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authorRoger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>2025-10-15 01:45:51 -0700
committerRoger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>2025-10-15 01:45:51 -0700
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+ <head>
+ <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+ <title>
+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of Child Stories from the Masters, by Maud Menefee
+ </title>
+ <style type="text/css">
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Child Stories from the Masters, by Maud Menefee
+
+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: Child Stories from the Masters
+ Being a Few Modest Interpretations of Some Phases of the
+ Master Works Done in a Child Way
+
+Author: Maud Menefee
+
+Release Date: June 8, 2007 [EBook #21764]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILD STORIES FROM THE MASTERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Thomas Strong, Linda McKeown
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="bbox">
+<p class="center"><ins class="translit" title="Diacritcal marks and special characters">Underlined letters</ins><br /> indicate diacritical marks and special characters that may not be visible in all browsers. The following symbols are used as indicated:<br />
+<ins class="translit" title="a with inverted tack above">[+a]</ins>, <ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins>, <ins class="translit" title="o with inverted tack above">[+o]</ins>, <ins class="translit" title="u with inverted tack above">[+u]</ins> = a, e, o, and u with 'inverted tack' above.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><a name="image-1" id="image-1"><!-- Image 1 --></a>
+<img src="images/covers.jpg" class="jpg" height="513" width="400" alt="Book Cover" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="cover" id="cover" href="images/coverx.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a><span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h1 class="space">CHILD STORIES</h1>
+<h2>FROM THE MASTERS</h2>
+<br />
+<h4>BY</h4>
+<br />
+<h2>MAUD MENEFEE</h2>
+<br />
+<p class="center">BEING A FEW MODEST INTERPRETATIONS<br />
+OF SOME PHASES OF THE MASTER<br />
+WORKS DONE IN A CHILD WAY</p>
+<br />
+<h4><i>ILLUSTRATED</i></h4>
+<br />
+
+<p class="center"><a name="image-2" id="image-2"><!-- Image 2 --></a>
+<img src="images/deco-001x.jpg" height="121" width="400" alt="Decorative Art" /></p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>RAND, McNALLY &amp; COMPANY</h4>
+
+<h5><i>CHICAGO</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>NEW YORK</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>LONDON</i></h5>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg&nbsp;1]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Spin" id="Spin"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-3" id="image-3"><!-- Image 3 --></a>
+<img src="images/frontispieces.jpg" class="jpg" height="494" width="400" alt="The Spinner" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="spinner" id="spinner" href="images/frontispiecex.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Jean Fran&ccedil;ois Millet</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE SPINNER</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg&nbsp;2]</a></span></p>
+
+<h6>COPYRIGHT, 1899, 1901</h6>
+<h5>By MAUD MENEFEE</h5>
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg&nbsp;3]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">TO<br /><br />
+ANDREA HOFER</p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg&nbsp;4]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2 class="space">FOREWORD.</h2>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg&nbsp;5]</a></span>In writing these stories, no attempt has
+been made to follow the plot or problem
+of the poems, which in almost every case
+lies beyond the child's reach. The simple
+purpose as found in the whole, or the suggestion
+of only a stanza or scene, has been
+used as opportunity for picturing and reflecting
+something of the poetry and intention
+of the originals.</p>
+
+<p>As story-teller to the same circle of
+children for several years, it became necessary
+to draw upon the great literary fount for
+suggestion, and it was found that "Pippa,"
+the art child of industry, could add a poetic
+impulse toward the handwork of spinning,
+thread-winding, weaving, the making of spinning
+wheels, winders, and looms, without too
+great violence to the original poem itself.</p>
+
+<p>"Mignon," as the creature of an art that
+exists for art's sake, was set to contrast with
+Pippa, who through service finds a song to
+heal and to inspire.</p>
+
+<p>"Siegfried" and "Parsifal," as knight
+stories, were given with their musical <i>motifs</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg&nbsp;6]</a></span>The writer hopes for "Child Stories"
+that it may serve to suggest to teachers
+how they may utilize the great store of
+poetry and art at hand. To do this they
+are themselves under the joyful necessity of
+keeping close to the great sources. On this
+last point Mr. Wm. T. Harris says: "A
+view of the world is a perpetual stimulant
+to thought, always prompting one to reflect
+on the immediate fact or event before him,
+and to discover its relation to the ultimate
+principle of the universe. It is the only
+antidote for the constant tendency of the
+teacher to sink into a dead formalism, the
+effect of too much iteration and of the practice
+of adjusting knowledge to the needs of
+the feeble-minded by perpetual explanation
+of what is already simple <i>ad nauseam</i> for
+the mature intelligence of the teacher. It
+produces a sort of pedagogical cramp in the
+soul, for which there is no remedy like a
+philosophical view of the world, unless, perhaps,
+it be the study of the greatest poets,
+Shakespere, Dante, and Homer."</p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 30em;"><span class="smcap">Maud Menefee.</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chicago, August, 1901.</span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg&nbsp;7]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="toc" id="toc"></a>
+<h2 class="space">THE TABLE OF CONTENTS.</h2>
+<hr class="short2" />
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents" style="width: 100%;">
+<tr>
+<td align="right" colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Pippa</span></td>
+<td><i>Robert Browning</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Pippa">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">From "Pippa Passes."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Mignon</span></td>
+<td><i>Johann Wolfgang von Goethe</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Mignon">17</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">From "Wilhelm Meister."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Siegfried</span></td>
+<td><i>Richard Wagner</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Siegfried">27</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">From "Niebelungen Ring."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">A Fish and a Butterfly</span></td>
+<td><i>Robert Browning</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Fish">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">From "Amphibian."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">How Margaret Led Faust through</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;" class="smcap">the Perfect World</span></td>
+<td><i>Johann Wolfgang von Goethe</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Maggie">45</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">From "Faust."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Beatrice</span></td>
+<td><i>Dante Alighieri</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Bea">55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">From "The Inferno."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Parsifal</span></td>
+<td><i>Richard Wagner</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Parsi">61</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">From "Parsifal."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Angelus</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Angel">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">"About the painting by Jean Fran&ccedil;ois Millet."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Friedrich and His Child-Garden</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Fred">73</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Holy Night</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Holy">79</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">"About the painting by Antonio Allegri da Correggio."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Saul and David</span></td>
+<td><i>Robert Browning</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Saul">95</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span style="margin-left: 4em; font-size: small;">From "Saul."</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Guide to Pronunciation</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Pronunciation">103</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Word List</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#WORD_LIST">103</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg&nbsp;8]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="space">A LIST OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2>
+<hr class="short2" />
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations" style="width: 100%;">
+<tr>
+<td align="right" colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Spinner</span></td>
+<td><i>Jean Fran&ccedil;ois Millet</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Spin"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Innocence</span></td>
+<td><i>Jean Baptiste Greuze</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Inno">10</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Mignon</span></td>
+<td><i>Paul Kiessling</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Mig">18</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Siegfried</span></td>
+<td><i>F. Leeke</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Sig">28</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">"At the Farthest End<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of the Meadow"</span></td>
+<td><i>Yeend King</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Far">40</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Liseuse</span></td>
+<td><i>Jules Le Febvre</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Lis">46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Beata Beatrice</span></td>
+<td><i>Dante Gabriel Rossetti</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Beat">56</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Aspiration</span></td>
+<td><i>George Frederick Watts</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#image-12">62</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Angelus</span></td>
+<td><i>Jean Fran&ccedil;ois Millet</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Angelus">68</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Holy Night</span></td>
+<td><i>Antonio Allegri da Correggio</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Night">80</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Divine Shepherd</span></td>
+<td><i>Bartolom&eacute; Est&eacute;ban Murillo</i></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Shep">96</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<a name="Pippa" id="Pippa"></a>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg&nbsp;9]</a></span></p>
+<a name="Inno" id="Inno"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-4" id="image-4"><!-- Image 4 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-010s.jpg" class="jpg" height="498" width="400" alt="Innocence" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="cense" id="cense" href="images/illus-010x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Jean Baptiste Greuze</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">INNOCENCE</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg&nbsp;10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">A SONG.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i11">The year's at the spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">The day's at the morn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">Morning's at seven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">The hill-side's dew-pearled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">The lark's on the wing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">The snail's on the thorn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">God's in his heaven&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">All's right with the world!<br /></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i13">&mdash;<i>From Browning's "Pippa Passes."</i><br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">PIPPA.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg&nbsp;11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All the year in the little village of
+Asola the great wheels of the mills
+went round and round. It seemed to the very
+little children that they never, never stopped,
+but went on turning and singing, turning and
+singing. No matter where you went in the
+village, the hum of the wheels could always
+be heard; and though no one could really say
+what the wheels sang, everyone turned gladly
+to his work or went swiftly on his errand
+when he heard the busy song.</p>
+
+<p>Everyone was proud of the mills in Asola,
+and the children most of all. The very little
+ones would go to the lowest windows and
+look into the great dim room where the
+wheels were, and they wondered, as they
+looked, if ever they would grow wise enough
+to help make silk.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg&nbsp;12]</a></span>Those children who were older wound
+thread on the bobbins, or helped at the looms.
+And whenever they saw the bright stuff in
+shop windows, or a beautiful woman passed in
+silken robes, they looked with shining eyes.
+"See how beautiful!" they would say. "We
+helped. She needs us; the world needs us!"
+and their hearts were so full of gladness at
+the thought.</p>
+
+<p>The poet tells us there was a child there
+whose name was Pippa, and she worked all
+day in this mill, winding silk on the little
+whirling, whirling spools.</p>
+
+<p>Now in the year there was one day they
+gave her for her own&mdash;one perfect day when
+she could walk in the sweet, sweet meadows,
+or wander toward the far, strange hills. And
+this one precious day was so shining and full
+of joy to Pippa that its light shone all about
+her until the next, making itself into dreams
+and little songs that she sang to her whirring
+spools.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg&nbsp;13]</a></span>One night, when the blessed time would
+be next morning, she said to the day:</p>
+
+<p>"Sweet Day, I am Pippa, and have only
+you for the joy of my whole long year; come
+to me gentle and shining, and I will do whatever
+loving deed you bring me."</p>
+
+<p>And the blessed day broke golden and
+perfect!</p>
+
+<p>She sprang up singing; she sang to the
+sunbeams, and to her lily, and to the joy in
+the world; she ran out, and leaped as she
+went; the grass blew in the wind, and the long
+yellow road rolled away like unwound silk.</p>
+
+<p>She sang on and on, hardly knowing.
+And it was a sweet song no one had ever
+heard. It was what birds sing, only this had
+words; and this song was so full of joy that
+when a sad poet heard it he stopped the lonely
+tune he piped, and listened till his heart
+thrilled. And when he could no longer hear,
+he took up the sweet strain and played it so
+strong and clear that it set the whole air<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg&nbsp;14]</a></span>
+a-singing. The children in the street began
+dancing and laughing as he played; the old
+looked up; a lame man felt that he might
+leap, and the blind who begged at corners forgot
+they did not see, the song was so full of
+the morning wonder.</p>
+
+<p>But little Pippa did not know this; she
+had passed on singing.</p>
+
+<p>Out beyond the village there were men
+who worked, building a lordly castle. And
+there was a youth among them who was a
+stair-builder, and he had a deep sorrow. The
+dream of the perfect and beautiful work was
+in his life, but it was given to him to build
+only the stairs men trod on. And as he knelt
+working wearily at his task, from somewhere
+beyond the thicket there came a strange,
+sweet song, and these were the words:</p>
+
+<p class="center">All service ranks the same with God:<br />
+... there is no last nor first."</p>
+
+<p>The youth sprang up; the wind lifted his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg&nbsp;15]</a></span>
+hair, the light leaped into his eyes, and he began
+to do the smallest thing perfectly.</p>
+
+<p>Farther down the road there was a ruined
+house; a man leaned his head on his
+hand and looked from the window. A great
+deed that the world needed must be done;
+and the man loved the great deed, but his
+heart had grown faint, and he waited.</p>
+
+<p>And it chanced that Pippa passed, singing,
+and her song reached the man; and it
+was to him as if God called. He rose up
+strong and brave, and leaping to his horse he
+rode away to give the great deed to the world.</p>
+
+<p>At night when the tired Pippa lay upon
+her little bed, she said to the day, "Sweet
+Day, you brought me no loving deed to give
+in payment for the joy you gave."</p>
+
+<p>But the day knew.</p>
+
+<p>And on the morrow, the child Pippa went
+back to the mill and wound the silk bobbins,
+and she was so full of gladness, she hummed
+with them all day.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p><br />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg&nbsp;16]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<a name="Mignon" id="Mignon"></a>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg&nbsp;17]</a></span></p>
+<p style="margin-left: 10em;">Know'st thou the land where citrons are in bloom,<br />
+The orange glows amidst a leafy gloom,<br />
+A gentle breeze from cloudless heaven blows<br />
+The myrtle still, and high the laurel grows?<br />
+Know'st thou it well?<br />
+Ah! there&mdash;Ah, there would I fare!</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 14em;">&mdash;<i>From Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister."</i></span></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg&nbsp;18]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Mig" id="Mig"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-5" id="image-5"><!-- Image 5 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-019s.jpg" class="jpg" height="506" width="400" alt="Mignon" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="non" id="non" href="images/illus-019x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Paul Kiessling</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">MIGNON</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">MIGNON.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg&nbsp;19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Once there was a band of people who
+did nothing but wander about from
+village to village, giving shows in the marketplaces.
+They had no homes or gardens or
+fields, but the fathers earned the living by
+doing remarkable things.</p>
+
+<p>The little children played in the wagons,
+and the mothers cooked the meals over the
+camp-fire when they stopped outside the village,
+and they were quite happy after their
+own fashion. But often, when they passed
+down the streets between the rows of thatched
+houses with children playing in the yards, it
+all seemed to them something very beautiful
+indeed, and they looked at it as long as it was
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl of the strong man, and the
+little boy whose father walked on his hands,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg&nbsp;20]</a></span>
+often stood a long, long time looking through
+the fence at children who had real hollyhocks
+in their yards, besides a little green
+tree growing right out of the thatch on the
+top of the roof; and in some of the houses,
+where the doors stood open, they could see
+the most shining pans and kettles ranged
+about the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>But whenever they made a beautiful playhouse,
+with all the leaves brushed away and
+the rooms marked out with little sticks, they
+had to leave it next day. This was very discouraging,
+of course. Even the fathers and
+mothers grew discouraged sometimes, when
+they rode through the beautiful country. It
+was so sweet and so fair, and somehow it
+really seemed calling to them in a loving
+voice. But they always went on and on, from
+place to place, and no one ever knew what
+the real message was. But sometimes, deep
+in the strong man's heart there grew the
+strangest longing to go into the fields and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg&nbsp;21]</a></span>
+reap and bind with the reapers, so that he too
+might see the yellow sheaves standing together
+when work was over.</p>
+
+<p>In this circus, where he lifted the heaviest
+weights, and held the little boy and his own
+little girl straight out with his hands quite a
+long time, it was very wonderful indeed. But
+there was never anything after, to show it had
+been done, except a great deal of clapping
+and calling from the people. And this was
+partly for the children, who had such round,
+pleasant faces, and ran away just as soon as
+the father put them down. The strong man
+was always thinking of this when he walked
+beside the wagon and looked off over the
+fields where the men were working. And it
+was so with all of them; but as no one spoke
+of it they were thought to be a very gay company,
+for they laughed quite often. And after
+all, it did seem to them a very grand thing
+when they entered the village. The people
+ran to the doors and windows, and streamed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg&nbsp;22]</a></span>
+out of the inn; and the children ran after the
+wagon, looking at them with the greatest
+wonder.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever sadness they may have felt
+about their life, they forgot it entirely when
+they stood before the people in their spangled
+suits. Then it seemed to them quite the
+greatest thing to make a whole village stare.
+They walked about very proudly, and talked
+in very deep tones. Sometimes they allowed
+one or two of the largest boys to help make
+ready for the show. In one of the villages,
+the shoemaker's lame Charlie had helped lay
+the carpet on which the strong man stood
+when he did his part.</p>
+
+<p>Among these people who went about
+there was a child. Her name was Mignon;
+and when the tumblers had leaped over the
+high rods and stood upon each other's shoulders
+for the last time, and the strong man had
+bowed and gone away amid the greatest applause,
+this Mignon danced for the people.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg&nbsp;23]</a></span>
+When it was very still, and the strange, beautiful
+music had sounded, she would come
+slowly forward, and placing her hands on her
+breast she would bow very low, and begin to
+stir and sway in time. How beautiful it was!
+It was like a flower in the wind, and all the
+people stood still and looked with wonder.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes she sang; it was the strangest
+song that ever was sung by a child. It was
+always about far-off lands, where it seemed to
+her the real joy was. Tears shone in the eyes
+of all the people as they listened, and when it
+was over and they were again at their work,
+a deep sadness seemed in everything. They
+too had begun to think that the real joy might
+be a long, long way off from them.</p>
+
+<p>And Mignon went on from village to village,
+singing and dancing and seeking. Always
+she was thinking, "Who knows but tomorrow,
+in the next village or the next, I will
+find the real joy? it will come to me as I sing
+or stir with the beautiful music!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg&nbsp;24]</a></span>But, children, Mignon never found it.</p>
+
+<p>The feet that were meant to fly on loving
+errands only danced, and though it was so
+beautiful it was really nothing, and the real
+joy was not in it.</p>
+
+<p>Do you not know that every little child
+that comes into the world has a blessed deed
+in its life? But with Mignon it only lay heavy
+on her heart, and she was more weary than
+any child who serves all day. And after
+awhile this weariness grew as deep as her life,
+and the poet tells us that she died. We read
+in his strange book that they bore her to the
+dim hall of the Past, and that she lay there
+white and beautiful. Four boys clothed in
+blue with silver stood beside her, slowly waving
+white plumes. And when the people had
+come in and stood together very silently, the
+most beautiful singing voices began&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"'Whom bring ye us to the still dwelling?'"</p>
+
+<p>The four boys answered:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg&nbsp;25]</a></span>"'Tis a tired playmate whom we bring
+you. Let her rest in your still dwelling. Let
+us weep. Let us remain with her!'"</p>
+
+<p>But the sweet voices rang out,</p>
+
+<p>"'Children, turn back into life! Your tears
+let the fresh air dry. Haste back into life!
+Let the day give you <i>labor</i> and <i>joy</i>, till evening
+bring you rest.'"</p>
+
+<p>And the listening children understood.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+<br />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg&nbsp;26]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<a name="Siegfried" id="Siegfried"></a>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg&nbsp;27]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">SIEGFRIED'S SILVER HORN.</p>
+<a name="Sig" id="Sig"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-6" id="image-6"><!-- Image 6 --></a>
+<img src="images/music-28s.jpg" class="jpg" height="82" width="400" alt="MUSIC" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="silver" id="silver" href="images/music-28x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left:30em;"><i>Richard Wagner.</i></span></p>
+
+<p style="text-align: center"><a href="music/sig.midi">[Listen]</a></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg&nbsp;28]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-7" id="image-7"><!-- Image 7 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-029s.jpg" class="jpg" height="418" width="600" alt="Siegfried" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="horn" id="horn" href="images/illus-029x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By F. Leeke</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">SIEGFRIED</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+
+<h2 class="space">THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg&nbsp;29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Long, long ago, before the sun learned to
+shine so brightly, people believed very
+strange things. Why, even the wisest thought
+storm clouds were war-maidens riding, and
+that a wonderful shining youth brought the
+springtime; and whenever sunlight streamed
+into the water they said to one another, "See,
+it is some of the shining gold, some of the
+magic Rhine-gold. Ah, if we should find the
+Rhine-gold we would be masters of the world&mdash;the
+whole world;" and they would stretch
+out their arms and look away on every side.
+Even little children began looking for the
+hidden gold as they played, and they say that
+Odin, a god who lived in the very deepest
+blue of the sky, came down and lay in the
+grass to watch the place where he thought it
+was.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg&nbsp;30]</a></span>Now this gold was hidden in the very
+deepest rocky gorge, and a dragon that everyone
+feared lay upon it night and day. Almost
+all the people in the world were wanting and
+seeking this gold; it really seemed sometimes
+that they were forgetting everything else,
+even the sweet message and the deed they
+had brought the world. Some of them went
+about dreaming and thinking of all the ways
+there were of finding it. But they seldom did
+anything of all they thought, so they were
+called the Mist-men. And there were others,
+who worked always, digging in the darkest
+caverns of the mountains, and lived underground
+and almost forgot the real light, watching
+for the glow of the gold. These were
+called the Earth-dwarfs, for they grew very
+small and black living away from the light.
+But there were a great many blessed ones who
+lived quite free and glad in the world, loving
+and serving one another and not thinking very
+much of the gold.</p>
+
+<p>T<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg&nbsp;31]</a></span>here was a boy whose name was Siegfried,
+and though he lived with an Earth-dwarf
+in the deep forest, he knew nothing of the
+magic gold or the world. He had never seen
+a man, and he had not known his mother,
+even, though he often thought of her when
+he stood still at evening and the birds came
+home. There was one thing she had left him,
+and that was a broken sword. Mimi, the Earth-dwarf,
+strove night and day to mend it, thinking
+he might slay the dragon. But though he
+worked always, it was never done, for no one
+who feared anything in the world could weld
+it, because it was an immortal blade. It had
+a name and a soul.</p>
+
+<p>Each evening when Siegfried thought of
+his sword he would come bounding down the
+mountains, blowing great horn-blasts. One
+night he came laughing and shouting, and
+leaped into the cave, driving a bear he had
+bridled, straight on the poor frightened Mimi.
+He ran round and round, and darted here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg&nbsp;32]</a></span>
+and there, until Siegfried could go no more
+for laughing, and the bear broke from the
+rope and ran into the woods. When Siegfried
+turned he saw that the poor little dwarf
+was crouched trembling behind the anvil, and
+he stopped laughing, and looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you shake and cry and run?" he
+asked. The dwarf said nothing, but the fire
+began to glow strangely, and the sword shone.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not know what fear is?" cried
+the dwarf at last.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the boy, and he went over and
+took up the sword; and lo! the blade fell
+apart in his hand. They stood still and looked
+at each other. "Can a man fear and make
+swords?" asked the boy. The dwarf said
+nothing, but the forge fire flashed and sparkled,
+and the broken sword gleamed, in the
+strangest way.</p>
+
+<p>The boy smiled, and gathering up the
+pieces he ground them to fine powder; and
+when he had done, he placed the precious dust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg&nbsp;33]</a></span>
+in the forge and pulled at the great bellows,
+so that the fire glowed into such a shining that
+the whole cave was light.</p>
+
+<p>But the dwarf grew blacker and smaller
+as he watched the boy. When he saw him
+pour the melted steel in the mold and lay it
+on the fire, and heard him singing at his work,
+he began to rage and cry; but Siegfried only
+laughed and went on singing. When he took
+out the bar and struck it into the water there
+was a great hissing, and the Mist-men stood
+there with Mimi, and they raged and cried
+together. But still Siegfried only laughed and
+sang as he pulled at his bellows or swung his
+hammers. At every blow he grew stronger
+and greater, and the sword bent and quivered
+like a living flame, until at last, with a joyful
+cry, he lifted it above his head with both his
+hands; it fell with a great blow, and behold!
+the anvil was severed, and lay apart before
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The joy in Siegfried's heart grew into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg&nbsp;34]</a></span>
+most wonderful peace, and the forge light
+seemed to grow into full day. The immortal
+sword was again in the world. But Mimi and
+the Mist-men were gone.</p>
+
+<p>And the musician shows in wonderful music-pictures
+how Siegfried went out into the
+early morning, and how the light glittered on
+the trembling leaves and sifted through in little
+splashes. He stood still, listening to the stir
+of the leaves and the hum of the bees and the
+chirp of the birds. Two birds were singing as
+they built a nest, and he wondered what they
+said to one another. He cut a reed and tried
+to mock their words, but it was like nothing.
+He began to wish that he might speak to some
+one like himself, and he wondered about his
+mother; why had she left him? It seemed to
+him he was the one lone thing in the world.
+He lifted his silver horn and blew a sweet
+blast, but no friend came. He blew again and
+again, louder and clearer, until suddenly the
+leaves stirred to a great rustling; and the very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg&nbsp;35]</a></span>
+earth seemed to tremble. He looked, and behold!
+he had waked the dragon that all men
+feared; and it was coming toward him, breathing
+fire and smoke. But Siegfried did not
+know what fear was; he only laughed and
+leaped over it, as he plunged; and when it
+reared to spring upon him, he drove the immortal
+blade straight into its heart.</p>
+
+<p>Now when Siegfried plucked out his sword
+he smeared his finger with the blood, and it
+burned like fire, so that he put it in his mouth
+to ease the pain. Then suddenly the most
+strange thing happened: he understood all
+the hum and murmur of the woods; and lo!
+the bird on the very branch above was singing
+of his mother and of him, and of the gold that
+was his if he would give up his sword and
+would love and serve none in the world. And
+more, she sang on of one who slept upon a
+lonely mountain: a wall of fire burned around,
+that none could pass but he who knew no fear.</p>
+
+<p>Siegfried listened to hear more, but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg&nbsp;36]</a></span>
+bird fluttered away before him. He saw it
+going, and he forgot the gold and the whole
+world, and followed it. It led him on and on,
+to a lonely mountain, where he saw light
+burning; and he climbed up and up, and always
+the light grew brighter. But when he
+was nearly at the top, and would have bounded
+on, he could not, for Odin stood there with
+his spear across the way. The fire glowed
+and flashed around them, but the sword
+gleamed brighter than anything that ever
+shone, as Siegfried cleft the mighty spear and
+leaped into the flame. And there at last, in
+the great shining, this Siegfried beheld a mortal
+like himself. He stood still in wonder.
+He saw the light glinting on armor, and he
+thought, "I have found a knight, a friend!"
+And he went over and took the helmet from
+the head. Long ruddy hair, like flame, fell
+down. Then he raised the shield, and behold!
+in white glistening robes he saw the maid
+Brunhilde. And she was so beautiful! The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg&nbsp;37]</a></span>
+light glowed into a great shining as he looked,
+and, hardly knowing, he leaned and kissed
+her, and she awoke.</p>
+
+<p>And it seemed to Siegfried that he had
+found his mother and the whole world.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+<br />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg&nbsp;38]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<a name="Fish" id="Fish"></a>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg&nbsp;39]</a></span></p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 13em;">Yes! there came floating by<br />
+Me, who lay floating too.<br />
+Such a strange butterfly!<br />
+Creature as dear as new:</p>
+<hr class="short2" />
+<p style="margin-left: 13em;">I never shall join its flight,<br />
+For, nought buoys flesh in air.<br />
+If it touch the sea&mdash;good night!<br />
+Death sure and swift waits there.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 16em;">&mdash;<i>From Browning's "Amphibian."</i></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg&nbsp;40]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Far" id="Far"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-8" id="image-8"><!-- Image 8 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-041s.jpg" class="jpg" height="421" width="600" alt="The Farthest End of the Meadow" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="end" id="end" href="images/illus-041x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Yeend King</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">"AT THE FARTHEST END OF THE MEADOW"</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">A FISH AND A BUTTERFLY.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg&nbsp;41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At the very farthest end of the meadow
+there is water, blue with sky. It flows
+on and on, growing broad and strong farther
+down, to turn the mill wheel. But here in the
+meadow, you can see far off on the other
+side, and hear the cows ripping off the tender
+grass, and smell the perfume of wild plums.</p>
+
+<p>Boy Blue lay in the long cool grass watching
+the water. How sleepily it moved, and
+what a pretty song it sang! How clear! he
+could count the pebbles at the bottom; and
+there, swimming straight toward him, came a
+tiny fish, making little darts from one side to
+another, and snapping at the tadpoles on the
+way. Then he stopped just in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" said a voice; and the little
+boy could not tell whether it was the fish, or
+the tomtit scolding on the elder bush. "Dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg&nbsp;42]</a></span>
+me!" came the voice again; and the little fish
+sighed, making a bubble on the top of the
+water, and rings that grew and grew till they
+reached the other bank.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" asked Boy Blue.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like a new play and new playmates,"
+sighed the fish. "I'm so tired of the old
+ones!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said the boy, and was just about to
+ask, "Would I do?" when there came floating
+along in the air a beautiful butterfly, floating,
+floating like a ship in full sail.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" cried the fish, "how beautiful! how
+beautiful! Come let us play together&mdash;let us
+play."</p>
+
+<p>The butterfly rested on a thistle bloom
+and stirred her pale wings thoughtfully.
+"Play?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, let us play. How beautiful thou art!"</p>
+
+<p>"And thou!" said the butterfly; "all the
+shine of the sun and sea gleams in thy armor.
+Let us play together."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg&nbsp;43]</a></span>"Let us play."</p>
+
+<p>"Come then," said the butterfly; "come
+up into the fresh morning air and the sunlight,
+where everything smiles this sweet May day."</p>
+
+<p>"There?" cried the fish; "I would die
+there; I would die! There is no life for me
+in your sunshine world. But come with me
+into this glittering stream; here swimming
+against the swift current is strong life. Come,
+let us play here."</p>
+
+<p>But the butterfly trembled. "There?" she
+cried; "if I touched one single little wave I
+should be swept out and away forever. There
+is no life for me in the glittering stream."</p>
+
+<p>They looked across at each other.</p>
+
+<p>"But see," said the butterfly, "I will come
+as near as I dare to your water world;" and
+she spread her beautiful wings and floated
+down to the edge of the water. The fish with
+a great stroke swam toward her. But they
+could only touch the same bit of earth, and
+the waves always bore him back.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg&nbsp;44]</a></span>"Ah," he cried at last, "it is useless! we
+cannot play together."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," wept the butterfly, "we cannot play
+together."</p>
+
+<p>"Boy Blue," said the farmer, brushing
+aside the long grass, "you were asleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Asleep!" said the little boy, jumping up;
+"I couldn't have been. I heard every word
+the fish and the butterfly said."<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+<br />
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg&nbsp;45]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Maggie" id="Maggie"></a>
+<p style="margin-left: 14em;">The indescribable&mdash;<br />
+Here it is done;<br />
+The woman soul<br />
+Leadeth us upward and on.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>From Goethe's "Faust."</i></span></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg&nbsp;46]</a></span>
+<a name="Lis" id="Lis"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-9" id="image-9"><!-- Image 9 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-047s.jpg" class="jpg" height="517" width="400" alt="Liseuse" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="use" id="use" href="images/illus-047x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Jules Le Febvre</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">LISEUSE</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">HOW MARGARET LED FAUST THROUGH<br />
+THE PERFECT WORLD.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg&nbsp;47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was once a very great man who
+understood all of the most mysterious
+things in the world. He knew quite perfectly
+how spiders spun and how the firefly
+kept his lantern burning. All of these marvelous
+things were plain to him, for he had
+read everything that had been written in
+books, and he had spent his whole life searching
+and peering through a strange glass at the
+most wonderful small things. Always and
+always he was thinking in his heart, "When
+I know <i>everything</i> then I shall be content,
+surely!"</p>
+
+<p>So he went on searching and looking and
+reading, night and day, in his dim room. Always
+he was growing older and wearier, but
+he did not think of that; he only knew that
+the strange longing was growing in his heart,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg&nbsp;48]</a></span>
+and that he was never any happier than before.
+But he would say to himself, "It is because
+there is something I have not learned.
+When I know everything, then surely the joy
+will come to me."</p>
+
+<p>One night he shut his book and laid aside
+the strange glass, and sat quite still in the dim
+room. He had found that there was nothing
+more to be learned; there was nothing of all
+the mysteries that he did not know perfectly.</p>
+
+<p>And behold, the longing was still in his
+heart, and no gladness came. He only felt
+how weary and old he was. He thought:
+"There <i>is</i> no joy in the world; there is nothing
+good and perfect in the whole world!"
+He closed his tired eyes and leaned his head
+back. The lamp burned low, and the place
+was very still for a long time. And then there
+suddenly broke the most beautiful music right
+under his window; children were singing, and
+men and women, and above it all bells were
+ringing&mdash;wonderful, joyous bells.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg&nbsp;49]</a></span>"Can it be," said the old man&mdash;"can it
+be that anyone is really joyful in the world?"
+He rose up and went to the window, and
+thrust back the great curtain.</p>
+
+<p>And lo! it was morning!</p>
+
+<p>The most beautiful, shining morning; people
+were pouring out of all the houses, smiling
+and singing, and bowing to one another; little
+children were going together with flowers in
+their hands, singing, and answering the tones
+of the great bells; and one little child, as it
+passed, looked right up at the great Doctor
+Faust, and held out its white lily. The bells
+chimed, and the singing grew sweeter and
+clearer.</p>
+
+<p>"If there is something joyful in the world,
+surely some one will tell me," said the man;
+and he went out into the morning.</p>
+
+<p>It had rained in the night; there were
+pools in the street, and the leaves glistened.
+"How bright the light is!" he thought, and
+"how strange the flowers look blooming in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg&nbsp;50]</a></span>
+the sun!" But the birds flew away when he
+came, and this made the strange longing in
+the lonely man's heart grow into pain. So he
+stepped back in the shadow and looked into
+all the happy faces as they passed, and listened
+to the singing.</p>
+
+<p>But no one stopped to tell him anything.
+They were so full of joy that they did not feel
+his touch, and his words when he spoke were
+swept right up into the song and the pealing
+of the joy-bells.</p>
+
+<p>Girls in white veils, with stalks of the
+most beautiful lilies in their hands, passed him
+in a long line, and the boys came after, in new
+clothes, and shoes that squeaked. But he
+only saw their shining, upturned faces. They
+were so beautiful as they sang, that tears
+stood in the smiling eyes of all the fathers and
+mothers and neighbors who followed after.
+Little children holding each other's hands
+went together, and one little one had a queer
+woolly lamb on wheels trundling behind him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg&nbsp;51]</a></span>"Can it be," said the old man, "that there
+is a deep joy in the world? will no one tell
+me?" And he turned and went with the people;
+and after awhile he met a young girl.</p>
+
+<p>She was not singing, but the most beautiful
+light shone from her face; so he knew she
+was thinking of the deep joy, and he asked
+her what it was, and why the people were
+glad.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with loving wonder,
+and then she told him it was Easter morning,
+when everything in the wide world remembers
+fully that the joy can never die. "It is here
+always," she told him.</p>
+
+<p>"Always?" said the old man; and he shook
+his head sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Always," she said; and she took his
+hand and led him out of the throng into the
+most beautiful ways. He did not know that
+in the whole world there were such wonderful
+grassy lanes. Why, there were hedges with
+star-flowers here and there; apple trees were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg&nbsp;52]</a></span>
+blooming, and between the cottages there were
+gardens where seed had sprung up in rows.</p>
+
+<p>In some of the houses people were going
+about their homely tasks, and they were singing
+softly, or saying the most gentle words to
+one another as they worked. And before a
+very humble door, where only one tall lily
+bloomed, there sat a beautiful mother with a
+baby on her knee and a little one beside her;
+and they were looking straight into her eyes,
+listening to the wonderful story of the Easter
+morning. The father stopped to listen too,
+and in every single face shone the same holy
+light.</p>
+
+<p>It shone even in the face of the Faust as
+he passed.</p>
+
+<p>And behold, when Margaret looked at
+him he had grown young. His hair glinted
+in the sun and the wonder had come back to
+his eyes. Butterflies circled above them, and
+they went on and on, free and glad together,
+and the holy light was over everything.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg&nbsp;53]</a></span>But the poet tells us that afterwards Faust
+traveled into a very strange, far world, where
+there was never any silence or living flowers.
+Nothing was perfect or holy there, and Margaret
+could not go. But they tell us that
+whenever he looked away from this strange
+world, he heard again the singing, and smelled
+the faint fragrance of lilies, and it seemed to
+him that he was there again in the light, with
+the blessed Margaret leading him on forever.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+<br />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg&nbsp;54]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<a name="Bea" id="Bea"></a>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg&nbsp;55]</a></span></p>
+<p style="margin-left: 14em;"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Oh, eternal light!</span><br />
+For I therein, methought, in its own hue,<br />
+Beheld our image painted.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 18em;">&mdash;<i>From Dante's "Paradise."</i><br /></span></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg&nbsp;56]</a></span></p>
+<a name="Beat" id="Beat"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-10" id="image-10"><!-- Image 10 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-057s.jpg" class="jpg" height="517" width="400" alt="THE BEATA BEATRICE" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="rice" id="rice" href="images/illus-057x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Dante Gabriel Rossetti</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE BEATA BEATRICE</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">BEATRICE.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg&nbsp;57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Dear children, there is a great story of
+Heaven told by a poet called Dante,
+who dreamed that he was led through Heaven
+by the beautiful Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>And this is how it was. Dante had come
+to think so many unloving thoughts of all the
+people, that whenever he went about the
+streets of Florence where he lived, he thought
+he saw evil marks on all the faces. And it
+seemed to him that everyone in the world was
+lost from God. And the angry sorrow in his
+heart grew so great that there was not a single
+loving, hopeful thought in it. Then there
+came to him a wonderful vision. It seemed
+to him that Beatrice, whom he loved, came
+down from God and spoke to him and led
+him up, and showed him Heaven.</p>
+
+<p>But his eyes were so dim at first, it seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg&nbsp;58]</a></span>
+only the shining of a few small stars. But as
+they journeyed, Beatrice spoke to him of many
+things he had not understood, and while she
+talked, Heaven grew plainer and he saw that
+the stars were all shining together in a soft
+radiance, like the halos of many saints. And
+the wisdom of the world began to slip from
+Dante, and he stood there in Heaven as a little
+child.</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice led him on and on, and whenever
+she wished him to see Heaven more plainly
+she talked of the world he lived in and the
+men he hated. Now when one who lives with
+God speaks of hate, it is nothing. And as he
+listened, Dante began to see that Man was in
+Heaven. When he had learned this, they
+went with a great flight up to God. And behold!
+it seemed to Dante that the higher he
+went in Heaven the nearer home he came, for
+all around him there were faces that he knew.</p>
+
+<p>And they went on and on to the very
+highest Heaven, where God and man live to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg&nbsp;59]</a></span>gether,
+and the angels cannot tell God from
+man or man from God. And Beatrice showed
+Dante this great mystery. And he stood still,
+looking, with the great light shining into his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Although he does not tell us what he saw,
+we know it was Florence, where he lived, and
+that he was looking at all the people with loving
+eyes, and seeing them just as those who
+live with God see men.</p>
+
+<p>Heaven is here, little children. Let us
+love one another.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg&nbsp;60]</a></span>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg&nbsp;61]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Parsi" id="Parsi"></a>
+<p class="center">FROM "PARSIFAL."</p>
+
+<a name="Asp" id="Asp"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-11" id="image-11"><!-- Image 11 --></a>
+<img src="images/music-62s.jpg" class="jpg" height="142" width="400" alt="From Parsifal" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="pars" id="pars" href="images/music-62x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="credit">By pity 'lightened, the guileless Fool;</span></p>
+
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 30em;">&mdash;<i>Richard Wagner.</i></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg&nbsp;62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p style="text-align: center"><a href="music/parsi.midi">[Listen]</a></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p class="center"><a name="image-12" id="image-12"><!-- Image 12 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-063s.jpg" class="jpg" height="526" width="400" alt="ASPIRATION" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="ation" id="ation" href="images/illus-063x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By George Frederick Watts</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">ASPIRATION</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">PARSIFAL.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg&nbsp;63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Long, long ago, when the old nations were
+child-nations, they had the most wonderful
+dreams and stories in their hearts; and
+they told them over so many, many times, with
+love and wonder, that they grew into Art,&mdash;poems
+and songs and pictures. And there is
+one beautiful story which you will find in
+many songs and poems, for almost every nation
+has told it in its own way. And this is it:</p>
+
+<p>Long, long ago&mdash;so long that no one can
+tell whether it really happened or whether
+the old German folk only dreamed it&mdash;there
+was a band of knights who went away and
+lived together on a beautiful high mountain,
+far above the world, where no evil might ever
+come to them; and there they thought of
+nothing but pure and holy things. The purest
+knight was chosen king among them, and
+led them in all high things; and they lived so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg&nbsp;64]</a></span>
+for many years, keeping themselves from
+wrong and beholding blessed wonders that the
+world had never seen,&mdash;miracles of light that
+sometimes passed above them.</p>
+
+<p>But once there came an evil thought to
+the very king; nothing could put it away, and
+it was like a spear-wound in his side that
+nothing could heal. It was the greatest suffering;
+it even touched the joy of the knights,
+for they began to think only of what would
+heal the king. Many went far and wide, seeking
+a cure, while others dropped back to the
+world again; for the pattern of purity was not
+perfect any longer, and they seemed to forget
+what it had been. All the miracles stopped,
+and the sick king and the knights waited and
+waited for one who was pure enough to show
+them the perfect pattern again.</p>
+
+<p>And one day a youth passed by who was
+so innocent that he did not know what wrong
+was. When the knights beheld him they
+looked in wonder, and said: "Is it not he, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg&nbsp;65]</a></span>
+innocent one, who will save us?" and they led
+him up to the temple. And behold, it was the
+time of the holy feast, when long ago the
+light had passed above them. And the youth
+stood there with great wonder and trouble in
+his heart, for he saw the suffering of the king,
+and how the knights longed and waited; he
+heard their voices in solemn tones, and the
+mourning voice of the king. And lo, while
+he looked, a wonderful glowing light passed
+above them. The knights all rose up with
+great joy in their hearts and looked at the
+boy, for the blessed miracle had come again,
+and it was a sign.</p>
+
+<p>But Parsifal stood still with wonder and
+trouble in his heart; and when they asked if
+he knew what his eyes had seen, he only
+shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>So the hope and joy went from the
+knights, and they led him out and sent him
+on his way.</p>
+
+<p>And the boy Parsifal traveled down into
+the world. And as he went he met many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg&nbsp;66]</a></span>
+wrongs, and he began to know what evils
+there were.</p>
+
+<p>Now whenever one crossed his way, he
+went to it and handled it. But behold his
+mind was so pure and godlike that whenever
+he touched evil to learn what it was, it grew
+into some gentle thing in his hand. He went
+throughout the whole world seeking to know
+what evil was, but he was so mild and beautiful
+that wrongs fell away before him, or were
+healed as he passed. And he went on and on
+to the very kingdom of Evil, at last, and
+when its king saw him, he cried out with a
+great cry, and hurled his spear; but it only
+floated above the head of Parsifal, and when
+he seized it in his hand the whole kingdom
+melted away. And Parsifal found he was
+standing in a sunny meadow not far from the
+holy mountain; and he went up to the knights
+and stood with them in the temple, and his
+face was like the face of an angel. They say
+the king was healed as he looked, and that the
+wonderful light shone above them and was
+with them always,&mdash;forever.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg&nbsp;67]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Angel" id="Angel"></a>
+<p class="center">Where the quiet colored end of evening smiles,<br />
+Miles and miles.</p>
+
+<span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>Robert Browning.</i></span>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg&nbsp;68]</a></span></p>
+<a name="Angelus" id="Angelus"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-13" id="image-13"><!-- Image 13 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-069s.jpg" class="jpg" height="475" width="600" alt="THE ANGELUS" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="lus" id="lus" href="images/illus-069x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Jean Fran&ccedil;ois Millet</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE ANGELUS</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">THE ANGELUS.</h2>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg&nbsp;69]</a></span>
+
+<p>Every evening after sunset, when the
+most wonderful soft light is in the sky
+and it is very still everywhere, the old bell in
+the steeple chimes out over the village and
+the fields around. No one quite knows what
+the evening bell sings, but the tone is so beautiful
+that everyone stands still and listens.</p>
+
+<p>Ever since the oldest grandfather can remember,
+the dear bell has sung at evening and
+everyone has listened, and listened, for the
+message.</p>
+
+<p>A great many people said there was really
+no message at all, and one very learned man
+wrote a whole book to show that the song of
+the evening bell was nothing but the clanging
+of brass and iron; and almost everyone who
+read it believed it. But there were many who
+were not wise enough to read, so they lis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg&nbsp;70]</a></span>tened
+to the sweet tone just as lovingly as
+they had listened when they were little children.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes when the sweet song pealed
+out, the old shoemaker would forget and leave
+his thread half drawn, and while he listened a
+wonderful smiling light shone in his face.
+But whenever the little grandson asked him
+what the bell said to him, the old man only
+shook his head and pulled the stitch through
+and sewed on and on, until there was not any
+more light; and for this reason the little boy
+began to think that the bell was singing something
+about work. He thought of it very often
+when he sat on his grandfather's step listening
+to the song and watching the people.
+Sometimes those who had read the learned
+book spoke together and laughed quite loudly,
+to show that they were not paying any attention
+to the bell; and there were others who
+seemed not to hear it at all. But there were
+some who listened just as the old grandfather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg&nbsp;71]</a></span>
+had listened, and many who stopped and
+bowed their heads and stood quite still for a
+long, long while. But the strangest was, that
+no one ever could tell the other what the bell
+had sung to him. It was really a very deep
+mystery.</p>
+
+<p>Now there was a painter who had such
+loving eyes that even when he looked on
+homely, lowly things, he saw wonder that no
+one else could see. He loved all the sweet
+mysteries that are in the world, and he loved
+the bell's song; he wondered about it just as
+the little boy had done.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, I think, he went alone beyond
+the village and through the wide brown
+fields; he saw the light in the sky, and the
+birds going home, and the steeple far off. It
+was all very still and wonderful, and as he
+looked away on every side, thinking many
+holy thoughts, he saw a man and a woman
+working together in the dim light. They were
+digging potatoes; there was a wheelbarrow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg&nbsp;72]</a></span>
+beside them, and a basket. Sometimes they
+moved about slowly, or stooped with their
+hands in the brown earth. And while they
+worked, the sound of the evening bell came
+faintly to them. When they heard it they
+rose up. The mother folded her hands on
+her breast and said the words of a prayer,
+and thought of her little ones. The father
+just held his hat in his hand and looked down
+at their work. And the painter forgot all
+the wonder of the sky and the wide field as
+he looked at them, for there was a deeper
+mystery. And it was plain to him.</p>
+
+<p>But the man and the woman stood there
+listening; they did not know that the bell was
+singing to them of their very own work, of
+every loving service and lowly task of the day.</p>
+
+<p>The bell sang on and on, and the peace
+of the song seemed to fill the whole day.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg&nbsp;73]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Fred" id="Fred"></a>
+<p class="center">Come, let us with the children live.</p>
+
+<span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>Friedrich Froebel</i></span>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg&nbsp;74]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="space">FRIEDRICH AND HIS CHILD-GARDEN.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg&nbsp;75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Friedrich Froebel&mdash;"Little Friedrich,"
+they called him long ago. Is it
+not strange to think that the great men
+who bring the beautiful deeds to the world
+were once little children? Do you know how
+these children grow so great and strong that
+they can do a loving deed for the whole world
+at last? They do little loving deeds every
+day.</p>
+
+<p>This gentle Friedrich loved more and
+more things every day that he lived. But
+when he was a little boy he was very lonely
+sometimes, because he had no playmates except
+the flowers in the old garden. It seemed
+to him these flowers were always playing
+plays together. The little pink and white
+ones on the border of the beds seemed always
+circling round the sweet tall rose, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg&nbsp;76]</a></span>
+laughing and swaying in the wind. It was so
+gay sometimes that he laughed aloud to see
+them all nodding and bowing, and the rose
+bowing too.</p>
+
+<p>Friedrich was so gentle that his doves
+would flutter around his head and settle on
+his outstretched arms, and even the little
+mother bird, with her nest in the hedge,
+would let him stand near when she told little
+stories to her babies. Friedrich had no dear
+mother, but he had a tall, strong brother who
+would sometimes take him to the sweet wide
+meadows and tell him beautiful stories about
+the strange little bugs and busy bees, and
+stones and flowers.</p>
+
+<p>But after awhile Friedrich's father
+thought he was growing too old to play all
+day long. So he said to him one day, "Friedrich,
+you must begin to learn." When Friedrich
+heard this he was glad, because he
+wanted to know about all the wonderful
+things in the world. But when he had to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg&nbsp;77]</a></span>
+sit still for long hours and learn out of large
+books that hadn't a single picture, it was very
+hard. "But there is no other way, little
+Friedrich," his teachers told him.</p>
+
+<p>As the time went on he grew as tall and
+strong as his brother. And then what do you
+think happened? Just the same thing that
+happened to our America when George
+Washington led out all the brave men.
+Friedrich's dear Germany was in great
+trouble, and she called to all her brave men
+to come and save her. And Friedrich
+marched away with all the others&mdash;marching,
+marching, with the drums beating and the
+flags flying.</p>
+
+<p>Then after a long while, when peace had
+come back and all was quiet and joyful again,
+there came to Friedrich a sweet thought that
+grew and grew. Can you think what it was?
+It was half about his old garden and the playing
+flowers, and half about little children.
+Whenever he saw a child tear a flower or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg&nbsp;78]</a></span>
+stone a bird he felt sad, and this thought
+would grow stronger in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes he would gather up all the
+children and take them to the meadow, and
+teach them about the leaves and stones, the
+flowers and birds and ants, as his brother
+used to teach him, and then they would play
+the very plays the wind and flowers and birds
+had played. So he called it his kindergarten,&mdash;his
+child-garden,&mdash;and he began to
+show to the whole world that little children
+must learn and grow in the same sweet way
+that flowers do.</p>
+
+<p>And he worked years and years, teaching
+and working out this wonderful message that
+had come to him. He loved God and children
+and this shining thought better than
+himself, and he wore poor clothes and gave
+up things, that the beautiful deed might live
+in the world.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg&nbsp;79]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Holy" id="Holy"></a>
+<p class="center">The true light, which lighteth every man that cometh<br />
+into the world.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>St. John.</i></span></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg&nbsp;80]</a></span></p>
+<a name="Night" id="Night"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-14" id="image-14"><!-- Image 14 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-081s.jpg" class="jpg" height="534" width="400" alt="THE HOLY NIGHT" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="the" id="the" href="images/illus-081x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Antonio Allegri da Correggio</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE HOLY NIGHT</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">THE HOLY NIGHT.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg&nbsp;81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In the far-off places of the world where men
+do not pass often, it is nothing to be poor.
+Little Hansei and his mother were poor, but
+that was nothing to him. They lived on the
+side of a great hill, where, save their small
+black hut with its little gauzy curl of smoke,
+there was no sign of life as far as eye could
+reach. And it seemed to Hansei that the
+whole world was theirs, and they were the
+whole world. Yet on fair days, far below, the
+misty towers and steeples of a city showed.
+But this was as unreal and unreachable as
+dreams and clouds to Hansei; the only difference
+was, a yellow road wound down to it, and
+if one went far enough he might some day
+reach that strange, misty place. But dreams&mdash;they
+always went at morning; and clouds&mdash;if
+he climbed to the highest point of the hill
+he could never reach them!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg&nbsp;82]</a></span>Sometimes people had passed that way.
+Once a man had gone bearing a burden. Another
+time, as Hansei and his mother gathered
+up their fagots at evening, a man and woman
+passed together; the sunset light was on the
+woman, and she sang as she went. Again,
+men in dark robes and hoods passed by; some
+had ridden on mules, some were grave and
+walked, reading from small books, others
+laughed. And these were all (except a peddler
+who had lost his way) that Hansei had
+ever seen go by.</p>
+
+<p>People seldom went that way; the road
+was steep, and there was an easier way down
+at the other side, his mother said.</p>
+
+<p>Once Hansei asked her if those who had
+passed were all the people there were besides
+themselves. His mother said, "There are
+others off there," pointing to the city.</p>
+
+<p>Every morning before it was light Hansei's
+mother went away to the other side of
+the hills somewhere.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg&nbsp;83]</a></span>The first time he awoke and found the
+black loaf and water waiting and his mother
+gone, he had cried and searched and called
+her over and over. "Mother! Mother!" he
+had cried as loud as he could call down the
+yellow road.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother! Mother!" had come a strange
+voice from beyond the hills; and Hansei's
+heart had leaped with a new joy. He cried
+back wildly, "Where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you?" cried the voice again.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am here!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come to me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come to me!"</p>
+
+<p>All day Hansei and the strange voice from
+beyond the hills called and cried to each other.
+Hansei thought: "It is true there are others
+off there, and some one is calling to me."</p>
+
+<p>At night the mother came back. Hansei
+asked: "Where have you been?" and put up
+his arms. His mother said: "At the other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg&nbsp;84]</a></span>
+side of the hill," and touched his head gently.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do so long?"</p>
+
+<p>"I made lace."</p>
+
+<p>"What is lace?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is like that a little," and she pointed
+to a cobweb stretching from a dead twig to
+a weed. Hansei looked and slowly put his
+foot through it.</p>
+
+<p>"Must you go tomorrow and next day?"
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Next day and always," said the mother,
+looking off down the yellow road.</p>
+
+<p>Hansei cried: "Let me go too; let me
+go!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, no; it is dark where I go."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there no sun at the other side of the
+hill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes; but we who make lace sit in
+darkness."</p>
+
+<p>Hansei asked: "Why must there be lace?"</p>
+
+<p>The mother stared into the dusk. "Because,"
+she said slowly, "there are princesses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg&nbsp;85]</a></span>
+and great ladies down there who must be
+beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"What is beautiful?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>Always through the dusky summer evenings
+they sat together on the doorstep, the
+mother with her bent head resting on her
+hand, and Hansei staring up at the great sky
+and clouds and stars above him. Sometimes
+the mother told strange stories, but oftener
+they sat silent.</p>
+
+<p>When winter came it seemed to Hansei
+that half of all the joy and light and life went
+out of the world. There were no birds nor
+bugs nor bees left; the flowers were gone, and
+the days were short and gray. It was cold,
+and he could only stay in the dim little house,
+playing with small sticks and stones, or tracing
+the frostwork on the one little window. Frost
+was like lace, his mother had told him.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, too, he would try to sing as the
+woman had sung who passed that summer time.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg&nbsp;86]</a></span>One evening in the middle of winter Hansei
+and his mother started out to a bit of
+woods skirting the other side of the yellow
+road. Hansei sang as they went; it was half
+what the woman had sung and half like nothing
+that was ever heard. Sometimes this tune
+made his mother smile a little, but oftener she
+did not hear it.</p>
+
+<p>As they crossed the yellow road his mother
+stopped and looked, as she always did.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" she said, hushing the singing
+with her hand. Hansei stood still and listened.
+Yes, yes, they were coming&mdash;"the others." It
+sounded again as it had the day the men had
+ridden by, only more&mdash;more; and they were
+coming nearer. There were voices and the
+beat of footsteps, and sometimes Hansei heard
+a strange sound that might be singing or wind
+moaning.</p>
+
+<p>Hansei said: "I am so afraid." But his
+mother did not hear him. He hid his face in
+her gown and waited. They were coming on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg&nbsp;87]</a></span>
+and on; and they were saying something together,&mdash;strange
+words that Hansei had never
+heard. Nearer and nearer! He felt them
+passing close where he and his mother stood;
+he raised his head and looked.</p>
+
+<p>He saw a long dark line of men, some
+riding and some walking. Their heads were
+bent, and they said the strange words together.
+Sometimes there was a burst like song, then
+the words again. There was one torch.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly they made their way down the yellow
+road. Hansei and his mother watched
+them as they went.</p>
+
+<p>He whispered, "Where are they going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Down there," said the mother softly.
+"It is the Christ-child's night."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do they go?"</p>
+
+<p>"To pray."</p>
+
+<p>"What will they ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Light! light!"</p>
+
+<p>"Can all go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, all."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg&nbsp;88]</a></span>"Let us go, Mother; let us go! There is
+a voice down there that calls me often."</p>
+
+<p>The mother looked back at the little dark
+house, then down the road where the one
+point of light moved on.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, let us go; let us follow it," she
+said, taking his hand and hurrying down the
+steep way in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Through the long, wild night they toiled
+on and on. Always the little light went before,
+and always Hansei and his mother followed
+where it led.</p>
+
+<p>Once Hansei cried out: "See, Mother, the
+torch is the star, and we are the shepherds
+seeking the little Christ-child!" And he
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>In the gray dawn they came to the misty
+city. "How strange! how strange!" thought
+Hansei, as they went down the narrow streets.
+"How many houses, and lights, and people!
+But the real light, the little star, we must not
+lose it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg&nbsp;89]</a></span>Just before them went the dark line of
+men and the torch. People who met them
+stepped aside and always made strange signs
+on their breasts. Suddenly the light went out,
+and the men disappeared into what seemed a
+great shadow.</p>
+
+<p>Hansei asked: "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>His mother said: "A church."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go in, too; the star went;" and
+Hansei, with all his strength, pushed back the
+great door.</p>
+
+<p>"People! people!" little Hansei had not
+dreamed there were so many of "the others."
+There in the dim light they were kneeling,
+praying for "light, light," his mother had told
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Far beyond there were small lights, like
+stars shining, and a man in a white robe, who
+said the strange words he had heard on the
+yellow road. Then the kneeling people all
+said something together. Hansei thought,
+"They are trying to tell him they want the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg&nbsp;90]</a></span>
+light, and he does not understand." Hansei's
+mother knelt where she stood, and he crept
+down beside her. He heard her saying the
+words he did not know. He only said softly:
+"Light, light for them all!"</p>
+
+<p>An old woman knelt near him; not far
+off a lame boy and a mother with a sleeping
+child in her arms knelt also, and there beyond,
+a woman. Ah, he knew what "beautiful" was
+now! He looked to see if she wore lace like
+cobwebs and frost. She did not pray; she only
+knelt there. Tears were in her eyes. "Light
+for her and all," whispered Hansei over and
+over.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was as if a dream came true.
+Some one that had stood near stepped back,
+and there, there beyond, appeared the little
+Christ-child, just as his mother had told him.
+There was the beautiful mother, the wise men
+and angels, the youth, the maiden, and the
+light shining from the child and touching them
+all, all, even the poor little beasts off there!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg&nbsp;91]</a></span>Hansei cried: "Look, look, Mother! the
+Christ-child!"</p>
+
+<p>His mother said, "Hush-hsh! It is not
+the real Christ-child, but a picture."</p>
+
+<p>Hansei looked back. "Not the real Christ-child?
+But, Mother, the star stopped here!
+Then the real Christ-child is here somewhere,
+I know."</p>
+
+<p>He looked about, but he saw only the old
+woman, the lame boy, the mother with her
+child, and the beautiful woman who could not
+pray. He turned back to the painted child
+and the light, and looked, and looked; he
+stared his eyes blind; at last he could not see;
+all seemed to fade, to go. The tired eyelids
+fell; his head drooped down on his mother's
+arm, and he slept.</p>
+
+<p>But his eyes still held the light, and he
+dreamed.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him that the beautiful pictured
+light grew and broadened into a great
+shining. "Surely," thought the little boy, "the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg&nbsp;92]</a></span>
+real Christ-child is near! but where? not here;
+here is only the old woman and the lame boy
+and the others praying. But the great light&mdash;shining
+over all, above every head, in shining
+rings! how beautiful!"</p>
+
+<p>And he thought he cried out, "See, you
+have the light, all of you! Do not pray, but
+be glad!" They did not hear, and prayed on.</p>
+
+<p>"But the Christ-child&mdash;where is the real
+Christ-child?" he wondered. He thought he
+stood up and strained his eyes over the bent
+heads of the praying people, and while he
+looked he saw myriad circles of light begin
+to glow; and lo! there, near&mdash;so near&mdash;was
+the real Christ-child,&mdash;only it was the old
+woman. Dreams are strange!</p>
+
+<p>Her bent, trembling body seemed going,
+fading, and there knelt a shining being,&mdash;the
+real Christ-child; yet it was the old woman.
+And the lame boy, the hurt creature, as he
+looked, melted into the shadow of his radiant,
+perfect self, and shined too. The mother with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg&nbsp;93]</a></span>
+her child grew bright, bright; and each of the
+kneeling, praying ones was a perfect shining
+child! The light grew into glory; the fullness
+of joy broke into singing; angels, heavenly
+hosts, singing, "The Christ is here,&mdash;here in
+the world!"</p>
+
+<p>But what&mdash;? Who&mdash;? Why, his mother,
+to be sure, leaning above him.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake, Hansei; hear the music! See the
+choir boys in white, like angels."</p>
+
+<p>Hansei opened his eyes wide. The glorious
+Christmas morning was beaming full
+upon him through the great window, and he
+saw the light of the new day touching the bent
+old woman, the lame boy, the mother with her
+child, the beautiful woman beyond, and the
+pictured Christ.</p>
+
+<p>He heard clear voices, "Peace on earth!"</p>
+
+<p>But the dream&mdash;the dream!</p>
+
+<p>"I have found the real Christ-child," he
+whispered.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+<br />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg&nbsp;94]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg&nbsp;95]</a></span></p>
+
+<a name="Saul" id="Saul"></a>
+<p style="margin-left: 7em;">Ay, to save and redeem and restore him, ... snatch Saul the mistake,<br />
+Saul the failure, the ruin he seems now,&mdash;and bid him awake<br />
+From the dream, the probation, the prelude, to find himself set<br />
+Clear and safe in new light and new life,&mdash;a new harmony, yet<br />
+To be run, and continued, and ended&mdash;who knows?&mdash;or endure!</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>From Browning's "Saul."</i></span></p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg&nbsp;96]</a></span></p>
+<a name="Shep" id="Shep"></a>
+<p class="center"><a name="image-15" id="image-15"><!-- Image 15 --></a>
+<img src="images/illus-097s.jpg" class="jpg" height="527" width="400" alt="THE DIVINE SHEPHERD" /></p>
+<p class="image"><a name="divine" id="divine" href="images/illus-097x.jpg" class="image">
+View larger image</a></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="credit"><i>By Bartolom&eacute; Est&eacute;ban Murillo</i></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE DIVINE SHEPHERD</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h2 class="space">SAUL AND DAVID.</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg&nbsp;97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The great King Saul of Israel was sad,
+and the sorrow grew and grew until it
+spread abroad through the whole nation.
+Even it came to the simple folk who minded
+sheep and lived in the far hills.</p>
+
+<p>"The mighty king is sad," said one who
+had come from a journey. And the people
+gathered about him and marveled that a king
+should sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"The king is sad," said the one. "He has
+traveled into the great desert, where nothing
+blooms and there are no rivers."</p>
+
+<p>The people stood still and looked off over
+their stretching pastures, and heard the gush
+of water brooks.</p>
+
+<p>"He sits alone in a dim tent, with his
+head in his hands," said the one. "His sword
+rests at his feet. The army goes no more to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg&nbsp;98]</a></span>
+battle. The servants weep and pray, and
+strain their eyes over the burning sand, waiting."</p>
+
+<p>"Waiting?" said the men.</p>
+
+<p>"For one to come," said the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Who shall come?" they asked together.</p>
+
+<p>"The joy-bringer," said the man.</p>
+
+<p>The shepherds looked at one another,
+and then away; and when they had stood
+awhile in silence, they moved off after their
+sheep.</p>
+
+<p>The boy David went swiftly. His feet
+pressed springing grass, he smelt the odor of
+new-turned earth, and the sound of water was
+in his ears. He could not think that there
+were really deserts. But he thought of the
+sad, lonely king, and wished that he might go
+to him. He came to where his sheep were
+feeding, and stood among them and heard
+their bleating; but he did not think of them.
+He was looking into the wide sky, and wondering
+if God would not send his angel to
+save the king; but there was no sign save the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg&nbsp;99]</a></span>
+peace and wonder that had always shone
+there. He turned and led his flock to the
+fold, and when he had done so he sat down
+on the hillside and played upon his harp; and
+the music was as beautiful as silence, so that
+shy creatures did not fear, but crept around
+to listen. The pale moon rose up, and the
+stars shone down like loving, glistening eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes there had come to David
+strange longings for far-off things, and he too
+had grown sad like the king. But then would
+he take his harp to the hill and sing of the
+sweet promise of the perfect gift that was to
+come from God to the world,&mdash;to shepherds
+and kings and all. And when he had sung so,
+behold! the peace was again in his heart, and
+he wished no longer to go seeking, for he
+knew the gift would surely come.</p>
+
+<p>He thought of the king as he sang. "He
+has forgot the promise; I must go to him and
+sing," he said.</p>
+
+<p>So he rose up in the night, and woke his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg&nbsp;100]</a></span>
+brother to give him charge over his flock.
+And when he had plucked long-stemmed, dripping
+lilies to wind through his harp strings,
+he went away by the same road all other travelers
+had gone.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day he journeyed, passing
+through sweet fields and pastures. He saw
+men sowing, and others tending their flocks;
+and there were mothers with babes in their
+arms and children about them. "The gift
+will come to you, and you, and all," he
+thought, as he passed.</p>
+
+<p>He went through the wilderness, and even
+through the dry desert; but his heart was singing
+and the thought of the promise was there
+like living water.</p>
+
+<p>Now the king's servants saw him afar off,
+and they ran out to meet him and knelt at his
+feet; for when they saw the light on his shining
+hair, and the harp with living lilies, they
+thought, "It is God's angel!"</p>
+
+<p>But he said to them, "I am only a loving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg&nbsp;101]</a></span>
+boy; I am David, a shepherd, and I have
+come to King Saul." He smiled into the wondering
+faces, and passing among them he
+came to where the king was, and stood in his
+very presence; and he was not afraid. They
+say a beautiful light shone from his face.</p>
+
+<p>The tent was dim, and the weary king did
+not stir.</p>
+
+<p>The boy knelt down, and stripping off the
+lilies, he tuned his harp and began to sing.
+The poet tells how he played for the mighty
+king; and what do you think it was? Just the
+tune all his sheep knew; always it brought
+them, one after one, to the pen door at evening.
+It was so strange and sweet a tune that
+quail on the corn lands would each leave its
+mate to fly after the player; and crickets&mdash;it
+made them so wild with delight they would
+fight one another. Then he played what sets
+the field mouse musing, and the cattle to
+deeper dreaming in the sunny meadows.</p>
+
+<p>He sang of green pastures and water<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg&nbsp;102]</a></span>
+brooks, and the morning joy of shepherds
+bounding over wide pastures. The light
+shines in streams, the hungry, happy sheep
+break out, and the long golden day is to be
+lived!</p>
+
+<p>Then he sang of the peace that comes to
+shepherds at evening, when the gentle sheep
+and sleepy, bleating lambs go home across the
+sweet wide meadow, and the stars come out
+in the serene heavens. Then it is to the
+shepherd as if nature and man and God are
+all one, and love is all there is in the whole
+world.</p>
+
+<p>At last the boy David sang of the perfect
+gift that will surely come; and he sang until
+the evil sorrow itself grew into peace.</p>
+
+<p>The king stirred and raised his head. It
+was to him as if it had rained, and flowers
+had sprung up in the desert.<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h4 class="space"><a name="Pronunciation" id="Pronunciation">A GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION</a></h4>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg&nbsp;103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The diacritical markings in this list agree with the latest edition of
+Webster's International Dictionary, and are as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Pronunciation Guide" style="width: 80%;">
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> f<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>te.</td>
+<td>&ocirc;&mdash;<i>as in</i> l&ocirc;rd.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>dd.</td>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="o with breve above">&#335;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> n<ins class="translit" title="o with breve above">&#335;</ins>t.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="a with inverted tack above">[+a]</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> pref&acute; <ins class="translit" title="a with inverted tack above">[+a]</ins>ce.</td>
+<td>&ouml;&mdash;<i>similar to</i> u <i>in</i> fur.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&auml;&mdash;<i>as in</i> f&auml;r.</td>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="oo with macron above">o&#773;o&#773;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> s<ins class="translit" title="oo with macron above">o&#773;o&#773;</ins>n</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> gr<ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins>ss.</td>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>s.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="a with umlaut below">a&#804;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="a with umlaut below">a&#804;</ins>ll.</td>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="u with inverted tack above">[+u]</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="u with inverted tack above">[+u]</ins>-nite&acute;.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>ve.</td>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="u with dot below">u&#803;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> f<ins class="translit" title="u with dot below">u&#803;</ins>ll.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins>-vent&acute;.</td>
+<td><span class="smcap">u</span>&mdash;<i>similar to</i> u <i>in</i> fur.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>nd.</td>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="y with breve above">y&#774;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> pit&acute; <ins class="translit" title="y with breve above">y&#774;</ins>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> h<ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>r.</td>
+<td>e&ucirc;&mdash;<i>as in</i> &ucirc;s.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="i with macron above">&#299;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="i with macron above">&#299;</ins>ce.</td>
+<td><span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<i>prolonged</i>).</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="i with a breve above">&#301;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> p<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>n.</td>
+<td>oi&mdash;<i>as in</i> oil.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> r<ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins>w.</td>
+<td >ou&mdash;<i>as in</i> out.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td rowspan="2"><ins class="translit" title="o with inverted tack above">[+o]</ins>&mdash;<i>as in</i> <ins class="translit" title="o with inverted tack above">[+o]</ins>-bey&acute;.</td>
+</tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">k</span> a guttural sound, similar to aspirated <i>h</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">n</span> represents the nasal sound in French, as in
+<i>ensemble</i> (&auml;<span class="smcap">n</span>&acute; s&auml;<span class="smcap">n</span>&acute; b'l).</p>
+
+<p><ins class="translit" title="w with breve above">w&#774;</ins> similar to <i>v</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Silent letters are italicized. Certain vowels, as
+<i>a</i> and <i>e</i>, when obscured, are also italicized.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h4 class="space"><a name="WORD_LIST" id="WORD_LIST"></a>A WORD LIST</h4>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Pronunciation Guide" style="width: 100%;">
+<colgroup span="2">
+<col width="65%"></col>
+<col width="35%"></col>
+</colgroup>
+<tr>
+<td>Amphibian (<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>m f<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>b&acute; <ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> <i>a</i>n)</td>
+<td>l<ins class="translit" title="a with umlaut below">a&#804;</ins><i>u</i>&acute; r<ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>l</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Angelus (<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>n&acute; g<ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins> l<ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>s)</td>
+<td>Liseuse (l<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>&acute; ze&ucirc;z&acute;)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Antonio Allegri da Corregio</td>
+<td>Mignon (m<ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins>&acute; ny&ocirc;<span class="smcap">n</span>&acute;)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; (<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>n t<ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins>&acute; n<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> <ins class="translit" title="o with inverted tack above">[+o]</ins> <ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>ll<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; gr<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> d&auml; k<ins class="translit" title="o with breve above">&#335;</ins>r <ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>d&acute; j<ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins>)</td>
+<td>Mimi (m<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; m<ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins>)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>applause (<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>p pl<ins class="translit" title="a with umlaut below">a&#804;</ins>z&acute;)</td>
+<td>miracles (m<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>r&acute; <ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins> k'lz)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Asola (&auml; s<ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins>&acute; l&auml;)</td>
+<td>m<ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins><i>a</i>n&acute; <ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>ng</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>s&acute; p<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> r<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>&acute; tion (sh<ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>n)</td>
+<td>musician (m<ins class="translit" title="u with inverted tack above">[+u]</ins> z<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>sh&acute; <i>a</i>n)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Bartolom&eacute; Est&eacute;ban Murillo</td>
+<td>myriad (m<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>r&acute; <ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> <i>a</i>d)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; (b&auml;r t<ins class="translit" title="o with breve above">&#335;</ins>l m<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>&acute; <ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>st<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>&acute; b&auml;n m<ins class="translit" title="oo with macron above">o&#773;o&#773;</ins> r<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; ly<ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins>)</td>
+<td>mysterious (m<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>s t<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; r<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> <ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>s)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Beatrice (b<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; <ins class="translit" title="a with inverted tack above">[+a]</ins> tr<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>s)</td>
+<td>naught (n<ins class="translit" title="a with umlaut below">a&#804;</ins>t)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Brunhilde (br<ins class="translit" title="oo with macron above">o&#773;o&#773;</ins>n&acute; h<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>l&acute; d<i>e</i>)</td>
+<td>Niebelungen (n<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; b<ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins> l<ins class="translit" title="u with dot below">u&#803;</ins>ng&acute; <i>e</i>n)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>buoys (boiz)</td>
+<td>Odin (<ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins>&acute; d<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>n)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>castle (k<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>s&acute; 'l)</td>
+<td>P<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>r&acute; <ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins> d<ins class="translit" title="i with macron above">&#299;</ins>s<i>e</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>caverns (k<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>v&acute; <ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>rnz)</td>
+<td>P&auml;r&acute; s&#301; f<ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins>l</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>citrons (s<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>t&acute; r<ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>nz)</td>
+<td>p<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins><i>a</i>l&acute; <ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>ng</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>crouched (kroucht)</td>
+<td>P<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>p&acute; p<ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Dante Gabriel Rossetti</td>
+<td>pr<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; l<ins class="translit" title="u with macron above">&#363;</ins>d<i>e</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; (d<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>n&acute; t<ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins> g<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>&acute; br<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> <ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>l r<ins class="translit" title="o with breve above">&#335;</ins>ss<ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>t&acute; t<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>)</td>
+<td>probation (pr<ins class="translit" title="o with inverted tack above">[+o]</ins> b<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>&acute; sh<ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>n)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Earth-dwarfs (<ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>rth&acute;-dw<ins class="translit" title="a with umlaut below">a&#804;</ins>rfs&acute;)</td>
+<td>quail (kw<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>l)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fagots (f<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>g&acute; <ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>tz)</td>
+<td>quivered (kw<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>v&acute; <ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>rd)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Faust (foust)</td>
+<td>radiance (r<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>&acute; d<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> <i>a</i>ns)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Friedrich Fr&ouml;<i>e</i>&acute; b<i>e</i>l (fr<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; dr<ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins><span class="smcap">k</span>)</td>
+<td>R<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>ch&acute; <i>a</i>rd W<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>g&acute; n<ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>r</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>g<ins class="translit" title="a with umlaut below">a&#804;</ins><i>u</i>z&acute; <ins class="translit" title="y with breve above">y&#774;</ins></td>
+<td>Saul (s<ins class="translit" title="a with umlaut below">a&#804;</ins>l)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>gl<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins><i>a</i>m<i>e</i>d</td>
+<td>s<ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins><i>a</i>rch&acute; <ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>ng</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>gl<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>n&acute; t<ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>r <ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>ng</td>
+<td>s<ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins> r<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>n<i>e</i>&acute;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Goethe (g&ouml;&acute; t<i>e</i>h)</td>
+<td>s<ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>v&acute; <ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>r<i>e</i>d</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Hansei (h<ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins>ns&acute; <ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>)</td>
+<td>sheaves (sh<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>vz)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>hedge (h<ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>j)</td>
+<td>Siegfried (s<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>g&acute; fr<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>d)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>h<ins class="translit" title="o with breve above">&#335;</ins>l&acute; l<ins class="translit" title="y with breve above">y&#774;</ins> h<ins class="translit" title="o with breve above">&#335;</ins><i>c</i>ks</td>
+<td>sm<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins><i>a</i>r<i>e</i>d</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>indescribable (<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>n&acute; d<ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins> skr<ins class="translit" title="i with macron above">&#299;</ins>b&acute; <ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins> b'l)</td>
+<td>tadpoles (t<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>d&acute; p<ins class="translit" title="o with macron above">&#333;</ins>lz)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Innocence (<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>n&acute; n<ins class="translit" title="o with inverted tack above">[+o]</ins> s<i>e</i>ns)</td>
+<td>thatched (th<ins class="translit" title="a with breve above">&#259;</ins>tcht)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Israel (<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>z&acute; r<ins class="translit" title="a with inverted tack above">[+a]</ins> <ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>l)</td>
+<td>tr<ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>n&acute; d'l<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>ng</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Jean Baptiste Greuze</td>
+<td>vision (v<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>zh&acute; <ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#365;</ins>n)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; (zh&auml;<span class="smcap">n</span> b<ins class="translit" title="a with dot above">a&#775;</ins>' t<ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins>st&acute; gruz)</td>
+<td>Watts (w<ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#335;</ins>tz)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Jean Fran&ccedil;ois Millet</td>
+<td>wearily (w<ins class="translit" title="e with macron above">&#275;</ins>&acute; r<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins> l<ins class="translit" title="y with breve above">y&#774;</ins>)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; (zh&auml;<span class="smcap">n</span> fr<ins class="translit" title="o with breve above">&#335;</ins><span class="smcap">n</span>&acute; sw&auml;&acute; m<ins class="translit" title="e with inverted tack above">[+e]</ins>&acute; y<ins class="translit" title="o with inverted tack above">[+a]</ins>&acute;)</td>
+<td>weights (w<ins class="translit" title="a with macron above">&#257;</ins>ts)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Jules le Febvre (zh<ins class="translit" title="oo with macron above">o&#773;o&#773;</ins>l l<i>e</i>h f<ins class="translit" title="a with inverted tack above">[+a]</ins>vr&acute;)</td>
+<td>w<ins class="translit" title="u with breve above">&#277;</ins>ld</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>k<ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>n&acute; d<ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>r g&auml;r&acute; t<ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>n</td>
+<td>Wilhelm Meister</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>knight (n<ins class="translit" title="i with macron above">&#299;</ins>t)</td>
+<td style="margin-left: 2em.">(<ins class="translit" title="w with breve above">w&#774;</ins><ins class="translit" title="i with breve above">&#301;</ins>l&acute; h<ins class="translit" title="e with breve above">&#277;</ins>lm m<ins class="translit" title="i with macron above">&#299;</ins>s&acute; t<ins class="translit" title="e with tilde above">e&#771;</ins>r)</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">Contents</a></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Child Stories from the Masters, by Maud Menefee
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+</body>
+</html>
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