapidly toward a field of turf, order in their ranks being
+kept by their sergeants. These watched the flanks, and would not permit
+any to straggle.
+
+"Suddenly the army disappeared. There was no sign of an ant-hill in the
+turf, but, after awhile, we detected a little hole. Through this the
+ants had vanished. We supposed it was an entrance to their home. In a
+minute they showed us that our supposition was incorrect. They issued in
+a throng, nearly every one of them carrying a small black captive.
+
+"From the short time they had taken, it was plain that they knew the
+place and the weakness of its citizens. Perhaps it was not the reds'
+first attack on this city of the little blacks. These swarmed out in
+great numbers; and, truly, I pitied them. They did not attempt to fight.
+They seemed terror-stricken, and made no attempt to oppose the warrior
+ants, except by clinging to them. One of the marauders was stopped thus,
+but a comrade that was free relieved him of his burden, and thereupon
+the black ant let go his grasp.
+
+"It was in fact a painful sight. The soldiers succeeded in carrying off
+nearly five hundred children. About three feet from the entrance to the
+ant-hill the plundered black parents ceased to follow the red robbers,
+and resigned themselves to the loss of their young. The whole raid did
+not occupy more than ten minutes.
+
+"The parties were, as we have seen, very unequal in strength, and the
+attack was clearly an outrage--an outrage no doubt often repeated. The
+big red ants, knowing their power, played the part of tyrants; and,
+whenever they wanted more slaves, despoiled the small weak blacks of
+their greatest treasures--their children."
+
+MICHELET
+
+
+
+
+LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT
+
+
+    Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,
+                Lead Thou me on;
+    The night is dark, and I am far from home,
+                Lead Thou me on.
+    Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
+    The distant scene; one step enough for me.
+
+    I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
+                Shouldst lead me on;
+    I loved to choose and see my path; but now
+                Lead Thou me on.
+    I loved the garish day; and, spite of fears,
+    Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
+
+    So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
+                Will lead me on
+    O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
+                The night is gone,
+    And with the morn those angel faces smile,
+    Which I have loved long since, and lost a while.
+
+NEWMAN
+
+
+
+
+THE JOLLY SANDBOYS
+
+
+The Jolly Sandboys was a small road-side inn with a sign, representing
+three Sandboys, creaking and swinging on its post on the opposite side
+of the road. As the travellers had observed many indications of their
+drawing nearer to the race town, such as gypsy camps, showmen of various
+kinds, and beggars and trampers of every degree, Mr. Codlin was fearful
+of finding the accommodation forestalled; but had the gratification of
+finding that his fears were without foundation, for the landlord was
+leaning against the door-post, looking lazily at the rain which had
+begun to descend heavily.
+
+"Make haste in out of the wet, Tom," said the landlord; "when it came on
+to rain I told 'em to make the fire up, and there's a glorious blaze in
+the kitchen, I can tell you."
+
+Mr. Codlin followed with a willing mind. A mighty fire was blazing on
+the hearth and roaring up the wide chimney with a cheerful sound, which
+a large iron cauldron, bubbling and simmering in the heat, lent its
+pleasant aid to swell. There was a deep red ruddy blush upon the room,
+and when the landlord stirred the fire, sending the flame skipping and
+leaping up--when he took off the lid of the iron pot and there rushed
+out a savoury smell, while the bubbling sound grew deeper and more rich,
+and an unctuous steam came floating out, hanging in a delicious mist
+above their heads--when he did this, Mr. Codlin's heart was touched.
+
+He sat down in the chimney-corner and smiled.
+
+Mr. Codlin sat smiling in the chimney-corner, eyeing the landlord as
+with a roguish look he held the cover in his hand, and feigning that his
+doing so was needful to the welfare of the cookery, suffered the
+delightful steam to tickle the nostrils of his guest. The glow of the
+fire was upon the landlord's bald head, and upon his twinkling eye, and
+upon his watering mouth, and upon his pimpled face, and upon his round
+fat figure. Mr. Codlin drew his sleeve across his lips, and said in a
+murmuring voice: "What is it?"
+
+"It's a stew of tripe," said the landlord, smacking his lips, "and
+cow-heel," smacking them again, "and bacon," smacking them once more,
+"and steak," smacking them for the fourth time, "and peas, cauliflowers,
+new potatoes, and sparrow-grass, all working up together in one
+delicious gravy." Having come to the climax, he smacked his lips a great
+many times, and taking a long, hearty sniff of the fragrance that was
+hovering about, put on the cover again with the air of one whose toils
+on earth were over.
+
+"At what time will it be ready?" asked Mr. Codlin, faintly.
+
+"It'll be done to a turn," said the landlord looking up to the
+clock--and the very clock had a colour in its fat white face, and looked
+a clock for Jolly Sandboys to consult--"it'll be done to a turn at
+twenty-two minutes before eleven."
+
+Mr. Codlin now bethought him of his companions, and acquainted mine host
+of the Sandboys that his partner Short, Nell and her grandfather might
+shortly be looked for. At length they arrived drenched with rain and
+presenting a most miserable appearance. But their steps were no sooner
+heard upon the road than the landlord, who had been at the outer door
+anxiously watching for their coming, rushed into the kitchen and took
+the cover off. The effect was electrical. They all came in with smiling
+faces though the wet was dripping from their clothes upon the floor, and
+Short's first remark was: "What a delicious smell!"
+
+It is not very difficult to forget rain and mud by the side of a
+cheerful fire, and in a bright room. They were furnished with slippers
+and such dry garments as the house or their own bundles afforded, and
+seating themselves, as Mr. Codlin had already done, in the warm
+chimney-corner, soon forgot their late troubles or only remembered them
+as enhancing the delights of the present time.
+
+Strange footsteps were now heard without, and fresh company entered.
+These were no other than four very dismal dogs, who came pattering in
+one after the other, headed by an old bandy dog of particularly mournful
+aspect, who, stopping when the last of his followers had got as far as
+the door, erected himself upon his hind legs and looked round at his
+companions, who immediately stood upon their hind legs, in a grave and
+melancholy row. Nor was this the only remarkable circumstance about
+these dogs, for each of them wore a kind of little coat of some gaudy
+colour trimmed with tarnished spangles, and one of them had a cap upon
+his head, tied very carefully under his chin, which had fallen down upon
+his nose and completely obscured one eye; add to this, that the gaudy
+coats were all wet through and discoloured with rain, and that the
+wearers were splashed and dirty, and some idea may be formed of the
+unusual appearance of these new visitors to the Jolly Sandboys.
+
+Neither Short nor the landlord nor Thomas Codlin, however, was in the
+least surprised, merely remarking that these were Jerry's dogs, and that
+Jerry could not be far behind. So there the dogs stood, patiently
+winking and gaping and looking extremely hard at the boiling pot, until
+Jerry himself appeared, when they all dropped down at once, and walked
+about the room in their natural manner. This posture, it must be
+confessed, did not much improve their appearance, as their own personal
+tails and their coat tails--both capital things in their way--did not
+agree together.
+
+Jerry, the manager of these dancing dogs, was a tall black-whiskered man
+in a velveteen coat, who seemed well known to the landlord and his
+guests and accosted them with great cordiality. Disencumbering himself
+of a barrel organ which he placed upon a chair, and retaining in his
+hand a small whip wherewith to awe his company of comedians, he came up
+to the fire to dry himself, and entered into conversation.
+
+"Your people don't usually travel in character, do they?" said Short,
+pointing to the dresses of the dogs. "It must come expensive, if they
+do."
+
+"No," replied Jerry, "no, it's not the custom with us. But we've been
+playing a little on the road to-day, and we come out with a new wardrobe
+at the races, so I didn't think it worth while to stop to undress. Down,
+Pedro!"
+
+This was addressed to the dog with the cap on, who, being a new member
+of the company, and not quite certain of his duty, kept his unobscured
+eye anxiously on his master, and was perpetually starting up on his hind
+legs when there was no occasion, and falling down again.
+
+The landlord now busied himself in laying the cloth, in which process
+Mr. Codlin obligingly assisted by setting forth his own knife and fork
+in the most convenient place and establishing himself behind them. When
+everything was ready, the landlord took off the cover for the last time,
+and then, indeed, there burst forth such a goodly promise of supper,
+that if he had offered to put it on again or had hinted at postponement,
+he would certainly have been sacrificed on his own hearth.
+
+However, he did nothing of the kind, but instead assisted a stout
+servant girl in turning the contents of the cauldron into a large
+tureen; a proceeding which the dogs, proof against various hot splashes
+which fell upon their noses, watched with terrible eagerness. At length
+the dish was lifted on the table, and mugs of ale having been previously
+set round, little Nell ventured to say grace, and supper began.
+
+At this juncture the poor dogs were standing on their hind legs quite
+surprisingly; the child, having pity on them, was about to cast some
+morsels of food to them before she tasted it herself, hungry though she
+was, when their master interposed.
+
+"No, my dear, no, not an atom from anybody's hand but mine if you
+please. That dog," said Jerry, pointing out the old leader of the troop,
+and speaking in a terrible voice, "lost a halfpenny to-day. _He_ goes
+without his supper."
+
+The unfortunate creature dropped upon his forelegs directly, wagged his
+tail, and looked imploringly at his master.
+
+"You must be more careful, sir," said Jerry, walking coolly to the chair
+where he had placed the organ, and setting the stop. "Come here. Now,
+sir, you play away at that, while we have supper, and leave off if you
+dare."
+
+The dog immediately began to grind most mournful music. His master,
+having shown him the whip, resumed his seat and called up the others,
+who, at his directions, formed in a row, standing upright as a file of
+soldiers.
+
+"Now, gentlemen," said Jerry, looking at them attentively: "The dog
+whose name's called, eats. The dogs whose names an't called, keep quiet.
+Carlo."
+
+The lucky individual whose name was called, snapped up the morsel thrown
+towards him, but none of the others moved a muscle. In this manner they
+were fed at the discretion of their master. Meanwhile the dog in
+disgrace ground hard at the organ, sometimes in quick time, sometimes in
+slow, but never leaving off for an instant. When the knives and forks
+rattled very much, or any of his fellows got an unusually large piece of
+fat, he accompanied the music with a short howl, but he immediately
+checked it on his master looking round, and applied himself with
+increased diligence to the Old Hundredth.
+
+DICKENS: "Old Curiosity Shop."
+
+
+
+
+    So, when a great man dies,
+      For years beyond our ken,
+    The light he leaves behind him lies
+      Upon the paths of men.
+
+LONGFELLOW
+
+
+
+
+THE GLADNESS OF NATURE
+
+
+    Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
+      When our mother Nature laughs around;
+    When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
+      And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?
+
+    There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,
+      And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;
+    The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,
+      And the wilding bee hums merrily by.
+
+    The clouds are at play in the azure space,
+      And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,
+    And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
+      And there they roll on the easy gale.
+
+    There's a dance of leaves on that aspen bower,
+      There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,
+    There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
+      And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.
+
+    And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles
+      On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,
+    On the leaping waters and gay young isles;
+      Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.
+
+BRYANT
+
+
+
+
+OLD ENGLISH LIFE
+
+
+When the sun rose on England of olden time, its faint red light stirred
+every sleeper from the sack of straw, which formed the only bed of the
+age. Springing from this rustling couch, where he had lain naked, and
+throwing off the coarse coverlets, usually of sheepskin, the subject of
+King Alfred donned the day's dress. Gentlemen wore linen or woollen
+tunics, which reached to the knee; and, over these, long fur-lined
+cloaks, fastened with a brooch of ivory or gold. Strips of cloth or
+leather, bandaged crosswise from the ankle to the knee over red and blue
+stockings; and black, pointed shoes, slit along the instep almost to the
+toes and fastened with two thongs, completed the costume of an
+Anglo-Saxon gentleman. The ladies, wrapping a veil of linen or silk upon
+their delicate curls, laced a loose-flowing gown over a tight-sleeved
+bodice, and pinned the graceful folds of their mantles with golden
+butterflies and other tasteful trinkets.
+
+Breakfast consisted probably of bread, meat, and ale, but was a lighter
+repast than that taken when the hurry of the day lay behind. Often it
+was eaten in the bower or private apartment.
+
+The central picture in Old English life--the great event of the day--was
+_Noon-meat_, or dinner in the great hall. A little before three, the
+chief and all his household, with any stray guests who might have
+dropped in, met in the hall, which stood in the centre of its encircling
+bowers--the principal apartment of every Old English house. Clouds of
+wood smoke, rolling up from a fire which blazed in the middle of the
+floor, blackened the carved rafters of the arched roof before they found
+their way out of the hole above which did duty as a chimney.
+
+Tapestries, dyed purple, or glowing with variegated pictures of saints
+and heroes, hung, and if the day was stormy, flapped upon the chinky
+walls. In palaces and in earls' mansions coloured tiles, wrought into a
+mosaic, formed a clean and pretty pavement; but the common flooring of
+the time was clay, baked dry with the heat of winter evenings and summer
+noons. The only articles of furniture always in the hall were wooden
+benches; some of which, especially the _high settle_ or seat of the
+chieftain, boasted cushions, or at least a rug.
+
+While the hungry crowd, fresh from woodland and furrow, were lounging
+near the fire or hanging up their weapons on the pegs and hooks that
+jutted from the wall, a number of slaves, dragging in a long, flat,
+heavy board, placed it on movable legs, and spread on its upper half a
+handsome cloth. Then were arranged with other utensils for the meal some
+flattish dishes, baskets of ash-wood for holding bread, a scanty
+sprinkling of steel knives shaped like our modern razors, platters of
+wood, and bowls for the universal broth.
+
+The ceremony of "laying the board," as the Old English phrased it, being
+completed, the work of demolition began. Great round cakes of
+bread--huge junks of boiled bacon--vast rolls of broiled eel--cups of
+milk--horns of ale--wedges of cheese--lumps of salt butter--and smoking
+piles of cabbages and beans, melted like magic from the board under the
+united attack of greasy fingers and grinding jaws. Kneeling slaves
+offered to the lord and his honoured guests long skewers or spits, on
+which steaks of beef or venison smoked and sputtered, ready for the
+hacking blade.
+
+Poultry, too, and game of every variety, filled the spaces of the upper
+board; but the crowd of _loaf-eaters_, as old English domestics were
+suggestively called, saw little of these daintier kinds of food, except
+the naked bones. Nor did they much care, if, to their innumerable
+hunches of bread, they could add enough pig to appease their hunger.
+Hounds, sitting eager-eyed by their masters, snapped with sudden jaws at
+scraps of fat flung to them, or retired into private life below the
+board with some sweet bone that fortune sent them.
+
+The solid part of the banquet ended with the washing of hands, performed
+for the honoured occupants of the high settle by officious slaves. The
+board was then dragged out of the hall; the loaf-eaters slunk away to
+have a nap in the byre, or sat drowsily in corners of the hall; and the
+drinking began. During the progress of the meal, Welsh ale had flowed
+freely in horns or vessels of twisted glass. Mead and, in very grand
+houses, wine now began to circle in goblets of gold and silver, or of
+wood inlaid with those precious metals. In humbler houses, story-telling
+and songs, sung to the music of the harp by each guest in turn, formed
+the principal amusement of the drinking-bout.
+
+Meantime the music and the mead did their work in maddening brains; the
+revelry grew louder; riddles, which had flown thick around the board at
+first, gave place to banter, taunts, and fierce boasts of prowess; angry
+eyes gleamed defiance; and it was well if, in the morning, the household
+slaves had not to wash blood-stains from the pavement of the hall, or in
+the still night, when the drunken brawlers lay stupid on the floor, to
+drag a dead man from the red plash in which he lay.
+
+From the reek and riot of the hall the ladies of the household soon
+withdrew to the bower, where they reigned supreme. There, in the earlier
+part of the day, they had arrayed themselves in their bright-coloured
+robes, plying tweezers and crisping-irons on their yellow hair, and
+often heightening the blush that Nature gave them with a shade of rouge.
+There, too, they used to scold their female slaves, and beat them, with
+a violence which said more for their strength of lung and muscle than
+for the gentleness of their womanhood.
+
+When their needles were fairly set a-going upon those pieces of delicate
+embroidery, known and prized over all Europe as "English work," some
+gentlemen dropped in, perhaps harp in hand, to chat and play for their
+amusement, or to engage in games of hazard and skill, which seem to have
+resembled modern dice and chess. When in later days supper came into
+fashion, the round table of the bower was usually spread for
+_Evening-food_, as this meal was called. And not long afterwards, those
+bags of straw, from which they sprang at sunrise, received for another
+night their human burden, worn out with the labours and the revels of
+the day.
+
+W. F. COLLIER
+(Adapted)
+
+
+
+
+PUCK'S SONG
+
+
+    See you the dimpled track that runs,
+      All hollow through the wheat?
+    O that was where they hauled the guns
+      That smote King Philip's fleet.
+
+    See you our little mill that clacks,
+      So busy by the brook?
+    She has ground her corn and paid her tax
+      Ever since Domesday Book.
+
+    See you our stilly woods of oak,
+      And the dread ditch beside?
+    O that was where the Saxons broke,
+      On the day that Harold died.
+
+    See you the windy levels spread
+      About the gates of Rye?
+    O that was where the Northmen fled,
+      When Alfred's ships came by.
+
+    See you our pastures wide and lone,
+      Where the red oxen browse?
+    O there was a City thronged and known,
+      Ere London boasted a house.
+
+    And see you, after rain, the trace
+      Of mound and ditch and wall?
+    O that was a Legion's camping-place,
+      When Caesar sailed from Gaul.
+
+    And see you marks that show and fade,
+      Like shadows on the Downs?
+    O they are the lines the Flint Men made
+      To guard their wondrous towns.
+
+    Trackway and Camp and City lost,
+      Salt Marsh where now is corn;
+    Old Wars, old Peace, old Arts that cease,
+      And so was England born!
+
+    She is not any common Earth,
+      Water or wood or air,
+    But Merlin's Isle of Gramarye,
+      Where you and I will fare.
+
+KIPLING: "Puck of Pook's Hill."
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTON HEIGHTS
+
+
+The thirteenth of October, 1812, is a day ever to be remembered in
+Canada. All along the Niagara river the greatest excitement had
+prevailed: many of the inhabitants had removed with their portable
+property into the back country; small bodies of soldiers, regulars and
+volunteers, were posted in the towns and villages; Indians were roving
+in the adjacent woods; and sentinels, posted along the banks of the
+river, were looking eagerly for the enemy that was to come from the
+American shore and attempt the subjugation of a free, a happy, and a
+loyal people.
+
+In the village of Queenston, that nestles at the foot of an eminence
+overlooking the mighty waters of Niagara, two companies of the
+Forty-ninth Regiment, or "Green Tigers," as the Americans afterwards
+termed them, with one hundred Canadian militia, were posted under the
+command of Captain Dennis.
+
+When tattoo sounded on the night of the twelfth, the little garrison
+retired to rest. All was silent but the elements, which raged furiously
+throughout the night. Nothing was to be heard but the howling of the
+wind and the sound of falling rain mingled with the distant roar of the
+great cataract. Dripping with rain and shivering with cold, the sentries
+paced their weary rounds, from time to time casting a glance over the
+swollen tide of the river towards the American shore. At length, when
+the gray dawn of morning appeared, a wary sentinel descried a number of
+boats, filled with armed men, pushing off from the opposite bank below
+the village of Lewiston. Immediately the alarm was given. The soldiers
+were roused from their peaceful slumbers, and marched down to the
+landing-place. Meanwhile, a battery of one gun, posted on the heights,
+and another about a mile below, began to play on the enemy's boats,
+sinking some and disabling others.
+
+Finding it impossible to effect a landing in the face of such
+opposition, the Americans, leaving a few of their number to occupy the
+attention of the troops on the bank, disembarked some distance up the
+river, and succeeded in gaining the summit of the height by a difficult
+and unprotected pathway. With loud cheers they captured the one-gun
+battery, and rushed down upon Captain Dennis and his command; who,
+finding themselves far outnumbered by the enemy, retired slowly towards
+the north end of the village. Here they were met by General Brock, who
+had set out in advance of reinforcements from the town of Niagara,
+accompanied only by two officers. Placing himself at the head of the
+little band, the gallant general cried: "Follow me!" and, amid the
+cheers of regulars and militia, he led his men back to the height from
+which they had been forced to retire. At the foot of the hill the
+general dismounted, under the sharp fire of the enemy's riflemen, who
+were posted among the trees on its summit, climbed over a high stone
+wall, and waving his sword, charged up the hill at the head of his
+soldiers. This intrepid conduct at once attracted the notice of the
+enemy. One of their sharp-shooters advanced a few paces, took deliberate
+aim, and shot the general in the breast. It was a mortal wound. Thus
+fell Sir Isaac Brock, the hero of Upper Canada, whose name will outlive
+the noble monument which a grateful country has erected to his memory.
+
+The fall of their beloved commander infuriated his followers. With loud
+cheers of "Revenge the general!" they pressed forward up the hill, and
+drove the enemy from their position. But reinforcements were continually
+pouring in from the American shore; and after a deadly struggle, in
+which Colonel Macdonell, Captain Dennis, and most of the other officers
+fell, these brave men were again compelled to retire. They took refuge
+under the guns of the lower battery, there awaiting the arrival of
+reinforcements from Niagara. About mid-day the first of these arrived,
+consisting of a band of fifty Mohawks, under their chiefs, Norton and
+Brant. These Indian allies boldly engaged the enemy, and maintained for
+a short time a sharp skirmish, but finally retired on the main
+reinforcement. This arrived in the course of the afternoon, under the
+command of Major-General Sheaffe. Instead of meeting the enemy on the
+old ground, the officer now in command moved his whole force of one
+thousand men to the right of the enemy's position, and sent forward his
+left flank to attack the American right. This left flank was of a very
+varied character, consisting of one company of the Forty-first Regiment
+of the line, a company of coloured men, and a body of volunteer militia
+and Indians, united, in spite of their difference of colour and race, by
+loyalty to the British crown and heart-hatred of foreign aggression.
+This division advanced in gallant style. After delivering a volley, the
+whole line of white, red, and black charged the enemy, and drove in his
+right wing at the point of the bayonet.
+
+General Sheaffe now led on the main body, and forced the lately
+victorious Americans to retreat rapidly over the ridge. The struggle on
+their part was of short duration. In front was a foe thirsting for
+revenge; behind, the steep banks and swiftly-flowing waters of Niagara.
+The "Green Tigers," the Indians, their most despised slaves, and last,
+but certainly not least, the gallant Canadian militia, were objects of
+terror to them. Some few in despair threw themselves over the precipices
+into the river; but the majority of the survivors surrendered themselves
+prisoners of war, to the number of nine hundred and fifty, among whom
+was their commander, General Wadsworth. The leader of the expedition,
+General Van Rensselaer, had retired to Lewiston--as he said, for
+reinforcements--in the early part of the day. The loss of the Americans
+in this memorable action was about five hundred killed and wounded;
+while that of the Canadian forces amounted to one hundred and fifty.
+
+Throughout Canada the news of the victory of Queenston Heights awakened
+universal joy and enthusiasm, second only to that with which the taking
+of Detroit was hailed. But the joy and enthusiasm were damped by the sad
+tidings, that he who had first taught Canada's sons the way to victory
+had given his life for her defence, and slept in a soldier's grave with
+many of her best and bravest.
+
+UNKNOWN
+
+
+
+
+THE BUGLE SONG
+
+
+        The splendour falls on castle walls
+          And snowy summits old in story:
+        The long light shakes across the lakes,
+          And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
+    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+        O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
+          And thinner, clearer, farther going!
+        O sweet and far from cliff and scar
+          The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
+    Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
+    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
+
+        O love, they die in yon rich sky,
+          They faint on hill or field or river:
+        Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
+          And grow for ever and for ever.
+    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
+    And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+CHARITY
+
+
+Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not
+charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though
+I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all
+knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove
+mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all
+my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and
+have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
+
+Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity
+vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly,
+seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth
+not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things,
+believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity
+never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether
+there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall
+vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that
+which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
+
+When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I
+thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
+For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I
+know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now
+abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is
+charity.
+
+I. CORINTHIANS, XIII.
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS CAROL
+
+
+    "What means this glory round our feet,"
+      The Magi mused, "more bright than morn?"
+    And voices chanted clear and sweet,
+      "To-day the Prince of Peace is born."
+
+    "What means that star," the Shepherds said,
+      "That brightens through the rocky glen?"
+    And angels, answering overhead,
+      Sang, "Peace on earth, good-will to men!"
+
+    'Tis eighteen hundred years and more
+      Since those sweet oracles were dumb;
+    We wait for Him, like them of yore;
+      Alas, He seems so slow to come!
+
+    But it was said, in words of gold
+      No time or sorrow e'er shall dim,
+    That little children might be bold
+      In perfect trust to come to Him.
+
+    All round about our feet shall shine
+      A light like that the wise men saw,
+    If we our living wills incline
+      To that sweet Life which is the Law.
+
+    So shall we learn to understand
+      The simple faith of shepherds then,
+    And, clasping kindly, hand in hand,
+      Sing, "Peace on earth, good-will to men."
+
+    And they who do their souls no wrong,
+      But keep at eve the faith of morn,
+    Shall daily hear the angel song,
+      "To-day the Prince of Peace is born!"
+
+LOWELL
+
+
+
+
+THE BARREN LANDS
+
+
+Long before the treeless wastes are reached, the forests cease to be
+forests except by courtesy. The trees--black and white spruce, the
+Canadian larch, and the gray pine, willow, alder, etc.--have an
+appearance of youth; so that the traveller would hardly suppose them to
+be more than a few years old, at first sight. Really this juvenile
+appearance is a species of second childhood; for, on the shores of the
+Great Bear Lake, four centuries are necessary for the growth of a trunk
+not as thick as a man's wrist. The further north the more lamentably
+decrepit becomes the appearance of these woodlands, until, presently,
+their sordidness is veiled by thick growths of gray lichens--the
+"caribou moss," as it is called--which clothe the trunks and hang down
+from the shrivelled boughs. And still further north the trees become
+mere stunted stems, set with blighted buds that have never been able to
+develop themselves into branches; until, finally, the last vestiges of
+arboreal growth take refuge under a thick carpet of lichens and mosses,
+the characteristic vegetation of the Barren Grounds.
+
+Nothing more dismal than the winter aspect of these wastes can be
+imagined. The Northern forests are silent enough in winter time, but the
+silence of the Barren Grounds is far more profound. Even in the depths
+of midwinter the North-Western bush has voices and is full of animal
+life. The barking cry of the crows (these birds are the greatest
+imaginable nuisance to the trapper, whose baits they steal even before
+his back is turned) is still heard; the snow-birds and other small
+winged creatures are never quiet between sunset and sunrise; the
+jack-rabbit, whose black bead-like eye betrays his presence among the
+snow-drifts in spite of his snow-white fur, is common enough; and the
+childlike wailing of the coyotes is heard every night. But with the
+exception of the shriek of the snow-owl or the yelping of a fox emerged
+from his lair, there is no sound of life during seven or eight or nine
+months of winter on the Barren Grounds; unless the traveller is able to
+hear the rushing sound--some can hear it, others cannot--of the shifting
+Northern lights.
+
+In May, however, when the snows melt and the swamps begin to thaw, the
+Barren Grounds become full of life. To begin with, the sky is literally
+darkened with enormous flights of wild-fowl, whom instinct brings from
+the southern reaches of the Mississippi and its tributaries to these
+sub-Arctic wildernesses, where they find an abundance of food, and at
+the same time build their nests and rear their young in safety. The
+snow-geese are the first to arrive; next come the common and eider-duck;
+after them the great northern black-and-red-throated divers; and last of
+all the pin-tail and the long-tail ducks. Some of these go no further
+than just beyond the outskirts of the forest region; others, flying
+further northward, lay their eggs in the open on the moss. Eagles and
+hawks prey on these migratory hosts; troops of ptarmigan (they are said
+to go to no place where the mercury does not freeze) seek food among the
+stunted willows on the shores of the lakes and sloughs; and in sunny
+weather the snow-bunting's song is heard.
+
+Soon after the arrival of the migratory birds the wilderness becomes
+newly clothed in green and gray. The snow, which never once thaws during
+the long winter, forms a safe protection for vegetable life.
+
+As soon as the lengthening summer's day has thawed this coverlet of
+snows, vegetation comes on at a surprising rate--a week's sunshine on
+the wet soil completely transforming the aspect of the country. It is
+then that the caribou leave their winter quarters in the forest region
+and journey to the Barren Grounds.
+
+Just as the prairies might have been called "Buffalo-land" thirty years
+ago, and the intervening enforested country may still be styled
+"Moose-land"--not that the moose is nearly so common in Saskatchewan and
+Athabaska as it was before the rebellion of 1885 opened up that
+country--so from the hunter's point of view "Caribou-land" would be an
+exceedingly apt name for the _tundra_ of Greater Canada. Only the
+Indians and the Eskimos (the former living on the confines of the
+forests, and the latter along the far Arctic coasts) visit these
+territories, and but for the presence of the vast herds of caribou, it
+is pretty certain that such mosquito-haunted wastes would never be
+trodden by man. It is true that the musk-ox is an important inhabitant
+of the wastes, but the numbers of that strange beast, which seems to be
+half sheep, half ox, are not nearly so great, and there are reasons to
+believe that it is being slowly but surely driven from its ancient
+pastures by the caribou, just as, in so many parts of the world, the
+nations of the antelope have receded before the deer-tribes.
+
+E. B. OSBORN: "Greater Canada."
+
+
+
+
+A SPRING MORNING
+
+
+    There was a roaring in the wind all night;
+    The rain came heavily and fell in floods:
+    But now the sun is rising calm and bright,
+    The birds are singing in the distant woods,
+    Over his own sweet voice the stock-dove broods,
+    The jay makes answer as the magpie chatters,
+    And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
+
+    All things that love the sun are out of doors,
+    The sky rejoices in the morning's birth,
+    The grass is bright with rain-drops;--on the moors
+    The hare is running races in her mirth;
+    And with her feet, she from the plashy earth
+    Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
+    Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
+
+WORDSWORTH
+
+
+
+
+For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers
+appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the
+voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
+
+SOLOMON'S SONG. II, 11, 12
+
+
+
+
+CROSSING THE BAR
+
+
+    Sunset and evening star,
+      And one clear call for me!
+    And may there be no moaning of the bar,
+      When I put out to sea,
+
+    But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
+      Too full for sound and foam,
+    When that which drew from out the boundless deep
+      Turns again home.
+
+    Twilight and evening bell,
+      And after that the dark!
+    And may there be no sadness of farewell,
+      When I embark;
+
+    For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
+      The flood may bear me far,
+    I hope to see my Pilot face to face
+      When I have crost the bar.
+
+TENNYSON
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ontario Readers, by
+Ontario Ministry of Education
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ONTARIO READERS ***
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