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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 18:56:55 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 18:56:55 -0700 |
| commit | 883cfe0442259200b40e431252f90621b9b974ed (patch) | |
| tree | 3d0d6c255e479f0718b2767438d0a79d1a22ca21 /44765-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '44765-h')
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diff --git a/44765-h/44765-h.htm b/44765-h/44765-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc4ef3b --- /dev/null +++ b/44765-h/44765-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7084 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of 'Round the Year in Myth and Song, by Florence Holbrook. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1 {text-align: center; clear: both; font-weight: normal; margin-top: 3em;} + h2 {text-align: center; clear: both; margin-top: 2em; font-weight: normal;} + + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + a {text-decoration: none;} + + img {border: none;} + + em {font-style: italic;} + + .hidden {display: none;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; 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margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i9 {display: block; margin-left: 9em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.author {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; font-variant: small-caps;} + + .tdlt {text-align: left; vertical-align: top; padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;} /* left top align cell */ + .tdlin {text-align: left; vertical-align: top; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -1em;} /* left top align cell 1em indent */ + .tdc {text-align: center; vertical-align: bottom; 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margin-top: 2em;} + .booklrg {text-align: center; font-size: 130%;} + .booksml {font-size: 80%;} + .hang {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;} + +@media print, handheld +{ + .bboxtop {page-break-after: always;} + .titlep {page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} + .fmatter {page-break-after: always;} + .capleftntm {margin-top: 0em;} + .pubbooks {page-break-before: always;} + .bboxend {page-break-before: always;} + .bookvlrg {page-break-before: always;} +} + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44765 ***</div> + +<div class="bboxtop"> +<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p> + +<p>The chapter 'PERSONS AND PLACES MENTIONED' contains some less commonly used +characters to indicate pronunciation, including the following:</p> + +<p>upper and lower case c with hyphen through, C̵ and c̵<br /> +s with uptack below, s̝<br /> +y with breve above, y̆<br /> +y with macron above, ȳ<br /> +a with dot above, ȧ</p> + +<p>If they do not display correctly, you may wish to adjust your font, +browser or reader settings.</p> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 436px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="436" height="600" +alt="Decorative front cover of the book" /> +</div> + + + + +<div class="titlep"> +<h1>’ROUND THE YEAR IN<br /> +MYTH AND SONG</h1> + +<p class="centerpad"><span class="vsmlfont">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +FLORENCE HOLBROOK</p> + + +<p class="pubcenter">NEW YORK <img src="images/dots.png" width="20" height="14" alt="Decoration" /> +CINCINNATI <img src="images/dots.png" width="20" height="14" alt="Decoration" /> CHICAGO<br /> +AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> +</div> + + +<div class="fmatter"> +<p class="copycenter"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1897, by</span><br /> +AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.<br /> +——<br /> +HOL. MYTH AND SONG.<br /> +W. P. II</p> +</div> + + +<div class="fmatter"> +<p class="dedication">TO<br /> +<span class="lrgfont">MRS. ELLA FLAGG YOUNG</span><br /> +A FRIEND<br /> +WHOSE ZEAL AND<br /> +ABILITY IN THE CAUSE OF<br /> +EDUCATION ARE KNOWN TO THOUSANDS<br /> +<span class="lrgfont">THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED</span><br /> +BY ONE OF THE MANY TO WHOM<br /> +HER WORDS HAVE BEEN<br /> +AN INCENTIVE AND<br /> +HER WORK AN<br /> +INSPIRATION</p> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>7]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="preface" id="preface"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>This book is intended for use in all grades of elementary +schools, the method of presentation varying with the age of the +pupils. It has been welcomed even by pupils in higher schools, +because easily familiarizing them with myths and characters +that figure so largely in the literary texts with which they are +to deal.</p> + +<p>In the first and second grades the teachers should read or tell +some of the stories to the pupils, thus satisfying the demand of +children for a story, and preparing the way for an appreciation +of literature. The pupils should retell the stories, thus enriching +their vocabulary and learning to express thought clearly, +easily, consecutively, and confidently,—a power so much needed +and so valuable to citizens of a republic.</p> + +<p>Some of the poems, as “Daybreak,” “The Moss Rose,” +“Forget-me-not,” “Sweet and Low,” “The Child’s World,” etc., +should be memorized. If this work has been well done in these +grades, the pupils of third and fourth grades will enjoy reading +the stories, continuing the reciting of myth and poem. The +pictures that so well illustrate the myths should be studied and +described. In these classes and in the grammar grades the +stories should be written and the poems reproduced accurately, +serving as valuable lessons in form, in spelling, punctuation, and +capitalization. The reproduction of the myth and poem both +orally and in written papers is an exercise whose value cannot +be overestimated.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>8]</a></span> +While the myths are valuable in themselves as stories which +appeal to and which nourish the imagination, and as aids to +expression in oral and written language, they are also very +helpful, when presented early, to the understanding of references +with which our literature is filled, and make the reading of +the best in literature more of a delight because of this knowledge. +It is important that these myths be given to children who enjoy +the world of fairy tale and myth,—children who in their imagination +drive the car of Apollo with the bold Phaëthon, and see +with Narcissus the nymph smiling in the brook.</p> + +<p>The poems and pictures in the book serve to illustrate the +debt both poets and artists owe to the fancies of the beauty-loving +Greeks, the children of our race. With imagination and +memory nourished and stored with stories that have been part +of men’s literary possessions for centuries, and which have been +embodied in all the arts, the love for literature which is permanent +and valuable will leave no room for the worthless and +transitory.</p> + +<p>Acknowledgments are due to Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & +Company for selections from Holmes, Whittier, and Longfellow; +to Messrs. D. Appleton & Company for selections +from Bryant; to Messrs. A. C. McClurg & Company for the +poem, “Rainbow Fairies,” from Tomlin’s “Child’s Garden of +Song”; and to Mr. John Burroughs for permission to use his +poem, “Waiting.”</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>9]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="contents" id="contents"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of contents"> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"> </td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><small>PAGE</small></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">’Round the Year</td> + <td class="tdri">Gary Cooper</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#round_the_year">15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Seasons</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_seasons">22</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Worship of Nature</td> + <td class="tdri">John Greenleaf Whittier</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#worship_of_nature">27</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">How the Myths arose</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#how_the_myths_arose">28</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Months—Winter</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_months_winter">30</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Voice of Spring</td> + <td class="tdri">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_voice_of_spring">31</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Months—Spring</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_months_spring">33</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">On May Morning</td> + <td class="tdri">John Milton</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#on_may_morning">34</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Child’s Wish in June</td> + <td class="tdri">Caroline Gilman</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_childs_wish_in_june">36</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Months—Summer</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_months_summer">37</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Autumn</td> + <td class="tdri">Anonymous</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#autumn">38</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Months—Autumn</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_months_autumn">39</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Old Year</td> + <td class="tdri">Alfred Tennyson</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_old_year">41</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Holidays of the Year</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_holidays_of_the_year">43</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Days of the Week</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_days_of_the_week">47</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Ode</td> + <td class="tdri">Joseph Addison</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#ode">50</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Ceres</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#ceres">52</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">To the Fringed Gentian</td> + <td class="tdri">William Cullen Bryant</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#to_the_fringed_gentian">54</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Ceres and Persephone</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#ceres_and_persephone">55</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Arbutus Asleep</td> + <td class="tdri">William Whitman Bailey</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#arbutus_asleep">57</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Search of Ceres</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_search_of_ceres">59</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Waiting</td> + <td class="tdri">John Burroughs</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#waiting">61</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>10]</a></span>Apollo</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#apollo">62</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Hark! hark! the Lark</td> + <td class="tdri">William Shakespeare</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#hark_hark_the_lark">63</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Diana</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#diana">65</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Lady Moon</td> + <td class="tdri">Anonymous</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#lady_moon">66</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Pleiades</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_pleiades">68</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Stars</td> + <td class="tdri">Amelia</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_stars">70</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Aurora</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#aurora">73</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Daybreak</td> + <td class="tdri">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#daybreak">75</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Aurora and Tithonus</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#aurora_and_tithonus">77</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">On the Grasshopper and Cricket</td> + <td class="tdri">John Keats</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#on_the_grasshopper_and_cricket">77</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Aurora and Memnon</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#aurora_and_memnon">79</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">A Walk at Sunset</td> + <td class="tdri">William Cullen Bryant</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#a_walk_at_sunset">79</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Nymphs and Other Goddesses</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_nymphs_and_other_goddesses">82</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Give</td> + <td class="tdri">Adelaide Anne Procter</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#give">87</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Apollo and the Muses</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#apollo_and_the_muses">88</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Descent of the Muses</td> + <td class="tdri">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_descent_of_the_muses">90</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Apollo and Daphne</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#apollo_and_daphne">92</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Forget-me-not</td> + <td class="tdri">Anonymous</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#forget-me-not">94</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Clytie</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#clytie">96</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Daisy</td> + <td class="tdri">James Montgomery</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_daisy">99</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Niobe</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#niobe">102</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Apollo</td> + <td class="tdri">George Gordon Byron</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#apollo2">104</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Jupiter</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#jupiter">106</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Abou Ben Adhem</td> + <td class="tdri">Leigh Hunt</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#abou_ben_adhem">108</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Neptune</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#neptune">109</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Neptune</td> + <td class="tdri">John Keats</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#neptune2">111</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Vulcan</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#vulcan">112</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Work</td> + <td class="tdri">Mary N. Prescott</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#work">114</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>11]</a></span>Venus</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#venus">115</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Her Face</td> + <td class="tdri">Robert Browning</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#her_face">119</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Cupid and Psyche</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#cupid_and_psyche">121</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Love</td> + <td class="tdri">Francis Bourdillon</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#love">122</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Psyche and Venus</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#psyche_and_venus">123</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Longing</td> + <td class="tdri">James Russell Lowell</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#longing">125</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">St. Valentine’s Day</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#st_valentines_day">127</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">What March does</td> + <td class="tdri">May Riley Smith</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#what_march_does">128</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Phaëthon</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#phaethon">129</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Wings</td> + <td class="tdri">Mary F. Butts</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#wings">131</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Mercury</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#mercury">134</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Finding of the Lyre</td> + <td class="tdri">James Russell Lowell</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_finding_of_the_lyre">135</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Æolus</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#aeolus">137</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Æolus and Ulysses</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#aeolus_and_ulysses">140</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Chambered Nautilus</td> + <td class="tdri">Oliver Wendell Holmes</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_chambered_nautilus">141</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Wind Tower</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_wind_tower">143</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Mudjekeewis</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#mudjekeewis">145</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Wabun</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#wabun">146</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Shawondasee</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#shawondasee">149</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Little Dandelion</td> + <td class="tdri">Helen B. Bostwick</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#little_dandelion">150</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Kabibonokka</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#kabibonokka">151</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">What the Winds bring</td> + <td class="tdri">Edmund Clarence Stedman</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#what_the_winds_bring">153</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Iris</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#iris">155</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Rainbow</td> + <td class="tdri">William Wordsworth</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_rainbow">155</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Rainbow Stories</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#rainbow_stories">156</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Rainbow Fairies</td> + <td class="tdri">Lizzie M. Hadley</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_rainbow_fairies">157</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Narcissus</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#narcissus">158</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Brook</td> + <td class="tdri">Alfred Tennyson</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_brook">159</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>12]</a></span>Echo and Narcissus</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#echo_and_narcissus">161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Blue</td> + <td class="tdri">John Keats</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#blue">163</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Minerva</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#minerva">164</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Minerva and Arachne</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#minerva_and_arachne">166</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Minerva’s Weaving</td> + <td class="tdri">Edmund Spenser</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#minervas_weaving">169</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Prometheus</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#prometheus">171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Home Thoughts from Abroad</td> + <td class="tdri">Robert Browning</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#home_thoughts_from_abroad">173</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Adonis</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#adonis">174</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Origin of the Opal</td> + <td class="tdri">Anonymous</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#origin_of_the_opal">176</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Apples of the Hesperides</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_apples_of_the_hesperides">177</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Cleon and I</td> + <td class="tdri">Charles Mackay</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#cleon_and_i">179</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Pandora</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#pandora">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Gladness of Nature</td> + <td class="tdri">William Cullen Bryant</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_gladness_of_nature">183</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Hebe and Ganymede</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#hebe_and_ganymede">185</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">May</td> + <td class="tdri">Macdonald</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#may">186</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Vesta</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#vesta">186</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Sweet and Low</td> + <td class="tdri">Alfred Tennyson</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#sweet_and_low">188</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Origin of the Moss Rose</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_origin_of_the_moss_rose">190</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Moss Rose</td> + <td class="tdri">Krummacher</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_moss_rose">192</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Orpheus and Eurydice</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#orpheus_and_eurydice">193</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Child’s World</td> + <td class="tdri">Lilliput Lectures</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#the_childs_world">197</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Arion</td> + <td class="tdri"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#arion">198</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">June</td> + <td class="tdri">James Russell Lowell</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#june">200</a></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>13]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="persons_and_places_mentioned" id="persons_and_places_mentioned"></a>PERSONS AND PLACES MENTIONED.</h2> + + +<p> +Ä´bou bĕn Äd´hem (ä´bōō)<br /> +A c̵hĭl´lēs̝<br /> +A dō´nis<br /> +Æ ō´li a<br /> +Æ ō´li an Īs´lands̝<br /> +Æ´o lus<br /> +A pŏl´lo<br /> +Aq´ui lo (ăk´wi lo)<br /> +A răc̵h´ne<br /> +A ri´on<br /> +Ăth´ens̝<br /> +Au rō´ra</p> + +<p>Bō´re as</p> + +<p>Cæ´s̝ar Au gŭs´tus<br /> +C̵al lï´o pe<br /> +Cẽr´be rus<br /> +Cē´rēs̝<br /> +C̵hā´ron<br /> +C̵lē´on<br /> +C̵lī´o<br /> +C̵lȳ´tie<br /> +C̵ŏl i sē´um<br /> +C̵ŏr´inth<br /> +C̵ō´rus<br /> +C̵ū´pid<br /> +Cȳ´c̵lops<br /> +Cy̆g´nus<br /> +Cy̆n´thi a</p> + +<p>Dăph´ne<br /> +Di ā´na<br /> +Drȳ´ads̝</p> + +<p>Ec̵h´o<br /> +En dy̆m´i on<br /> +Ep i mē´the us<br /> +Ĕr´a to<br /> +Ē´ris<br /> +Ĕt´na<br /> +Eu rō´pa<br /> +Eū´rus<br /> +Eu ry̆d´i ce<br /> +Eu tẽr´pe</p> + +<p>Flō´ra<br /> +Flŏr´ence<br /> +Frĭg´ga</p> + +<p>Găn y mē´de</p> + +<p>Hā´dēs̝<br /> +Hē´be<br /> +He li´a dēs̝<br /> +Hẽr´c̵u lēs̝<br /> +Hẽr´mēs̝<br /> +Hes pē´ri a<br /> +Hes pĕr´i dēs̝<br /> +Hēs´pe rus<br /> +Hi a wä´tha<br /> +Hō´mer</p> + +<p>Ī´ris<br /> +Ĭt´a ly<br /> +Ĭth´a c̵a<br /> +Ī´da</p> + +<p>Jā´nus<br /> +Jōve<br /> +Jūli us Cæ´s̝ar<br /> +Jū´no<br /> +Jū´pi ter</p> + +<p>Kä´be yun<br /> +Ka bi bon ŏk´ka</p> + +<p>La tō´na<br /> +Lē´da<br /> +Lĭp´ar i Īs´lands̝<br /> +Louvre (lōōvr)</p> + +<p>Mā´i a<br /> +Märs̝<br /> +Mē´los<br /> +Mel pŏm´e ne<br /> +Mĕm´non<br /> +Mẽr´cu ry<br /> +Mĭ nẽr´va<br /> +Mud je kēē´wis</p> + +<p>Nā´iads̝ (yādz)<br /> +Nar cĭs´sus<br /> +Nĕp´tūne<br /> +Nē´re ids̝<br /> +Nĭ´o be<br /> +No kō´mis<br /> +Nō´tus</p> + +<p>O ce ăn´ids̝ (she)<br /> +Oc tā´vi us Cæs̝ar<br /> +Ō´din<br /> +O ly̆m´pus<br /> +Ō´re ads̝<br /> +O rī´on<br /> +Ôr´phe us</p> + +<p>Păl´las A thē´ne<br /> +Pan dō´ra<br /> +Păr´is<br /> +Par năs´sus<br /> +Pär´the non<br /> +Per i ăn´der<br /> +Per sĕph´o ne<br /> +Phā´ë thon<br /> +Phœ´bus (fē)<br /> +Pi ĕr´ i dēs̝<br /> +Pī´e rus<br /> +Plē´ia dēs̝ (yȧ)<br /> +Plū´to<br /> +Pō<br /> +Pol y hy̆m´ni a<br /> +Po mō´na<br /> +Pro mē´the us<br /> +Psȳ´c̵he (sȳ´)</p> + +<p>Rōme</p> + +<p>Sæ´ter<br /> +Sha won dä´see<br /> +Sĭb´y̆ls<br /> +Sĭc´i ly<br /> +Sĭ´rens̝<br /> +Sty̆x</p> + +<p>Ta rĕn´tum<br /> +Tẽrp sĭc̵h´o re<br /> +Tha lĭ´a<br /> +Thēbes̝<br /> +Thē´tis<br /> +Thôr<br /> +Ti thō´nus<br /> +Tiw (tū)<br /> +Tri´tons̝<br /> +Troy</p> + +<p>U ly̆s´sĕs̝<br /> +U rā´ni a</p> + +<p>Val´en tīne<br /> +Vē´nus<br /> +Vẽr´gil<br /> +Vĕs´ta<br /> +Vŭl´c̵an</p> + +<p>Wa bäs´so<br /> +Wä´bun<br /> +Wä´bun-An´nung<br /> +Wō´den</p> + +<p>Zĕph´y̆ rus (zĕf´)</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>14]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 424px;"> +<img src="images/rty01.jpg" width="424" height="600" +alt="A young woman walking in the countryside and releasing two birds from a cage" /> +<div class="capright">E. Semenowsky (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Spring.</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>15]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="round_the_year" id="round_the_year"></a>’ROUND THE YEAR.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O beautiful world of green!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When bluebirds carol clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rills outleap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And new buds peep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the soft sky seems more near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With billowy green and leaves,—what then?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How soon we greet the red again!<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>16]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/rty02.jpg" width="420" height="600" +alt="A young woman in a garden, collecting roses in her apron" /> +<div class="capright">E. Semenowsky (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Summer.</div> +</div> + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>17]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O radiant world of red!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When roses blush so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And winds blow sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lambkins bleat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the bees hum here and there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thrill of bobolinks,—ah, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before we know, the gold again!<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>18]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/rty03.jpg" width="420" height="600" +alt="A young woman in woodlands, collecting apples" /> +<div class="capright">E. Semenowsky (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Autumn.</div> +</div> + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>19]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O beautiful world of gold!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When waving grain is ripe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And apples beam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the hazy gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And quails on the fence rails pipe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pattering nuts and winds,—why then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How swiftly falls the white again!<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>20]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/rty04.jpg" width="420" height="600" +alt="A young woman on a snowy riverbank warms her hands over a small fire" /> +<div class="capright">E. Semenowsky (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Winter.</div> +</div> + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>21]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O wonderful world of white!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When trees are hung with lace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rough winds chide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And snowflakes hide<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each bleak unsheltered place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When birds and brooks are dumb,—what then?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, round we go to the green again!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—G. Cooper.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>22]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 407px;"> +<img src="images/rty05.jpg" width="407" height="400" +alt="Bas-relief of a woman with two children" /> +<div class="capright">A. B. Thorwaldsen (1770-1844).</div> +<div class="caption">Spring.</div> +</div> + +<h2><a name="the_seasons" id="the_seasons"></a>THE SEASONS.</h2> + + +<p>The earth receives light from the sun, and completes +its course through the heavens once a year. Each year +brings Spring with her garlands of flowers, Summer—golden +Summer—with her sheaves of sunlit grain, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>23]</a></span> +Autumn with the purple grape, and Winter clad in frost +and snow.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> +<img src="images/rty06.jpg" width="394" height="400" +alt="Bas-relief of a man offering an apple to one of two women who are harvesting wheat" /> +<div class="capright">A. B. Thorwaldsen.</div> +<div class="caption">Summer.</div> +</div> + +<p>Every year there is the same order of the seasons. +Therefore man knows when to plant the tiny seeds, +when the harvests and fruits will ripen, and what provision +to make for the cold but merry winter.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>24]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 414px;"> +<img src="images/rty07.jpg" width="414" height="400" +alt="Bas-relief of a man returning, from hunting and foraging, to his wife and infant" /> +<div class="capright">A. B. Thorwaldsen.</div> +<div class="caption">Autumn.</div> +</div> + +<p>Just as little children, tired with play, and men who +work all day, must have the night for sleep and rest, +so Mother Earth, who plays and works so gaily from +March to October, must have the winter season for rest. +Then she covers herself with a mantle of snow, and +sings a sleepy lullaby song.</p> + +<p>Each of the seasons has three months to attend her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>25]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 413px;"> +<img src="images/rty08.jpg" width="413" height="400" +alt="Bas-relief of an old man and a cat sitting as an elderly woman lights a lamp" /> +<div class="capright">A. B. Thorwaldsen.</div> +<div class="caption">Winter.</div> +</div> + +<p>Spring, clad in dainty green, has March with cleansing +winds, changeable April with sunshine and rain, +and tender May with the fragrant flowers.</p> + +<p>Summer, in her golden dress, has June, July, and +August to attend her.</p> + +<p>Autumn, with September, October, and November, +comes with her hands filled with baskets of fruit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>26]</a></span> +Winter has December, January, and February to +cover the earth with snow, to freeze the rivers, and to +paint curious pictures upon the windowpanes.</p> + +<p>Can you compare the passing of the year and the life +of man? Childhood, the springtime of life, is the time +for play and dance and merry song, the time to make +the body supple and strong. When the body is strong +and the mind has been trained, comes the summer time +of work—hard work in all the fields of labor, that the +harvest may not fail. In the autumn of life, when the +labor of the summer ripens into fruit, how pleasant +to reap the reward of work! Then slowly come the +snowy hair and the winter of life, when we sit by the +fire and tell the story of our battles, our struggles, our +defeats, and our victories.</p> + +<p>Each season of the year has its pleasures and its +tasks, and so has each season of life. A youth of +cheerful labor and study brings its own reward of a +well-prepared and happy adult life. Then we can repeat +Browning’s cheering words,—</p> + +<div class="cpoem20"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Grow old along with me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best of life is yet to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last for which the first is made.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>27]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="worship_of_nature" id="worship_of_nature"></a>WORSHIP OF NATURE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The harp at Nature’s advent strung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has never ceased to play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The song the stars of morning sung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has never died away.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And prayer is made, and praise is given,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By all things near and far;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ocean looketh up to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mirrors every star.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The green earth sends her incense up<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From many a mountain shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From folded leaf and dewy cup<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She pours her sacred wine.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mists above the morning rills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rise white as wings of prayer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The altar curtains of the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are sunset’s purple air.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blue sky is the temple’s arch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its transept earth and air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The music of its starry march<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The chorus of a prayer.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—John Greenleaf Whittier.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>28]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="how_the_myths_arose" id="how_the_myths_arose"></a>HOW THE MYTHS AROSE.</h2> + + +<p>The Greeks lived much in the open air, and dearly +loved the trees, the flowers, the birds, the sea and sky.</p> + +<p>They watched the clouds floating in the beautiful +azure dome, sometimes in long lines like soldiers, sometimes +looking like great curly white feathers, and sometimes +piled high like mountains of snow.</p> + +<p>They saw the sun rise, coloring the clouds and +awakening all things on the earth; and they watched +him sink in the western sky, flooding the heavens with +brilliant hues.</p> + +<p>In the quiet night, they saw the lovely stars come, +one by one at first, and then in such numbers that +their eyes were dazzled, and they thought of God and +of the beauty of His works.</p> + +<div class="cpoem20"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The million-handed sculptor molds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quaintest bud and blossom folds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The million-handed painter pours<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Opal hues and purple dye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Azaleas flush the inland floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the tints of heaven reply.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>They listened to the carols of the birds and they +believed that the brooks, the trees, and the flowers could +talk to men.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>29]</a></span> +The poets dreamed and sang about the spirits which +inhabited all the forms of nature. All the people loved +these fancies, and repeated the stories again and again. +These stories,—these beautiful fancies about nature, +which to the Greeks seemed true,—we call myths, or +fairy tales.</p> + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The beauty of the sea and sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The airy flight of birds on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely flowers, whose perfume rare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So softly fills the summer air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rainbow’s glow, the shimmering rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When springtime buds peep out again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden glory of the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fields of ripening grain upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds that sigh harmoniously,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tempest’s wrath o’er land and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purple haze of mountains far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or snowy crest, whereon the star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of night shines soft and silvery:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These joys that nature offers thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou not know; wilt thou not feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What God and thine own heart reveal?”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—F. H.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>30]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_months_winter" id="the_months_winter"></a>THE MONTHS.—WINTER.</h2> + + +<p>In addition to its four seasons—spring, summer, +autumn, and winter—the year is divided into twelve +months. Long ago, there were but ten months, and +the first month was March. But when January and +February were added, the year had twelve months, and +January, the second month of the winter season, is now +called the first month of the year.</p> + +<p>“Month” and “moon” come from a word which +means “to measure.” It takes the earth three hundred +and sixty-five days, or a year, to revolve around the sun. +The moon revolves around the earth about twelve times +in one year; so the moon is the measurer of the year, +and the twelve periods we call months.</p> + +<p>From Janus, a Roman god, comes the name of the +first month of the year. Janus is the two-headed god. +A temple of this divinity was placed at the city gate of +Rome. His statue had one face looking toward the city +and one beyond the gate. The month of January +stands at the gateway of the year, with one face looking +toward the past and one toward the future.</p> + +<p>Our second month, February, receives its name from +a Latin word which means “to purify,” for in this month +the people used to purify their homes and offer sacrifices +to the gods, who love order and cleanliness.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>31]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_voice_of_spring" id="the_voice_of_spring"></a>THE VOICE OF SPRING.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem28"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I come! I come! ye have called me long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come o’er the mountains, with light and song!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye may trace my steps o’er the wakening earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the winds which tell of the violet’s birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the green leaves opening as I pass.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have sent through the wood paths a glowing sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And called out each voice of the deep blue sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the night bird’s lay through the starry time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the swan’s wild note, by the Iceland lakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the dark fir branch into verdure breaks.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are sweeping on to the silvery main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are flashing down from the mountain brows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are flinging spray o’er the forest boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the earth resounds with the joy of waves!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the violets lie may be now your home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye of the rose lip and dew-bright eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Felicia Dorothea Hemans.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>32]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 423px;"> +<img src="images/rty09.jpg" width="423" height="600" +alt="A young woman carries a garland of leaves and flowers through woodland" /> +<div class="capright">F. A. Kaulbach (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Spring.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>33]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_months_spring" id="the_months_spring"></a>THE MONTHS.—SPRING.</h2> + + +<p>The name of the famous Mars, god of war, was given +to the first month of spring. This month, formerly the +first of the year, is now the third. Mars is fond of storm +and strife, and his name is very appropriate for this +windy, stormy month. In March the sun turns back +in his journey among the stars, and begins to come +north again. The days grow longer in our part of the +world, and we know that summer is coming.</p> + +<p>In April the snows melt, the little brooks awake and +chatter over their pebbly beds, the birds return to gladden +us with their songs, and the tiny leaves peep out of +their winter nests. The earth seems to open to receive +the moist rains and the warm winds. April, the beautiful +name given to this second month of spring, comes +from a Latin word meaning “to open.”</p> + +<p>The lovely month of May is a great favorite with the +poets. Many of them have written charming poems in +her honor. Maia, in whose honor this month was +named, is the mother of Mercury, the winged messenger +of the gods. The Romans held this god in great honor, +and gave the name of his mother to the loveliest of the +months.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>34]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="on_may_morning" id="on_may_morning"></a>ON MAY MORNING.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem26"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the bright morning star, day’s harbinger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flow’ry May, who from her green lap throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hail, bounteous May! that dost inspire<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mirth and youth and warm desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Woods and groves are of thy dressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus we salute thee with our early song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And welcome thee, and wish thee long.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—John Milton.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>35]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/rty10.jpg" width="600" height="423" +alt="A young woman reclines on a bank, a basket beside her" /> +<div class="capright">A. H. Dieffenbach (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">May.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>36]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_childs_wish_in_june" id="the_childs_wish_in_june"></a>THE CHILD’S WISH IN JUNE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mother, mother, the winds are at play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prithee, let me be idle to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look, dear mother, the flowers all lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Languidly under the bright blue sky.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See, how slowly the streamlet glides;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look, how the violet roguishly hides;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even the butterfly rests on the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor Tray is asleep in the noonday sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the flies go about him, one by one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pussy sits near with a sleepy grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without ever thinking of washing her face.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There flies a bird to a neighboring tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But very lazily flieth he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he sits and twitters a gentle note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That scarcely ruffles his little throat.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You bid me be busy. But, mother dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the humdrum grasshopper soundeth near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the soft west wind is so light in its play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It scarcely moves a leaf on the spray.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish, O I wish I were yonder cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sails about with its misty shroud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Book and work I no more should see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I’d come and float, dear mother, o’er thee.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Caroline Gilman.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>37]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_months_summer" id="the_months_summer"></a>THE MONTHS.—SUMMER.</h2> + + +<p>June, the month of roses, is named in honor of the +stately Juno, queen of the gods. Juno is the goddess +of happy marriages, and June is the favorite month +for weddings.</p> + +<p>July is named in honor of Julius Cæsar, the greatest +of the Romans in the art of war. In peace, also, he +advanced the condition of the people, and he was a +great statesman and writer. He it was who reformed +the calendar, and so it is just that his name should be +given to one of the months.</p> + +<p>Octavius Cæsar was the nephew and heir of Julius +Cæsar, the great commander. After conquering his +enemies, he became the master of Rome and was named +Emperor by the Roman Senate. He ruled the empire +wisely and well, and received the title Augustus, which +means “worthy of reverence.” From him the eighth +month receives its name—August.</p> + +<p>Cæsar Augustus was the friend of the poets and orators +who lived during his reign. So many beautiful +poems were written at that time, and all the arts so +flourished, that the reign of Augustus has been called +“The Golden Age.”</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>38]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="autumn" id="autumn"></a>AUTUMN.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem28"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When leaves grow sear, all things take somber hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild winds waltz no more the woodside through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the faded grass is wet with dew.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The forest’s cheeks are crimsoned o’er with shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cynic frost enlaces every lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ground with scarlet blushes is aflame.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ripened nuts drop downward day by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounding the hollow tocsin of decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bandit squirrels smuggle them away.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Inconstant Summer to the tropics flees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as her rose sails catch the amorous breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! bare, brown Autumn trembles to her knees.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stealthy nights encroach upon the days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth with sudden whiteness is ablaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all her paths are lost in crystal maze.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With blooms full-sapped again will smile the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Fall is but the folding of His hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anon with fuller glories to expand.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So shall the truant bluebirds backward fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all loved things that vanish or that die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return to us in some sweet by and by.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>39]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_months_autumn" id="the_months_autumn"></a>THE MONTHS.—AUTUMN.</h2> + + +<p>The months of September, October, November, and +December are named from Latin words that mean +“seven,” “eight,” “nine,” and “ten.”</p> + +<p>When the beginning of the year was placed in +March, these months were named from their position +the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth months. When +the first day of January was made the first day of the +year, these months became the ninth, tenth, eleventh, +and twelfth months, but their names were not changed. +December is, of course, the first month of winter.</p> + +<p>Each year has three hundred and sixty-five days, +except leap year, which comes once in four years. +In leap years there are three hundred and sixty-six +days, the extra day being added to the month of February.</p> + +<p>The days are not evenly divided among the twelve +months, but, as the old rhyme says,—</p> + +<div class="cpoem20"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Thirty days hath September,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">April, June, and November;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the rest have thirty-one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excepting February alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till leap year gives it twenty-nine.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>40]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 392px;"> +<img src="images/rty11.jpg" width="392" height="600" +alt="Three angels are gathered close to two large bells" /> +<div class="capright">Blashfield (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">The New-year Bells.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>41]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_old_year" id="the_old_year"></a>THE OLD YEAR.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flying cloud, the frosty light;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The year is dying in the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring out the old, ring in the new,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ring, happy bells, across the snow:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The year is going, let him go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring out the false, ring in the true.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring out the grief that saps the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For those that here we see no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ring out the feud of rich and poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring in redress to all mankind.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring out false pride in place and blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The civic slander and the spite;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ring in the love of truth and right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring in the common love of good.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring out old shapes of foul disease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ring out the thousand wars of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring in the thousand years of peace.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring in the valiant man and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The larger heart, the kindlier hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ring out the darkness of the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring in the Christ that is to be.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Alfred Tennyson.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>42]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/rty12.jpg" width="600" height="406" +alt="A little girl watches a woman bottlefeed one of a small group of lambs" /> +<div class="capright">A. H. Waterlow (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">A May Scene.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>43]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_holidays_of_the_year" id="the_holidays_of_the_year"></a>THE HOLIDAYS OF THE YEAR.</h2> + + +<p>When the New Year comes, we all hold out our +hands to the welcome guest, and are glad to see his +young and smiling face. So we have made the first +day of January a holiday, that friends may wish one +another a “Happy New Year.”</p> + +<p>February has many days that are dear to us. The +birthdays of our noble presidents, Lincoln and Washington, +are always celebrated with honor for their +greatness and rejoicings for our country’s prosperity. +Longfellow and Lowell, two of our greatest poets, +are also remembered. St. Valentine’s Day is a festival +welcome to children, and to all who love to see young +people gay and happy.</p> + +<p>In March we have no holiday.</p> + +<p>In many of our states a very interesting holiday has +been given to April. It is called “Arbor Day,” for on +this day trees are planted. Men have always felt a +reverence for trees, and have believed that</p> + +<div class="cpoem21"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The groves were God’s first temples.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The Greeks gave a personality to trees, and the Druids +worshiped the strong and noble oak. So we are setting +aside a day when all the people shall make holiday, +and plant trees whose shade shall refresh and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>44]</a></span> +whose fruit shall nourish us. This is a beautiful holiday, +and one full of meaning. Our poet Bryant says,—</p> + +<div class="cpoem21"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“What plant we in this apple tree?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweets for a hundred flowery springs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To load the May wind’s restless wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, from the orchard row, he pours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its fragrance through our open doors;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A world of blossoms for the bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers for the sick girl’s silent room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the glad infant sprigs of bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We plant with the apple tree.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>May brings with her one of the most sacred and +beautiful days of all the year. On Memorial, or Decoration, +Day we cover with flowers the graves of those +who died to preserve the nation.</p> + +<p>In England and in Sweden, May Day is given up to +dance and song and flower shows. This festival began +in honor of Odin, the old Norse god of the sun.</p> + +<p>June has no day that is remembered as a universal +holiday. But in July we find the greatest day of the +year—the Fourth of July, Independence Day. Every +child knows that on this day our nation was born. +The flags, the drums, the trumpets, the cannon,—all +awaken in the breast of every American a thrill of love +and pride that will never pass away.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 447px;"> +<img src="images/rty13.jpg" width="447" height="600" +alt="Portrait depicting the young Christ" /> +<div class="capright">Prescott Davies (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">The Christ Child.</div> +</div> + +<p>August is passed by; but on the first Monday in +September comes Labor Day. This has been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>46]</a></span> +celebrated for only a few years, but the meaning of the +holiday lies deep in the minds and hearts of men who +realize that labor is man’s greatest blessing and hope.</p> + +<p>Thanksgiving Day, generally the last Thursday in +November, is sacred to the memory of our honored +ancestors, who bravely and nobly endured the cold +and want of that first New England winter, confident +that the God whom they trusted and served would +not forget them.</p> + +<div class="cpoem27"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Aye, call it holy ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The soil where first they trod!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have left unstained what there they found,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Freedom to worship God!”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>December has the children’s great festal day,—the +blessed Christmas, when the lessons of Christ’s life +blossom into deeds, and a loving spirit seems to spread +over all the land. The carols, the Christmas trees, the +merry bells, make the heart gay, and all the air resounds +with Christmas glee. We read the Christmas stories, +sing the old songs, send loving greetings to absent +friends, and rejoice with the happy children, for “of +such is the kingdom of heaven.”</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>47]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_days_of_the_week" id="the_days_of_the_week"></a>THE DAYS OF THE WEEK.</h2> + + +<p>In the southern countries of Europe, the days of the +week were named after the gods of the Greeks and +Romans. But in our country, and in some of the countries +of northern Europe, the gods of the North have +given their names to the days.</p> + +<p>Sunday and Monday received their names from the +sun and the moon—the radiant lamps that light the +earth by day and by night.</p> + +<p>Tiw is the god of honorable war, the son of Odin +and Frigga, the earth mother. His emblem is the +sword, and in olden days the people did him great +homage. Tuesday, the third day of the week, was +named in his honor.</p> + +<p>Wednesday was called Woden’s day, in honor of +Woden, or Odin, the king of the gods. He was often +called the All Father.</p> + +<p>Thor, the son of Odin, is one of the twelve great +gods of northern mythology. “Whenever he throws +his wonderful hammer,” they used to say, “the noise of +thunder is heard through the heavens. He is the only +god who cannot cross from earth to heaven upon the +rainbow, for he is so heavy and powerful that the gods +fear it will break under his weight.” Thursday was +sacred to Thor.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>48]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 447px;"> +<!--Painter signed as Jacques Reich d'apres Joh. Gehrts--> +<img src="images/rty14.jpg" width="447" height="600" +alt="Thor, carrying his hammer, rides in an open cart pulled by two goats" /> +<div class="caption">Thor.</div> +</div> + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>49]</a></span> +<span class="i0">“I am the Thunderer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in my Northland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fastness and fortress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reign I forever!”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Friday was the day sacred to Frigga, queen of the +gods.</p> + +<p>Saturday received its name from Sæter, god of the +harvest.</p> + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">“One poor day!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember whose, and not how short it is!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is God’s day, it is Columbus’s.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lavish day! One day, with life and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is more than time enough to find a world.”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—James Russell Lowell.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“No man is born into the world whose work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not born with him. There is always work,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tools to work withal, for those who will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blesséd are the horny hands of toil!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The busy world shoves angrily aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man who stands with arms akimbo set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until occasion tells him what to do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he who waits to have his task marked out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled.”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—James Russell Lowell.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>50]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="ode" id="ode"></a>ODE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spacious firmament on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the blue ethereal sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spangled heavens, a shining frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their great Original proclaim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The unwearied sun, from day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does his Creator’s power display;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And publishes to every land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The work of an Almighty hand.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon as the evening shades prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon takes up the wondrous tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nightly, to the listening earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repeats the story of her birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst all the stars that round her burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the planets in their turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confirm the tidings as they roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spread the truth from pole to pole.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though, in solemn silence, all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move round this dark terrestrial ball?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What though no real voice nor sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst their radiant orbs be found?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In reason’s ear they all rejoice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And utter forth a glorious voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever singing, as they shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“The hand that made us is divine!”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Joseph Addison.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>51]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/rty15.jpg" width="600" height="374" +alt="The sea at night breaks against steps leading to a turreted building" /> +<div class="caption">Moonlight on the Ocean.</div> +</div> + + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>52]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="ceres" id="ceres"></a>CERES.</h2> + + +<p>All through the warm days of July and August, the +grain ripens in the rays of the sun, and in September +the fields are yellow with nodding heads of golden grain. +Ceres, the earth mother, has been driving north and +south, east and west.</p> + +<p>Two beautiful maidens always attend her,—Flora, +with garlands of roses, who cares for the lovely flowers, +and Pomona, who ripens the fruits for man to eat.</p> + +<p>As Ceres passes, the fields and woods gleam with +color and beauty, and all the voices of nature join man’s +in hymns of thanksgiving for her bounty. The old +Greeks tell us, that it is she who taught men how to +cultivate the fields; how to prepare the soil for the seed, +when to plant the many grains and fruits, and how to +care for the young and tender plants.</p> + +<p>In autumn, after the work of spring and summer, she +rejoices in the bounteous harvests, in the vineyards filled +with purple grapes. Great golden pumpkins, like huge +apples, lie basking in Apollo’s rays; the purple aster +and the golden-rod add color to the landscape. Ceres +is glad at heart. She is happy in the results of her labor +and in the presence of her lovely daughter, Persephone. +But when Persephone leaves her mother, Ceres is +sad, and winter, cold and drear, settles over the earth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>53]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 441px;"> +<img src="images/rty16.jpg" width="441" height="600" +alt="Ceres, carrying wheat and leaning on a staff" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>Vatican, Rome.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Ceres.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>54]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="to_the_fringed_gentian" id="to_the_fringed_gentian"></a>TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou blossom bright with autumn dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And colored with the heaven’s own blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That openest when the quiet light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Succeeds the keen and frosty night.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou comest not when violets lean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O’er wandering brooks and springs unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or columbines, in purple dressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nod o’er the ground bird’s hidden nest.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou waitest late, and com’st alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When woods are bare and birds are flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And frosts and shortening days portend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The aged year is near his end.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look through its fringes to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue—blue—as if that sky let fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flower from its cerulean wall.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would that thus, when I shall see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hour of death draw near to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope, blossoming within my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May look to heaven as I depart.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—William Cullen Bryant.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>55]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="ceres_and_persephone" id="ceres_and_persephone"></a>CERES AND PERSEPHONE.</h2> + + +<p>You will wonder why Persephone is not always with +her mother. This is the story the Greeks tell.</p> + +<p>As Ceres takes care of the ripening grains and fruits +all over the earth, it is necessary for her to visit every +country of the world. One day she was seated in her +chariot drawn by those wonderful winged dragons, ready +to set forth on her travels. She kissed her little daughter, +and warned her not to go far from home. She had +never before felt so anxious about leaving her little girl, +but she had to go.</p> + +<p>Persephone threw a loving kiss to her fond mother, +and then went to the shore of the sea to play with the +sea nymphs. They are graceful, slender girls, with sea-green +hair and eyes like opals. They are charming +playmates, but cannot come out of the water. Persephone +gathered flowers for them, and was obedient to +her mother’s command.</p> + +<p>But Pluto, the god of the palaces of gold and silver +under the earth, looking out from one of the caverns, +saw the pretty child, and wanted to carry her away to +his home. So he caused a wonderful flower, all crimson +and gold, to charm Persephone farther away. She +stooped to pick it; and lo! it came up by the roots, a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>56]</a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +deep cavern yawned, and the chariot of King Pluto +appeared.</p> + +<p>The driver, who was King Pluto himself, caught the +frightened Persephone in his arms. Whipping his coal-black +steeds, he hurried away with her to his home in +Hades.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/rty17.jpg" width="600" height="349" +alt="Three young women carry firewood through snowy woodland" /> +<div class="capright">L. Munthe (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">A Winter Scene.</div> +</div> + + + + + +<h2><a name="arbutus_asleep" id="arbutus_asleep"></a>ARBUTUS ASLEEP.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Arbutus lies beneath the snows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While winter waits her brief repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And says, “No fairer flower grows!”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of sunny April days she dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of robins’ notes and murmuring streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiling in her sleep she seems.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She thinks her rosy buds expand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the touch of childhood’s hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beauty breathes throughout the land.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The arching elders bending o’er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silent river’s sandy shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their golden tresses trim once more.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pussy willows in their play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their varnished caps have flung away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hung their furs on every spray.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>58]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The toads their cheery music chant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The squirrel seeks his summer haunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life revives in every plant.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I must awake! I hear the bee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The butterfly I long to see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The buds are bursting on the tree!”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! blossom, thou art dreaming, dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild winds howl about thee here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dirges of the dying year!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy gentle eyes with tears are wet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sweeter sleep these pains forget;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy merry morning comes not yet!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—William Whitman Bailey.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>59]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_search_of_ceres" id="the_search_of_ceres"></a>THE SEARCH OF CERES.</h2> + + +<p>When Ceres returned and could not find her little +girl, she was frantic. Over the whole earth she drove +her chariot, calling upon all things to help her in her +search—but in vain!</p> + +<p>Then she became so sad that she refused to allow the +earth to produce any food for man or beast. The +flowers and trees and harvests drooped and faded. In +vain did gods and men plead with her. She would not +be comforted.</p> + +<p>At last Jupiter sent the swift-flying Mercury, messenger +of the gods, to Pluto, commanding him to release +Persephone. When Ceres saw her daughter restored +to her, what joy was hers! Yet she feared one thing.</p> + +<p>“Have you eaten anything in Pluto’s kingdom, my +child?” was her anxious question.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear mother,” Persephone replied, “six pomegranate +seeds.”</p> + +<p>“Alas! then you must remain with Pluto six months +of every year,” said the sad Ceres.</p> + +<p>Thus it is that for six months Ceres and Persephone +are together, the earth is covered with the blessed +gifts of Ceres, and it is summer over the land. But +when they are separated, the mother grieves, and winter +is king.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>60]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/rty18.jpg" width="600" height="413" +alt="A young woman sits on the shoreline and stares out to sea" /> +<div class="capright">Nonnenbruch (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="capleftntm">Copyright, 1895, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</div> +<div class="caption">Waiting.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>61]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="waiting" id="waiting"></a>WAITING.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Serene I fold my hands and wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rave no more ’gainst time or fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lo, my own shall come to me.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I stay my haste, I make delays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what avails this eager pace?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stand amid the eternal ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what is mine shall know my face.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Asleep, awake, by night or day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The friends I seek are seeking me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wind can drive my bark away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor change the tide of destiny.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What matter if I stand alone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wait with joy the coming years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart shall reap where it has sown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gather up its fruits of tears.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The waters know their own and draw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brook that springs from yonder height.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So flows the good with equal law<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the soul of pure delight.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stars come nightly to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tidal wave unto the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can keep my own away from me.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—John Burroughs.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>62]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 476px;"> +<img src="images/rty19.jpg" width="476" height="300" +alt="Apollo in his chariot, which is surrounded by female figures, follows Aurora" /> +<div class="capright">Guido Reni (1575-1642).</div> +<div class="caption">The Aurora.</div> +</div> + +<h2><a name="apollo" id="apollo"></a>APOLLO.</h2> + + +<p>The palace of the sun is far away in the east. The +walls are of silver, the ceilings of carved ivory, and the +pillars of gold shining with many jewels.</p> + +<p>Phœbus Apollo, in a robe of royal purple, sits upon a +golden throne, and the bright rays shining from his +golden hair light up the palace and dazzle the eyes. +On either hand stand the Day, the Month, the Year, +and the rosy Hours, who attend him in his daily course +through the heavens.</p> + +<p>When his beautiful twin sister, Diana, the queen of +the night, has finished her course through the deep blue +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>63]</a></span> +sky, and all the stars are gone, Aurora, the dawn, opens +the silvery eastern bars and shows a path covered with +roses. Beautiful, rosy boys hold torches to light up the +path, and to tell the people of the earth that the sun +god is coming. The agile Hours quickly harness the +impatient horses, Apollo mounts his chariot, takes the +reins, and away they gallop, delighted with their task.</p> + +<p>The wind arises from the sea, and wafts the clouds +along; the birds stir in the trees, and begin their sweet +morning song; the leaves rustle, and the flowers raise +their perfumed heads and say “good morning!” The +little children open their eyes with a laugh and shout, +for another day of play. All the world is awake to give +thanks for the glorious sunlight!</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="hark_hark_the_lark" id="hark_hark_the_lark"></a>HARK! HARK! THE LARK.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Phœbus ’gins arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His steeds to water at those springs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On chaliced flowers that lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winking Mary-buds begin<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To ope their golden eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With everything that pretty bin<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My lady sweet, arise!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arise, arise!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—William Shakespeare.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>64]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 478px;"> +<img src="images/rty20.jpg" width="478" height="600" +alt="Diana, crowned with a crescent moon, in her chariot and carrying bow and arrows" /> +<div class="capright">Correggio (1494-1534).</div> +<div class="caption">The Moon Goddess.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>65]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="diana" id="diana"></a>DIANA.</h2> + + +<p>Diana, the goddess of the moon, is the twin sister of +Apollo. She completes her journey around the earth +once in a month. Her chariot is of polished silver, and +her horses are dark as night. She is a strong and +beautiful goddess, with a robe of deepest azure, and a +golden crescent in her black hair.</p> + +<p>When Apollo sinks in the west, the chariot of Diana +appears, and she drives like a queen over the floor of +heaven, which is studded with twinkling stars. How +lovely is the night! Sometimes we see only a silver +crescent, and the rim of the moon. This the children +call the baby moon. But night after night the moon +shows more and more of her silver face, until she seems +like a great ball floating high in air. This we call the +full moon. The stars are her maidens, who welcome +her coming and attend her on her journey.</p> + +<p>In September, the grains are gathered into the barns, +and we call the full moon in that month the Harvest +Moon.</p> + +<p>The October full moon is the Hunter’s Moon, for +in that month Diana leads the jolly hunters. Then, +according to the old Greeks, she leaves her chariot, sees +that her bow and arrows are ready, calls her maidens, +and steps forward, strong and free, to the chase.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>66]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;"> +<img src="images/rty21.jpg" width="480" height="191" +alt="Fieldworkers return home from work by the light of a full moon" /> +<div class="capright">Mason (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">The Harvest Moon.</div> +</div> + +<h2><a name="lady_moon" id="lady_moon"></a>LADY MOON.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem16"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lady moon, lady moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sailing so high!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drop down to baby<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From out the blue sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Babykin, babykin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down far below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear thee calling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I cannot go.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But lady moon sendeth thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soft, shining rays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moon loves the baby,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moonlight says.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her house dark and blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though she must stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindly she’ll watch thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till dawns the new day.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>67]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"> +<img src="images/rty22.jpg" width="370" height="600" +alt="A dark-haired young woman sits on a crescent moon" /> +<div class="capright">F. A. Kaulbach (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Lady Moon.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>68]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_pleiades" id="the_pleiades"></a>THE PLEIADES.</h2> + + +<p>Diana had seven graceful maidens who hunted the +deer with her. One day they saw Orion, a great +hunter, coming toward them with his dog and his big +club. Orion was a giant, and the maidens feared him +and ran away.</p> + +<p>Orion called to them not to be afraid, for he wished +to hunt with them. But still they fled, and when they +were weary and saw that he was overtaking them, they +called upon the gods to save them from the mighty +hunter. The gods loved them, and listened to their +cries. When Orion thought he had at last caught up +with them, he saw, not the maidens, but seven snow-white +doves flying away under the azure sky.</p> + +<p>At night, when the queenly Diana looked down from +her chariot, she saw that her attendants had been transformed +to doves. As she could not give them their +original form, she placed them in the heavens as stars +to attend her during the night.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/rty23.jpg" width="600" height="406" +alt="The seven sisters dance in a graceful circle" /> +<div class="capright">Elihu Vedder (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">The Dance of the Pleiades.</div> +</div> + +<p>These sister stars we call the group of the Pleiades. +For a long time they accompanied their queen in her +journey. At last the Trojan war broke out, and they +were terrified and covered their faces. The youngest +of the sweet sisters was so frightened that she hid behind +the others. In some way she became separated +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>70]</a></span> +from them and lost her way. Now there are only six +stars in the constellation called the Pleiades, and the +little sister is constantly searching for them.</p> + +<p>There is a beautiful statue called “The Lost Pleiad” +which shows a lovely young girl borne by the clouds +and looking eagerly for her beloved sisters.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="the_stars" id="the_stars"></a>THE STARS.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem29"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye snow-white clouds, whose fleecy wings enfold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The stars, that light yon boundless breadth of blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roll back your edges, tinged with deepest gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And softly let the peaceful wanderers through;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, one by one, they burst upon my eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O’ertaking my young heart with sudden sweet surprise.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How oft, when but a child, in wildest glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I’ve climbed the summit of some breezy hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose mossy sides went sloping to the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where slept another heaven serenely still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, from the mighty stronghold of the seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead send up their dirge upon the twilight breeze.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there beneath a fringe of dewy leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That drooped away from many a bended bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I used to lie on summer’s golden eves,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And gaze about as I am gazing now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking each lustrous star a heavenly shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For an immortal soul, and wondered which was mine.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>71]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/rty24.jpg" width="350" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of a young woman looking into the distance, hand shading her eyes" /> +<div class="capright">Randolph Rogers (1825-1892).</div> +<div class="caption">The Lost Pleiad.</div> +</div> + +<div class="cpoem29"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>72]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But now the moon, beside yon lonely hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lifts high her cup of paly gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the planets, following slow and still,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Along the deep their solemn marches hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While here and there some meteor’s startling ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shoots streaks of arrowy fire far down the Milky Way.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Milky Way: ah, fair, illumined path,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That leadeth upward to the gate of heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit, soaring from this world of scath,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is lost with thee among the clouds of even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, upborne on Fancy’s glittering wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floats by the Golden Gate, and hears the angels sing.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Amelia.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>73]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="aurora" id="aurora"></a>AURORA.</h2> + + +<p>Aurora, goddess of the dawn, is the young sister of +Diana, the queen of night. It is her duty to open the +eastern doors of the palace of the sun, and to strew +the path of Apollo, the sun god, with roses. Just before +sunrise she appears in the eastern sky, her rosy fingers +tinting the misty clouds.</p> + +<p>Aurora is goddess of the evening light, as well as +of the dawn. Long after the chariot of the sun has +disappeared below the horizon, the western clouds +are bright with the rosy light of this beauty-loving +goddess.</p> + +<p>In some countries the twilights are very long, and +Aurora seems to linger on the hilltops. She sprinkles +refreshing dew upon the thirsty flowers, who have +bravely raised their heads to the sun all day. They +revive under her gentle care.</p> + +<p>At evening, when she is slowly closing the gates of +the west, the eyes of the little children grow tired of +day and close in welcome sleep. The birds, too, who +welcome the fair Aurora with their joyous matin songs, +now seek their nests, and their last chirp is heard as +the twilight deepens. Then Aurora bars the gates, gives +the lantern, or evening star, to Hesperus, and returns to +the east for her morning task.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>74]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> +<img src="images/rty25.jpg" width="394" height="400" +alt="Bas-relief of a female angel who flies dropping flowers, with a cherub who carries a torch" /> +<div class="capright">A. B. Thorwaldsen.</div> +<div class="caption">Day.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>75]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="daybreak" id="daybreak"></a>DAYBREAK.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wind came up out of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said, “O mists, make room for me.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It hailed the ships, and cried, “Sail on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye mariners, the night is gone.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hurried landward far away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crying, “Awake! it is the day.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It said unto the forest, “Shout!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hang all your leafy banners out!”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It touched the wood bird’s folded wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said, “O bird, awake and sing.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And o’er the farms, “O chanticleer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your clarion blow; the day is near.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It whispered to the fields of corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Bow down, and hail the coming morn.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It shouted through the belfry tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It crossed the churchyard with a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said, “Not yet! in quiet lie.”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>76]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> +<img src="images/rty26.jpg" width="425" height="600" +alt="Aurora pauses to smell a flower" /> +<div class="capright">J. L. Hamon (1821-1874).</div> +<div class="caption">Aurora.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>77]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="aurora_and_tithonus" id="aurora_and_tithonus"></a>AURORA AND TITHONUS.</h2> + + +<p>Aurora loves the pretty flowers and often wanders +among the gardens watching and caring for the +tender blossoms.</p> + +<p>One morning she met the handsome youth, Tithonus. +Aurora loved Tithonus, and, as he was a mortal, she +begged the gods to give him immortal life. Unfortunately, +she forgot to ask for him immortal youth, and +after a while he began to grow old. Although he still +lived in her palace and fed on ambrosia, the food of the +gods, he became smaller and smaller, until Aurora was +ashamed of him and turned him into a grasshopper.</p> + +<p>This is the way you see him to-day—with the face +of an old man on the body of a grasshopper.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="on_the_grasshopper_and_cricket" id="on_the_grasshopper_and_cricket"></a>ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem31"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The poetry of earth is never dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is the grasshopper’s,—he takes the lead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In summer luxury,—he has never done<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With his delights; for, when tired out with fun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poetry of earth is ceasing never:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>78]</a></span> +<span class="i2">On a lone winter evening, when the frost<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And seems, to one in drowsiness half lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—John Keats.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 396px;"> +<img src="images/rty27.jpg" width="396" height="400" +alt="Bas-relief of an angel flying, carrying two sleeping babies, with an owl following" /> +<div class="capright">A. B. Thorwaldsen.</div> +<div class="caption">Night.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>79]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="aurora_and_memnon" id="aurora_and_memnon"></a>AURORA AND MEMNON.</h2> + + +<p>Memnon was the son of Aurora and Tithonus, and +was dearly loved by his young and beautiful mother. +He became a very brave man. When the Trojan war +broke out, he came from the East to help the Trojans. +At first he was successful, and he put the Greeks to +flight; but when Achilles met him, a great struggle +began. Long they fought and bravely; but at last +Memnon fell.</p> + +<p>Aurora, who had witnessed Memnon’s defeat, told his +brothers, the Winds, to bear his body to his home in +the far East. There in the evening Aurora came to +weep over the body of her son. The Hours, the rosy +sister goddesses, joined in her grief, and the shining +Pleiades veiled their faces in sorrow.</p> + +<p>Aurora still laments the untimely death of her son, +and her tears you may find in the early morning as dewdrops +upon the bending grass and flowers.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="a_walk_at_sunset" id="a_walk_at_sunset"></a>A WALK AT SUNSET.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem31"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">When insect wings are glistening in the beam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the low sun, and mountain tops are bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh! let me by the crystal valley stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wander amid the mild and mellow light;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>80]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And while the wood thrush pipes his evening lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me one lonely hour to hymn the setting day.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">O sun! that o’er the western mountains now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go’st down in glory! ever beautiful<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And blesséd is thy radiance, whether thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Colorest the eastern heaven and night mist cool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the bright day-star vanish, or on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climbest and streamest thy white splendors from mid-sky.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Yet, loveliest are thy setting smiles, and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fairest of all that earth beholds, the hues<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That live among the clouds, and flush the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lingering and deepening at the hour of dews.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then softest gales are breathed, and softest heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plaining voice of streams, and pensive note of bird.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—William Cullen Bryant.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/rty28.jpg" width="400" height="207" +alt="People walk home from church in the evening" /> +<div class="capright">Leader (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="capleftntm">Copyright, 1894, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</div> +<div class="caption">Sunset.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>81]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/rty29.jpg" width="600" height="336" +alt="Eleven nymphs dance and play music in woodland next to a stream" /> +<div class="capright">Kray (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">The Dance of the Nymphs.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>82]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_nymphs_and_other_goddesses" id="the_nymphs_and_other_goddesses"></a>THE NYMPHS AND OTHER GODDESSES.</h2> + + +<p>The Greeks, in their love for nature, believed that +all her forms had life and feeling. The mildness of +their climate, their out-of-door life, the apparent nearness +of sea and sky, the beauty of mountain, tree, flower, +and glistening rivulet, made nature dear to them. Their +love for the beautiful outside world was nourished, and +caused them to look upon all nature as friendly. Their +vivid fancy peopled grove and dale with forms that +returned human affection.</p> + +<p>They liked to believe that every stream had a naiad +sporting in its waters, that dryads lived in the graceful +trees, and that shrubs and flowers were the outward +forms of spirits imprisoned there.</p> + +<p>Oreads, or mountain nymphs, wandered over the +mountains, and their laughter echoed in the valleys. +Nereids and oceanids—water nymphs—sported in the +waves of the ocean, and, with the tritons, attended Neptune, +god of the deep blue sea.</p> + +<p>The sunflower concealed the sea nymph Clytie, and +lovely Echo was transformed into a voice. The laurel +tree, with its glossy green leaves, was but the nymph +Daphne, to whom, when fleeing from Apollo, her father, +the river god, gave this form.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 363px;"> +<img src="images/rty30.jpg" width="363" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of the three Graces standing in a circle facing outwards" /> +<div class="capright">Germain Pilon (1515-1590).</div> +<div class="caption">The Graces.</div> +</div> + +<p>The sirens lived on an island of the sea. They sang +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>84]</a></span> +so beautifully that all the sailors who passed that way +longed to see the singers, and, coming too near, were +wrecked on the rocks which the water concealed.</p> + +<p>There were some nymphs and goddesses who were +always mentioned together. The Graces were three +maidens of charming appearance, who waited upon +Venus. No one was so beautiful that the Graces could +not add to her charm and loveliness, and they were ever +welcome guests in every home.</p> + +<p>Spenser says,—</p> + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“These three on men all gracious gifts bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which deck the body or adorn the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make them lovely or well-favored show;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As comely carriage, entertainment kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the complements of courtesy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They teach us how to each degree and kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We should ourselves demean, to low, to high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To friends, to foes; which skill men call civility.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The Fates also numbered three. These severe goddesses +could reveal the future to men and gods and no +one could escape their decrees. Even Jupiter must +obey the Fates, daughters of stern necessity. The +decrees of the gods and the Fates were generally revealed +to men by priestesses called sibyls. These wise +women lived in caves. Their prophecies, or oracles, as +they were called, were believed in and greatly respected +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>86]</a></span> +by the Greeks and Romans, who often went to the sibyls +for advice and assistance.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 396px;"> +<img src="images/rty31.jpg" width="396" height="600" +alt="The three Fates work at their spinning" /> +<div class="capright">Paul Thumann (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">The Fates.</div> +</div> + +<p>The Furies were deities who searched out all wicked +people and punished them for their crimes, pursuing +them with whips and snakes. The Furies were really +friends to man, because they wished him to repent of +his guilty deeds, live a better and truer life, and do good +and not evil in the world.</p> + +<p>The nine Muses, those gracious daughters of Jupiter +and Memory, sang their songs and joined in a graceful +dance on Mount Parnassus. Apollo, god of poesy and +song, was their teacher, and from him they learned how +to inspire artists, poets, and musicians with thoughts of +harmonies more beautiful than ordinary mortals know.</p> + +<p>The Hours attended Apollo, as he drove his flaming +chariot through the heavens.</p> + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The rosy Hours, with agile grace, attend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo, when, as god of the sun, he makes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His joyful journey through the heavens.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Another group of four graceful beings Keats thus +describes in his poem, “Endymion,”—</p> + +<div class="cpoem26"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">“An ethereal band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are visible above: The Seasons four,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green-kirtled Spring, flush Summer, golden store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Autumn’s sickle, Winter’s frosty hoar.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>87]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="give" id="give"></a>GIVE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem18"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See the rivers flowing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Downwards to the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pouring all their treasures<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bountiful and free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to help their giving<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hidden springs arise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, if need be, showers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Feed them from the skies!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Watch the princely flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their rich fragrance spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Load the air with perfumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From their beauty shed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet their lavish spending<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leaves them not in dearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fresh life replenished<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By their mother earth!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give thy heart’s best treasures,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From fair Nature learn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give thy love, and ask not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wait not a return!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the more thou spendest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From thy little store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a double bounty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">God will give thee more.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Adelaide Anne Procter.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>88]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 462px;"> +<img src="images/rty32.jpg" width="462" height="350" +alt="Apollo's chariot, drawn by four horses, travelling through the clouds" /> +<div class="capright">Raphael (1483-1520).</div> +<div class="caption">Apollo in his Chariot.</div> +</div> + + + +<h2><a name="apollo_and_the_muses" id="apollo_and_the_muses"></a>APOLLO AND THE MUSES.</h2> + + +<p>When Apollo’s daily task is done, he removes the +dazzling rays from his head and places there the wreath +of laurel which he much prefers. Then he goes to Parnassus, +the beautiful mountain in Greece, where the +Muses dwell. The Muses are nine maidens, the wonderful +daughters of Memory, to each of whom Apollo +has given some department of music or poetry. All +musicians and poets are said to ask Apollo and the +Muses for aid and inspiration.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>89]</a></span> +To Calliope, the muse of epic poetry, Homer and +Vergil prayed when they sang of war and heroes.</p> + +<p>Astronomers appeal to Urania, who presides over +the stars—their song makes the music of the spheres; +and those who write history must be aided by Clio.</p> + +<p>To Thalia and Melpomene are given the realms of +comic and tragic poetry.</p> + +<p>Erato, who presides over the poems of love, generally +accompanies the youngest and gayest of the Muses, +Terpsichore. The chief pleasure and delight of Terpsichore +is in the graceful movements of the dance. When +Euterpe, the muse of lyric poetry, strikes her golden +lyre, these three, with their music, song, and dance, +create exquisite beauty and harmony, and they are much +beloved by their sister Muses and by mortals.</p> + +<p>The wisest and most dignified of all the Muses is +Polyhymnia, who presides over sacred music. She it +is who inspires the hymns of praise to the Almighty +Ruler of the world.</p> + +<p>Apollo instructs these maidens in the arts of poetry +and music, and then they unite in a merry dance; for +they are graceful beings and have strong, beautiful +bodies. The Greeks believed in the culture of the body,—the +temple of the soul,—and so Apollo, god of the +sun, of poetry and music, was also their ideal of physical +perfection.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>90]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_descent_of_the_muses" id="the_descent_of_the_muses"></a>THE DESCENT OF THE MUSES.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem28"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nine sisters, beautiful in form and face,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Came from their convent on the shining heights<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Pierus, the mountain of delights,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To dwell among the people at its base.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then seemed the world to change. All time and space,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Splendor of cloudless days and starry nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And men and manners, and all sounds and sights,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Had a new meaning, a diviner grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proud were these sisters, but were not too proud<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To teach in schools of little country towns<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Science and song, and all the arts that please;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that while housewives span, and farmers plowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their comely daughters, clad in homespun gowns<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Learned the sweet songs of the Pierides.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;"> +<img src="images/rty33.jpg" width="490" height="250" +alt="The Muses dance in a circle" /> +<div class="capright">Giulio Romano (1492-1546).</div> +<div class="caption">Apollo and the Muses.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>91]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;"> +<img src="images/rty34.jpg" width="371" height="600" +alt="A cherubic Cupid draws his bow" /> +<div class="capright">V. Tojetti (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Cupid with his Bow.</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>92]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="apollo_and_daphne" id="apollo_and_daphne"></a>APOLLO AND DAPHNE.</h2> + + +<p>One day Apollo found Cupid, the mischievous little +god of love, playing with his arrows, and he said,—“Why +are you playing with my arrows? You are only +a boy and should not use manly weapons!” Cupid did +not like to be called a child, and took from his own +quiver two tiny arrows, one tipped with lead, one with +gold. The golden arrow he shot into the heart of Apollo; +the leaden, into the heart of a young and graceful wood +nymph, Daphne.</p> + +<p>When Apollo saw Daphne, the golden arrow in his +heart made him love her, and he pursued her; but the +heavy arrow of dull lead in her heart made her dislike +him, and she fled.</p> + +<p>Soon Daphne found that she could not run so fast +as Apollo, and she called upon her father, the river +god, to save her. He heard her cry and changed her +into a beautiful laurel tree. When Apollo came up +he saw that her body was growing rough with the bark, +her slender feet were changing into the roots, and her +long wavy hair was turning into the shiny green leaves.</p> + +<p>The sun god grieved at this change, but said: “This +tree shall be sacred to poets and musicians and artists. +I shall wear a wreath of laurel, and all who follow the +arts shall be crowned with the laurel wreath.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>93]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 468px;"> +<img src="images/rty35.jpg" width="468" height="600" +alt="A portrait of Daphne, wearing a laurel wreath" /> +<div class="capright">Rylands (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Daphne.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>94]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="forget-me-not" id="forget-me-not"></a>FORGET-ME-NOT.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem21"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When to the flowers so beautiful<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Father gave a name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back came a little blue-eyed one,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All timidly it came.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And standing at the Father’s feet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And gazing on His face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It said, in meek and timid voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet with a gentle grace:<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Dear Lord, the name Thou gavest me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Alas, I have forgot.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Father kindly looked on her<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And said, “Forget-me-not.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>95]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 411px;"> +<img src="images/rty36.jpg" width="411" height="600" +alt="A young woman holds a bunch of freshly picked forget-me-nots" /> +<div class="capright">G. Schrœdter (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="capleftntm">Copyright, 1894, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</div> +<div class="caption">Forget-me-not.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>96]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 385px;"> +<img src="images/rty37.jpg" width="385" height="500" +alt="Bust of a young woman" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>British Museum.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Clytie.</div> +</div> + + + +<h2><a name="clytie" id="clytie"></a>CLYTIE.</h2> + + +<p>Clytie was a beautiful sea nymph who lived in a +wonderful palace under the sea. Her dress was of pale +green sea moss, and she wore ornaments of delicate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>97]</a></span> +pink coral in her sunny curls. Her carriage was an +exquisite shell of many brilliant hues, which glittered +in the sunlight, and gold fish were her strange and +beautiful horses.</p> + +<p>One day, when she was driving over the surface of +the sea, she saw the glorious god Apollo in his golden +chariot. Day after day she watched him journey through +the deep blue sky, and hoped he would see her. Alas! +he never noticed the lonely sea maid, so far below.</p> + +<p>At last she left her chariot, and all day long watched +him from the shore. When the sun had gone and she +started to return to her home under the waves, she +could not move. Her feet had become fastened to the +soil and her form began to change into the sunflower. +Her green dress became the stalk and leaves, and her +golden hair changed into the yellow petals.</p> + +<p>But the flower still loves the sun. In the morning it +looks toward the east and rejoices when the sun appears +above the horizon, following his course and slowly turning +its face toward the west.</p> + +<p>So this flower is the emblem of constancy. Poets +often speak of the great love and faithfulness of Clytie, +and artists paint her picture or sculpture her form.</p> + +<p>In the art galleries may be found a lovely bust of a +young girl. The sculptor is unknown, but the bust is +supposed to be one of Clytie, for the shoulders seem to +rise from the leaves of the sunflower.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>98]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> +<img src="images/rty38.jpg" width="418" height="600" +alt="A young woman with a bunch and a crown of daisies" /> +<div class="capright">A. Cabanel (1823-1889).</div> +<div class="caption">Daisies.</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>99]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_daisy" id="the_daisy"></a>THE DAISY.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a flower, a little flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With silver crest and golden eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That welcomes every changing hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And weathers every sky.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The prouder beauties of the field<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In gay but quick succession shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Race after race their honors yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They flourish and decline.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But this small flower, to Nature dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While moons and stars their courses run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enwreathes the circle of the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Companion of the sun.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It smiles upon the lap of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To sultry August spreads its charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lights pale October on his way,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And twines December’s arm.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The purple heath and golden broom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On moory mountains catch the gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O’er lawns the lily sheds perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The violet in the vale.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But this bold floweret climbs the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hides in the forest, haunts the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>100]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Plays on the margin of the rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Peeps round the fox’s den.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within the garden’s cultured round<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It shares the sweet carnation’s bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blooms on consecrated ground<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In honor of the dead.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lambkin crops its crimson gem;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The wild bee murmurs on its breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blue fly bends its pensile stem<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Light o’er the skylark’s nest.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">’Tis Flora’s page; in every place,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In every season, fresh and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It opens with perennial grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And blossoms everywhere.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On waste and woodland, rock and plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Its humble buds unheeded rise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose has but a summer reign;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The daisy never dies!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—James Montgomery.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>101]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"> +<img src="images/rty39.jpg" width="415" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of Niobe shielding one of her children" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>Uffizi Gallery, Florence.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Niobe and Child.</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>102]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="niobe" id="niobe"></a>NIOBE.</h2> + + +<p>Apollo and Diana are both hunters and carry bows +and arrows. One day Niobe, queen of Thebes, boasted +that she had more children than Latona, the mother of +Apollo and Diana, and that her children were more +beautiful.</p> + +<p>Latona called upon her children to punish Niobe for +her pride, and they shot their arrows at the children of +the boasting Niobe. Soon all were slain, although their +mother, in her grief, tried to protect those she loved +so well. Apollo killed the seven handsome sons, and +Diana aimed her arrows at the seven lovely daughters.</p> + +<p>Niobe grieved so over the loss of her dear children +that she turned into stone, but her tears still continued +to flow.</p> + +<p>There is a room in a famous gallery in Florence, +Italy, called the Niobe room, because here are placed +the famous statues of Niobe and her fourteen children, +trying, in vain, to escape the fatal arrows of the divine +archers.</p> + +<p>Some people believe that this story means that the +rays of the sun and moon are harmful. But others say +that it only shows that Apollo, the sun, battles with +Niobe and her children, who are the powers of winter. +When his rays have overcome them, Niobe dissolves in +tears, and the cold snows melt and disappear.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>103]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 310px;"> +<img src="images/rty40.jpg" width="310" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of Diana with a hound" /> +<div class="capright">Hamo Thornycroft (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Diana as Huntress.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>104]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="apollo2" id="apollo2"></a>APOLLO.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Lord of the unerring bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The God of life and poesy and light—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All radiant from his triumph in the fight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shaft has just been shot—the arrow bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With an immortal’s vengeance; in his eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nostril, beautiful disdain and might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And majesty flash their full lightnings by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Developing in that one glance the Deity.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—George Gordon Byron.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>105]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> +<img src="images/rty41.jpg" width="418" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of Apollo, standing with one arm outstretched" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>Vatican, Rome.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Apollo Belvedere.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>106]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="jupiter" id="jupiter"></a>JUPITER.</h2> + + +<p>Jupiter, or Jove, as he is sometimes called, king of +the gods, lives in high Olympus, a mountain in Greece. +All the gods obey him, except the Fates, who are more +powerful than the gods.</p> + +<p>Jupiter, Juno, Apollo, Diana, Mars, Minerva, Pluto, +Ceres, Mercury, Venus, Neptune, and Vesta are the +twelve gods whose home is on Mount Olympus. Vulcan +prefers his home in Mount Etna, and is generally +busy at work there. Pluto, also, is seldom away from +his underground home.</p> + +<p>In the palace of Jupiter, all the questions in which +the gods are interested are discussed and settled. +Ceres came hither to ask Jupiter to restore her dear +Persephone. Cupid brought Psyche to Olympus after +their many trials on earth. Minerva and Neptune had +their celebrated contest for the honor of naming Athens, +in the presence of these gods.</p> + +<p>Juno, the wife of Jupiter, sits at his left. She wears +a crown, and holds the royal scepter; for she is queen +of gods and men. Peacocks with many-colored feathers +draw her chariot, and Iris, with her rainbow wings, is +Juno’s messenger.</p> + +<p>Jupiter holds the terrible thunderbolts in his powerful +right hand, and on his left hand stands the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>107]</a></span> +goddess Victory. The eagle, king of birds, is sacred to +Jove.</p> + +<p>He has dominion over the sky, the earth, and the +sea. As the clouds are continually changing their +shape, now piling up like great white mountains, now +looking like birds or fishes, Jupiter is said to change +his form to an eagle, a swan, a cloud, or a shower of +gold. He sometimes visits earth in mortal form, to see +if men are just and kind. When he finds them cruel or +wicked, he punishes them; but he rejoices to find those +who are generous, just, and helpful.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> +<img src="images/rty42.jpg" width="418" height="300" +alt="Jove carries thunderbolts in his chariot, which is drawn by birds" /> +<div class="capright">Raphael.</div> +<div class="caption">Jove in his Chariot.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>108]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="abou_ben_adhem" id="abou_ben_adhem"></a>ABOU BEN ADHEM.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem29"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw within the moonlight in his room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An angel writing in a book of gold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the presence in the room he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“What writest thou?” The vision raised its head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with a look made of all sweet accord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Replied the angel.—Abou spoke more low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cheerly still, and said, “I pray thee, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Write me as one that loves his fellowmen.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The angel wrote and vanished. The next night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It came again, with a great wakening light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Leigh Hunt.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>109]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="neptune" id="neptune"></a>NEPTUNE.</h2> + + +<p>Jupiter gave to Neptune, his brother, dominion over +the sea. He rides over the placid waves in his chariot, +made of shells of many colors, gleaming in the sunlight. +If he wishes a storm, he strikes upon the waves with +his trident, and calls the winds, and the huge billows +threaten the clouds. Tritons with wreathed horns follow +his chariot, and naiads as graceful as the waves +sport in the opaline waters.</p> + +<p>The palaces of the water gods and nymphs are more +wonderful than those on earth. Shells, glistening sand, +corals, and sea mosses lend beauty of color and form. +The music of the waves lulls these beings to sleep. +They ride upon a dolphin’s back, or are borne onward +by the waves,—free, happy, frolicking water sprites, +dashing the spray and diving in graceful play through +the deep waves of the sea.</p> + +<p>Neptune is strong and calm. He is represented in +art as bearing the trident, and surrounded by his attendants +and the inhabitants of the sea. There is a celebrated +fountain in Rome adorned with a fine statue of +Neptune. It is said that a visitor who throws a coin +into its waters will return to that famous city.</p> + +<p>Sailors used to take offerings to the temples of Neptune, +so that he would give them prosperous voyages.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>110]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/rty43.jpg" width="420" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of Neptune, carrying a trident, and striding over a male figure" /> +<div class="capright">Adam (<i>Louvre, Paris</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Neptune.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>111]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="neptune2" id="neptune2"></a>NEPTUNE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">King of the stormy sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brother of Jove, and coinheritor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of elements! Eternally before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee the waves awful bow. Fast, stubborn rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At thy feared trident shrinking, doth unlock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its deep foundations, hissing into foam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All mountain rivers lost, in the wide home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy capacious bosom ever flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou frownest, and old Æolus, thy foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skulks to his cavern, ’mid the gruff complaint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all his rebel tempests. Dark clouds faint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, from thy diadem, a silver gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slants over blue dominion. Thy bright team<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gulfs in the morning light, and scuds along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bring thee nearer to that golden song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo singeth, while his chariot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waits at the doors of heaven. Thou art not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For scenes like this: an empire stern hast thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it hath furrowed that large front: yet now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As newly come of heaven, dost thou sit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blend and interknit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subduéd majesty with this glad time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O shell-born king sublime!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We lay our hearts before thee evermore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sing, and we adore!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—John Keats.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>112]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="vulcan" id="vulcan"></a>VULCAN.</h2> + + +<p>Vulcan, the son of Jupiter and Juno, is the blacksmith +of the gods. His forges are in the caverns of +volcanic mountains, where the fires are bright and +ready to heat the gold, silver, and iron, of which he has +made many wonderful things.</p> + +<p>Vulcan built the magnificent palaces of the gods on +Mount Olympus, Juno’s golden throne, and the chariot +of Apollo. The delicate girdle of Venus, the wife of +Vulcan, was also made in his workshop. This was a +magic girdle; for whoever wore it inspired love in all +she met, and sometimes the goddesses would beg Venus +to lend it to them.</p> + +<p>The armor of Mars, god of war, and the shield of +Minerva, goddess of wisdom, were the work of Vulcan. +Sometimes he even manufactured armor for mortals, +and Homer tells us of the marvelous shield he wrought +for Achilles, the bravest of the Greeks. The most +powerful weapons that Vulcan made at his forges were +the dread thunderbolts of Jove and the arrows of mischievous +Cupid, the winged god of love.</p> + +<p>Vulcan is represented as rather short and thickset, +lame in one foot, with a cap on his curly head, and a +hammer in his hand. His workmen are the Cyclops, +powerful giants, who excel in all work in metals.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>113]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> +<img src="images/rty44.jpg" width="384" height="600" +alt="A young woman sits on a low branch of a blossom tree" /> +<div class="capright">Gamba le Preydour (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Blossoms.</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>114]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="work" id="work"></a>WORK.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem28"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Sweet wind, fair wind, where have you been?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“I’ve been sweeping the cobwebs out of the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’ve been grinding a grist in the mill hard by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’ve been laughing at work while others sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Let those laugh who win!”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Sweet rain, soft rain, what are you doing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“I’m urging the corn to fill out its cells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’m helping the lily to fashion its bells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’m swelling the torrent and brimming the wells:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Is that worth pursuing?”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Redbreast, redbreast, what have you done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“I’ve been watching the nest where my fledgelings lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’ve sung them to sleep with a lullaby;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By and by I shall teach them to fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Up and away, every one!”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Honeybee, honeybee, where are you going?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“To fill my basket with precious pelf;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To toil for my neighbor as well as myself;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find out the sweetest flower that grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be it a thistle or be it a rose—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A secret worth the knowing!”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wind and rain fulfilling His word!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me, was ever a legend heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wind, commanded to blow, deferred;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the rain, that was bidden to fall, demurred?<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Mary N. Prescott.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>115]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="venus" id="venus"></a>VENUS.</h2> + + +<p>Venus is the goddess of beauty, born of the ocean +spray. When the tritons and nymphs who live in the +sea beheld her, they loved her for her beauty, and the +waves and gentle breezes bore her to Olympus.</p> + +<p>Venus is attended by three maidens called the Graces, +who give to the beauty of the goddess a charm which +makes her lovely to all.</p> + +<p>When she came to Olympus, all the gods loved her, +but she proudly rejected the eager suitors. When +Jupiter, the king of the gods, fared no better than the +rest, he declared that she should be punished for her +pride and must marry Vulcan, the lame blacksmith +god who lived in the volcano, Mount Etna. Vulcan +was delighted with her grace and beauty, and made +for her a magic girdle, and the wonderful arrows of +Cupid.</p> + +<p>Joy and mirth always attend the goddess of beauty. +Cupid, her son, the roguish god of love, is her constant +companion, and he sends his arrows wherever she +directs. Venus drives in a chariot drawn by graceful +swans. Cooing doves are her favorite birds, and roses +and myrtle are sacred to her.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 411px;"> +<img src="images/rty45.jpg" width="411" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of Venus" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>Louvre, Paris.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Venus de Milo.</div> +</div> + +<p>At the wedding of Thetis, a water nymph, all the gods +and goddesses except Eris were seated at the banquet. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>117]</a></span> +Eris is the goddess of discord, and she had not been +invited, as she always causes people to quarrel and so is +loved by no one. She was angry at this slight, and, coming +to the door of the banquet hall, she threw a golden +apple upon the table.</p> + +<p>On the apple was written, “To the fairest.” Eris +knew that this would be an apple of discord, because all +the nymphs and goddesses were fair, and each would +claim to be fairer than the others.</p> + +<p>After much discussion, the guests agreed that Juno, +Minerva, and Venus were fairer than all the others. +These three at last decided to go to Paris and let him +judge between them. Paris was a shepherd of Mount Ida, +in Troy, and before him the lovely trio appeared in all +their wonderful beauty. He held the apple long in his +hand, for all were so fair that it was very difficult to +decide. At last he gave the apple to Venus, and thus +decided that she was fairest of all the goddesses.</p> + +<p>This decision is called the “Judgment of Paris.”</p> + +<p>Artists have often tried to paint their ideals of Venus. +The most beautiful statues in the world, ideals of womanly +beauty, are those of this goddess. They are in +the galleries of the Old World. The one said to be the +most lovely is the Venus de Milo, in the gallery of the +Louvre, Paris.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>118]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;"> +<img src="images/rty46.jpg" width="365" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of a young woman dressed in a simple robe" /> +<div class="caption">A Star.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>119]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="her_face" id="her_face"></a>HER FACE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem17"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such a starved bank of moss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till, that May morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue ran the flash across:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Violets were born!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sky—what a scowl of cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till, near and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ray on ray split the shroud:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Splendid, a star!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">World—how it walled about<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life with disgrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till God’s own smile came out:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That was thy face!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Robert Browning.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>120]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 402px;"> +<img src="images/rty47.jpg" width="402" height="600" +alt="Psyche sits near the sea, with a butterfly perched on her finger" /> +<div class="capright">Kray (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Psyche.</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>121]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="cupid_and_psyche" id="cupid_and_psyche"></a>CUPID AND PSYCHE.</h2> + + +<p>There once lived a maid, called Psyche, who was so +very beautiful that the people who knew her thought +her more lovely than Venus. So they worshiped her, +and refused to place garlands and offerings upon the +shrines of the goddess.</p> + +<p>Desiring to punish the people for their impiety, Venus +sent Cupid to destroy the innocent Psyche. Although +Cupid had used his weapons upon others, he himself +had never loved. But when he saw Psyche, he started +in surprise at her wonderful youthful beauty, and one of +his own arrows pricked his heart. So he loved her, and, +instead of obeying his mother’s command, he carried her +away to his home on a distant mountain.</p> + +<p>Here she lived in a palace of gleaming marble, +surrounded by gardens wherein were fragrant flowers +and sparkling fountains. But one thing troubled her. +Cupid had told her that he could visit her only during +the night, and so she had never seen his face.</p> + +<p>One night Psyche yielded to her curiosity, and held a +lamp over him while he slept. Dear Love was so beautiful +as he lay there asleep, that she tipped the lamp in +her surprise, and a drop of oil fell upon his rounded +arm. Then he awoke and blamed Psyche for her +curiosity and lack of confidence, and, spreading his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>122]</a></span> +wings, flew far away to his home with the gods. Poor +Psyche wept bitterly, but Cupid did not return.</p> + +<p>Psyche means the soul, and this story teaches that +love comes unsought and unseen to the soul which is +faithful and worthy; but if doubt and curiosity possess +the soul, love departs.</p> + +<p>The Greeks chose the butterfly as the best emblem of +the soul of man, because it emerges from the chrysalis +state into which the caterpillar entered more beautiful +than before. Psyche, the soul, is thus shown in the +works of art with the wings of a butterfly, or holding +one of the exquisite creatures in her hand.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="love" id="love"></a>LOVE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem20"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night has a thousand eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the day but one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the light of the bright world dies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the dying sun.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mind has a thousand eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the heart but one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the light of a whole life dies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When love is done.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Francis Bourdillon.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>123]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 463px;"> +<img src="images/rty48.jpg" width="463" height="300" +alt="Charon rows Psyche across the River Styx" /> +<div class="capright">E. Neide (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Psyche and Charon.</div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="psyche_and_venus" id="psyche_and_venus"></a>PSYCHE AND VENUS.</h2> + + +<p>Poor Psyche wandered far. At last she found Venus, +whom she begged to have pity and restore Cupid to her. +Venus gave her many tasks to perform. Although +Psyche was often very tired, she knew she deserved to +work and suffer, because of her lack of faith in Cupid. +Finally, Venus sent her down to Hades, where King +Pluto and Queen Persephone reign, to bring back a box +of beauty ointment.</p> + +<p>The way was long and rough and dark. But Psyche +persevered, and finally reached the river Styx. She +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>124]</a></span> +called to the grim boatman, Charon, to row her across. +He obeyed, and rowed her over the black river in his +dingy boat, and Persephone gave her the box. Psyche +was frightened by the terrible cries and the wretched +dark faces of the souls in Hades. But she thought only +of Love. Then all the monsters ceased to annoy her, +and she came safely to earth again.</p> + +<p>Alas, when her work was so bravely done, why did +she yield to temptation? She thought Love would +think more of her if she were fairer, and she opened the +box to take just a little of the precious beauty ointment. +There was nothing in the box but a bad dream, which +immediately seized her, and she fell down in sleep.</p> + +<p>Cupid loved and was sorry for Psyche, and he feared +that some misfortune had befallen her; so he spread his +wings and flew in search of the soul he loved. He soon +found her asleep by the roadside. He awoke her, and +together they went to Olympus, where Venus forgave +them, and permitted them to be married.</p> + +<p>Now Love and the Soul belong together, and although +the way is dark and lonely and difficult, you must believe +that</p> + +<div class="cpoem21"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Love leads the soul to its perfection.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>125]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="longing" id="longing"></a>LONGING.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of all the myriad moods of mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That through the soul come thronging<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which one was e’er so dear, so kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So beautiful as Longing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thing we long for, that we are<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For one transcendent moment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the Present poor and bare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can make its sneering comment.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still, through our paltry stir and strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glows down the wished Ideal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Longing molds in clay what Life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Carves in the marble Real:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To let the new life in, we know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Desire must ope the portal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps the longing to be so<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Helps make the soul immortal.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! let us hope that to our praise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good God not only reckons<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moments when we tread His ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But when the spirit beckons,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That some slight good is also wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beyond self-satisfaction,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we are simply good in thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Howe’er we fail in action.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—James Russell Lowell.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>126]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 412px;"> +<img src="images/rty49.jpg" width="412" height="300" +alt="A cherubic Cupid kisses a young Psyche on the cheek" /> +<div class="capright">W. A. Bouguereau (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Cupid and Psyche.</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>127]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="st_valentines_day" id="st_valentines_day"></a>ST. VALENTINE’S DAY.</h2> + + +<p>In the old Roman days, the people, in the month of +February, had a great feast, when they purified their +homes and made sacrifices to the gods. After this, the +young people had games, and one of them was like that +of our valentine box. In this box were placed the names +of maidens. The young men drew out the names, and +each must be a true and loyal knight, for the following +year, to the young woman whose name he drew.</p> + +<p>The name “valentine” comes from a kind Christian +monk, who was the friend of youth. We send valentines +to those we love, and you know there are emblems of +love and fidelity upon these pretty gifts. Here are the +cooing doves, the graceful swan, the rose, and the myrtle—all +sacred to Venus, goddess of love and beauty. +Cupid, her mischievous son, has his bow and quiver +filled with arrows with which to pierce the hearts of the +young. Here is the butterfly, the emblem of Psyche, +the Soul, whom Love chose to be his wife.</p> + +<p>From the story of Cupid and Psyche we learn how +love ennobles the soul, purifying it of doubt, and raising +it to perfect faith. For this reason, we may well celebrate +the day of kind St. Valentine, by sending words of +love and gifts of affection to our friends, in the form +of dainty valentines.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>128]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="what_march_does" id="what_march_does"></a>WHAT MARCH DOES.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem26"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the dark silence of her chamber low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">March works sweeter things than mortals know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her noiseless looms ply on with busy care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weaving the fine cloth that the flowers wear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sews the seams in violet’s queer hood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And paints the sweet arbutus of the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of a bit of sky’s delicious blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She fashions hyacinths, and harebells too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from a sunbeam makes a cowslip fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or spins a gown for a daffodil to wear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She pulls the cover from the crocus beds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids the sleepers lift their drowsy heads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Come, early risers; come, anemone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My pale windflower, awake, awake,” calls she.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“The world expects you, and your lovers wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give you welcome at Spring’s open gate.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She marshals the close armies of the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And polishes their green blades as they pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the blossoms of the fruit trees sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are piled in rosy shells about her feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within her great alembic she distills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dainty odor which each flower fills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor does she ever give to mignonette<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The perfume that belongs to violet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature does well whatever task she tries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because <em>obedient</em>,—there the secret lies.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—May Riley Smith.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>129]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="phaethon" id="phaethon"></a>PHAËTHON.</h2> + + +<p>Phaëthon was the son of Apollo. One day he approached +the palace of his father and begged a favor. +Apollo was pleased with his youthful grace and beauty, +and promised to grant his desire. Phaëthon then boldly +asked the great god of the sun for permission to drive +his horses for a single day.</p> + +<p>Then did Apollo regret his hasty promise, and beg +Phaëthon to ask anything but that—because it is so +dangerous to drive those fiery steeds.</p> + +<p>“You know not what you ask, my son, I am the +only one who can drive the chariot of the sun safely +through the heavens. Even Jupiter himself would not +attempt so dangerous a task.”</p> + +<p>But Phaëthon was bold and proud, and finally Apollo +yielded. The horses were harnessed, the gates unbarred, +Phaëthon seized the reins, and away they flew! The +horses knew that a weak hand held them, but they were +going uphill and kept well in the course. So Phaëthon +grew careless, and when the zenith was reached the +horses paid no heed to his guidance.</p> + +<p>Exulting in their freedom from Apollo’s masterful +hand, they galloped far from the path, now on this side, +now on that.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/rty50.jpg" width="600" height="385" +alt="Phaethon struggles to rein in the four horses pulling the chariot" /> +<div class="capright">Max F. Klepper (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Phaëthon driving Apollo’s Chariot.</div> +</div> + +<p>Sometimes they came so near the earth that the leaves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>130]</a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +and grass withered, the crops were all destroyed, and +the streams disappeared. Then they turned so far +away that snow fell, and the people shivered and suffered +from the cold.</p> + +<p>All the people on earth were afraid, and even the +gods on high Olympus wondered what was amiss with +Apollo, that his horses were so unruly.</p> + +<p>Finally Jupiter looked over the heavens, and, seeing +the reckless Phaëthon, hurled a thunderbolt at him, and +he fell headlong into the river Po.</p> + +<p>Hither every day came his sisters, the Heliades, wringing +their hands and weeping for their beloved brother. +At length the gods changed them into poplar trees, and +their tears into amber.</p> + +<p>Phaëthon’s dearest friend, Cygnus, was continually +plunging into the river, hoping to find the body of the +rash youth, and he was changed into a swan. This +bird now sails mournfully upon the waters, frequently +dipping his head below the surface, as if still searching +for his friend Phaëthon.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="wings" id="wings"></a>WINGS.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem26"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wings that flutter in sunny air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wings that dive and dip and dare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wings of the humming bird flashing by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wings of the lark in the purple sky;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wings of the eagle aloft, aloof;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wings of the pigeon upon the roof;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wings of the storm bird swift and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wild winds sweeping across the sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Often and often a voice in me sings,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, for the freedom, the freedom of wings!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, to winnow the air with wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, to float far above hurtful things—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Things that weary and wear and fret;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the azure to fly and forget;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To touch in a moment the mountain’s crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or haste to the valley for home and rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rock with the pine tree as wild birds may;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow the sailor a summer’s day:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over and over a voice in me sings,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, for the freedom, the freedom of wings!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Softly responsive a voice in me sings,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast the freedom, the freedom of wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon as the glass a second can count,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the heavens thy heart may mount;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope may fly to the topmost peak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love its nest in the vale may seek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outspeeding the sailor, Faith’s pinions may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touch the ends of the earth in a summer’s day.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Softly responsive a voice in me sings,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hast the freedom, the freedom of wings.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Mary F. Butts.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>133]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;"> +<img src="images/rty51.jpg" width="366" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of Mercury, balancing on one foot" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>National Museum, Florence.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Winged Mercury.</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>134]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 414px;"> +<img src="images/rty52.jpg" width="414" height="300" +alt="Mercury seated in his chariot, which is drawn by two cockerels" /> +<div class="capright">Raphael (<i>Rome</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Mercury in his Chariot.</div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="mercury" id="mercury"></a>MERCURY.</h2> + + +<p>Mercury, or Hermes, is a very interesting god. He +is the messenger of Jupiter, and has wings on his cap +and sandals. He flies swifter than the wind and wears +a cloak which makes him invisible. As the wind carries +things away, Mercury is sometimes called the captain of +thieves, and he likes to play tricks.</p> + +<p>While walking along a river bank one day, he carelessly +hit a tortoise shell, and it gave forth a musical +sound. Mercury at once fashioned it into a lyre. This +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>135]</a></span> +musical instrument he gave to his brother Apollo, who +was so delighted with it that he gave Mercury a wonderful +wand called the caduceus. When animals or people +quarrel, this wand will make them friends again. One +day Mercury threw it upon the ground where two +snakes were fighting, and at once they twined lovingly +about it, and Mercury kept them there as an emblem of +the power of the wand.</p> + +<p>The caduceus represents the gift of language; for +when men quarrel and are angry, if they use this wand +and talk with each other, their differences will soon disappear +and they will become friends.</p> + +<p>You will recognize the statues of Mercury by his +caduceus and by his winged cap and sandals. He is +sometimes represented as standing upon a tongue; for +he gave to man the gift of speech, and is the god of eloquence. +Mercury is also the god of commerce; for if +men could not speak and converse with one another, +there would be no commerce in the world.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="the_finding_of_the_lyre" id="the_finding_of_the_lyre"></a>THE FINDING OF THE LYRE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem24"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There lay upon the ocean’s shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What once a tortoise served to cover.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A year and more, with rush and roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The surf had rolled it over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had played with it and flung it by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wind and weather might decide it,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>136]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then tossed it high where sand drifts dry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheap burial might provide it.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It rested there to bleach or tan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rains had soaked, the suns had burned it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a ban the fisherman<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had stumbled o’er and spurned it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there the fisher girl would stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conjecturing with her brother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How in their play the poor estray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might serve some use or other.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So there it lay, through wet and dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As empty as the last new sonnet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till by and by came Mercury,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, having mused upon it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Why, here,” cried he, “the thing of things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In shape, material, and dimensions!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give it but strings, and lo, it sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wonderful invention!”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So said, so done; the chords he strained,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as his fingers o’er them hovered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shell disdained a soul had gained,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lyre had been discovered.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O empty world that round us lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought we but eyes like Mercury’s,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee what songs should waken!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—James Russell Lowell.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>137]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 451px;"> +<img src="images/rty53.jpg" width="451" height="300" +alt="A small sailing boat in rough seas near a lighthouse" /> +<div class="capright">Le Sénéschal (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="capleftntm">Carbon by Braun, Clement & Co.</div> +<div class="caption">Storm King.</div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="aeolus" id="aeolus"></a>ÆOLUS.</h2> + + +<p>All nature is musical. If you will listen, you can hear +the leaves singing sweet songs, and the reeds along the +river banks join in with their voices. The brooks and +the rivers sing and laugh; they are so happy shining +in the golden sun, or hiding in the cool shade.</p> + +<p>The fairies have the flowers for their musical bells, +and the grasses sing softly to the dear mother earth. +But the sweetest songs are the carols of the merry birds, +and the songs of happy children.</p> + +<p>The winds are often noisy, but sometimes they seem +to sing a musical song. Some instruments in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>138]</a></span> +orchestra, the flute and the horn, are called wind instruments. +There is a simple stringed instrument, called +the æolian harp. When the winds blow upon its sensitive, +delicate strings, musical sounds are heard, and we +say that Æolus, king of the winds, is playing upon his +harp.</p> + +<p>Long ago, the Lipari Islands, off the coast of Italy, +were called the Æolian Islands. Here in a rocky cave +lived Æolus and the winds, who were the children of +Aurora and Æolus. All the winds were noisy and fond +of strife except Zephyrus, the youngest. Æolus kept +them fastened in the rocky cave, generally letting out +but one at a time. They were always rushing to the +iron doors, quarreling and fighting among themselves, +and begging Æolus to let them out of the narrow cave.</p> + +<p>Whenever one of the gods wished a storm at sea, he +would ask Æolus to release his sons; they would rush +out of the cave, sweeping over the seas in a whirlwind, +raising the waves mountain high. Then the ships were +in great danger from wave and rock, as the winds rolled +the billows over the ships, or drove the vessels against +the sharp cliffs.</p> + +<p>Vergil, the great Latin poet, thus describes a storm +raised by Æolus, at the request of Juno,—</p> + +<div class="cpoem40"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Æolus thus in reply: ‘It is yours, O queen, to determine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What you may wish to accomplish; to do your command is my duty;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>139]</a></span> +<span class="i0">You have procured me my place, my scepter, and Jupiter’s favor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, too, the privilege grant to recline with the gods at their banquet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the tempest and storm, it is you who have made me the ruler.’<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turning, he struck with his spear the side of the cavernous mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as in martial array, wherever an egress is granted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eagerly pour forth the winds, and sweep o’er the earth in a whirlwind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now on the sea have they fallen, and stirred to its deepest foundations;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eastward and southward together, and blasts of the gusty southwest wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lash it all into a fury, and roll to the shore the vast billows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now come the cries of the men, and the shrieks of the wind through the rigging;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then on a sudden collecting, the clouds, from the sight of the Trojans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut out the sky and the day, o’er the sea broods the darkness of midnight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thunder resounds through the sky, the air seems ablaze with the lightning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Everything seems to portend immediate death to the heroes.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>140]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="aeolus_and_ulysses" id="aeolus_and_ulysses"></a>ÆOLUS AND ULYSSES.</h2> + + +<p>The famous Trojan war lasted ten years. After the +Greeks had captured the city, they were anxious to return +to their homes in Greece. One of the heroes, the +wise Ulysses, had many strange adventures on his way +home from Troy. At last he and his men came in their +ship to Æolia, the home of the winds, where they were +welcomed and entertained by Æolus.</p> + +<p>Æolus was so pleased with his guests that, when the +time came for Ulysses to continue his journey, the god +gave him a bag with all the dangerous winds shut up +within it. Only one wind was not inclosed in the bag—Zephyrus, +the gentle south wind, which filled the +sails and bore him on his journey.</p> + +<p>After eight days, Ulysses came in sight of Ithaca, the +home he had so long desired to see. He had not slept +since leaving Æolia. Now, within sight of his home, +he believed that he and his ship were safe, and he +yielded to his desire for rest. The sailors were very +glad to see him sleep, for they wanted to know what +Ulysses had in the bag he so carefully guarded. They +thought it was filled with gold and precious stones.</p> + +<p>Alas! when the avaricious sailors opened the bag, the +winds rushed out in fury and drove them far from their +homes. At last they were again cast upon the shores +of the Æolian Islands.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>141]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_chambered_nautilus" id="the_chambered_nautilus"></a>THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem32"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sails the unshadowed main,—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The venturous bark that flings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And coral reefs lie bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the cold sea maids rise to sun their streaming hair.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Wrecked is the ship of pearl!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And every chambered cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Before thee lies revealed,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Year after year beheld the silent toil<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That spread his lustrous coil;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Still, as the spiral grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He left the past year’s dwelling for the new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stole with soft step its shining archway through,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Built up its idle door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Child of the wandering sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Cast from her lap, forlorn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy dead lips a clearer note is born<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>142]</a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +<span class="i0">Than ever Triton blew from wreathéd horn!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">While on mine ear it rings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:—<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As the swift seasons roll!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Leave thy low-vaulted past!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let each new temple, nobler than the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Till thou at length art free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Oliver Wendell Holmes.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 457px;"> +<img src="images/rty54.jpg" width="457" height="600" +alt="An octagonal tower with panels depicting the winds at the top" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>Athens.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Tower of the Winds.</div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="the_wind_tower" id="the_wind_tower"></a>THE WIND TOWER.</h2> + + +<p>In Athens is a temple called the Tower of the Winds. +There the people came to offer sacrifices to the winds, +and to hold games in their honor. The Athenians felt +that the winds had great power, and therefore they built +this beautiful tower. The tower has eight sides, and +on each side is sculptured a representation of one of the +winds.</p> + +<p>All of the winds are shown with wings, and in a flying +posture. Boreas, Aquilo, and Corus are the destructive +winds, and are terrible in appearance. Boreas, the north +wind, is the father of storms at sea, and carries a triton’s +horn. Aquilo, the northeast wind, is showering +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>144]</a></span> +hailstones, and Corus, the dry and parching northwest wind, +has in his hand a vessel of charcoal.</p> + +<p>The east wind, which in Greece is a pleasant wind, is +carrying fruit and flowers. The rainy southeast wind, +Eurus, is forming rain clouds; while Notus, the south +wind, who brings the sudden storms of rain, is pouring +rain from a jar. The southwest wind carries an ornament +which was always placed at the stern of every +ancient ship, for it was an important wind to the sailors +of Greece. Zephyrus, the welcome west wind, has a lap +filled with spring flowers.</p> + +<p>The gentle Zephyrus married Flora, goddess of the +springtime. Together they wander joyously over all +lands, bringing happiness to the people. The south +wind wakes the flowers, and as Zephyrus and Flora +pass, violets, pansies, daffodils, and roses lift their pretty +heads, and fill the land with beauty and fragrance.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 351px;"> +<img src="images/rty55.jpg" width="351" height="185" +alt="Portrait of two young women" /> +<div class="capright">Saintpierre (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="capleftntm">Carbon by Braun, Clement & Co.</div> +<div class="caption">Zephyrus and Flora.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>145]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="mudjekeewis" id="mudjekeewis"></a>MUDJEKEEWIS.</h2> + + +<p>The Indians tell the story that once Mudjekeewis, a +mighty hunter, killed the great bear of the mountains. +Mudjekeewis found the bear asleep, and after stealthily +taking off the belt of wampum which the bear wore, he +smote him in the middle of his forehead and stunned +him. They fought, and Mudjekeewis conquered.</p> + +<p>When he returned home, he told of his victory, and +showed the magic belt. The Indians praised him for +his bravery, and said,—“Mudjekeewis shall rule over +the winds of heaven. He shall be king of the winds, +and shall be called Kabeyun, the West-Wind.”</p> + +<p>Mudjekeewis has three sons—Wabun, Shawondasee, +and Kabibonokka. To Wabun, young and beautiful, +he gave the east wind; to Shawondasee the south wind, +and the north wind to the fierce Kabibonokka.</p> + +<p>Longfellow thus tells the story in “Hiawatha,”—</p> + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Honor be to Mudjekeewis!’<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a shout proclaimed the people,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘Honor be to Mudjekeewis!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth he shall be the West-Wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hereafter and forever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall he hold supreme dominion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over all the winds of heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call him no more Mudjekeewis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call him Kabeyun, the West-Wind!’<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>146]</a></span> +<span class="i0">“Thus was Mudjekeewis chosen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father of the Winds of Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For himself he kept the West-Wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave the others to his children;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto Wabun gave the East-Wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave the South to Shawondasee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the North-Wind, wild and cruel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the fierce Kabibonokka.”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<h2><a name="wabun" id="wabun"></a>WABUN.</h2> + + +<p>Wabun was the son of Mudjekeewis. He was young +and beautiful. When he came from the east in the +morning, his breath was fresh with the perfume of +flowers, and he painted the sky with streaks of crimson +and gold. He woke the deer and called the hunters, +and chased the dark over hill and valley.</p> + +<p>But Wabun was lonely in the sky, and, although the +birds sang to him and the rivers and the forests shouted +at his coming, he longed for a friend to be with him +always.</p> + +<p>One day, when a fog lay on the river, he looked +toward the earth and saw a slender maiden walking all +alone upon the meadow. She was gathering water flags +and bulrushes, which grew along the margin of the +river. Her eyes were as blue as two blue lakes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>147]</a></span> +Wabun loved the graceful maiden, for she was alone +on the earth as he was alone in the heavens. So he +drew her to his bosom, and changed her into a beautiful +star.</p> + +<p>They are still found together in the eastern sky, +Wabun and the Wabun-Annung, the east wind and the +morning star.</p> + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Young and beautiful was Wabun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He it was who brought the morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He it was whose silver arrows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chased the dark o’er hill and valley;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He it was whose cheeks were painted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the brightest streaks of crimson,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whose voice awoke the village,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Called the deer, and called the hunter.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Lonely in the sky was Wabun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the birds sang gaily to him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the wild flowers of the meadow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filled the air with odors for him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the forests and the rivers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sang and shouted at his coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still his heart was sad within him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he was alone in heaven.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But one morning, gazing earthward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the village still was sleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fog lay on the river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a ghost, that goes at sunrise,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>148]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He beheld a maiden walking<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All alone upon a meadow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathering water flags and rushes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a river in the meadow.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Every morning, gazing earthward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still the first thing he beheld there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was her blue eyes looking at him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two blue lakes among the rushes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he loved the lonely maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thus waited for his coming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they both were solitary,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She on earth, and he in heaven.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And he wooed her with caresses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wooed her with his smile of sunshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his flattering words he wooed her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his sighing and his singing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentlest whispers in the branches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softest music, sweetest odors,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he drew her to his bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folded in his robes of crimson,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till into a star he changed her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembling still upon his bosom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forever in the heavens<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are seen together walking<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wabun and the Wabun-Annung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wabun and the Star of Morning.”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>149]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="shawondasee" id="shawondasee"></a>SHAWONDASEE.</h2> + + +<p>Shawondasee, fat and lazy, rules the south wind. He +lives in the warm and pleasant south land, the land of +perpetual summer. He sends us the beautiful Indian +summer in November, the month of snowshoes, that we +may not forget him during the long, cold winter.</p> + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“From his pipe the smoke ascending<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filled the sky with haze and vapor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filled the air with dreamy softness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave a twinkle to the water,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touched the rugged hills with smoothness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought the tender Indian Summer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the melancholy north-land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dreary moon of Snow-shoes.”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Once Shawondasee thought he saw a maiden with +golden tresses standing far away in the meadow. He +loved her, but was too lazy to bestir himself to woo her. +After watching her for some time, and always loving +her, alas! her golden hair changed to white floss and was +blown about the prairie.</p> + +<p>Shawondasee was sad, and he thought that his brother +Kabibonokka had turned her hair from gold to white. +But it was no maiden he had seen. It was only the +prairie dandelion.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>150]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="little_dandelion" id="little_dandelion"></a>LITTLE DANDELION.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem16"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gay little Dandelion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lights up the meads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swings on her slender foot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Telleth her beads;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lists to the robin’s note<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poured from above:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wise little Dandelion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Asks not for love.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cold lie the daisy banks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clothed but in green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where in the days agone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright hues were seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild pinks are slumbering;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Violets delay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True little Dandelion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Greeteth the May.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brave little Dandelion;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast falls the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bending the daffodil’s<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Haughty head low.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under that fleecy tent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Careless of cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blithe little Dandelion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Counteth her gold.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>151]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Meek little Dandelion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Groweth more fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till dies the amber dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out from her hair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High rides the thirsty sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fiercely and high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint little Dandelion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Closeth her eye.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pale little Dandelion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In her white shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heareth the angel breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Call from the cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tiny plumes fluttering<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make no delay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little winged Dandelion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soareth away.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Helen B. Bostwick.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<h2><a name="kabibonokka" id="kabibonokka"></a>KABIBONOKKA.</h2> + + +<p>To the fierce Kabibonokka, Mudjekeewis gave the +cold and cruel north wind. He lives far away toward +the north in the regions of ice and snow. In the autumn +and winter he comes out from his home, and +travels toward the south.</p> + +<p>He stamps upon the rivers, and the waters freeze. +Frost pictures appear upon the windowpanes, the birds +fly southward, and no one remains in the kingdom of +the north wind but the Diver. This brave Diver cares +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>152]</a></span> +not for the cold or for the stormy north wind. He sits +in his wigwam, merry and warm; for he has four great +logs for his fire, and each log will last a month. Kabibonokka +enters the wigwam, but cannot stand the heat, +and so taunts the Diver and dares him to a combat in +the open air. Long they fight; but at length the Diver +conquers, and the cold and fierce Kabibonokka is driven +back into his kingdom of the north.</p> + +<p>The Diver is the glorious sun, who, with his warm +golden beams, beats back the cold, and brings the +pleasant summer with the birds and flowers.</p> + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But the fierce Kabibonokka<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had his dwelling among icebergs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the everlasting snowdrifts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the kingdom of Wabasso,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the land of the White Rabbit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He it was whose hand in Autumn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Painted all the trees with scarlet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stained the leaves with red and yellow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He it was who sent the snowflakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sifting, hissing, through the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drove the loon and sea gull southward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drove the cormorant and curlew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their nests of sedge and sea tang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the realms of Shawondasee.”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>153]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="what_the_winds_bring" id="what_the_winds_bring"></a>WHAT THE WINDS BRING.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem24"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which is the wind that brings the cold?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The north wind, Freddy, and all the snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sheep will scamper into the fold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the north begins to blow.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which is the wind that brings the heat?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The south wind, Katy; and corn will grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And peaches redden for you to eat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the south begins to blow.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which is the wind that brings the rain?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The east wind, Arty; and farmers know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cows come shivering up the lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the east begins to blow.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which is the wind that brings the flowers?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The west wind, Bessy; and soft and low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birdies sing in the summer hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the west begins to blow.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Edmund Clarence Stedman.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>154]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 499px;"> +<img src="images/rty56.jpg" width="499" height="600" +alt="Iris flying, carrying a pitcher aloft" /> +<div class="capright">Guy Head (<i>Rome</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Iris.</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>155]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="iris" id="iris"></a>IRIS.</h2> + + +<p>The Greeks lived much in the open air, and they +loved to watch the fleecy clouds float lazily across the +blue heavens, or at night to see the bright, golden +stars shine down upon them like friendly eyes. They +believed that Juno was goddess of the heavens when +they were calm and peaceful, as Jupiter was god of the +storm cloud and of the thunderbolt.</p> + +<p>Whenever they saw the radiant rainbow, they said, +“There is the glowing Iris, the messenger of Juno, +carrying some message from the sky to the earth.” +They thought that Iris had shining wings of various +colors, and that while she stayed upon earth, you could +see her path in the heavens marked by the many-colored +rainbow.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="the_rainbow" id="the_rainbow"></a>THE RAINBOW.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem20"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart looks up when I behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A rainbow in the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So was it when my life began;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So is it now I am a man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So be it when I shall grow old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or let me die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The child is father of the man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I could wish my days to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound each to each by natural piety.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—William Wordsworth.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>156]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="rainbow_stories" id="rainbow_stories"></a>RAINBOW STORIES.</h2> + + +<p>The Indians had a lovely thought about the rainbow,—perhaps +more beautiful than the belief of the Greeks.</p> + +<p>You know how sweet and beautiful the flowers are, how +we love the roses, the lilies, the pansies, and the golden-rod, +and how sorry we are to have them leave us when +the cold winds blow.</p> + +<p>The Indians also loved the flowers; and they fancied, +when they saw such lovely colors in the rainbow which +spans the heavens, that all the wild flowers—the lilies, +the buttercups, and windflowers, the dainty violets and +the moss of the woods—were still living and blossoming +in the heavens.</p> + +<p>Our poet Longfellow has told us about this myth in +his “Song of Hiawatha.” The little Hiawatha</p> + +<div class="cpoem22"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Saw the rainbow in the heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the eastern sky, the rainbow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispered, ‘What is that, Nokomis?’<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the good Nokomis answered:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘’Tis the heaven of flowers you see there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the wild flowers of the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the lilies of the prairie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on earth they fade and perish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blossom in that heaven above us.’”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>In the Old Testament we are told that many, many +years ago there was a great flood. It had rained for forty +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>157]</a></span> +days and forty nights, when suddenly the rain ceased, +and a beautiful rainbow was seen by the people on the +earth. How glad they were to see it! For they knew +it was God’s promise not to send another flood, and +they were happy in this thought.</p> + +<p>“And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look +upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant.”</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="the_rainbow_fairies" id="the_rainbow_fairies"></a>THE RAINBOW FAIRIES.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem24"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two little clouds one summer’s day<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Went flying through the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They went so fast they bumped their heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And both began to cry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Father Sun looked out and said,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">“O, never mind, my dears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’ll send my little fairy folk<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To dry your falling tears.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One fairy came in violet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And one in indigo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In blue, green, yellow, orange, red,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They made a pretty row.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They wiped the cloud tears all away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And then, from out the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a line the sunbeams made<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They hung their gowns to dry.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Lizzie M. Hadley.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>158]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="narcissus" id="narcissus"></a>NARCISSUS.</h2> + + +<p>Narcissus was a vain youth, and loved no one but +himself. One day, while looking into a quiet stream, +he thought he saw a lovely naiad in the water gazing up +at him.</p> + +<p>He smiled upon her, and she also smiled. Day after +day he came to the bank and begged the lovely naiad +to come out of the water, and roam with him through +the flowery meadows of earth. Every day he believed +she would come; for she seemed to smile upon him and +welcome him, even as he spoke and smiled upon her.</p> + +<p>Some days, when the waters were dark and ruffled +by the wind, he could not see her blue eyes and golden +ringlets, and he thought she was vexed with him.</p> + +<p>He never knew it was his own face he saw reflected +in the water, and at last, after weary watching and waiting, +he pined away and died. Echo and all the nymphs +of the stream and of the grove mourned for him. He +was beautiful even in death, for the gods had changed +him into a flower. His pale face and golden hair were +changed into the delicate narcissus, which delights us +with its graceful form and rare fragrance.</p> + +<p>The narcissus grows upon the margin of streams, +and, bending over the waters, seems to admire its image +mirrored there.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>159]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 412px;"> +<img src="images/rty57.jpg" width="412" height="300" +alt="A brook runs beneath an overhanging tree" /> +<div class="caption">The Brook.</div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="the_brook" id="the_brook"></a>THE BROOK.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem20"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I come from haunts of coot and hern,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I make a sudden sally,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sparkle out among the fern,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To bicker down a valley.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By thirty hills I hurry down,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or slip between the ridges,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By twenty thorps, a little town,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And half a hundred bridges.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I chatter over stony ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In little sharps and trebles,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>160]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I bubble into eddying bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I babble on the pebbles.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wind about, and in and out,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With here a blossom sailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here and there a lusty trout,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And here and there a grayling.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And here and there a foamy flake<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Upon me, as I travel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a silvery water break<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Above the golden gravel,<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And draw them all along, and flow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To join the brimming river;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I steal by lawns and grassy plots,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I slide by hazel covers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I move the sweet forget-me-nots,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That grow for happy lovers.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Among my skimming swallows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I make the netted sunbeam dance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against my sandy shallows.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And out again I curve and flow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To join the brimming river;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Alfred Tennyson.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>161]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="echo_and_narcissus" id="echo_and_narcissus"></a>ECHO AND NARCISSUS.</h2> + + +<p>Diana had many young and lovely nymphs, who +attended her in her rambles over the wooded hills. +Among these maids was Echo, a very graceful and +merry nymph of the mountain. Echo had one serious +fault, however. She was too fond of talking, and was +always anxious to say the last word.</p> + +<p>One day she angered Juno, with whom she was talking, +and the goddess punished her severely. She said,—“Echo, +this shall be your punishment for trying to +deceive me. You may still have the last word as you +are so fond of it, but never the first. You shall not +have the power to begin the conversation; you may +only reply.”</p> + +<p>Soon after this Echo met Narcissus, a handsome +youth who was hunting upon the mountain. She admired +his grace and skill in the hunt and wished very +much to join in the chase. But she could not speak to +him, and when he called to his companions she could +only repeat the last words. Narcissus did not care to +please the nymph, and so refused to speak with her or +to allow her to join in the hunt.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 439px;"> +<img src="images/rty58.jpg" width="439" height="600" +alt="Echo calls out across the hills. Painting signed Edouard Bisson, 1892" /> +<div class="capleft">Copyright, 1893, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</div> +<div class="caption">Echo.</div> +</div> + +<p>After Narcissus left the mountain, Echo sought a +lonely cave amid the rocks; and she grieved so over her +punishment, that she pined away until nothing was left +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>163]</a></span> +of the lovely nymph but her voice. Sometimes, in the +lonely mountain paths, if you call, you will hear Echo +repeating your words softly from a distance. But you +will never see her; she is nothing but a voice.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="blue" id="blue"></a>BLUE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blue! ’Tis the life of heaven,—the domain<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Cynthia,—the wide palace of the sun,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blue! ’Tis the life of waters—ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all its vassal streams; pools numberless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May range, and foam, and fret, but never can<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest green,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Married to green in all the sweetest flowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget-me-not, the bluebell, and that queen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in an eye thou art alive with fate!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—John Keats.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>164]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 427px;"> +<img src="images/rty59.jpg" width="427" height="300" +alt="The Parthenon viewed from the front. Drawing signed Guipon" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>Athens.</i></div> +<div class="caption">The Parthenon.</div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="minerva" id="minerva"></a>MINERVA.</h2> + + +<p>The wonderful goddess Minerva is said to have come +full-grown from the brain of her father, Jupiter, king of +the gods. She is tall, and clad in full armor. Her +name Minerva means “mind.” She is called the goddess +of wisdom, and she took the throne which the stupid +goddess Dullness had held before. Unlike Mars, +Minerva does not love war, but she is very brave when +compelled to fight.</p> + +<p>A city in Greece was to be named, and Neptune and +Minerva contended for the honor. The gods decided +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>165]</a></span> +that the one who produced the article most valuable to +man should name the city.</p> + +<p>Neptune struck the ground with his trident, and there +sprang forth a horse, strong and noble. All admired +Neptune’s gift, and did not believe that Minerva could +surpass him.</p> + +<p>When Minerva produced the olive tree, they laughed, +and all thought that Neptune had won. But the goddess +told them that the olive tree could furnish wood +for fire, for building houses, and for making many useful +articles; that food and oil could be obtained from +it; and that even clothing could be made from its fiber.</p> + +<p>The gods then said that, while men could live without +horses, they could not live without food, warmth, and +shelter, and Minerva had the honor of naming the city.</p> + +<p>Minerva was called Pallas Athene by the Greeks, and +so the city in Greece was named Athens. In this city +was erected a beautiful temple in her honor, called the +Parthenon. Its ruins are still standing.</p> + +<p>In this temple was a magnificent statue of Minerva, +made by the great sculptor Phidias. It was of ivory and +gold. The goddess wears a long cloak and a helmet, +and carries a shield and spear. At her feet is coiled +a serpent, the emblem of wisdom. Minerva has clear +blue eyes, is always calm and dignified, and helps all +those who wish to excel in wisdom, or to obtain skill +in the arts of peace.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>166]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="minerva_and_arachne" id="minerva_and_arachne"></a>MINERVA AND ARACHNE.</h2> + + +<p>Arachne was a young girl who was famous for her +skill in embroidery and weaving. All the women of +Greece knew that she excelled in this feminine work, +and they liked to see her with her loom or needle. +Even the nymphs, who love to sport about the fountains +and in the groves, would leave their play to watch her.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant to see her deftly separate the wool, +and card it until it was soft and fleecy as down. Then +dexterously twirling the spindle, she wove the web so +quickly and easily that one watched her fingers with +delight. Under her skillful touch, the trees in her tapestry +seemed to bend before the gentle breeze, and the +flowers were so perfect that they were as beautiful as +those growing in the gardens.</p> + +<p>“Minerva, the goddess of weaving, must be her +teacher,” said all who saw her wonderful work.</p> + +<p>But this did not please Arachne, who was vain and +proud. “I am my own teacher,” she said, with a saucy +toss of her pretty head, “and Minerva herself cannot +compete with me.”</p> + +<p>This proud boast Minerva heard. The gods do not +like such boasting, and Minerva determined to correct +her or to punish her. She changed her form, and appeared +before Arachne as a wise old woman.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>167]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> +<img src="images/rty60.jpg" width="425" height="600" +alt="Minerva, carrying a spear and accompanied by a snake" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>Vatican, Rome.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Minerva.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>168]</a></span> +“My child,” she said, “do not challenge a goddess. +Your work is beautiful and deserves praise, but Minerva’s +skill is that of a goddess. You are a mortal, +and you should ask forgiveness of Minerva for your rash +speech.”</p> + +<p>Arachne was angry at these wise words, and replied: +“I do not wish your advice. I do not fear the goddess, +and do not ask her forgiveness. If she is not afraid, let +her come, and we will compare our work.”</p> + +<p>Lo! as she spoke, Minerva dropped her disguise, and +stood revealed—a goddess. All around were amazed, +and trembled before the glorious Minerva, except the +angry Arachne.</p> + +<p>Her friends tried to influence her to give up the +contest, and to ask Minerva to forgive her irreverent +words. But Arachne still thought she could excel the +goddess in weaving, and, as Minerva said no more, the +contest began.</p> + +<p>Each took her place. Wools of different dyes were +given them. Both worked with speed, and the slender +shuttle seemed to fly under their fingers.</p> + +<p>Arachne showed Leda and the swan, and Europa and +the bull, with such fidelity to nature that they seemed +to move and breathe. But the goddess showed her contest +with Neptune. Twelve of the great gods were represented. +Neptune with his trident had just produced +the horse, that animal so strong and so useful to man. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>169]</a></span> +Minerva stood with her helmet and shield, showing her +gift to man—the olive tree.</p> + +<p>All the beholders saw that Minerva had surpassed +Arachne, and felt that the proud girl must be punished +for her pride and impiety. Minerva, more in pity than +in anger, touched Arachne’s forehead and said, “Live, +guilty woman, and thus shall you preserve the memory +of this lesson to all future times.”</p> + +<p>Speaking thus, the goddess changed the hapless +Arachne into a spider. If you look at a spider’s web, +you will see that the descendants of Arachne still show +great patience and skill, and spin wonderful webs.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="minervas_weaving" id="minervas_weaving"></a>MINERVA’S WEAVING.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem29"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She made the story of the old debate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which she with Neptune did for Athens try:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twelve gods do sit around in royal state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jove in midst with awful majesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To judge the strife between them stirréd late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each of the gods, by his like visnomy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to be known, but Jove above them all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By his great looks and power imperial.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Before them stands the god of seas in place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Claiming that seacoast city as his right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strikes the rocks with his three-forkéd mace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whenceforth issues a warlike steed in sight,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The sign by which he challengeth the place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all the gods, which saw his wondrous might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did surely deem the victory his due;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But seldom seen, forejudgment proveth true.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then to herself she gives her Ægide shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And steel-head spear, and morion on her head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as she oft is seen in warlike field:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sets she forth, how with her weapon dread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She smote the ground, the which straightforth did yield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fruitful olive tree, with berries spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all the gods admired: then, all the story<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She compassed with a wreath of olives hoary.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amongst these leaves she made a butterfly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With excellent device and wondrous slight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flutt’ring among the olives wantonly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seemed to live, so like it was in sight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silken down with which his back is dight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His broad outstretchéd horns, his hairy thighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Edmund Spenser.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>171]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> +<img src="images/rty61.jpg" width="384" height="400" +alt="Bas-relief showing Minerva with a young boy and a bearded man" /> +<div class="capright">A. B. Thorwaldsen.</div> +<div class="caption">Minerva, Prometheus, and Man.</div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="prometheus" id="prometheus"></a>PROMETHEUS.</h2> + + +<p>The gods told the wise Prometheus to bestow gifts +upon all the animals of the earth, according to their +need. So to the deer he gave swiftness; to the lion, +courage; to the horse, strength; to the eagle, strong +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>172]</a></span> +pinions; to the ox, patience; to the dog, keenness of +scent; and to the nightingale, a melodious voice.</p> + +<p>After the animals had all received special gifts, the +gods told Prometheus to make man to rule over them. +Prometheus made man after the image of the gods, but +smaller and weaker, and Minerva gave to him mind and +soul. Prometheus loved the man he had made, but as +he had already bestowed all the gifts he had upon the +animals, for a long time he could not think of a way in +which to give man power over them. At last he decided +that he must obtain for man the gift of fire.</p> + +<p>But how could he get this wonderful element? He +knew that Jupiter would never grant it; for fire belonged +to Apollo, the god of the sun, and punishment would be +inflicted upon any one who attempted to obtain it by +stealth or by force. Yet his love for man prevailed over +his fear and by night he approached the chariot wheels +of the sun and stole some fire, bringing it to earth in a +hollow tube. With this power, man conquers the cold, +makes the minerals plastic, forces his way through +mountains, and crosses deep seas.</p> + +<p>When Jupiter discovered that Prometheus had bestowed +this great gift on man, he punished him very +severely; but Prometheus endured the punishment +bravely, conscious that man would always profit by his +daring. Prometheus has always been called the friend +of man, and many poets have written in his honor.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>173]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="home_thoughts_from_abroad" id="home_thoughts_from_abroad"></a>HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem28"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, to be in England<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now that April’s there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whoever wakes in England<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees, some morning, unaware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In England—now!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And after April, when May follows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark, where my blossomed pear tree in the hedge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leans to the field, and scatters on the clover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent spray’s edge—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest you should think he never could recapture<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That first fine careless rapture!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All will be gay when noontide wakes anew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The buttercups, the little children’s dower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far brighter than this gaudy melon flower!<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Robert Browning.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>174]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="adonis" id="adonis"></a>ADONIS.</h2> + + +<p>Adonis was a youth of wonderful beauty. Tall and +lithe and graceful, he seemed like a young god, although +he was but a mortal. He was fond of hunting, and day +after day found him roaming over the hills and through +the forests with his bow and arrows. His step was +light and bounding, and he seemed to belong to the life +of the hills as much as the trees and flowers.</p> + +<p>Tired with the hunt, he would throw himself upon +the leafy turf and look up through the great branches +of the trees to the azure skies.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him that he could understand what the +leaves were saying, as they rustled in the breeze. The +clouds made him think of white-sailed boats floating on +a blue sea, and he wished that he could sail with them +to the home of the god of the golden sun. The grass +seemed to whisper to him and tell him the secrets of the +earth mother, and the streams leaping down the mountain +sides seemed to laugh joyously and to call upon +him to follow.</p> + +<p>Adonis did not care for city life; the woods held all +of beauty for him. And he was not at all surprised, +one day, when he saw Venus coming towards him, her +beauty radiant in the sunlight. She seemed to him to +be at home in the woods he loved so well.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>175]</a></span> +Venus loved Adonis, and they went hunting together. +Adonis was bold, and wished to chase the larger game; +but Venus warned him against the fierce wild boars and +the wolves. When Venus was with Adonis, he listened +to her advice. But in her absence, one day, he pursued +a wild boar. His arrow struck the boar and angered +him. Fiercely the animal sprang upon the youthful +hunter, and thrust his tusks through his side, and +Adonis sank in death.</p> + +<p>Venus grieved for his death. “Alas!” she cried, +“why did you hunt the cruel beasts which care not for +youth or grace or beauty? Long shall I lament your +untimely death, Adonis. From your blood a flower +shall spring to keep your memory upon the earth, and +people shall say, ‘This is the flower of Adonis.’” At +that moment blossomed the tender anemone, the windflower, +which every spring adorns the warm hillsides.</p> + +<p>This myth has almost the same meaning as the myth +of Ceres and Persephone. When the youthful Adonis, +the springtime of the year, is hunting over the hills and +valleys, Venus, the cherishing mother, is glad and happy +in his presence, and all the earth is filled with flower +and fruit.</p> + +<p>But before the tusk of the wild boar, the cruel and +frosty winter, Adonis is slain; and Venus grieves, as +Ceres laments when Persephone is in the kingdom of +Pluto.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>176]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="origin_of_the_opal" id="origin_of_the_opal"></a>ORIGIN OF THE OPAL.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A dewdrop came, with a spark of flame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He had caught from the sun’s last ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a violet’s breast, where he lay at rest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the hours brought back the day.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rose looked down, with a blush and frown;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But she smiled all at once, to view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her own bright form, with its coloring warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reflected back by the dew.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the stranger took a stolen look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the sky, so soft and blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a leaflet green with its silver sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was seen by the idler too.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cold north wind, as he thus reclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a sudden raged around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a maiden fair, who was walking there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Next morning, an opal found.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>177]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_apples_of_the_hesperides" id="the_apples_of_the_hesperides"></a>THE APPLES OF THE HESPERIDES.</h2> + + +<p>Far away in the west was a beautiful land that belonged +to King Hesperus. This king had three lovely +daughters who cared for the fruits and flowers of the +gardens. In the gardens were many graceful trees +whose boughs bent under the weight of delicious fruit. +Flowers red, yellow, and orange adorned the walks.</p> + +<p>When Juno, goddess of the sky, married Jupiter, her +sister Ceres gave her a handsome present. Ceres is the +earth goddess who cultivates the fruits, flowers, and +grains, and the best gift she could bestow upon her +sister was some golden apples.</p> + +<p>Juno prized these apples highly, and gave them to the +Hesperides, the daughters of Hesperus. They placed +them upon the shadiest tree of the garden, and watched +and cared for them very carefully.</p> + +<p>Once they were taken away by Hercules, the strong +hero who performed many wonderful labors, but they +were afterwards restored to the careful hands of the +maidens.</p> + +<p>Many heroes heard of the beautiful land, Hesperia, +and of the wonderful apples growing there, and sailed +westward to find them. Some people think that the +golden apples were really the oranges of Spain, a rich +and famous country west of Greece.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>178]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;"> +<img src="images/rty62.jpg" width="376" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of Juno, one hand raised" /> +<div class="capleft"><i>National Museum, Naples.</i></div> +<div class="caption">Juno.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>179]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="cleon_and_i" id="cleon_and_i"></a>CLEON AND I.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem21"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cleon hath ten thousand acres,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ne’er a one have I;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleon dwelleth in a palace.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In a cottage I;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleon hath a dozen fortunes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not a penny I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the poorer of the twain is<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Cleon, and not I.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cleon is a slave to grandeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Free as thought am I;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleon fees a score of doctors,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Need of none have I;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wealth surrounded, care environed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Cleon fears to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death may come—he’ll find me ready,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Happier man am I.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cleon sees no charms in Nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In a daisy I;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleon hears no anthems ringing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">’Twixt the sea and sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature sings to me forever,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Earnest listener I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">State for state, with all attendants—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who would change? Not I.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Charles Mackay.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>180]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="pandora" id="pandora"></a>PANDORA.</h2> + + +<p>Vulcan was always trying his skill, and he made +many wonderful and beautiful things. One day he +invited the gods to see his latest creation. Here stood +a beautiful figure, resembling Venus in beauty. The +gods were delighted with his work, and decided each +to bestow upon the woman some excellent gift.</p> + +<p>Minerva gave skill in handicraft, Mercury gave wit +in conversation, Venus the power to please, the Graces +added charm to her beauty, and Jupiter at last gave life +and immortality. Because of these many gifts, she was +named Pandora, a Greek word meaning “all gifts.”</p> + +<p>The gods sent Pandora to Prometheus and Epimetheus, +the brothers who loved mankind. Prometheus +would not receive the lovely maiden, for he knew the +gods did not love him and he feared their gifts. But +Epimetheus welcomed her to his home.</p> + +<p>For some time they lived happily, but trouble came to +them because of Pandora’s curiosity. In the palace of +Epimetheus was a quaintly carved box. Pandora had +wondered what was in it, for Epimetheus did not know.</p> + +<p>“The winged messenger brought it,” he told her, +“and said that it contained a secret of the immortal +gods. We must not open it, dear Pandora, for mortals +should not know the secrets of the immortals.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>181]</a></span> +But Pandora was not to be satisfied. Day after day +the longing grew upon her to open the box. She believed +it contained beautiful garments or ornaments, and +she said to herself: “Why should the gods leave the box +here, if we must not open it? There are many places +where they could have hidden it.” So she persuaded +herself that she would not be doing wrong to open the +box, although a little voice seemed to warn her not to +disobey.</p> + +<p>Slowly she approached the box. The figures upon +it seemed to smile upon her. She thought she would +open it just a little and peep in. Poor Pandora! The +moment she lifted the cover, all the sorrow and sickness +and sin which had been shut up in this wonderful +box, flew out and winged their way all over the earth.</p> + +<p>Pandora was overcome with remorse and let the cover +fall. In the midst of her grief, she heard a sweet voice +say, “Pandora, dear Pandora, do not grieve so; let me +out to comfort you.”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed,” replied Pandora; “too many of your +sisters and brothers have I let out already.”</p> + +<p>But the voice persisted, and was so kind and gentle +that at last Pandora yielded, and Hope came forth to +comfort and help man to endure all the evils of this life. +In sickness or sorrow, hope points to happier to-morrows, +and when we have done wrong and repent, hope +encourages us to do what we know is right.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>182]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/rty63.jpg" width="420" height="321" +alt="A group of people in woodland" /> +<div class="capright">J. B. C. Corot (1796-1878).</div> +<div class="caption">A Landscape.</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>183]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_gladness_of_nature" id="the_gladness_of_nature"></a>THE GLADNESS OF NATURE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem29"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When our mother nature laughs around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When even the deep blue heavens look glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are notes of joy from the hangbird and wren,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ground squirrel gayly chirps by his den,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wilding bee hums merrily by.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clouds are at play in the azure space<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And their shadows at play on the bright green vale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here they stretch to the frolic chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And there they roll on the easy gale.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There’s a dance of leaves in that aspen bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There’s a titter of winds in that beechen tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There’s a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the leaping waters and gay young isles;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ay, look, and he’ll smile thy gloom away.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—William Cullen Bryant.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>184]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 337px;"> +<img src="images/rty64.jpg" width="337" height="600" +alt="Sculpture of Hebe, one arm raised" /> +<div class="capright">A. Canova (1757-1822).</div> +<div class="caption">Hebe.</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>185]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="hebe_and_ganymede" id="hebe_and_ganymede"></a>HEBE AND GANYMEDE.</h2> + + +<p>As you know, the home of the gods and goddesses +was a mountain in Greece called Olympus. It is the +loftiest mountain of that country, and its top is often +encircled by clouds. Here were the marble palaces of +the gods. On this mountain, they would meet in council +to decide upon the fate of mortals, or they would +come together for a merry feast.</p> + +<p>Fair Hebe, the goddess of youth, was their cupbearer. +It was her duty to pour out the delicious +nectar. She was so graceful and light-footed that +she seemed to float rather than to walk. The rosy +light of youth and health shone from her bright eyes +and glowing cheeks.</p> + +<p>But, alas! one day she stumbled, and some of the +nectar fell upon the marble floor. The gods demand +perfect service, and dislike awkwardness, so poor Hebe +was in disgrace. Although she was the daughter of +Jupiter and Juno, she could no longer serve the gods, +and Jupiter sought another cupbearer.</p> + +<p>This god can assume any shape he chooses, and as +an eagle he flew over the lands until he saw Ganymede, +the son of a Trojan king. Jupiter was so pleased with +him that he carried him to high Olympus for cupbearer +in place of Hebe.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>186]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="may" id="may"></a>MAY.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Merry, rollicking, frolicking May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the woods came skipping one day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She teased the brook till he laughed outright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gurgled and scolded with all his might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She chirped to the birds and bade them sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chorus of welcome to Lady Spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bees and butterflies she set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To waking the flowers that were sleeping yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She shook the trees till the buds looked out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see what the trouble was all about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nothing in Nature escaped that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The touch of the life-giving, bright, young May.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Macdonald.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<h2><a name="vesta" id="vesta"></a>VESTA.</h2> + + +<p>A beautiful little building in Rome is called the +Temple of Vesta. Hundreds of years have passed since +the Romans built this shrine. Many buildings and +temples erected since have been destroyed, but this little +temple still stands to show the thought and the artistic +taste of the old Romans.</p> + +<p>Vesta is the goddess of the hearth. Fire is the emblem +of friendship and hospitality, and in the temple +of Vesta the fire was kept burning night and day. +The Romans believed that if this fire went out, great +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>187]</a></span> +trouble would come upon the people. So maidens were +chosen to guard the fire and honor the goddess.</p> + +<p>Little girls, six years old, were taken from the best +families in Rome, for it was considered a great honor to +be chosen. For ten years they were taught the duties +of a vestal virgin. Then for ten years they served the +goddess at her altar fires, and after that they became +the teachers of the young children.</p> + +<p>When a great general had won a victory over the +enemies of Rome, and all the people gathered to celebrate +the return of the soldiers from the battlefield, the +vestal virgins had an honored place in the procession. +At the great games held in the Coliseum, the vestals sat +next to the emperor; for they guarded the fire of home—the +dearest place on earth.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>188]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="sweet_and_low" id="sweet_and_low"></a>SWEET AND LOW.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem25"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet and low, sweet and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wind of the western sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low, low, breathe and blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wind of the western sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the rolling waters go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come from the dying moon, and blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blow him again to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Father will come to thee soon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Father will come to thee soon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father will come to his babe in the nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silver sails all out of the west<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Under the silver moon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Alfred Tennyson.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>189]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 438px;"> +<img src="images/rty65.jpg" width="438" height="425" +alt="A woman holds a sleeping infant" /> +<div class="capright">Saubès (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Mother and Child.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>190]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_origin_of_the_moss_rose" id="the_origin_of_the_moss_rose"></a>THE ORIGIN OF THE MOSS ROSE.</h2> + + +<p>One beautiful summer day a fairy saw a butterfly +with golden wings. He tried to catch the lovely insect, +and it led him a merry chase from flower to flower. At +last the fairy found himself in a strange wood, and he +did not know the way home. The sun had set, the +wind had gone away, and no one could direct him.</p> + +<p>Wearied with his search, he determined to rest until +the moon rose, when the fairies would come forth to +dance upon the mossy banks. He looked about him +for a resting place, and asked a stately lily to let +him sleep on her broad leaves; but the petals were +closed, and she would not receive him. Many flowers +refused him shelter. At last, worn out and almost hopeless, +he came to a rose. This lovely flower spread +wide her soft, fragrant petals as a downy couch for the +tired fairy.</p> + +<p>After a quiet nap he awoke, rested and grateful, and +asked the rose what return he could make for her kindness. +The rose bowed her pretty head, and replied, +“Make me more beautiful.”</p> + +<p>The fairy looked at the rose blushing in the silvery +moonlight, and wondered how she could be more lovely. +Soon he noticed the dainty green moss at his feet, and +drew a delicate veil of it over the rose.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>191]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> +<img src="images/rty66.jpg" width="425" height="313" +alt="A cherubic Cupid asleep on the bank of a stream" /> +<div class="capright">L. Perrault (<i>modern</i>).</div> +<div class="caption">Cupid Asleep.</div> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>192]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_moss_rose" id="the_moss_rose"></a>THE MOSS ROSE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem23"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The angel of the flowers, one day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath a rose tree sleeping lay,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spirit to whose charge ’tis given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bathe young buds in dews of heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaking from his light repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The angel whispered to the rose:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“O fondest object of my care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still fairest found, where all are fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sweet shade thou giv’st to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask what thou wilt, ’tis granted thee.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Then,” said the rose, with deepened glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“On me another grace bestow.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit paused, in silent thought,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What grace was there that flower had not?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Twas but a moment,—o’er the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A veil of moss the angel throws;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, robed in nature’s simplest weed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could there a flower that rose exceed?<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Krummacher.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>193]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="orpheus_and_eurydice" id="orpheus_and_eurydice"></a>ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.</h2> + + +<p>The Greeks said that Orpheus was a handsome +youth, who loved music and song. He was the son of +Apollo and the muse Calliope.</p> + +<p>Apollo, who is god of music, loved his son, and gave +him a lyre with golden strings. When he played upon +this musical lyre, and sang words of harmony and love, +all the voices of nature became silent to listen. The +ocean waves ceased their strife, the noisy winds said +“Hush,” and the flowers turned their pretty heads to +listen to his strains.</p> + +<p>Orpheus loved his wife Eurydice dearly, and when +she died, he would not be comforted. One day, lonely +and sad, he took his lyre and wandered to the mountains.</p> + +<p>Soon he struck his strings, and the words he sang +were so mournful that the trees leaned down their +branches to comfort him, the rocks on the mountain +side moved to follow him, the flowers bent their tender +heads and their eyes filled with tears of sympathy, while +the rippling brooks sighed in pity. All nature seemed +sad, and the glorious sun drew a heavy cloud about him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> +<img src="images/rty67.jpg" width="418" height="600" +alt="Orpheus sings his lament in the countryside" /> +<div class="capright">J. B. C. Corot.</div> +<div class="caption">Orpheus.</div> +</div> + +<p>Now the gods who dwell on high Olympus heard his +lamentations, and begged Jupiter to relieve his sorrow. +Therefore, the king of gods sent Mercury to tell +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"><!-- original location of illustration --></a></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>195]</a></span> +Orpheus to search for his loved Eurydice in Hades. +Such was the power of his music that Cerberus with +the three great heads, the fierce watchdog of Hades, +licked his feet, and let him pass. All the souls of the +wicked who were suffering punishment for their sins, +when they heard his heavenly music, forgot their torments, +and ceased from suffering.</p> + +<p>Finally Eurydice appeared. Imagine the joy of that +meeting! Pluto, won by the melody of Orpheus, said +that Eurydice might return to earth with her husband, +if Orpheus would lead the way, and not look back +until after she had crossed the threshold.</p> + +<p>But, alas! Just as the lovely Eurydice stood in the +doorway, the anxious Orpheus looked back. His great +love and longing overcame his prudence. A last loving +glance, and they were separated, until gentle Death took +Orpheus by the hand and led him to her.</p> + +<p>This charming myth shows us how music wins all +hearts, and, with those wonderful harmonies which tell +us that God, who is the maker of all harmony, is guiding +us all, helps us to endure pain and loneliness.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>196]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 417px;"> +<img src="images/rty68.jpg" width="417" height="550" +alt="A little girl sits outdoors. Painting also known as The Age of Innocence." /> +<div class="capright">Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792).</div> +<div class="caption">Child.</div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>197]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="the_childs_world" id="the_childs_world"></a>THE CHILD’S WORLD.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem29"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great, wide, wonderful, beautiful world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the wonderful water about you curled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wonderful grass upon your breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">World, you are beautifully dressed!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wonderful air is over me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It walks on the water and whirls the mills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You friendly earth; how far do you go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the wheat fields that nod and the rivers that flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And people upon you for thousands of miles?<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, you are so great, and I am so small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tremble to think of you, world, at all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, when I said my prayer to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A whisper within me seemed to say:<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“You are more than the earth, though you’re such a dot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can love and think, and the world cannot.”<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—Lilliput Lectures.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>198]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="arion" id="arion"></a>ARION.</h2> + + +<p>Arion was a famous musician who lived at the court +of Periander, King of Corinth. He wished to compete +for the prize in the musical contest, celebrated in Sicily +in honor of Apollo. But Periander, who loved the +musician, dreaded to have him go so far away. Arion +entreated him, saying,—“I wish to make the people +better and happier by the gift which the gods have given +me. It is my duty to Apollo to sing in his honor.”</p> + +<p>So Arion went to Sicily, and his music was so excellent +and so sweet that he won the great prize. The +gold and the laurel wreath were put on board the ship, +and he embarked for home. Wind and wave were favorable, +the sky was clear. He gave thanks to Apollo +for his good fortune, and promised to offer sacrifices in +the temple.</p> + +<p>The wicked sailors, however, knew that Arion had a +large amount of gold and jewels in his chests. They +gathered around him and told him that he must die.</p> + +<p>“Do you want my gold?” he asked. “That you may +have and welcome, but spare my life.”</p> + +<p>But the sailors did not dare let him go to Periander, +knowing that the king loved him and would have them +punished for the robbery. They said they would kill +him in the ship, or he might plunge into the sea.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>199]</a></span> +Arion was brave and chose to give his life to the +waves. He dressed as if going to a festival, with his +handsomest garments, his jewels, and a crown of golden +laurel leaves. Taking his lyre, he played so exquisitely +that even the cruel sailors were moved to pity, but the +thought of his gold hardened their hearts.</p> + +<p>As he plunged beneath the waves, a dolphin, charmed +by his music, offered its broad back for him to ride upon.</p> + +<p>The sailors thought him drowned and continued on +their way. Meanwhile Arion journeyed on, singing and +playing as he went. The dolphin bore him safely to +the shore. He reached Corinth, and told his friend +Periander of the treachery of the sailors.</p> + +<p>When the ship arrived, the sailors landed and were +conducted to the palace. “Where is Arion?” asked +Periander. “Has he not returned?” The sailors replied +that he was safe in Tarentum.</p> + +<p>At this moment Arion appeared, tall and handsome, +wearing elegant robes and shining jewels. Amazed to +see one whom they believed dead, the sailors fell on +their knees and cried,—“We murdered him, and he has +become a god! O earth, open and receive us!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied the king, “the gods delight to honor +the poet, and they have saved the life of one whose music +charms all hearts but yours. Arion does not desire your +death. Go, avaricious souls, and never know the joy that +beauty and music can bring.”</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>200]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="june" id="june"></a>JUNE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem27"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No price is set on the lavish summer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">June may be had by the poorest comer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what is so rare as a day in June?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, if ever, come perfect days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And over it softly her warm ear lays:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether we look, or whether we listen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every clod feels a stir of might,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">An instinct within it that reaches and towers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, groping blindly above it for light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flush of life may well be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thrilling back over hills and valleys;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cowslip startles in meadows green,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there’s never a leaf nor a blade too mean<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To be some happy creature’s palace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little bird sits at his door in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lets his illumined being o’errun<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the deluge of summer it receives;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the nice ear of nature which song is the best?<br /></span> +</div> +<span class="author">—James Russell Lowell.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<div class="pubbooks"> +<p class="bookvlrg">SUPPLEMENTARY READING</p> + +<p class="center">FAMOUS STORIES AND LITERATURE</p> + + +<p>¶ This grading, which is simply suggestive, represents the +earliest years in which these books can be read to advantage.</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Year, book title and price"> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><small>Year</small></td> + <td class="tdlt"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">7</td> + <td class="tdlt">Arnold’s Sohrab and Rustum</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.20</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">2</td> + <td class="tdlt">Baldwin’s Fifty Famous Stories Retold</td> + <td class="tdrb">.35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">4</td> + <td class="tdlin">Golden Fleece</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlin">Nine Choice Poems</td> + <td class="tdrb">.25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">3</td> + <td class="tdlin">Old Greek Stories</td> + <td class="tdrb">.45</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">3</td> + <td class="tdlin">Old Stories of the East</td> + <td class="tdrb">.45</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">2</td> + <td class="tdlin">Robinson Crusoe for Children</td> + <td class="tdrb">.35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">3</td> + <td class="tdlin">Thirty More Famous Stories Retold</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">3</td> + <td class="tdlt">Bradish’s Old Norse Stories</td> + <td class="tdrb">.45</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">4</td> + <td class="tdlt">Clarke’s Arabian Nights</td> + <td class="tdrb">.60</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6</td> + <td class="tdlin">Story of Troy</td> + <td class="tdrb">.60</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6</td> + <td class="tdlin">Story of Ulysses</td> + <td class="tdrb">.60</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6</td> + <td class="tdlin">Story of Aeneas</td> + <td class="tdrb">.45</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">4</td> + <td class="tdlt">Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe (Stephens)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">4</td> + <td class="tdlt">Dickens’s Child’s Oliver Twist and David Copperfield (Severance)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">5</td> + <td class="tdlin">Story of Little Nell (Gordon)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6</td> + <td class="tdlin">Tale of Two Cities (Kirk)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6</td> + <td class="tdlin">Twelve Christmas Stories (Gordon)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">7</td> + <td class="tdlt">Franklin’s Autobiography</td> + <td class="tdrb">.35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">7</td> + <td class="tdlt">Guerber’s Myths of Greece and Rome</td> + <td class="tdrb">1.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">7</td> + <td class="tdlin">Myths of Northern Lands</td> + <td class="tdrb">1.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">7</td> + <td class="tdlin">Legends of the Middle Ages</td> + <td class="tdrb">1.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">4</td> + <td class="tdlt">Hall’s Homeric Stories</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlt">Irving’s Sketch Book. Selections</td> + <td class="tdrb">.20</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlin">Tales of a Traveler</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">3</td> + <td class="tdlt">Johnson’s Waste Not, Want Not Stories</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">3</td> + <td class="tdlt">Kupfer’s Lives and Stories Worth Remembering</td> + <td class="tdrb">.45</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlt">Lambs’ Tales from Shakespeare. Comedies (Rolfe)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlin">Tales from Shakespeare. Tragedies (Rolfe)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlt">Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome (Rolfe)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.56</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlt">Scott’s Ivanhoe</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6</td> + <td class="tdlin">Kenilworth (Norris)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlin">Lady of the Lake (Gateway)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6</td> + <td class="tdlin">Quentin Durward (Norris)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6</td> + <td class="tdlin">Talisman (Dewey)</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlt">Shakespeare’s Julius Cæsar</td> + <td class="tdrb">.20</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlin">Merchant of Venice</td> + <td class="tdrb">.20</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8</td> + <td class="tdlin">As You Like It</td> + <td class="tdrb">.20</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">1</td> + <td class="tdlt">Smythe’s Reynard the Fox</td> + <td class="tdrb">.30<br /></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p class="booklrg">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> + + +<p class="bookvlrg">BROOKS’S READERS</p> + +<p class="center">By STRATTON D. BROOKS, Superintendent +of Schools, Boston, Mass.</p> + + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Book series with year and price"> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="2">FIVE BOOK SERIES</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">First Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Second Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Third Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Fourth and Fifth Years</td> + <td class="tdrb">.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Years</td> + <td class="tdrb">.60</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="2">EIGHT BOOK SERIES</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">First Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Second Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Third Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Fourth Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Fifth Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Sixth Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Seventh Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Eighth Year</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HESE readers form a good all-round basal series, suitable +for use in any school; but they will appeal to +teachers particularly, because of their very easy gradation. +Both in thought and expression, the books are so carefully +graded that each selection is but slightly more difficult than +the preceding one, and there is no real gap anywhere.</p> + +<p>¶ Although a wide variety of reading matter is provided, +good literature, embodying child interests, has been considered +of fundamental importance. Lessons of a similar nature are +grouped together, and topics relating to kindred subjects recur +somewhat regularly. All are designed to quicken the child’s +observation, and increase his appreciation.</p> + +<p>¶ By the use of this series, the child will be taught to read in +such a manner as will appeal to his interests, and at the same time +he will be made acquainted with the masterpieces of many famous +writers. He will gain a knowledge of many subjects, and +acquire pure and attractive ideals of life and conduct. His imagination +will be cultivated by pleasing tales of fancy, and he will +also be taught a love of country, and given glimpses into the +life of other lands.</p> + +<p>¶ The books are very attractive in mechanical appearance, +and contain a large number of original illustrations, besides +reproductions of many celebrated paintings.</p> + + +<p class="booklrg">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> + + +<p class="bookvlrg">HUNT’S PROGRESSIVE +COURSE IN SPELLING</p> + + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Book and price"> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Complete</td> + <td class="tdlt"> </td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.20</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Part One.</td> + <td class="tdlt">For Third, Fourth, and Fifth Grades</td> + <td class="tdrb">.15</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Part Two.</td> + <td class="tdlt">For Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Grades</td> + <td class="tdrb">.15</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE purpose of this book is to assist the pupil in using +words correctly in any one of three relations, viz.: in +speech, in oral reading, and in written composition. +Its exercises recognize the laws of association, and provide a +systematic drill in orthography, orthoepy, word-building, word-analysis, +and other phases of word-study.</p> + +<p>¶ The vocabulary of the book is made up of words used +by the pupil in his other studies, and in his every-day +experience. The work is clearly laid out and graded; +reviews are amply provided, both by duplication and by +dictation work.</p> + +<p>¶ PART ONE contains a vocabulary of some 4,000 word-forms +in common use, selected and graded with great care. +The arrangement is such that there is afforded a variety of +exercises, each containing an average of 20 words. The +phonetic, the topical, the grammatical, and the antithetic and +synonymic methods have received special treatment. Dictation +exercises, including memory gems, illustrative sentences, +and reviews, are also given.</p> + +<p>¶ PART TWO includes a vocabulary of about 5,000 word-forms, +the exercises being devoted to topical lessons, phonetic +drills, pronouncing drill, grammatical forms, synonyms and +antonyms, applications of rules of spelling, drill on homophones, +word-building and word-analysis, words the derivation +of which is indicated, and derivatives from Latin and +Greek roots. Great emphasis is laid on prefixes and suffixes, +the origin of words, and pronunciation.</p> + + +<p class="booklrg">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> + + +<p class="bookvlrg">SPENCERS’ PRACTICAL +WRITING</p> + +<p class="center">By PLATT R. SPENCER’S SONS</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Book and price"> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Books 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8</td> + <td class="tdrb">Per dozen, $0.60</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>PENCERS’ PRACTICAL WRITING has been devised +because of the distinct and wide-spread reaction from the +use of vertical writing in schools. It is thoroughly up-to-date, +embodying all the advantages of the old and of the +new. Each word can be written by one continuous movement +of the pen.</p> + +<p>¶ The books teach a plain, practical hand, moderate in slant, +and free from ornamental curves, shades, and meaningless +lines. The stem letters are long enough to be clear and unmistakable. +The capitals are about two spaces in height.</p> + +<p>¶ The copies begin with words and gradually develop into +sentences. The letters, both large and small, are taught +systematically. In the first two books the writing is somewhat +larger than is customary because it is more easily learned +by young children. These books also contain many illustrations +in outline. The ruling is very simple.</p> + +<p>¶ Instruction is afforded showing how the pupil should sit at +the desk, and hold the pen and paper. A series of drill movement +exercises, thirty-three in number, with directions for +their use, accompanies each book.</p> + + +<p class="center">SPENCERIAN PRACTICAL WRITING SPELLER</p> + +<p class="center">Per dozen, $0.48</p> + +<p class="booksml"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HIS simple, inexpensive device provides abundant drill in writing +words. At the same time it trains pupils to form their copies in +accordance with the most modern and popular system of penmanship, +and saves much valuable time for both teacher and pupil.</p> + + +<p class="booklrg">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> + + +<p class="bookvlrg">MILNE’S PROGRESSIVE +ARITHMETICS</p> + +<p class="center">By WILLIAM J. MILNE, Ph.D., LL.D., President of +New York State Normal College, Albany, N. Y.</p> + + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Book series with title and price"> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="2">THREE BOOK SERIES</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">First Book</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Second Book</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Third Book</td> + <td class="tdrb">.45</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="2">TWO BOOK SERIES</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">First Book</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Complete Book</td> + <td class="tdrb">.65</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N these series the best modern methods of instruction have +been combined with those older features which gave the +author’s previous arithmetics such marvelous popularity.</p> + +<p>¶ Built upon a definite pedagogical plan, these books teach +the processes of arithmetic in such a way as to develop the +reasoning faculties, and to train the power of rapid, accurate, +and skillful manipulation of numbers. The inductive method +is applied, leading the pupils to discover truths for themselves; +but it is supplemented by model solutions and careful +explanations of each step.</p> + +<p>¶ Each new topic is first carefully developed, and then enforced +by sufficient practice to fix it thoroughly in the mind. +The problems, which have been framed with the greatest care, +relate to a wide range of subjects drawn from modern life and +industries. Reviews in various forms are a marked feature. +Usefulness is the keynote.</p> + +<p>¶ In the First and Second Books the amount of work that +may be accomplished in a half year is taken as the unit of +classification, and the various subjects are treated topically, +each being preceded by a brief résumé of the concepts +already acquired. In the Third Book the purely topical +method is used in order to give the pupil a coherent +knowledge of each subject. The Complete Book covers +the work usually given to pupils during the last four years +of school.</p> + + +<p class="booklrg">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> + + +<p class="bookvlrg">STEPS IN ENGLISH</p> + +<p class="hang">By A. C. McLEAN, A.M., Principal of Luckey School, +Pittsburg; THOMAS C. BLAISDELL, A.M., Professor +of English, Fifth Avenue Normal High School, +Pittsburg; and JOHN MORROW, Superintendent of +Schools, Allegheny, Pa.</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Book title with years and price"> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Book One.</td> + <td class="tdlt">For third, fourth, and fifth years</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Book Two.</td> + <td class="tdlt">For sixth, seventh, and eighth years</td> + <td class="tdrb">.60</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HIS series presents a new method of teaching language +which is in marked contrast with the antiquated systems +in vogue a generation ago. The books meet modern +conditions in every respect, and teach the child how to express +his thoughts in language rather than furnish an undue +amount of grammar and rules.</p> + +<p>¶ From the start the attempt has been made to base the work +on subjects in which the child is genuinely interested. Lessons +in writing language are employed simultaneously with those in +conversation, while picture-study, the study of literary selections, +and letter-writing are presented at frequent intervals. +The lessons are of a proper length, well arranged, and well +graded. The books mark out the daily work for the teacher +in a clearly defined manner by telling him what to do, and +when to do it. Many unique mechanical devices, <i>e. g.</i>, a +labor-saving method of correcting papers, a graphic system of +diagramming, etc., form a valuable feature of the work.</p> + +<p>¶ These books are unlike any other series now on the +market. They do not shoot over the heads of the pupils, +nor do they show a marked effort in writing down to +the supposed level of young minds. They do not contain +too much technical grammar, nor are they filled with what +is sentimental and meaningless. No exaggerated attention is +given to analyzing by diagramming, and to exceptions to ordinary +rules, which have proved so unsatisfactory.</p> + + +<p class="booklrg">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> + + +<p class="bookvlrg">NEW SERIES OF THE +NATURAL GEOGRAPHIES</p> + +<p class="center">REDWAY AND HINMAN</p> + + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Book edition with title and price"> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="2">TWO BOOK OR FOUR BOOK EDITION</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Introductory Geography</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.60</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlin">In two parts, each</td> + <td class="tdrb">.40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">School Geography</td> + <td class="tdrb">1.25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlin">In two parts, each</td> + <td class="tdrb">.75</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N the new series of these sterling geographies emphasis is laid +on industrial, commercial, and political geography, with just +enough physiography to bring out the causal relations.</p> + +<p>¶ The text is clear, simple, interesting, and explicit. The +pictures are distinguished for their aptness and perfect illustrative +character. Two sets of maps are provided, one for +reference, and the other for study, the latter having corresponding +maps drawn to the same scale.</p> + +<p>¶ The INTRODUCTORY GEOGRAPHY develops the +subject in accordance with the child’s comprehension, each +lesson paving the way for the next. In the treatment of the +United States the physiographic, historical, political, industrial, +and commercial conditions are taken up in their respective +order, the chief industries and the localities devoted largely to +each receiving more than usual consideration. The country +is regarded as being divided into five industrial sections.</p> + +<p>¶ In the SCHOOL GEOGRAPHY a special feature is +the presentation of the basal principles of physical and general +geography in simple, untechnical language, arranged in numbered +paragraphs. In subsequent pages constant reference is +made to these principles, but in each case accompanied by +the paragraph number. This greatly simplifies the work, +and makes it possible to take up the formal study of these +introductory lessons after the remainder of the book has been +completed. With a view to enriching the course, numerous +specific references are given to selected geographical reading.</p> + + +<p class="booklrg">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> + + +<p class="bookvlrg">APPLIED PHYSIOLOGIES</p> + +<p class="center">By FRANK OVERTON, A.M., M.D., late House +Surgeon to the City Hospital, New York City</p> + + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Book title and price"> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Primary Physiology</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.30</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Intermediate Physiology</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlt">Advanced Physiology</td> + <td class="tdrb">$0.80</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>VERTON’S APPLIED PHYSIOLOGIES form a +series of text-books for primary, grammar, and high +schools, which departs radically from the old-time +methods pursued in the teaching of physiology. These books +combine the latest results of study and research in biological, +medical, and chemical science with the best methods of +teaching.</p> + +<p>¶ The fundamental principle throughout this series is the +study of the cells where the essential functions of the body +are carried on. Consequently, the study of anatomy and +physiology is here made the study of the cells from the most +elementary structure in organic life to their highest and most +complex form in the human body.</p> + +<p>¶ This treatment of the cell principle, and its development +in its relation to life, the employment of laboratory methods, +the numerous original and effective illustrations, the clearness of +the author’s style, the wealth of new physiological facts, and the +logical arrangement and gradation of the subject-matter, give +these books a strength and individuality peculiarly their own.</p> + +<p>¶ The effects of alcohol and other stimulants and narcotics +are treated in each book sensibly, and with sufficient fullness. +But while this important form of intemperance is singled out, +it is borne in mind that the breaking of any of nature’s laws +is also a form of intemperance, and that the whole study of +applied physiology is to encourage a more healthful and a +more self-denying mode of life.</p> + +<p>¶ In the preparation of this series the needs of the various +school grades have been fully considered. Each book is well +suited to the pupils for whom it is designed.</p> + + +<p class="booklrg">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> +</div> + + + +<div class="bboxend"> +<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p> + +<p>Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.</p> + +<p>Archaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_73">73</a>—repeated 'the' deleted—... and to strew the path of Apollo, ...</p> + +<p>Illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not +in the middle of a paragraph.</p> +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44765 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/44765-h/images/cover.jpg b/44765-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..886a7bd --- /dev/null +++ b/44765-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/44765-h/images/dots.png b/44765-h/images/dots.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6b4603f --- /dev/null +++ b/44765-h/images/dots.png diff --git a/44765-h/images/rty01.jpg 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