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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8924f53 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51000 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51000) diff --git a/old/51000-0.txt b/old/51000-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a07d0b0..0000000 --- a/old/51000-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6369 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's School Reading By Grades: Fifth Year, by James Baldwin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: School Reading By Grades: Fifth Year - -Author: James Baldwin - -Release Date: January 22, 2016 [EBook #51000] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCHOOL READING BY GRADES *** - - - - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - - SCHOOL READING BY GRADES - - _FIFTH YEAR_ - - BY - - JAMES BALDWIN - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO - AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY - - COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY - - AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. - - SCH. READ. FIFTH YEAR. - - W. P. 29 - - - - -PREFACE. - - -The pupil who has read the earlier numbers of this series is now -prepared to study with some degree of care the peculiarities of style -which distinguish the different selections in the present volume. Hence, -while due attention must be given to the study of words merely as -words,--that is to spelling, defining, and pronouncing,--considerable -time should be occupied in observing and discussing the literary -contents, the author’s manner of narrating a story, of describing an -action or an appearance, of portraying emotion, of producing an -impression upon the mind of the reader or the hearer. The pupils should -be encouraged to seek for and point out the particular passages or -expressions in each selection which are distinguished for their beauty, -their truth, or their peculiar adaptability to the purpose in view. The -habit should be cultivated of looking for and enjoying the admirable -qualities of any literary production, and particularly of such -productions as are by common consent recognized as classical. - -The lessons in this volume have been selected and arranged with a view -towards several ends: to interest the young reader; to cultivate a taste -for the best style of literature as regards both thought and expression; -to point the way to an acquaintance with good books; to appeal to the -pupil’s sense of duty, and strengthen his desire to do right; to arouse -patriotic feelings and a just pride in the achievements of our -countrymen; and incidentally to add somewhat to the learner’s knowledge -of history and science and art. - -The illustrations will prove to be valuable adjuncts to the text. -Spelling, defining, and punctuation should continue to receive special -attention. Difficult words and idiomatic expressions should be carefully -studied with the aid of the dictionary and of the Word List at the end -of this volume. Persistent and systematic practice in the pronunciation -of these words and of other difficult combinations of sounds will aid in -training the pupils’ voices to habits of careful articulation and -correct enunciation. - -While literary biography can be of but little, if any, value in -cultivating literary taste, it is desirable that pupils should acquire -some knowledge of the writers whose productions are placed before them -for study. To assist in the acquisition of this knowledge, and also to -serve for ready reference, a few Biographical Notes are inserted towards -the end of the volume. The brief suggestions given on page 6 should be -read and commented upon at the beginning, and frequently referred to and -practically applied in the lessons which follow. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - ADAPTED FROM PAGE - -Something about Books _John Ruskin_ 7 - -Old Chiron’s School _Charles Kingsley_ 12 - -The Dog of Montargis _Old Legend_ 19 - -The Old Oaken Bucket _Samuel Woodworth_ 29 - -The Village Blacksmith _Henry W. Longfellow_ 30 - -The Choice of Hercules 34 - -Christmas at the Cratchits’ _Charles Dickens_ 37 - -On the Mountain _St. Matthew_ 45 - -Betsey Hull’s Wedding _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 48 - -Ulysses and the Cyclops _Homer’s “Odyssey”_ 54 - -The Brook _Alfred Tennyson_ 67 - -The Lady of Shalott _Alfred Tennyson_ 70 - -Lessons from Nature’s Book _Sir Archibald Geikie_ 79 - -The Goodman of Ballengiech _Sir Walter Scott_ 87 - -Bugle Song _Alfred Tennyson_ 92 - -Some Experiences at Sea _Richard Henry Dana, Jr._ 93 - -The King and the Rebel _Charles E. A. Gayarré_ 97 - -Daniel Boone _George Bancroft_ 100 - -Fulton’s First Steamboat _Robert Fulton_ 108 - -The Planting of the Apple Tree _William Cullen Bryant_ 111 - -The Corn Song _John G. Whittier_ 114 - -Hunting the Walrus 117 - -The Destruction of Pompeii. - I. History _Charles Kingsley_ 124 - II. Romance _Sir E. Bulwer Lytton_ 130 - -The Stranger on the Sill _Thomas Buchanan Read_ 140 - -Our Country. - I. What is Our Country? _Thomas Grimke_ 142 - II. Liberty and Union _Daniel Webster_ 143 - III. The Policy of Peace _John C. Calhoun_ 144 - -A Legend of Sleepy Hollow _Washington Irving_ 146 - -The Mariner’s Dream _William Dimond_ 166 - -The Sands o’ Dee _Charles Kingsley_ 169 - -The Invention of Printing 170 - -The Wanderer _Eugene Field_ 183 - -Lead Thou Me on _John Henry Newman_ 184 - -The American Indian _Charles Sprague_ 185 - -The Passing of King Arthur _Sir Thomas Malory_ 187 - -BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 193 - -WORD LIST 196 - -PROPER NAMES PRONOUNCED 208 - - -Acknowledgments are due to Messrs. Charles Scribner’s Sons, publishers -of the works of Eugene Field, for permission to use the poem entitled -“The Wanderer”; to Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers of the -works of H. W. Longfellow and J. G. Whittier, for the use of “The -Village Blacksmith” and “The Corn Song”; and to The J. B. Lippincott -Company, publishers of the poems of T. Buchanan Read, for the piece -entitled “The Stranger on the Sill.” - - - - -TO THE LEARNER. - - -A famous writer has said that the habit of reading is one’s pass to the -greatest, the purest, the most perfect pleasures that have been prepared -for human beings. “But,” he continued, “you cannot acquire this habit in -your old age; you cannot acquire it in middle age; you must do it now, -when you are young. You must learn to read, and to like reading now, or -you cannot do so when you are old.” Now, no one can derive very great -pleasure or very great profit from reading unless he is able to read -well. The boy or girl who stumbles over every hard word, or who is at a -loss to know the meaning of this or that expression, is not likely to -find much enjoyment in books. To read well to one’s self, one must be -able to read aloud in such a manner as to interest and delight those who -listen to him: and this is the chief reason why we have so many reading -books at school, and why your teachers are so careful that you should -acquire the ability to enunciate every sound distinctly, pronounce every -word properly, and read every sentence readily and with a clear -understanding of its meaning. - -Is the reading exercise a task to you? Try to make it a pleasure. Ask -yourself: What is there in this lesson that teaches me something which I -did not know before? What is there in this lesson that is beautiful, or -grand, or inspiring? Has the writer said anything in a manner that is -particularly pleasing--in a manner that perhaps no one else would have -thought to say it? What particular thought or saying, in this lesson, is -so good and true that it is worth learning by heart and remembering -always. Does the selection as a whole teach anything that will tend to -make me wiser, or better, or stronger than before? Or is it merely a -source of temporary amusement to be soon forgotten and as though it had -never been? Or does it, like fine music or a noble picture, not only -give present pleasure, but enlarge my capacity for enjoyment and enable -me to discover and appreciate beautiful things in literature and art and -nature which I would otherwise never have known? - -When you have asked yourself all these questions about any selection, -and have studied it carefully to find answers to them, you will be -prepared to read it aloud to your teacher and your classmates; and you -will be surprised to notice how much better you have read it than would -have been the case had you attempted it merely as a task or as an -exercise in the pronouncing of words. It is by thus always seeking to -discover things instructive and beautiful and enjoyable in books, that -one acquires that right habit of reading which has been spoken of as the -pass to the greatest, the purest, the most perfect of pleasures. - - - - -SCHOOL READING. - -FIFTH YEAR. - - - - -SOMETHING ABOUT BOOKS. - - -[Illustration: John Ruskin.] - -A beautiful book, and one profitable to those who read it carefully, is -“Sesame and Lilies” by John Ruskin. It is beautiful because of the -pleasant language and choice words in which it is written; for, of all -our later writers, no one is the master of a style more pure and more -delightful in its simplicity than Mr. Ruskin’s. It is profitable because -of the lessons which it teaches; for it was written “to show somewhat -the use and preciousness of good books, and to awaken in the minds of -young people some thought of the purposes of the life into which they -are entering, and the nature of the world they have to conquer.” The -following pertinent words concerning the choice of books have been -taken mainly from its pages: - - * * * * * - -All books may be divided into two classes,--books of the hour, and books -of all time. Yet it is not merely the bad book that does not last, and -the good one that does. There are good books for the hour and good ones -for all time; bad books for the hour and bad ones for all time. - -The good book of the hour,--I do not speak of the bad ones,--is simply -the useful or pleasant talk of some person printed for you. Very useful -often, telling you what you need to know; very pleasant often, as a -sensible friend’s present talk would be. - -These bright accounts of travels, good-humored and witty discussions of -questions, lively or pathetic story-telling in the form of novel: all -these are books of the hour and are the peculiar possession of the -present age. We ought to be entirely thankful for them, and entirely -ashamed of ourselves if we make no good use of them. But we make the -worst possible use, if we allow them to usurp the place of true books; -for, strictly speaking, they are not books at all, but merely letters or -newspapers in good print. - -Our friend’s letter may be delightful, or necessary, to-day; whether -worth keeping or not, is to be considered. The newspaper may be entirely -proper at breakfast time, but it is not reading for all day. So, though -bound up in a volume, the long letter which gives you so pleasant an -account of the inns and roads and weather last year at such a place, or -which tells you some amusing story, or relates such and such -circumstances of interest, may not be, in the real sense of the word, a -_book_ at all, nor, in the real sense, to be _read_. - -A book is not a talked thing, but a written thing. The book of _talk_ is -printed only because its author can not speak to thousands of people at -once; if he could, he would--the volume is mere multiplication of the -voice. You can not talk to your friend in India; if you could, you -would; you write instead; that is merely a way of carrying the voice. - -But a book is _written_, not to multiply the voice merely, not to carry -it merely, but to preserve it. The author has something to say which he -perceives to be true and useful, or helpfully beautiful. So far as he -knows, no one has yet said it; so far as he knows, no one can say it. He -is bound to say it, clearly and in a melodious manner if he may; -clearly, at all events. - -In the sum of his life he finds this to be the thing, or group of -things, manifest to him; this the piece of true knowledge, or sight, -which his share of sunshine and earth has allowed him to seize. He -would set it down forever; carve it on a rock, if he could, saying, -“This is the best of me; for the rest, I ate and drank and slept, loved -and hated, like another; my life was as the vapor, and is not; but this -I saw and knew; this, if anything of mine, is worth your memory.” That -is his _writing_; that is a _book_. - -Now books of this kind have been written in all ages by their greatest -men--by great leaders, great statesmen, great thinkers. These are all at -your choice; and life is short. You have heard as much before; yet have -you measured and mapped out this short life and its possibilities? Do -you know, if you read this, that you can not read that--that what you -lose to-day you can not gain to-morrow? - -Will you go and gossip with the housemaid, or the stableboy, when you -may talk with queens and kings? Do you ask to be the companion of -nobles? Make yourself noble, and you shall be. Do you long for the -conversation of the wise? Learn to understand it, and you shall hear it. - -Very ready we are to say of a book, “How good this is--that is just what -I think!” But the right feeling is, “How strange that is! I never -thought of that before, and yet I see it is true; or if I do not now, I -hope I shall, some day.” - -But whether you feel thus or not, at least be sure that you go to the -author to get at _his_ meaning, not to find yours. And be sure also, if -the author is worth anything, that you will not get at his meaning all -at once; nay, that at his whole meaning you may not for a long time -arrive in any wise. Not that he does not say what he means, and in -strong words too; but he can not say it all, and, what is more strange, -will not, but in a hidden way in order that he may be sure you want it. - -When, therefore, you come to a good book, you must ask yourself, “Am I -ready to work as an Australian miner would? Are my pickaxes in good -order, and am I in good trim myself, my sleeves well up to the elbow, -and my breath good, and my temper?” For your pickaxes are your own care, -wit, and learning; your smelting furnace is your own thoughtful soul. Do -not hope to get at any good author’s meaning without these tools and -that fire; often you will need sharpest, finest carving, and the most -careful melting, before you can gather one grain of the precious gold. - -I can not, of course, tell you what to choose for your library, for -every several mind needs different books; but there are some books which -we all need, and which if you read as much as you ought, you will not -need to have your shelves enlarged to right and left for purposes of -study. - -If you want to understand any subject whatever, read the best book upon -it you can hear of. A common book will often give you amusement, but it -is only a noble book that will give you dear friends. - -Avoid that class of literature which has a knowing tone; it is the most -poisonous of all. Every good book, or piece of book, is full of -admiration and awe; and it always leads you to reverence or love -something with your whole heart. - - - - -OLD CHIRON’S SCHOOL. - - -Æson was king of Iolcus by the sea; but for all that, he was an unhappy -man. For he had a stepbrother named Pelias, a fierce and lawless man who -was the doer of many a fearful deed, and about whom many dark and sad -tales were told. And at last Pelias drove out Æson, his stepbrother, and -took the kingdom for himself, and ruled over the rich town of Iolcus by -the sea. - -And Æson, when he was driven out, went sadly away from the town, leading -his little son by the hand; and he said to himself, “I must hide the -child in the mountains, or Pelias will surely kill him, because he is -the heir.” So he went up from the sea across the valley, through the -vineyards and the olive groves, and across a foaming torrent toward -Pelion, the ancient mountain, whose brows are white with snow. - -He went up and up into the mountain, over marsh and crag, and down, till -the boy was tired and foot-sore, and Æson had to bear him in his arms, -till he came to the mouth of a lonely cave at the foot of a mighty -cliff. Above the cliff the snow wreaths hung, dripping and cracking in -the sun; but at its foot, around the cave’s mouth, grew all fair flowers -and herbs, as if in a garden arranged in order, each sort by itself. -There they grew gayly in the sunshine, and in the spray of the torrent -from above; while from the cave came a sound of music, and a man’s voice -singing to the harp. - -Then Æson put down the lad, and whispered: - -“Fear not, but go in, and whomsoever you shall find, lay your hands upon -his knees, and say, ‘In the name of the Father of gods and men, I am -your guest from this day forth.’” - -Then the lad went in without trembling, for he too was a hero’s son; but -when he was within, he stopped in wonder, to listen to that magic song. - -And there he saw the singer lying upon bearskins and fragrant boughs; -Chiron, the ancient Centaur, the wisest of all beings beneath the sky. -Down to the waist he was a man; but below he was a noble horse; his -white hair rolled down over his broad shoulders, and his white beard -over his broad brown chest; and his eyes were wise and mild, and his -forehead like a mountain wall. - -And in his hands he held a harp of gold, and struck it with a golden -key; and as he struck he sang till his eyes glittered, and filled all -the cave with light. - -And he sang of the birth of Time, and of the heavens and the dancing -stars; and of the ocean, and the ether, and the fire, and the shaping of -the wondrous earth. And he sang of the treasures of the hills, and the -hidden jewels of the mine, and the veins of fire and metal, and the -virtues of all healing herbs; and of the speech of birds, and of -prophecy, and of hidden things to come. - -Then he sang of health, and strength, and manhood, and a valiant heart; -and of music and hunting, and wrestling, and all the games which heroes -love; and of travel, and wars, and sieges, and a noble death in fight,; -and then he sang of peace and plenty, and of equal justice in the land; -and as he sang, the boy listened wide-eyed, and forgot his errand in the -song. - -And at last Chiron was silent, and called the lad with a soft voice. -And the lad ran trembling to him, and would have laid his hands upon his -knees; but Chiron smiled, and said, “Call hither your father Æson; for I -know you and all that has befallen you.” - -Then Æson came in sadly, and Chiron asked him, “Why came you not -yourself to me, Æson?” - -And Æson said: “I thought, Chiron will pity the lad if he sees him come -alone; and I wished to try whether he was fearless, and dare venture -like a hero’s son. But now I entreat you, let the boy be your guest till -better times, and train him among the sons of the heroes that he may -become like them, strong and brave.” - -And Chiron answered: “Go back in peace and bend before the storm like a -prudent man. This boy shall not leave me till he has become a glory to -you and to your house.” - -And Æson wept over his son and went away; but the boy did not weep, so -full was his fancy of that strange cave, and the Centaur, and his song, -and the playfellows whom he was to see. Then Chiron put the lyre into -his hands, and taught him how to play it, till the sun sank low behind -the cliff, and a shout was heard outside. And then in came the sons of -the heroes,--Æneas, and Hercules, and Peleus, and many another mighty -name. - -And great Chiron leaped up joyfully, and his hoofs made the cave -resound, as they shouted, “Come out, Father Chiron; come out and see our -game.” And one cried, “I have killed two deer,” and another, “I took a -wild cat among the crags.” And Hercules dragged a wild goat after him by -its horns; and Cæneus carried a bear cub under each arm, and laughed -when they scratched and bit; for neither tooth nor steel could wound -him. And Chiron praised them all, each according to his deserts. - -[Illustration: And then in came the sons of the heroes.] - -Only one walked apart and silent, Æsculapius, the too wise child, with -his bosom full of herbs and flowers, and round his wrist a spotted -snake; he came with downcast eyes to Chiron, and whispered how he had -watched the snake cast his old skin, and grow young again before his -eyes, and how he had gone down into a village in the vale, and cured a -dying man with a herb which he had seen a sick goat eat. And Chiron -smiled and said: - -“To each there has been given his own gift, and each is worthy in his -place. But to this child there has been given an honor beyond all -honors,--to cure while others kill.” - -Then some of the lads brought in wood, and split it, and lighted a -blazing fire; and others skinned the deer and quartered them, and set -them to roast before the fire; and while the venison was cooking they -bathed in the snow torrent, and washed away the dust and sweat. And then -all ate till they could eat no more--for they had tasted nothing since -the dawn--and drank of the clear spring water, for wine is not fit for -growing lads. And when the remnants were put away, they all lay down -upon the skins and leaves about the fire, and each took the lyre in -turn, and sang and played with all his heart. - -And after a while they all went out to a plot of grass at the cave’s -mouth, and there they boxed, and ran, and wrestled, and laughed till -the stones fell from the cliffs. - -Then Chiron took his lyre, and all the lads joined hands; and as he -played, they danced to his measure, in and out, and round and round. -There they danced hand in hand, till the night fell over land and sea, -while the black glen shone with their broad white limbs, and the gleam -of their golden hair. - -And the lad danced with them, delighted, and then slept a wholesome -sleep, upon fragrant leaves of bay, and myrtle, and marjoram, and -flowers of thyme; and rose at the dawn, and bathed in the torrent, and -became a schoolfellow to the heroes’ sons. And in course of time he -forgot Iolcus, and Æson his father, and all his former life. But he grew -strong, and brave, and cunning, upon the rocky heights of Pelion, in the -keen, hungry, mountain air. And he learned to wrestle, and to box, and -to hunt, and to play upon the harp; and, next, he learned to ride, for -old Chiron often allowed him to mount upon his back; and he learned the -virtues of all herbs, and how to cure all wounds; and Chiron called him -Jason the healer, and that is his name until this day. - - --_From “The Heroes; or Greek Fairy Tales,” by Charles Kingsley._ - - - - -THE DOG OF MONTARGIS. - - -I. - -In the old castle of Montargis in France, there was once a stone -mantelpiece of workmanship so rare that it was talked about by the whole -country. And yet it was not altogether its beauty that caused people to -speak of it and remember it. It was famous rather on account of the -strange scene that was carved upon it. To those who asked about its -meaning, the old custodian of the castle would sometimes tell the -following story. - -It happened more than five hundred years ago, when this castle was new -and strong, and people lived and thought in very different sort from -what they do now. Among the young men of that time there was none more -noble than Aubrey de Montdidier, the nephew of the Count of Montargis; -and among all the knights who had favor at the royal court, there was -none more brave than the young Sieur de Narsac, captain of the king’s -men at arms. - -Now these two men were devoted friends, and whenever their other duties -allowed them, they were sure to be in each other’s company. Indeed, it -was a rare thing to see either of them walking the streets of Paris -alone. - -“I will meet you at the tournament to-morrow,” said Aubrey gayly, one -evening, as he was parting from his friend. - -“Yes, at the tournament to-morrow,” said De Narsac; “and be sure that -you come early.” - -The tournament was to be a grand affair. A gentleman from Provence was -to run a tilt with a famous Burgundian knight. Both men were noted for -their horsemanship and their skill with the lance. All Paris would be -out to see them. - -When the time came, De Narsac was at the place appointed. But Aubrey -failed to appear. What could it mean? It was not at all like Aubrey to -forget his promise; it was seldom that he allowed anything to keep him -away from the tournament. - -“Have you seen my friend Aubrey to-day?” De Narsac asked this question a -hundred times. Everybody gave the same answer, and wondered what had -happened. - -The day passed and another day came, and still there was no news from -Aubrey. De Narsac had called at his friend’s lodgings, but could learn -nothing. The young man had not been seen since the morning before the -tournament. - -Three days passed, and still not a word. De Narsac was greatly troubled. -He knew now that some accident must have happened to Aubrey. But what -could it have been? - -Early in the morning of the fourth day he was aroused by a strange noise -at his door. He dressed himself in haste and opened it. A dog was -crouching there. It was a greyhound, so poor that its ribs stuck out, so -weak that it could hardly stand. - -De Narsac knew the animal without looking at the collar on its neck. It -was Dragon, his friend Aubrey’s greyhound,--the dog who went with him -whenever he walked out, the dog who was never seen save in its master’s -company. - -The poor creature tried to stand. His legs trembled from weakness; he -swayed from side to side. He wagged his tail feebly, and tried to put -his nose in De Narsac’s hand. De Narsac saw at once that he was half -starved; that he had not had food for a long time. - -He led the dog into his room and fed him some warm milk. He bathed the -poor fellow’s nose and bloodshot eyes with cold water. “Tell me where is -your master,” he said. Then he set before him a full meal that would -have tempted any dog. - -The greyhound ate heartily, and seemed to be much stronger. He licked De -Narsac’s hands. He fondled his feet. Then he ran to the door and tried -to make signs to his friend to follow him. He whined pitifully. - -De Narsac understood. “You want to lead me to your master, I see.” He -put on his hat and went out with the dog. - -Through the narrow lanes and crooked streets of the old city, Dragon led -the way. At each corner he would stop and look back to make sure that De -Narsac was following. He went over the long bridge--the only one that -spanned the river in those days. Then he trotted out through the gate of -St. Martin and into the open country beyond the walls. - -In a little while the dog left the main road and took a bypath that led -into the forest of Bondy. De Narsac kept his hand on his sword now, for -they were on dangerous ground. The forest was a great resort for robbers -and lawless men, and more than one wild and wicked deed had been enacted -there. - -But Dragon did not go far into the woods. He stopped suddenly near a -dense thicket of briers and tangled vines. He whined as though in great -distress. Then he took hold of the sleeve of De Narsac’s coat, and led -him round to the other side of the thicket. - -There under a low-spreading oak the grass had been trampled down; there -were signs, too, of freshly turned-up earth. With moans of distress the -dog stretched himself upon the ground, and with pleading eyes looked up -into De Narsac’s face. - -“Ah, my poor fellow!” said De Narsac, “you have led me here to show me -your master’s grave.” And with that he turned and hurried back to the -city; but the dog would not stir from his place. - -That afternoon a company of men, led by De Narsac, rode out to the -forest. They found in the ground beneath the oak what they had -expected--the murdered body of young Aubrey de Montdidier. - -“Who could have done this foul deed?” they asked of one another; and -then they wept, for they all loved Aubrey. - -They made a litter of green branches, and laid the body upon it. Then, -the dog following them, they carried it back to the city and buried it -in the king’s cemetery. And all Paris mourned the untimely end of the -brave young knight. - - -II. - -After this, the greyhound went to live with the young Sieur de Narsac. -He followed the knight wherever he went. He slept in his room and ate -from his hand. He seemed to be as much devoted to his new master as he -had been to the old. - -One morning they went out for a stroll through the city. The streets -were crowded; for it was a holiday and all the fine people of Paris were -enjoying the sunlight and the fresh air. Dragon, as usual, kept close -to the heels of his master. - -De Narsac walked down one street and up another, meeting many of his -friends, and now and then stopping to talk a little while. Suddenly, as -they were passing a corner, the dog leaped forward and planted himself -in front of his master. He growled fiercely; he crouched as though ready -for a spring; his eyes were fixed upon some one in the crowd. - -[Illustration: The dog planted himself in front of his master.] - -Then, before De Narsac could speak, he leaped forward upon a young man -whom he had singled out. The man threw up his arm to save his throat; -but the quickness of the attack and the weight of the dog caused him to -fall to the ground. There is no telling what might have followed had not -those who were with him beaten the dog with their canes, and driven him -away. - -De Narsac knew the man. His name was Richard Macaire, and he belonged to -the king’s bodyguard. - -Never before had the greyhound been known to show anger towards any -person. “What do you mean by such conduct?” asked his master as they -walked homeward. Dragon’s only answer was a low growl; but it was the -best that he could give. The affair had put a thought into De Narsac’s -mind which he could not dismiss. - -Within less than a week the thing happened again. This time Macaire was -walking in the public garden. De Narsac and the dog were some distance -away. But as soon as Dragon saw the man, he rushed at him. It was all -that the bystanders could do to keep him from throttling Macaire. De -Narsac hurried up and called him away; but the dog’s anger was fearful -to see. - -It was well known in Paris that Macaire and young Aubrey had not been -friends. It was remembered that they had had more than one quarrel. And -now the people began to talk about the dog’s strange actions, and some -went so far as to put this and that together. - -At last the matter reached the ears of the king. He sent for De Narsac -and had a long talk with him. “Come back to-morrow and bring the dog -with you,” he said. “We must find out more about this strange affair.” - -The next day De Narsac, with Dragon at his heels, was admitted into the -king’s audience room. The king was seated in his great chair, and many -knights and men at arms were standing around him. Hardly had De Narsac -stepped inside when the dog leaped quickly forward. He had seen Macaire, -and had singled him out from among all the rest. He sprang upon him. He -would have torn him in pieces if no one had interfered. - -There was now only one way to explain the matter. - -“This greyhound,” said De Narsac, “is here to denounce the Chevalier -Macaire as the slayer of his master, young Aubrey de Montdidier. He -demands that justice be done, and that the murderer be punished for his -crime.” - -The Chevalier Macaire was pale and trembling. He stammered a denial of -his guilt, and declared that the dog was a dangerous beast, and ought to -be put out of the way. “Shall a soldier in the service of the king be -accused by a dog?” he cried. “Shall he be condemned on such testimony as -this? I, too, demand justice.” - -“Let the judgment of God decide!” cried the knights who were present. - -And so the king declared that there should be a trial by the judgment of -God. For in those rude times it was a very common thing to determine -guilt or innocence in this way--that is, by a combat between the accuser -and the accused. In such cases it was believed that God would always aid -the cause of the innocent and bring about the defeat of the guilty. - -The combat was to take place that very afternoon in the great common by -the riverside. The king’s herald made a public announcement of it, -naming the dog as the accuser and the Chevalier Macaire as the accused. -A great crowd of people assembled to see this strange trial by the -judgment of God. - -The king and his officers were there to make sure that no injustice was -done to either the man or the dog. The man was allowed to defend himself -with a short stick; the dog was given a barrel into which he might run -if too closely pressed. - -At a signal the combat began. Macaire stood upon his guard while the dog -darted swiftly around him, dodging the blows that were aimed at him, -and trying to get at his enemy’s throat. The man seemed to have lost -all his courage. His breath came short and quick. He was trembling from -head to foot. - -Suddenly the dog leaped upon him and threw him to the ground. In his -great terror he cried to the king for mercy, and acknowledged his guilt. - -“It is the judgment of God!” cried the king. - -The officers rushed in and dragged the dog away before he could harm the -guilty man; and Macaire was hurried off to the punishment which his -crimes deserved. - -And this is the scene that was carved on the old mantelpiece in the -castle of Montargis--this strange trial by the judgment of God. Is it -not fitting that a dog so faithful, devoted, and brave should have his -memory thus preserved in stone? He is remembered also in story and song. -In France ballads have been written about him; and his strange history -has been dramatized in both French and English. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. - - - How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, - When fond recollection presents them to view! - The orchard, the meadow, the deep, tangled wildwood, - And every loved spot that my infancy knew. - The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it; - The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; - The cot of my father, the dairy house nigh it, - And e’en the rude bucket which hung in the well-- - The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, - The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. - - That moss-covered bucket I hail as a treasure; - For often at noon, when returned from the field, - I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, - The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. - How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, - And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell; - Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, - And dripping with coolness it rose from the well-- - The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, - The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. - - How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, - As poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips! - Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, - Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. - And now, far removed from thy loved situation, - The tear of regret will oftentimes swell, - As fancy returns to my father’s plantation, - And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well-- - The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, - The moss-covered bucket which hangs in the well. - --_Samuel Woodworth._ - - - - -THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. - - - Under a spreading chestnut tree - The village smithy stands; - The smith a mighty man is he, - With large and sinewy hands; - And the muscles of his brawny arms - Are strong as iron bands. - - His hair is crisp and black and long; - His face is like the tan; - His brow is wet with honest sweat, - He earns whate’er he can, - And looks the whole world in the face, - For he owes not any man. - - Week in, week out, from morn till night, - You can hear his bellows blow; - You can hear him swing his heavy sledge - With measured beat and slow, - Like a sexton ringing the village bell, - When the evening sun is low. - - And children coming home from school - Look in at the open door; - They love to see the flaming forge, - And hear the bellows roar, - And catch the burning sparks that fly - Like chaff from a threshing floor. - - He goes on Sunday to the church, - And sits among his boys; - He hears the parson pray and preach; - He hears his daughter’s voice - Singing in the village choir, - And it makes his heart rejoice. - - It sounds to him like her mother’s voice, - Singing in Paradise! - He needs must think of her once more, - How in the grave she lies; - And with his hard, rough hand he wipes - A tear out of his eyes. - - Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, - Onward through life he goes; - Each morning sees some task begun, - Each evening sees its close; - Something attempted, something done, - Has earned a night’s repose. - - Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, - For the lesson thou hast taught! - Thus at the flaming forge of life - Our fortunes must be wrought; - Thus on its sounding anvil shaped - Each burning deed and thought. - --_Henry W. Longfellow._ - - - So nigh is grandeur to our dust - So near is God to man, - When Duty whispers low, “Thou must,” - The youth replies, “I can.” - --_Ralph Waldo Emerson._ - -[Illustration: The Village Blacksmith. - -From the Painting by Sir Edwin Landseer - -Engraved by Henry W. Peckwell.] - - - - -THE CHOICE OF HERCULES. - - -One morning when Hercules was a fair-faced lad of twelve years, he was -sent out to do an errand which he disliked very much. As he walked -slowly along the road, his heart was full of bitter thoughts; and he -murmured because others no better than himself were living in ease and -pleasure, while for him there was little but labor and pain. Thinking -upon these things, he came after a while to a place where two roads met; -and he stopped, not quite certain which one to take. - -The road on his right was hilly and rough, and there was no beauty in it -or about it; but he saw that it led straight toward the blue mountains -in the far distance. The road on his left was broad and smooth, with -shade trees on either side, where sang thousands of beautiful birds; and -it went winding in and out, through groves and green meadows, where -bloomed countless flowers; but it ended in fog and mist long before -reaching the wonderful mountains of blue. - -While the lad stood in doubt as to which way he should go, he saw two -ladies coming toward him, each by a different road. The one who came -down the flowery way reached him first, and Hercules saw that she was -beautiful as a summer day. Her cheeks were red, her eyes sparkled, her -voice was like the music of morning. - -“O noble youth,” she said, “this is the road which you should choose. It -will lead you into pleasant ways where there is neither toil, nor hard -study, nor drudgery of any kind. Your ears shall always be delighted -with sweet sounds, and your eyes with things beautiful and gay; and you -need do nothing but play and enjoy the hours as they pass.” - -By this time the other fair woman had drawn near, and she now spoke to -the lad. - -“If you take my road,” said she, “you will find that it is rocky and -rough, and that it climbs many a hill and descends into many a valley -and quagmire. The views which you will sometimes get from the hilltops -are grand and glorious, while the deep valleys are dark and the uphill -ways are toilsome; but the road leads to the blue mountains of endless -fame, of which you can see faint glimpses, far away. They can not be -reached without labor; for, in fact, there is nothing worth having that -must not be won through toil. If you would have fruits and flowers, you -must plant and care for them; if you would gain the love of your -fellow-men, you must love them and suffer for them; if you would be a -man, you must make yourself strong by the doing of manly deeds.” - -Then the boy saw that this lady, although her face seemed at first very -plain, was as beautiful as the dawn, or as the flowery fields after a -summer rain. - -“What is your name?” he asked. - -[Illustration: “If you would be a man, you must make yourself strong.”] - -“Some call me Labor,” she answered, “but others know me as Truth.” - -“And what is your name?” he asked, turning to the first lady. - -“Some call me Pleasure,” said she with a smile; “but I choose to be -known as the Joyous One.” - -“And what can you promise me at the end if I go with you?” - -“I promise nothing at the end. What I give, I give at the beginning.” - -“Labor,” said Hercules, “I will follow your road. I want to be strong -and manly and worthy of the love of my fellows. And whether I shall ever -reach the blue mountains or not, I want to have the reward of knowing -that my journey has not been without some worthy aim.” - - - - -CHRISTMAS AT THE CRATCHITS’. - - -Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned -gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for -sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second -of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master Cratchit plunged a -fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corner of his -monstrous shirt collar (Bob’s private property, conferred upon his son -and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself -so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable -Parks. - -And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming -that outside the baker’s they had smelt the goose, and known it for -their own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these -young Cratchits danced about the table and exalted Master Peter Cratchit -to the skies, while he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked -him) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes bubbling up knocked loudly -at the saucepan lid to be let out and peeled. - -“What has ever got your precious father then?” said Mrs. Cratchit. “And -your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha wasn’t as late last Christmas Day, by -half an hour!” - -“Here’s Martha, mother!” said a girl, appearing as she spoke. - -“Here’s Martha, mother!” cried the two young Cratchits. “Hurrah! There’s -_such_ a goose, Martha!” - -“Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!” said Mrs. -Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet -for her with officious zeal. - -“We’d a deal of work to finish up last night,” replied the girl, “and -had to clear away this morning, mother!” - -“Well! never mind so long as you are come,” said Mrs. Cratchit. “Sit ye -down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!” - -“No, no! There’s father coming,” cried the two - -[Illustration: Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim. - - From the Painting by F. Barnard. Engraved by Robert Varley. -] - -young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. “Hide, Martha, hide!” - -So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least -three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe hanging down before him; -and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; -and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little -crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame! - -“Why, where’s our Martha?” cried Bob Cratchit, looking round. - -“Not coming,” said Mrs. Cratchit. - -“Not coming!” said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits; -for he had been Tim’s blood horse all the way from church, and had come -home rampant. “Not coming upon Christmas Day!” - -Martha did not like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so -she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his -arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off -into the washhouse that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper. - -“And how did little Tim behave?” asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had -rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his -heart’s content. - -“As good as gold,” said Bob, “and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, -sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever -heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the -church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to -remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men -see.” - -Bob’s voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when -he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty. - -His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny -Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister -to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs,--as -if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby,--compounded -some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and -round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter and the two -ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon -returned in high procession. - -Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of -all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of -course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs. -Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing -hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; Miss -Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob -took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young -Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and -mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest -they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At -last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a -breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving -knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when -the long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight -arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young -Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly -cried Hurrah! - -There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was -such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were -the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed -potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as -Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a -bone upon the dish), they hadn’t ate it all at last! Yet every one had -had enough, and the youngest Cratchits, in particular, were steeped in -sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now the plates being changed by -Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous to bear -witnesses--to take the pudding up and bring it in. - -Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning -out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and -stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at which -the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were -supposed. - -Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell -like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating house and -a pastry cook’s next door to each other, with a laundress’s next door to -that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit -entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled -cannon ball, so hard and firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas -holly stuck into the top. - -Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he -regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since -their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, -she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour. -Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it -was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat -heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a -thing. - -At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth -swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and -considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a -shovel full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew -round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a -one; and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of glass,--two -tumblers and a custard cup without a handle. - -These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden -goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while -the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob -proposed: “A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!” - -Which all the family reëchoed. - -“God bless us every one!” said Tiny Tim, the last of all. - -He sat very close to his father’s side, upon his little stool. Bob held -his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to -keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him. - - --_From “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens._ - - - - -ON THE MOUNTAIN. - - -And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was -set, his disciples came unto him; and he opened his mouth and taught -them, saying: Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom -of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted. -Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth. - -Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness; for -they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful; for they shall obtain -mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see God. - -Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of -God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake; for -theirs is the kingdom of heaven. - -Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall -say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be -exceeding glad; for great is your reward in heaven. - -Ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou shalt not -forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths: but I say -unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God’s throne: -nor by the earth; for it is his foot-stool: neither by Jerusalem; for -it is the city of the great King. - -Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one -hair white or black. But let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: -for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil. - -Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for -a tooth: but I say unto you, That ye resist not evil; but whosoever -shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. - -And if any man will sue thee at law, and take away thy coat, let him -have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go -with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would -borrow of thee turn not thou away. - -Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor and -hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that -curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which -despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of -your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the -evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. - -For if ye love them that love you, what reward have ye? Do not even the -publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye -more than others? Do not even the publicans so? Be ye, therefore, -perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.... - -Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it -shall be opened unto you; for every one that asketh, receiveth; and he -that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened. Or -what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a -stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? - -If ye then, being evil know how to give good gifts unto your children, -how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to -them that ask him? Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men -should do to you, do ye even so to them. - -Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken -him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: and the rain -descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that -house; and it fell not; for it was founded upon a rock. And every one -that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened -unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: and the rain -descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that -house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it. - - --_From the Gospel according to St. Matthew._ - - - - -BETSEY HULL’S WEDDING. - - -In the early days of New England all the money that was used was brought -from Europe. Coins of gold and silver from England were the most -plentiful; but now and then one might see a doubloon, or some piece of -smaller value, that had been made in Spain or Portugal. As for paper -money, or bank bills, nobody had ever heard of them. - -Money was so scarce that people were often obliged to barter instead of -buying and selling. That is, if a lady wanted a yard of dress goods, she -would perhaps exchange a basket of fruit or some vegetables for it; if a -farmer wanted a pair of shoes, he might give the skin of an ox for it; -if he needed nails, he might buy them with potatoes. In many places -there was not money enough of any kind to pay the salaries of the -ministers; and so, instead of gold or silver, they were obliged to take -fish and corn and wood and anything else that the people could spare. - -As the people became more numerous, and there was more trade among them, -the want of money caused much inconvenience. At last, the General Court -of the colony passed a law providing for the coinage of small pieces of -silver--shillings, sixpences, and threepences. They also appointed -Captain John Hull to be mint-master for the colony, and gave him the -exclusive right to make this money. It was agreed that for every twenty -shillings coined by him, he was to keep one shilling to pay him for his -work. - -And now, all the old silver in the colony was hunted up and carried to -Captain Hull’s mint. Battered silver cans and tankards, silver buckles, -broken spoons, old sword hilts, and many other such curious old articles -were doubtless thrown into the melting pot together. But by far the -greater part of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines of South -America, which the English buccaneers had taken from the Spaniards and -brought to Massachusetts. All this old and new silver was melted down -and coined; and the result was an immense amount of bright shillings, -sixpences, and threepences. Each had the date, 1652, on one side, and -the figure of a pine tree on the other; hence, the shillings were called -pine-tree shillings. - -[Illustration: Pine-tree Shilling.] - -When the members of the General Court saw what an immense number of -coins had been made, and remembered that one shilling in every twenty -was to go into the pockets of Captain John Hull, they began to think -that the mint-master was having the best of the bargain. They offered -him a large amount, if he would but give up his claim to that twentieth -shilling. But the Captain declared that he was well satisfied to let -things stand as they were. And so he might be, for in a few years his -money bags and his strong box were all overflowing with pine-tree -shillings. - -Now, the rich mint-master had a daughter whose name I do not know, but -whom I will call Betsey. This daughter was a fine, hearty damsel, by no -means so slender as many young ladies of our own days. She had been fed -on pumpkin pies, doughnuts, Indian puddings, and other Puritan dainties, -and so had grown up to be as round and plump as any lass in the colony. -With this round, rosy Miss Betsey, a worthy young man, Samuel Sewell by -name, fell in love; and as he was diligent in business, and a member of -the church, the mint-master did not object to his taking her as his -wife. “Oh, yes, you may have her,” he said in his rough way; “but you -will find her a heavy enough burden.” - -On the wedding day we may suppose that honest John Hull dressed himself -in a plum-colored coat, all the buttons of which were made of pine-tree -shillings. The buttons of his waistcoat were sixpences, and the knees of -his small clothes were buttoned with silver threepences. Thus attired, -he sat with dignity in the huge armchair which had been brought from -old England expressly for his comfort. On the other side of the room sat -Miss Betsey. She was blushing with all her might, and looked like a -full-blown peony or a great red apple. - -There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine purple coat and -gold-laced waistcoat. His hair was cropped close to his head, because -Governor Endicott had forbidden any man to wear it below the ears. But -he was a very personable young man; and so thought the bridesmaids and -Miss Betsey herself. - -When the marriage ceremony was over, Captain Hull whispered a word to -two of his men servants, who immediately went out, and soon returned -lugging in a large pair of scales. They were such a pair as wholesale -merchants use for weighing bulky commodities; and quite a bulky -commodity was now to be weighed in them. - -“Daughter Betsey,” said the mint-master, “get into one side of these -scales.” Miss Betsey--or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now call her--did as -she was bid, like a dutiful child, without any question of why and -wherefore. But what her father could mean, unless to make her husband -pay for her by the pound (in which case she would have been a dear -bargain), she had not the least idea. - -“Now,” said honest John Hull to the servants, “bring that box hither.” -The box to which the mint-master pointed was a huge, square, iron-bound, -oaken chest; it was big enough, my children, for three or four of you to -play at hide and seek in. The servants tugged with might and main, but -could not lift this enormous receptacle, and were finally obliged to -drag it across the floor. Captain Hull then took a key from his girdle, -unlocked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid. - -Behold! it was full to the brim of bright pine-tree shillings fresh from -the mint; and Samuel Sewell began to think that his father-in-law had -got possession of all the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But it -was only the mint-master’s honest share of the coinage. - -Then the servants, at Captain Hull’s command, heaped double handfuls of -shillings into one side of the scales, while Betsey remained in the -other. Jingle, jingle went the shillings, as handful after handful was -thrown in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, they fairly weighed the -young lady from the floor. - -“There, son Sewell!” cried the honest mint-master, “take these shillings -for my daughter’s portion. It is not every wife that is worth her weight -in silver.” - - --_Adapted from “Grandfather’s Chair” by Nathaniel Hawthorne._ - -[Illustration: A Puritan Wedding Procession. - - From the Painting by C. G. Turner. Engraved by Angelo Negri. -] - - - - -ULYSSES AND THE CYCLOPS. - - -Among all the great poems that have ever been written none are grander -or more famous than the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey,” of the old Greek poet -Homer. They were composed and recited nearly three thousand years ago, -and yet nothing that has been written in later times has so charmed and -delighted mankind. In the “Iliad” the poet tells how the Greeks made war -upon Troy, and how they did brave deeds around the walls of that famed -city, and faltered not till they had won the stubborn fight. In the -“Odyssey” he tells how the Greek hero Ulysses or Odysseus, when the war -was ended, set sail for his distant home in Ithaca; how he was driven -from his course by the wind and waves; and how he was carried against -his will through unknown seas and to strange, mysterious shores where no -man had been before. - -[Illustration: Homer.] - -One of the most famous passages in the “Odyssey” is that in which -Ulysses relates the story of his meeting with the one-eyed giant, -Polyphemus. He tells it in this manner: - -When we had come to the land, we saw a cave not far from the sea. It was -a lofty cave roofed over with laurels, and in it large herds of sheep -and goats were used to rest. About it a high outer court was built with -stones set deep in the ground, and with tall pines and oaks crowned with -green leaves. In it was wont to sleep a man of monstrous size who -shepherded his flocks alone and had no dealings with others, but dwelt -apart in lawlessness of mind. Indeed, he was a monstrous thing, most -strangely shaped; and he was unlike any man that lives by bread, but -more like the wooded top of some towering hill that stands out apart and -alone from others. - -Then I bade the rest of my well-loved company stay close by the ship and -guard it; but I chose out twelve of my bravest men and sallied forth. We -bore with us a bag of corn and a great skin filled with dark sweet wine; -for in my lordly heart I had a foreboding that we should meet a man, a -strange, strong man who had little reason and cared nothing for the -right. - -Soon we came to the cave, but he was not within; he was shepherding his -fat flocks in the pastures. So we went into the cave and looked around. -There we saw many folds filled with lambs and kids. Each kind was penned -by itself; in one fold were the spring lambs, in one were the summer -lambs, and in one were the younglings of the flock. On one side of the -cave were baskets well laden with cheeses; and the milk pails and the -bowls and the well-wrought vessels into which he milked were filled with -whey. - -[Illustration: He came back driving his flocks.] - -Then my men begged me to take the cheeses and return, and afterwards to -make haste and drive off the kids and lambs to the swift ship and sail -without delay over the salt waves. Far better would it have been had I -done as they wished; but I bade them wait and see the giant himself, for -perhaps he would give me gifts as a stranger’s due. Then we kindled a -fire and made a burnt-offering; and we ate some of the cheeses, and sat -waiting for him till he came back driving his flocks. In his arms he -carried a huge load of dry wood to be used in cooking supper. This he -threw down with a great noise inside the cave, and we in fear hid -ourselves in the dark corners behind the rocks. - -As for the giant, he drove into the wide cavern all those of his flock -that he was wont to milk; but the males, both of the sheep and of the -goats, he left outside in the high-walled yard. Then he lifted a huge -door stone and set it in the mouth of the cave; it was a stone so -weighty that two-and-twenty good, four-wheeled wagons could scarce have -borne it off the ground. Then he sat down and milked the ewes and the -bleating goats, each in its turn, and beneath each ewe he placed her -young. After that he curdled half of the white milk and stored it in -wicker baskets; and the other half he let stand in pails that he might -have it for his supper. - -Now, when he had done all his work busily, he kindled the fire, and as -its light shone into all parts of the cave, he saw us. “Strangers, who -are you?” he cried. “Whence sail you over the wet ways? Are you on some -trading voyage, or do you rove as sea robbers over the briny deep?” - -Such were his words, and so monstrous was he and so deep was his voice -that our hearts were broken within us for terror. But, for all that, I -stood up and answered him, saying: - -“Lo, we are Greeks, driven by all manner of winds over the great gulf of -the sea. We seek our homes, but have lost our way and know not where we -go. Now we have landed on this shore, and we come to thy knees, thinking -perhaps that thou wilt give us a stranger’s gift, or make any present, -as is the due of strangers. Think upon thy duty to the gods; for we are -thy suppliants. Have regard to Jupiter, the god of the sojourner and the -friend of the stranger.” - -This I said, and then the giant answered me out of his pitiless heart: -“Thou art indeed a foolish fellow and a stranger in this land, to think -of bidding me fear the gods. We Cyclops care nothing for Jupiter, nor -for any other of the gods; for we are better men than they. The fear of -them will never cause me to spare either thee or thy company, unless I -choose to do so.” - -Then the giant sprang up and caught two of my companions, and dashed -them to the ground so hard that they died before my eyes; and the earth -was wet with their blood. Then he cut them into pieces, and made ready -his evening meal. So he ate, as a lion of the mountains; and we wept and -raised our hands to Jupiter, and knew not what to do. And after the -Cyclops had filled himself, he lay down among his sheep. - -Then I considered in my great heart whether I should not draw my sharp -sword, and stab him in the breast. But upon second thought, I held back. -For I knew that we would not be able to roll away with our hands the -heavy stone which the giant had set against the door, and we would then -have perished in the cave. So, all night long, we crouched trembling in -the darkness, and waited the coming of the day. - -Now, when the rosy-fingered Dawn shone forth, the Cyclops arose and -kindled the fire. Then he is milked his goodly flock, and beneath each -ewe he set her lamb. When he had done all his work busily, he seized two -others of my men, and made ready his morning meal. And after the meal, -he moved away the great door stone, and drove his fat flocks forth from -the cave; and when the last sheep had gone out, he set the stone in its -place again, as one might set the lid of a quiver. Then, with a loud -whoop, he turned his flocks toward the hills; but I was left shut up in -the cave, and thinking what we should do to avenge ourselves. - -And at last this plan seemed to me the best. Not far from the sheepfold -there lay a great club of the Cyclops, a club of olive wood, yet green, -which he had cut to carry with him when it should be fully seasoned. Now -when we looked at this stick, it seemed to us as large as the mast of a -black ship of twenty oars, a wide merchant vessel that sails the vast -sea. I stood by it, and cut off from it a piece some six feet in length, -and set it by my men, and bade them trim it down and make it smooth; and -while they did this, I stood by and sharpened it to a point. Then I took -it and hardened it in the bright fire; and after that, I laid it away -and hid it. And I bade my men cast lots to determine which of them -should help me, when the time came, to lift the sharp and heavy stick -and turn it about in the Cyclops’ eye. And the lots fell upon those whom -I would have chosen, and I appointed myself to be the fifth among them. - - -II. - -In the evening the Cyclops came home, bringing his well-fleeced flocks; -and soon he drove the beasts, each and all, into the cave, and left not -one outside in the high-walled yard. Then he lifted the huge door stone, -and set it in the mouth of the cave; and after that he milked the ewes -and the bleating goats, all in order, and beneath each ewe he placed her -young. - -Now when he had done all his work busily, he seized two others of my -men, and made ready his supper. Then I stood before the Cyclops and -spoke to him, holding in my hands a bowl of dark wine: “Cyclops, take -this wine and drink it after thy feast, that thou mayest know what kind -of wine it was that our good ship carried. For, indeed, I was bringing -it to thee as a drink offering, if haply thou wouldst pity us and send -us on our way home; but thy mad rage seems to have no bounds.” - -So I spoke, and he took the cup and drank the wine; and so great was his -delight that he asked me for yet a second draught. - -“Kindly give me more, and tell me thy name, so that I may give thee a -stranger’s gift and make thee glad.” - -Thus he spoke, and again I handed him the dark wine. Three times did I -hand it to him, and three times did he drink it to the dregs. But when -the wine began to confuse his wits, then I spoke to him with soft words: - -“O Cyclops, thou didst ask for my renowned name, and now I will tell it -to thee; but do thou grant me a stranger’s gift, as thou hast promised. -My name is No-man; my father and my mother and all my companions call me -No-man.” - -Thus I spoke, and he answered me out of his pitiless heart: “I will eat -thee, No-man, after I have eaten all thy fellows: that shall be thy -gift.” - -Then he sank down upon the ground with his face upturned; and there he -lay with his great neck bent round; and sleep, that conquers all men, -overcame him. Then I thrust that stake under the burning coals until the -sharpened end of it grew hot; and I spoke words of comfort to my men -lest they should hang back with fear. But when the bar of olive wood -began to glow and was about to catch fire, even then I came nigh and -drew it from the coals, and my men stood around me, and some god filled -our hearts with courage. - -The men seized the bar of olive wood and thrust it into the Cyclops’ -eye, while I from my place aloft turned it around. As when a man bores a -ship’s beam with a drill while his fellows below spin it with a strap, -which they hold at either end, and the auger runs round continually: -even so did we seize the fiery-pointed brand and whirl it round in his -eye. And the flames singed his eyelids and brows all about, as the ball -of the eye was burned away. And the Cyclops raised a great and terrible -cry that made the rocks around us ring, and we fled away in fear, while -he plucked the brand from his bleeding eye. - -Then, maddened with pain, he cast the bar from him, and called with a -loud voice to the Cyclopes, his neighbors, who dwelt near him in the -caves along the cliffs. And they heard his cry, and flocked together -from every side, and standing outside, at the door of the cave, asked -him what was the matter: - -“What troubles thee, Polyphemus, that thou criest thus in the night, and -wilt not let us sleep?” - -The strong Cyclops whom they thus called Polyphemus, answered them from -the cave: “My friends, No-man is killing me by guile, and not by force!” - -And they spoke winged words to him: “If no man is mistreating thee in -thy lonely cave, then it must be some sickness, sent by Jupiter, that is -giving thee pain. Pray to thy father, great Neptune, and perhaps he will -cure thee.” - -And when they had said this they went away; and my heart within me -laughed to see how my name and cunning counsel had deceived them. But -the Cyclops, groaning with pain, groped with his hands, and lifted the -stone from the door of the cave. Then he sat in the doorway, with arms -outstretched, to lay hold of any one that might try to go out with the -sheep; for he thought that I would be thus foolish. But I began to think -of all kinds of plans by which we might escape; and this was the plan -which seemed to me the best: - -The rams of the flock were thick-fleeced, beautiful, and large; and -their wool was dark as the violet. These I quietly lashed together with -the strong withes which the Cyclops had laid in heaps to sleep upon. I -tied them together in threes: the middle one of the three was to carry a -man; but the sheep on either side went only as a shield to keep him from -discovery. Thus, every three sheep carried their man. As for me, I laid -hold of a young ram, the best and strongest of all the flock; and I -clung beneath him, face upward, grasping the wondrous fleece. - -As soon as the early Dawn shone forth, the rams of the flock hastened -out to the pasture, but the ewes bleated about the pens and waited to be -milked. As the rams passed through the doorway, their master, sore -stricken with pain, felt along their backs, and guessed not in his folly -that my men were bound beneath their wooly breasts. Last of all, came -the young ram cumbered with his heavy fleece, and the weight of me and -my cunning. The strong Cyclops laid his hands on him and spoke to him: - -“Dear ram,” he said, “pray tell me why you are the last of all to go -forth from the cave. You are not wont to lag behind. Hitherto you have -always been the first to pluck the tender blossoms of the pasture, and -you have been the first to go back to the fold at evening. But now you -are the very last. Can it be that you are sorrowing for your master’s -eye which a wicked man blinded when he had overcome me with wine? - -“Ah, if you could feel as I--if you could speak and tell me where he is -hiding to shun my wrath--then I would smite him, and my heart would be -lightened of the sorrows that he has brought upon me.” - -Then he sent the ram from him; and when we had gone a little way from -the cave I loosed myself from under the ram, and then set my fellows -free. Swiftly we drove the flock before us, and often is turned to look -about, till at last we came to the ship. - -Our companions greeted us with glad hearts,--us who had fled from death; -and they were about to bemoan the others with tears when I forbade. I -told them to make haste and take on board the well-fleeced sheep, and -then sail away from that unfriendly shore. So they did as they were -bidden, and when all was ready, they sat upon the benches, each man in -his place, and smote the gray sea water with their oars. - -[Illustration: Ship in the Time of Homer.] - -But when we had not gone so far but that a man’s shout could be heard, I -called to the Cyclops and taunted him: - -“Cyclops, you will not eat us by main might in your hollow cave! Your -evil deeds, O cruel monster, were sure to find you out; for you -shamelessly ate the guests that were within your gates, and now Jupiter -and the other gods have requited you as you deserved.” - -Thus I spoke, and so great became his anger that he broke off the peak -of a great hill and threw it at us, and it fell in front of the -dark-prowed ship. And the sea rose in waves from the fall of the rock, -and drove the ship quickly back to the shore. Then I caught up a long -pole in my hands, and thrust the ship from off the land; and with a -motion of the head, I bade them dash in with their oars, so that we -might escape from our evil plight. So they bent to their oars and rowed -on. - - * * * * * - -Such is the story which Ulysses told of his adventure with the giant -Cyclops. Many and strange were the other adventures through which he -passed before he reached his distant home; and all are related in that -wonderful poem, the “Odyssey.” This poem has been often translated into -the English language. Some of the translations are in the form of -poetry, and of these the best are the versions by George Chapman, by -Alexander Pope, and by our American poet William Cullen Bryant. The best -prose translation is that by Butcher and Lang--and this I have followed -quite closely in the story which you have just read. - - - - -THE BROOK. - - - I come from haunts of coot and hern: - I make a sudden sally, - And sparkle out among the fern, - To bicker down the valley; - - By thirty hills I hurry down, - Or slip between the ridges, - By twenty thorps, a little town, - And half a hundred bridges. - -[Illustration: Alfred Tennyson.] - - Till last by Philip’s farm I flow - To join the brimming river; - For men may come and men may go, - But I go on forever. - - I chatter over stony ways - In little sharps and trebles. - I bubble into eddying bays, - I babble on the pebbles; - - With many a curve my banks I fret - By many a field and fallow, - And many a fairy foreland set - With willow-weed and mallow; - - I chatter, chatter, as I flow - To join the brimming river; - For men may come, and men may go, - But I go on forever. - - I wind about, and in and out, - With here a blossom sailing, - And here and there a lusty trout, - And here and there a grayling, - - And here and there a foamy flake, - Upon me as I travel, - With many a silvery waterbreak - Above the golden gravel, - - And draw them all along, and flow - To join the brimming river; - For men may come, and men may go, - But I go on forever. - - I steal by lawns and grassy plots, - I slide by hazel covers; - I move the sweet forget-me-nots - That grow for happy lovers; - -[Illustration] - - I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, - Among my skimming swallows; - I make the netted sunbeam dance - Against my sandy shallows; - - I murmur under moon and stars - In brambly wildernesses; - I linger by my shingly bars, - I loiter round my cresses; - - And out again I curve and flow - To join the brimming river; - For men may come, and men may go, - But I go on forever. - --_Alfred Tennyson._ - - - - -THE LADY OF SHALOTT. - - -PART I. - - On either side the river lie - Long fields of barley and of rye, - That clothe the wold and meet the sky: - And through the fields the road runs by - To many-towered Camelot; - And up and down the people go, - Gazing where the lilies blow - Round an island there below, - The island of Shalott. - - Willows whiten, aspens quiver, - Little breezes dusk and shiver - Through the wave that runs forever - By the island in the river - Flowing down to Camelot; - Four gray walls, and four gray towers, - Overlook a space of flowers, - And the silent isle imbowers - The Lady of Shalott. - - By the margin, willow-veiled, - Slide the heavy barges, trailed - By slow horses; and unhailed - The shallop flitteth silken-sailed, - Skimming down to Camelot: - But who hath seen her wave her hand? - Or at the casement seen her stand? - Or is she known in all the land, - The Lady of Shalott? - - Only reapers, reaping early - In among the bearded barley, - Hear a song that echoes cheerly - From the river winding clearly, - Down to towered Camelot: - And by the moon the reaper weary, - Piling sheaves in uplands airy, - Listening, whispers, “‘Tis the fairy - Lady of Shalott.” - - -PART II. - - There she weaves by night and day - A magic web with colors gay. - She has heard a whisper say, - A curse is on her if she stay - To look down to Camelot. - She knows not what the curse may be, - And so she weaveth steadily, - And little other care hath she, - The Lady of Shalott. - - And moving through a mirror clear, - That hangs before her all the year, - Shadows of the world appear. - There she sees the highway near - Winding down to Camelot: - There the river eddy whirls, - And there the surly village churls, - And the red cloaks of market girls - Pass onward from Shalott. - - Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, - An abbot on an ambling pad, - Sometimes a curly shepherd lad - Or long-haired page in crimson clad, - Goes by to towered Camelot; - And sometimes through the mirror blue, - The knights come riding two and two:-- - She hath no loyal knight and true, - The Lady of Shalott. - - But in her web she still delights - To weave the mirrored magic sights, - For often through the silent nights - A funeral, with plumes and lights, - And music, went to Camelot; - Or, when the moon was overhead, - Came two young lovers lately wed. - “I am half-sick of shadows,” said - The Lady of Shalott. - - -PART III. - - A bowshot from her bower eaves, - He rode between the barley sheaves, - The sun came dazzling through the leaves, - And flamed upon the brazen greaves - Of bold Sir Lancelot. - A red-cross knight forever kneeled - To a lady in his shield - That sparkled on the yellow field, - Beside remote Shalott. - - The gemmy bridle glittered free, - Like to some branch of stars we see - Hung in the golden Galaxy. - The bridle bells rang merrily - As he rode down to Camelot: - And from his blazoned baldric slung - A mighty silver bugle hung, - And as he rode his armor rung, - Beside remote Shalott. - - All in the blue unclouded weather - Thick-jewelled shone the saddle leather, - The helmet and the helmet feather - Burned like one burning flame together, - As he rode down to Camelot. - As often through the purple night, - Below the starry clusters bright, - Some bearded meteor, trailing light, - Moves over still Shalott. - - His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed; - On burnished hooves his war horse trode; - From underneath his helmet flowed - His coal-black curls as on he rode, - As he rode down to Camelot. - From the bank and from the river - He flashed into the crystal mirror; - “Tirra lirra,” by the river - Sang Sir Lancelot. - - She left the web, she left the loom, - She made three paces through the room, - She saw the water lily bloom, - She saw the helmet and the plume, - She looked down to Camelot. - Out flew the web and floated wide; - The mirror cracked from side to side; - “The curse is come upon me,” cried - The Lady of Shalott. - - -PART IV. - - In the stormy east wind straining, - The pale yellow woods were waning, - The broad stream in his banks complaining, - Heavily the low sky raining - Over towered Camelot; - Down she came and found a boat - Beneath a willow left afloat, - And round about the prow she wrote, - _The Lady of Shalott_. - - And down the river’s dim expanse-- - Like some bold seer in a trance, - Seeing all his own mischance-- - With a glassy countenance - Did she look to Camelot. - And at the closing of the day - She loosed the chain, and down she lay; - The broad stream bore her far away, - The Lady of Shalott. - - Lying, robed in snowy white - That loosely flew to left and right-- - The leaves upon her falling light-- - Through the noises of the night - She floated down to Camelot: - And as the boat-head wound along - The willowy hills and fields among, - They heard her singing her last song, - The Lady of Shalott. - - Heard a carol, mournful, holy, - Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, - Till her blood was frozen slowly, - And her eyes were darkened wholly, - Turned to towered Camelot; - For ere she reached upon the tide - The first house by the waterside, - Singing in her song she died, - The Lady of Shalott. - - Under tower and balcony, - By garden wall and gallery, - A gleaming shape she floated by, - A corse between the houses high, - Silent into Camelot. - Out upon the wharfs they came, - Knight and burgher, lord and dame, - And round the prow they read her name, - _The Lady of Shalott_. - - Who is this? and what is here? - And in the lighted palace near - Died the sound of royal cheer; - And they crossed themselves for fear, - All the knights at Camelot; - But Lancelot mused a little space; - He said, “She has a lovely face; - God in his mercy lend her grace, - The Lady of Shalott.” - - This poem, by Alfred Tennyson, was written in 1832. Considered as a - picture, or as a series of pictures, its beauty is unsurpassed. The - story which is here so briefly told is founded upon a touching - legend connected with the romance of King Arthur and his Knights of - the Round Table. Tennyson afterwards (in 1859) expanded it into the - _Idyll_ called “Elaine,” wherein he followed more closely the - original narrative as related by Sir Thomas Malory. - - Sir Lancelot was the strongest and bravest of the Knights of the - Round Table, and for love of him Elaine, “the fair maid of - Astolat,” pined away and died. But before her death she called her - brother, and having dictated a letter which he was to write, she - spoke thus: - - “‘While my body is whole, let this letter be put into my right - hand, and my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold, and - let me be put in a fair bed with all my richest clothes that I have - about me, and so let my bed and all my rich clothes be laid with me - in a chariot to the next place whereas the Thames is, and there let - me be put in a barge, and but one man with me, such as ye trust to - steer me thither, and that my barge be covered with black samite - over and over.’... So when she was dead, the corpse and the bed and - all was led the next way unto the Thames, and there all were put in - a barge on the Thames, and so the man steered the barge to - Westminster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro, or any - man espied.”[1] At length the King and his Knights, coming down to - the water side, and seeing the boat and the fair maid of Astolat, - they uplifted the hapless body of Elaine, and bore it to the hall. - - [1] Malory’s “King Arthur,” Book XVIII. - -[Illustration: Elaine. - - From the Painting by T. E. Rosenthal. Engraved by Henry Wolf. - -(See note, p. 77.)] - - - - -LESSONS FROM NATURE’S BOOK. - - -Let us suppose that it is summer time, that you are in the country, and -that you have fixed upon a certain day for a holiday ramble. Some of you -are going to gather wild flowers, some to collect pebbles, and some -without any very definite aim beyond the love of the holiday and of any -sport or adventure which it may bring with it. - -Soon after sunrise on the eventful day you are awake, and great is your -delight to find the sky clear, and the sun shining warmly. It is -arranged, however, that you do not start until after breakfast time, and -meanwhile you busy yourselves in getting ready all the baskets and -sticks and other gear of which you are to make use during the day. But -the brightness of the morning begins to get dimmed. The few clouds which -were to be seen at first have grown large, and seem evidently gathering -together for a storm. And sure enough, ere breakfast is well over, the -first ominous big drops are seen falling. - -You cling to the hope that it is only a shower which will soon be over, -and you go on with the preparations for the journey notwithstanding. But -the rain shows no symptom of soon ceasing. The big drops come down -thicker and faster. Little pools of water begin to form in the hollows -of the road, and the window panes are now streaming with rain. With sad -hearts you have to give up all hope of holding your excursion to-day. - -It is no doubt very tantalizing to be disappointed in this way when the -promised pleasure was on the very point of becoming yours. But let us -see if we can not derive some compensation even from the bad weather. -Late in the afternoon the sky clears a little, and the rain ceases. You -are glad to get outside again, and so we all sally forth for a walk. -Streams of muddy water are still coursing along the sloping roadway. If -you will let me be your guide, I would advise that we should take our -walk by the neighboring river. We wend our way by wet paths and green -lanes, where every hedgerow is still dripping with moisture, until we -gain the bridge, and see the river right beneath us. What a change this -one day’s heavy rain has made! Yesterday you could almost count the -stones in the channel, so small and clear was the current. But look at -it now! - -The water fills the channel from bank to bank, and rolls along swiftly. -We can watch it for a little from the bridge. As it rushes past, -innumerable leaves and twigs are seen floating on its surface. Now and -then a larger branch, or even a whole tree trunk, comes down, tossing -and rolling about on the flood. Sheaves of straw or hay, planks of -wood, pieces of wooden fence, sometimes a poor duck, unable to struggle -against the current, roll past us and show how the river has risen above -its banks and done damage to the farms higher up its course. - -We linger for a while on the bridge, watching this unceasing tumultuous -rush of water and the constant variety of objects which it carries down -the channel. You think it was perhaps almost worth while to lose your -holiday for the sake of seeing so grand a sight as this angry and -swollen river, roaring and rushing with its full burden of dark water. -Now, while the scene is still fresh before you, ask yourselves a few -simple questions about it, and you will find perhaps additional reasons -for not regretting the failure of the promised excursion. - -In the first place, where does all this added mass of water in the river -come from? You say it was the rain that brought it. Well, but how should -it find its way into this broad channel? Why does not the rain run off -the ground without making any river at all? - -But, in the second place, where does the rain come from? In the early -morning the sky was bright, then clouds appeared, and then came the -rain, and you answer that it was the clouds which supplied the rain. But -the clouds must have derived the water from some source. How is it that -clouds gather rain, and let it descend upon the earth? - -In the third place, what is it which causes the river to rush on in one -direction more than another? When the water was low, and you could, -perhaps, almost step across the channel on the stones and gravel, the -current, small though it might be, was still quite perceptible. You saw -that the water was moving along the channel always from the same -quarter. And now when the channel is filled with this rolling torrent of -dark water, you see that the direction of the current is still the same. -Can you tell why this should be? - -Again, yesterday the water was clear, to-day it is dark and discolored. -Take a little of this dirty-looking water home with you, and let it -stand all night in a glass. To-morrow morning you will find that it is -clear, and that a fine layer of mud has sunk to the bottom. It is mud, -therefore, which discolors the swollen river. But where did this mud -come from? Plainly, it must have something to do with the heavy rain and -the flooded state of the stream. - -Well, this river, whether in shallow or in flood, is always moving -onward in one direction, and the mud which it bears along is carried -toward the same point to which the river itself is hastening. While we -sit on the bridge watching the foaming water as it eddies and whirls -past us, the question comes home to us--what becomes of all this vast -quantity of water and mud? - -Remember, now, that our river is only one of many hundreds which flow -across this country, and that there are thousands more in other -countries where the same thing may be seen which we have been watching -to-day. They are all flooded when heavy rains come; they all flow -downwards; and all of them carry more or less mud along with them. - -As we walk homewards again, it will be well to put together some of the -chief features of this day’s experience. We have seen that sometimes the -sky is clear and blue, with the sun shining brightly and warmly in it; -that sometimes clouds come across the sky, and that, when they gather -thickly, rain is apt to fall. We have seen that a river flows, that it -is swollen by heavy rain, and that when swollen it is apt to be muddy. -In this way we have learned that there is a close connection between the -sky above us and the earth under our feet. In the morning, it seemed but -a little thing that clouds should be seen gathering overhead; and yet, -ere evening fell, these clouds led by degrees to the flooding of the -river, the sweeping down of trees and fences and farm produce; and it -might even be to the destruction of bridges, the inundation of fields -and villages and towns, and a large destruction of human life and -property. - -But perhaps you live in a large town and have no opportunity of seeing -such country sights as I have been describing, and in that case you may -naturally enough imagine that these things cannot have much interest for -you. You may learn a great deal, however, about rain and streams even in -the streets of a town. Catch a little of the rain in a plate, and you -will find it to be so much clear water. But look at it as it courses -along the gutters. You see how muddy it is. It has swept away the loose -dust worn by wheels and feet from the stones of the street, and carried -it into the gutters. Each gutter thus becomes like the flooded river. -You can watch, too, how chips of straw, corks, bits of wood, and other -loose objects lying in the street are borne away, very much as the -trunks of trees are carried by the river. Even in a town, therefore, you -can see how changes in the sky lead to changes on the earth. - -If you think for a little, you will recall many other illustrations of -the way in which the common things of everyday life are connected -together. As far back as you can remember, you have been familiar with -such things as sunshine, clouds, wind, rain, rivers, frost, and snow, -and they have grown so commonplace that you never think of considering -about them. You cannot imagine them, perhaps, as in any way different -from what they are; they seem, indeed, so natural and so necessary that -you may even be surprised when any one asks you to give a reason for -them. - -But if you had lived all your lives in a country where no rain ever -fell, and if you were to be brought to such a country as this, and were -to see such a storm of rain as you have been watching to-day, would it -not be very strange to you, and would you not naturally enough begin to -ask the meaning of it? Or suppose that a boy from some very warm part of -the world were to visit this country in winter, and see for the first -time snow falling, and the rivers solidly frozen over, would you be -surprised if he showed great astonishment? If he asked you to tell him -what snow is, and why the ground is so hard, and the air so cold, why -the streams no longer flow, but have become crusted with ice--could you -answer his questions? - -And yet these questions relate to very common, everyday things. If you -think about them, you will learn, perhaps, that the answers are not -quite so easily found as you had imagined. Do not suppose that because a -thing is common, it can have no interest for you. There is really -nothing so common as not to deserve your attention. - -I would fain have you not to be content with what is said in books, -whether small or great, but rather to get into the habit of using your -own eyes and seeing for yourselves what takes place in this wonderful -world of ours. All round you there is abundant material for this most -delightful inquiry. No excursion you ever made in pursuit of mere -enjoyment and adventure by river, heath, or hill, could give you more -hearty pleasure than a ramble, with eyes and ears alike open to note the -lessons to be learned from every day and from every landscape. Remember -that besides the printed books which you use at home, or at school, -there is the great book of Nature, wherein each of us, young and old, -may read, and go on reading all through life without exhausting even a -small part of what it has to teach us. - -It is this book--about Air, Earth, and Sea--that I would have you look -into. Do not be content with merely noticing that such and such events -take place. For instance, to return to our walk to the flooded river: do -not let a fact such as a storm or a flood pass without trying to find -out something about it. Get into the habit of asking Nature questions. -Never rest until you get at the reasons for what you notice going on -around you. - - --_Sir Archibald Geikie._ - - - - -THE GOODMAN OF BALLENGIECH. - - -Perhaps few books of Scottish history have been more generally read than -the “Tales of a Grandfather,” written seventy years ago by Sir Walter -Scott for the amusement of his little grandson. These “Tales” are -supposed to be taken from the old Scotch chronicles, and they relate, -with many touches of romance, the stirring and most graphic incidents in -the early history of Scotland. They embrace the stories of William -Wallace, the patriot chief, and of brave King Robert Bruce, and of many -another hero of Scotch history. The following account of King James V., -who was the father of Mary, Queen of Scots, is taken from these “Tales.” - - * * * * * - -James the Fifth had a custom of going about the country disguised as a -private person, in order to hear complaints that might not otherwise -reach his ears, and perhaps also to enjoy amusement which he could not -have partaken of in his character as King of Scotland. - -When James traveled in disguise he used a name which was known only to -some of his nobles and attendants. He was called the Goodman (the -tenant, that is) of Ballengiech.[2] Ballengiech is a steep pass which -leads down behind the castle of Stirling. Once upon a time, when the -court was feasting in Stirling, the king sent for some venison from the -neighboring hills. The deer were killed and put on horses’ backs to be -transported to Stirling. - - [2] Pronounced bạll´en gēēk. - -Unluckily they had to pass the castle gates of Arnpryor, belonging to a -chief of the Buchanans, who chanced to have a considerable number of -guests with him. It was late, and the company was rather short of -victuals, though they had more than enough of liquor. The chief, seeing -so much fat venison passing his very door, seized on it; and to the -expostulations of the keepers, who told him it belonged to King James, -he answered insolently that if James was king in Scotland, he, Buchanan, -was king in Kippen, that being the name of the district in which the -castle of Arnpryor lay. - -On hearing what had happened, the king got on horseback and rode -instantly from Stirling to Buchanan’s house, where he found a strong, -fierce-looking Highlander, with an ax on his shoulder, standing sentinel -at the door. This grim warder refused the king admittance, saying that -the laird was at dinner and would not be disturbed. “Yet go up to the -company, my good friend,” said the king, “and tell him that the Goodman -of Ballengiech is come to feast with the King of Kippen.” - -The porter went grumbling into the house and told his master that there -was a fellow with a red beard at the gate, who called himself the -Goodman of Ballengiech, and said he was come to dine with the King of -Kippen. As soon as Buchanan heard these words, he knew that the king was -come in person, and hastened down to kneel at James’s feet and ask -forgiveness for his insolent behavior. But the king, who only meant to -give him a fright, forgave him freely, and going into the castle, -feasted on his own venison which the chief had taken from his men. -Buchanan of Arnpryor was ever afterwards called the King of Kippen. - -Upon another occasion, King James, being alone and in disguise, fell -into a quarrel with some gypsies, or other vagrants, and was assaulted -by four or five of them. This chanced to be very near the bridge of -Cramond; so the king got on the bridge, which, as it was high and -narrow, enabled him to defend himself with his sword against the number -of persons by whom he was attacked. - -There was a poor farmer threshing corn in a barn near by, who came out -on hearing the noise of the scuffle, and, seeing one man defending -himself against numbers, gallantly took the king’s part with his flail, -to such good purpose that the gypsies were obliged to fly. The farmer -then took the king into the barn, brought him a towel and water to wash -the blood from his face and hands, and finally walked with him a little -way toward Edinburgh, in case he should be again attacked. - -On the way, the king asked his companion what and who he was. The man -answered that his name was John Howieson, and that he was a bondsman on -the farm of Braehead, near Cramond, which belonged to the King of -Scotland. James then asked him if there was any wish in the world which -he would particularly wish to have gratified; and honest John confessed -he should think himself the happiest man in Scotland were he but -proprietor of the farm on which he wrought as a laborer. - -He then asked the king in turn who _he_ was, and James replied, as -usual, that he was the Goodman of Ballengiech, a poor man who had a -small appointment about the palace; but he added that, if John Howieson -would come to see him on the next Sunday, he would endeavor to repay his -manful assistance, and, at least, give him the pleasure of seeing the -royal apartments. - -John put on his best clothes, as you may suppose, and, appearing at a -postern gate of the palace, inquired for the Goodman of Ballengiech. The -king had given orders that he should be admitted; and John found his -friend, the goodman, in the same disguise which he had formerly worn. -The king conducted John Howieson from one apartment of the palace to -another, and was amused with his wonder and his remarks. - -At length James asked his visitor if he would like to see the king; to -which John replied that nothing would delight him so much, if he could -do so without giving offense. The Goodman of Ballengiech, of course, -undertook that the king would not be angry. “But,” said John, “how am I -to know his grace from the nobles who will be all about him?”--“Easily,” -replied his companion; “all the others will be uncovered--the king alone -will wear his hat or bonnet.” - -So speaking, King James introduced the countryman into a great hall, -which was filled with the nobility and officers of the crown. John was a -little frightened, and drew close to his attendant, but was still unable -to distinguish the king. “I told you that you should know him by his -wearing his hat,” said the conductor. “Then,” said John, after he had -again looked around the room, “it must be either you or me, for all but -us two are bareheaded.” - -The king laughed at John’s fancy; and, that the good yeoman might have -occasion for mirth also, he made him a present of the farm of Braehead, -which he had wished so much to possess. - - - - -BUGLE SONG. - - - The splendor falls on castle walls - And snowy summits old in story: - The long light shakes across the lakes, - And the wild cataract leaps in glory. - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, - Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. - - Oh hark! oh hear! how thin and clear, - And thinner, clearer, further going! - Oh sweet and far, from cliff and scar, - The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! - Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: - Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. - - Oh love, they die in yon rich sky, - They faint on hill or field or river: - Our echoes roll from soul to soul, - And grow for ever and for ever. - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, - And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. - --_Alfred Tennyson._ - - - - -SOME EXPERIENCES AT SEA. - -THE FIRST DAYS OUT. - - -In 1834, Richard Henry Dana, Jr., then a young man of nineteen, made a -voyage to California, which was at that time almost an unknown region. -He went as a common sailor “before the mast”; and on his return he wrote -a narrative of his experience, depicting in its true colors the real -life of the sailor at sea. This narrative was published in a volume -entitled “Two Years before the Mast,” and is still regarded as one of -the most interesting stories of its kind. The following is Mr. Dana’s -account of some of his first experiences at sea:-- - -“With all my imperfections on my head,” I joined the crew. We hauled out -into the stream, and came to anchor for the night. The next morning was -Saturday; and, a breeze having sprung up from the southward, we took a -pilot on board, hove up our anchor, and began beating down the bay. - -[Illustration: A Full-rigged Ship.] - -I took leave of those of my friends who came to see me off, and had -barely opportunity to take a last look at the city and well-known -objects, as no time is allowed on board ship for sentiment. As we drew -down into the lower harbor, we found the wind ahead in the bay, and were -obliged to come to anchor in the roads. We remained there through the -day and a part of the night. - -About midnight the wind became fair; and having called the captain, I -was ordered to call all hands. How I accomplished this I do not know; -but I am quite sure that I did not give the true, hoarse, boatswain call -of “A-a-ll ha-a-a-nds! up anchor, a-ho-oy!” In a short time every one -was in motion, the sails loosed, the yards braced, and we began to heave -up the anchor, which was our last hold upon Yankee-land. - -I could take but little part in these preparations. My little knowledge -of a vessel was all at fault. Unintelligible orders were so rapidly -given, and so immediately executed, there was such a hurrying about, -such an intermingling of strange cries and stranger actions, that I was -completely bewildered. There is not so helpless and pitiable an object -in the world as a landsman beginning a sailor’s life. - -The first day we passed at sea was the Sabbath. As we were just from -port, and there was a great deal to be done on board, we were kept at -work all day. At night the watches were set, and everything put into sea -order. I had now a fine time for reflection. I felt for the first time -the perfect silence of the sea. The officer was walking the -quarter-deck, where I had no right to go. One or two men were talking on -the forecastle, whom I had little inclination to join; so that I was -left open to the full impression of everything about me. - -However much I was affected by the beauty of the sea, the bright stars, -and the clouds driven swiftly over them, I could not but remember that I -was separating myself from all the social and intellectual enjoyments of -life. Yet, strange as it may seem, I did then and afterwards take -pleasure in these reflections, hoping by them to prevent my becoming -insensible to the value of what I was leaving. - -But all my dreams were soon put to flight by an order from the officer -to trim the yards, as the wind was getting ahead. I could plainly see, -by the looks the sailors occasionally cast to windward, and by the dark -clouds that were fast coming up, that we had bad weather to prepare for, -and had heard the captain say that he expected to be in the Gulf Stream -by twelve o’clock. In a few minutes “eight bells” was struck, the watch -called, and we went below. - -I now began to feel the first discomforts of a sailor’s life. The -steerage in which I lived was filled with coils of rigging, spare sails, -old junk, and ship stores, which had not been stowed away. Moreover, -there had been no berths built for us to sleep in, and we were not -allowed to drive nails to hang our clothes upon. - -The sea, too, had risen, the vessel was rolling heavily, and everything -was pitched about in grand confusion. I shortly heard the raindrops -falling on deck, thick and fast. The watch had evidently their hands -full of work, for I could hear the loud and repeated orders of the mate, -the trampling of feet, the creaking of blocks, and all the indications -of a coming storm. - -When I got upon deck, a new scene and a new experience were before me. -The little brig was close-hauled upon the wind, and lying over, as it -then seemed to me, nearly upon her beam ends. The heavy head sea was -beating against her bows with the noise and force almost of a sledge -hammer, and flying over the deck, drenching us completely through. The -topsail halyards had been let go, and the great sails were filling out -and backing against the masts with a noise like thunder. The wind was -whistling through the rigging, loose ropes flying about; loud, and to me -unintelligible, orders were constantly given, and rapidly executed; and -the sailors were “singing out” at the ropes in their hoarse and peculiar -strains. - -In addition to all this, I had not got my “sea legs on,” was dreadfully -sick, with hardly strength enough to hold on to anything; and it was -pitch dark. This was my state when I was ordered aloft, for the first -time, to reef topsails. - -How I got along I cannot now remember. I “laid out” on the yards, and -held on with all my strength. I could not have been of much service, for -I remember having been sick several times before I left the topsail -yard. Soon, however, all was snug aloft, and we were again allowed to go -below. - - - - -THE KING AND THE REBEL. - - -In Spain there once lived two men each of whom claimed to be the -rightful king. I do not remember their names, the time was so long ago, -but to make the story easier to tell, let us call one Alfonso and the -other John. Of course John declared that Alfonso was a traitor, and -Alfonso said that John was a rebel and must be put down. At last, in a -great battle, John overthrew his rival and made himself master of the -country. But one strong town which Alfonso had intrusted to a knight -called Aguilar still held out, and although John besieged it with all -his army, he could not take it. - -“You have done enough for honor,” said King John one day to the knight. -“Come, open the gates of the town to my army, and I promise that you -shall not suffer.” - -“If you had read the history of our country,” answered Aguilar, “you -would have learned that no man of my family ever surrenders.” - -“Then I will starve you where you are!” - -“Starve the eagle if you can,” said the knight. - -“I will put you and your town to the sword.” - -“Try it,” was the reply, and the siege went on. - -One morning, as the rising sun was beginning to gild with its rays the -highest towers of the city, a trumpet sounded in the camp of the enemy. -It was the signal for a parley. The old knight soon appeared on the wall -and looked down on the king. - -“Surrender,” said King John again. “My rival Alfonso is dead, and our -dispute is ended.” - -“Sir,” said the knight, “I believe that you speak the truth, but I must -see my dead master.” - -“Go, then, to Seville, where his body lies,” said the king. “You have my -word that no harm shall befall you.” - -The knight came out with banners flying and an escort of a few -half-starved warriors. As he rode slowly along, the soldiers who knew of -his courage and his many brave deeds, greeted him with loud shouts and -gazed after him until the red plume above his helmet disappeared in the -distance. - -As soon as he reached Seville, he went straight to the great church -where he was told the body of his master was still lying in its open -coffin. Gazing awhile with tearful eyes at the pale face which met his -look, he thus spoke to the dead Alfonso: “Sir, I promised never to -surrender to any one but yourself the keys of the town which you -intrusted to my care. Here they are. I have kept my promise.” With that, -he laid the keys on the breast of his master, and then, mounting his -steed, he galloped back to his post. - -“Well,” said the king, “are you satisfied, and are you willing to give -up?” - -“Yes, sir,” he answered. - -“But where are the keys of the town?” - -“I have delivered them to my master, King Alfonso, and of him you may -get them. Now I ride on, and we shall meet no more.” - -“Not so,” said the king. “You shall hold the town for me and be its -governor in my name.” - -The followers of the king murmured, and complained at his thus rewarding -a rebel. “He is no longer a rebel,” said King John; “such men when won, -become the best of subjects.” - - --_Charles E. A. Gayarré._ - - - - -DANIEL BOONE. - -I. - - -The settlement of the wilderness beyond the Alleghany Mountains was -promoted by native pioneers. In his peaceful habitation on the banks of -the Yadkin River in North Carolina, Daniel Boone, the illustrious -hunter, had heard Finley, a trader, describe a tract of land, west of -Virginia, as the richest in North America, or in the world. In May, -1769, leaving his wife and offspring, having Finley as his pilot, and -four others as companions, the young man, of about three and twenty, -wandered forth through the wilderness of America “in quest of the -country of Kentucky,” known to the savages as “the dark and bloody -ground.” After a long and fatiguing journey through mountain ranges, the -party found themselves in June on the Red River, a tributary of the -Kentucky, and from the top of an eminence surveyed with delight the -beautiful plain that stretched to the northwest. Here they built their -shelter and began to reconnoiter the country, and to hunt. - -[Illustration: Daniel Boone.] - -All the kinds of wild beasts that were natural to America--the stately -elk, the timid deer, the antlered stag, the wild-cat, the bear, the -panther, and the wolf--couched among the canes, or roamed over the rich -grasses, which even beneath the thickest shade sprung luxuriantly out of -the generous soil. The buffaloes cropped fearlessly the herbage, or -browsed on the leaves of the reed, and were more frequent than cattle in -the settlements of Carolina. Sometimes there were hundreds in a drove, -and round the salt licks their numbers were amazing. - -The summer in which, for the first time, a party of white men enjoyed -the brilliancy of nature near and in the valley of the Elkhorn passed -away in the occupations of exploring parties and the chase. But, one by -one, Boone’s companions dropped off, till he was left alone with John -Stewart. They jointly found unceasing delight in the wonders of the -forest, till, one evening near the Kentucky River, they were taken -prisoners by a band of Indians, wanderers like themselves. They escaped, -and were joined by Boone’s brother; so that when Stewart was soon after -killed by savages, Boone still had his brother to share with him the -dangers and the attractions of the wilderness, the building and -occupying of the first cottage in Kentucky. - -In the spring of 1770 that brother returned to the settlements for -horses and supplies of ammunition, leaving the renowned hunter “by -himself, without bread, or salt, or even a horse or dog.” The idea of a -beloved wife anxious for his safety, tinged his thoughts with sadness; -but otherwise the cheerful, meditative man, careless of wealth, knowing -the use of the rifle, not the plow, of a strong robust frame, in the -vigorous health of early manhood, ignorant of books, but versed in the -forest and in forest life, ever fond of tracking the deer on foot, away -from men, yet in his disposition humane, generous, and gentle, was happy -in the uninterrupted succession of sylvan pleasures. He held unconscious -intercourse with beauty old as creation. - -One calm summer’s evening, as he climbed a commanding ridge, and looked -upon the remote, venerable mountains and the nearer ample plains, and -caught a glimpse in the distance of the Ohio, which bounded the land of -his affections with majestic grandeur, his heart exulted in the region -he had discovered. All things were still. Not a breeze so much as shook -a leaf. He kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, and feasted on -the loin of a buck. He was no more alone than a bee among flowers, but -communed familiarly with the whole universe of life. Nature was his -intimate, and she responded to his intelligence. - -For him the rocks and the fountains, the leaf and the blade of grass, -had life; the cooling air laden with the wild perfume came to him as a -friend; the dewy morning wrapped him in its embrace; the trees stood up -gloriously round about him as so many myriads of companions. All forms -wore the character of desire or peril. But how could he be afraid? -Triumphing over danger, he knew no fear. The perpetual howling of the -wolves by night round his cottage or his bivouac in the brake was his -diversion; and by day he had joy in surveying the various species of -animals that surrounded him. He loved the solitude better than the -towered city or the hum of business. - -Near the end of 1770, his faithful brother came back to meet him at the -old camp. Shortly after they proceeded together to the Cumberland River, -giving names to the different waters; and he then returned to his wife -and children, fixed in his purpose, at the risk of life and fortune, to -bring them as soon as possible to live in Kentucky, which he esteemed a -second Paradise. - - -II. - -In March, 1775, Daniel Boone, with a body of enterprising companions, -proceeded to mark out a path up Powell’s valley, and through the -mountains and canebrakes beyond. On the twenty-fifth of the month they -were waylaid by Indians, who killed two men and wounded another very -severely. Two days later the savages killed and scalped two more. “Now,” -wrote Daniel Boone, “is the time to keep the country while we are in it. -If we give way now, it will ever be the case,” and he pressed forward to -the Kentucky River. There, on the first day of April, at the distance of -about sixty yards from its west bank, near the mouth of Otter Creek, he -began a stockade fort, which took the name of Boonesboro. - -At that place, while the congress at Philadelphia was groping -irresolutely in the dark, seventeen men assembled as representatives of -the four “towns” that then formed the seed of the state. Among these -children of nature was Daniel Boone, the pioneer of the party. His -colleague, Richard Calloway, was one of the founders of Kentucky, and -one of its early martyrs. The town of St. Asaph sent John Floyd, a -surveyor, who emigrated from southwestern Virginia; an able writer, -respected for his culture and dignity of manner; of innate good -breeding; ready to defend the weak; heedless of his own life if he could -recover women and children who had been made captive by the savages; -destined to do good service, and survive the dangers of western life -till American independence should be fought for and won. - -From the settlement at Boiling Spring came James Harrod, the same who, -in 1774, had led a party of forty-one to Harrodsburg, and during the -summer of that year had built the first log-cabin in Kentucky; a tall, -erect, and resolute backwoodsman; unlettered but not ignorant; intrepid -yet gentle; never weary of kind offices to those around him; a skillful -hunter, for whom the rifle had a companionship, and the wilderness a -charm. - -These and their associates, the fathers of Kentucky, seventeen in all, -met on the 23d of May, beneath the great elm tree of Boonesboro, outside -of the fort, on the thick sward of the fragrant white clover. The -convention having been organized, prayers were read by a minister of the -Church of England. A speech was then delivered to the convention in -behalf of the proprietary purchases of the land from the Cherokees. To -it a committee, of which Calloway was the head, made reply. “Deeply -impressed,” they said, “with a sense of the importance of the trust our -constituents have reposed in us, we will attempt the task with vigor, -not doubting but unanimity will insure us success. That we have a right, -as a political body, without giving umbrage to Great Britain, or any of -the colonies, to frame rules for the government of our little society, -cannot be doubted by any sensible or unbiased mind.” - -So reasoned the fathers of Kentucky. In their legislation, it was their -chief care to copy after the happy pattern of the English laws. Their -colony they called Transylvania. For defense against the savages, they -organized a militia; they discountenanced profane swearing and Sabbath -breaking; they took thought for preventing the waste of game, and -improving the breed of horses; and by solemn agreement they established -as the basis of their constitution the annual choice of delegates; taxes -to be raised by the convention alone; perfect religious freedom and -general toleration. - -Thus a little band of hunters put themselves at the head of the -countless hosts of civilization in establishing the great principle of -intellectual freedom. Long as the shadows of the western mountain shall -move round with the sun, long as the rivers that gush from those -mountains shall flow toward the sea, long as seedtime and harvest shall -return, that rule shall remain the law of the West. - -The state of Kentucky honors the memory of the plain, simple hearted -man, who is best known as its pioneer. He was kindly in his nature, and -never wronged a human being, not even an Indian, nor, indeed, animal -life of any kind. “I with others have fought Indians,” he would say; -“but I do not know that I ever killed one. If I did, it was in battle, -and I never knew it.” In woodcraft he was acknowledged to be the first -among men. This led him to love solitude, and to hover on the frontier, -with no abiding place, accompanied by the wife of his youth, who was the -companion of his long life and travel. When, at last, death put them -both to rest, Kentucky reclaimed their bones from their graves far up -the Missouri; and now they lie buried on the hill above the cliffs of -the Kentucky River, overlooking the lovely valley of the capital of that -commonwealth. Around them are emblems of wilderness life; the turf of -the blue grass lies lightly above them; and they are laid with their -faces turned upward and westward, and their feet toward the setting sun. - - * * * * * - -Such is the account which George Bancroft, the first of American -historians, gives of Daniel Boone, the pioneer of Kentucky, and of the -founding of the commonwealth of which Boone was the earliest and most -distinguished promoter. Few other works have contributed so much to the -dignity and distinction of our literature as has Bancroft’s “History of -the United States,” from which this extract has been taken. - -[Illustration: George Bancroft.] - - - - -FULTON’S FIRST STEAMBOAT. - - -It is common to speak of Robert Fulton as the inventor of the steamboat. -Other persons before him, however, had experimented with machinery for -propelling vessels by steam. They had met with but little success or -encouragement, and it was left for Fulton to demonstrate the practical -value of steam as a means of propulsion and to show the superiority of -steamboats to vessels depending solely upon the wind for motive power. -Robert Fulton was born in Pennsylvania in 1765. He began his experiments -with steam in 1793, and his first successful steamboat, the “Clermont,” -was launched on the Hudson in 1807. The trip from New York to Albany -occupied thirty-two hours, the rate of speed being about five miles an -hour. Mr. Fulton himself has left us the following account of the trial -of his boat:-- - -[Illustration: Robert Fulton.] - - * * * * * - -When I was building my first steamboat, the project was viewed by the -public at New York either with indifference or contempt, as a visionary -scheme. My friends indeed were civil, but they were shy. They listened -with patience to my explanations, but with a settled cast of incredulity -on their countenances. I felt the full force of the lamentation of the -poet-- - - “Truths would you teach, to save a sinking land? - All shun, none aid you, and few understand.” - -As I had occasion to pass daily to and from the building yard while my -boat was in progress, I often loitered, unknown, near the idle groups of -strangers gathering in little circles, and heard various inquiries as to -the object of this new vehicle. The language was uniformly that of -scorn, sneer, or ridicule. The loud laugh rose at my expense, the dry -jest, the wise calculations of losses and expenditure; the dull but -endless repetition of “_the Fulton folly!_” Never did an encouraging -remark, a bright hope, or a warm wish cross my path. - -At length the day arrived when the experiment was to be made. To me it -was a most trying and interesting occasion. I wanted my friends to go on -board and witness the first successful trip. Many of them did me the -favor to attend, as a matter of personal respect; but it was manifest -they did it with reluctance, fearing to be partakers of my mortification -and not of my triumph. - -The moment approached in which the word was to be given for the vessel -to move. My friends were in groups on the deck. There was anxiety mixed -with fear among them. I read in their looks nothing but disaster, and -almost repented of my efforts. The signal was given, and the boat moved -on a short distance, and then stopped and became immovable. - -To the silence of the preceding moment now succeeded murmurs of -discontent and agitation, and whispers and shrugs. I could hear -distinctly repeated, “I told you so--it is a foolish scheme. I wish we -were well out of it.” I elevated myself on a platform, and addressed the -assembly. I stated that I knew not what was the matter; but if they -would indulge me for half an hour, I would either go on or abandon the -voyage for that time. - -[Illustration: The “Clermont.”] - -This short respite was conceded without objection. I went below and -examined the machinery, and discovered that the cause was a slight -defect in a part of the work. This was soon remedied; the boat was put -again in motion; she continued to move on. All were still incredulous; -none seemed willing to trust the evidence of their own senses. - -We left the fair city of New York; we passed through the romantic and -ever-varying scenery of the Highlands; we descried the clustering -houses of Albany; we reached its shores; yet even then imagination -superseded the force of fact. It was doubted if it could be done again. - - - - -THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE. - - -[Illustration: William Cullen Bryant.] - - Come, let us plant the apple tree! - Cleave the tough greensward with the spade; - Wide let its hollow bed be made; - There gently lay the roots, and there - Sift the dark mold with kindly care, - And press it o’er them tenderly, - As round the sleeping infant’s feet - We softly fold the cradle sheet; - So plant we the apple tree. - - What plant we in this apple tree? - Buds, which the breath of summer days - Shall lengthen into leafy sprays; - Boughs, where the thrush with crimson breast - Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest. - We plant upon the sunny lea - A shadow for the noontide hour, - A shelter from the summer shower, - When we plant the apple tree. - - What plant we in this apple tree? - Sweets for a hundred flowery springs - To load the May wind’s restless wings, - When from the orchard row he pours - Its fragrance through our open doors. - A world of blossoms for the bee, - Flowers for the sick girl’s silent room, - For the glad infant sprigs of bloom - We plant with the apple tree. - - What plant we in this apple tree? - Fruits that shall swell in sunny June, - And redden in the August noon, - And drop when gentle airs come by - That fan the blue September sky, - While children, wild with noisy glee, - Shall scent their fragrance as they pass - And search for them the tufted grass - At the foot of the apple tree. - - And when above this apple tree - The winter stars are quivering bright, - And winds go howling through the night, - Girls whose young eyes o’erflow with mirth - Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth; - And guests in prouder homes shall see, - Heaped with the orange and the grape, - As fair as they in tint and shape, - The fruit of the apple tree. - - The fruitage of this apple tree - Winds and our flag of stripe and star - Shall bear to coasts that lie afar, - Where men shall wonder at the view - And ask in what fair groves they grew; - And they who roam beyond the sea - Shall think of childhood’s careless day - And long hours passed in summer play - In the shade of the apple tree. - - But time shall waste this apple tree. - Oh! when its aged branches throw - Their shadows on the world below, - Shall fraud and force and iron will - Oppress the weak and helpless still? - What shall the task of mercy be - Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears - Of those who live when length of years - Is wasting this apple tree? - - “Who planted this old apple tree?” - The children of that distant day - Thus to some aged man shall say; - And, gazing on its mossy stem, - The gray-haired man shall answer them: - “A poet of the land was he, - Born in the rude but good old times; - ’Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes - On planting the apple tree.” - --_William Cullen Bryant._ - - - - -THE CORN SONG. - - -[Illustration: John G. Whittier.] - - Heap high the farmer’s wintry hoard! - Heap high the golden corn! - No richer gift has Autumn poured - From out her lavish horn! - - Let other lands, exulting, glean - The apple from the pine, - The orange from its glossy green, - The cluster from the vine; - - We better love the hardy gift - Our rugged vales bestow, - To cheer us when the storm shall drift - Our harvest fields with snow. - - Through vales of grass and meads of flowers - Our plows their furrows made, - While on the hills the sun and showers - Of changeful April played. - - We dropped the seed o’er hill and plain - Beneath the sun of May, - And frightened from our sprouting grain - The robber crows away. - - All through the long, bright days of June - Its leaves grew green and fair, - And waved in hot, midsummer’s noon - Its soft and yellow hair. - - And now with autumn’s moonlit eves, - Its harvest time has come, - We pluck away the frosted leaves, - And bear the treasure home. - - There, when the snows about us drift, - And winter winds are cold, - Fair hands the broken grain shall sift, - And knead its meal of gold. - - Let vapid idlers loll in silk - Around their costly board; - Give us the bowl of samp and milk - By homespun beauty poured! - - Where’er the wide old kitchen hearth - Sends up its smoky curls, - Who will not thank the kindly earth, - And bless our farmer girls! - - Then shame on all the proud and vain, - Whose folly laughs to scorn - The blessing of our hardy grain, - Our wealth of golden corn! - - Let earth withhold her goodly root, - Let mildew blight the rye, - Give to the worm the orchard’s fruit, - The wheatfield to the fly. - - But let the good old crop adorn - The hills our fathers trod; - Still let us, for his golden corn, - Send up our thanks to God. - --_John G. Whittier._ - - - - -HUNTING THE WALRUS. - - -The walrus is one of the largest animals still extant, and although the -element of personal danger is not so great in hunting it as in hunting -some beasts of lesser bulk, yet the conditions under which the sport is -pursued, as well as the nature of the sport itself, are such as will -probably tempt one who has once tried this form of sport to return to -it. - -[Illustration: Walruses at Home.] - -An average-sized four-year-old walrus will measure ten feet in length -and about the same in girth. The weight is, of course, difficult to -determine; but it is probably about 3000 pounds, of which 350 pounds may -be reckoned as blubber, and 300 pounds as hide. - -The blubber, to be utilized, is mixed with that of the seals which may -be obtained, and the oil, which is extracted by heat and pressure, sold -as “seal oil”; the hide, which is from an inch to an inch and a half in -thickness, and makes a soft, spongy leather, is exported principally to -Russia and Germany, where it is used for making harness and other heavy -leather goods. - -The walrus is a carnivorous animal, feeding mostly upon shellfish and -worms, and is therefore generally found in the shallow waters along a -coast line, diving for its food on banks which lie at a depth of from -two to twenty fathoms below the surface. Deeper than that the walrus -does not care to go; in fact, it generally feeds in about fifteen -fathoms. - -The tusks are principally used to plow up the bottom in search of food, -but are also employed as weapons, and in climbing upon the ice. They are -composed of hard white ivory, set for about six inches of their length -in a hard bony mass, about six inches in diameter, which forms the front -of the head; the breathing passage runs through this mass, and -terminates in two “blow holes” between the roots of the tusks. The tusk -itself is solid, except that portion which is imbedded in the bone, and -this is filled with a cellular structure containing a whitish oil. - -A walrus killed in the water immediately sinks; even if mortally -wounded, it will in nine cases out of ten escape, and sink to the -bottom. When on the ice, these animals always lie close to the water, -and it is therefore necessary to kill them instantly, or they will reach -the water and be lost before the boat can arrive within harpooning -distance. This can only be done by shooting them in such a way as to -penetrate the brain, which is no easy matter. The brain lies in what -appears to be the neck; that which one would naturally suppose to be the -head being nothing but the heavy jaw bones, and mass of bone in which -the tusks are set. - -What becomes of the walrus in winter it is hard to say; but I have heard -them blowing in an open pool of water among the ice on the north coast -of Spitzbergen in the month of December. In the spring, however, when -the ice begins to break up, they collect in herds on their feeding -grounds around the coasts, where they may be found diving for shellfish, -or basking and sleeping, singly or in “heaps” of two or three, often -five or six, together. - -They seem to prefer to lie on small cakes of flat bay ice; a single -walrus will often take his siesta on a cake only just large enough to -float him, and it is among such ice, therefore, rather than among rough -old pack and glacier blocks, that they should be sought, although I -have seen them lying on heavy old water-worn ice, four and five feet -above the water. In this case, however, they had no choice. - -The boats of the walrus hunters are strongly yet lightly built. They are -bow-shaped at both ends; the stem and stern posts are made thick and -strong in order to resist the blows of the ice, and the bow sheathed -with zinc plates to prevent excessive chafing. It is most important that -they should be easy and quick in turning, and this quality is obtained -by depressing the keel in the middle. They are painted red inside and -white outside, so that they may not be conspicuous amongst ice, but the -hunters stultify this idea to some extent by dressing themselves in dark -colors. - -The harpoon, the point and edges of which are ground and whetted to a -razor-like sharpness, is a simple but very effective weapon. When thrust -into a walrus or seal, a large outer barb “takes up” a loop of the tough -hide, whilst a small inner fishhook barb prevents it from becoming -disengaged, so that when once properly harpooned, it is seldom, if ever, -that an animal escapes through the harpoon “drawing.” The harpoon line -consists of sixteen fathoms of two-inch tarred rope, very carefully made -of the finest hemp, “soft laid”; each line is neatly coiled in a -separate box placed beneath the forward thwart. - -A boat’s crew consists of four or five men, and the quickness with which -they can turn their boat is greatly accelerated by their method of -rowing and steering. Each man rows with a pair of oars, which he can -handle much better than one long one when amongst ice. - -The harpooner, who commands the boat’s crew, rows from the bow thwart, -near the weapons and telescope, which he alone uses. It is he who -searches for game, and decides on the method of attack when it is found. -“No. 2,” generally the strongest man in the boat, is called the “line -man”; it is his duty to tend the line when a walrus is struck, and to -assist the harpooner. - -In such a boat, then, one lovely September morning, we are rowing easily -back to the sloop, which is lying off Bird Bay, a small indentation in -the east face of the northernmost point of Spitzbergen. The harpooner is -balancing himself, one foot on the forward locker, and one on the -thwart, examining through a telescope something which appears to be a -lump of dirty ice, about half a mile away. Suddenly he closes his glass -and seizes the oars. “There he is!” he says, and without another word -the boat is headed for the black mass. - -Now we are within a couple of hundred yards, and each man crouches in -the bottom of the boat, the harpooner still in the bow, his eyes -intently fixed upon the walrus. Suddenly the walrus raises his head, and -we are motionless. It is intensely still, and the scraping of a piece of -ice along the boat seems like the roar of a railway train passing -overhead on some bridge. Down goes the head, and we glide forward again. -The walrus is uneasy; again and again he raises his head and looks round -with a quick motion, but we have the sun right at our back, and he never -notices us. - -At last we are within a few feet, and with a shout of “Wake up, old -boy!” which breaks the stillness like a shot, the harpooner is on his -feet, his weapon clasped in both hands above his head. As the walrus -plunges into the sea, the iron is buried in his side, and, with a quick -twist to prevent the head from slipping out of the same slit that it has -cut in the thick hide, the handle is withdrawn and thrown into the boat. -Bumping and scraping amongst the floating ice, we are towed along for -about five minutes, and then stop as the wounded walrus comes to the -surface to breathe. - -In the old days the lance would finish the business, but now it is the -rifle. He is facing the boat; I sight for one of his eyes, and let him -have both barrels, without much effect apparently, for away we rush for -two or three minutes more, when he is up again, still facing the boat. -He seems to care no more for the solid “Express” bullets than if they -were peas; but he is slow this time, and, as he turns to dive, exposes -the fatal spot at the back of the head, and dies. - -Few men are likely ever to forget the first occasion on which they found -themselves amongst a herd of walrus in the water. Scores of -fierce-looking heads--for the long tusks, small bloodshot eyes, and -moustache on the upper lip (every bristle of which is as thick as a crow -quill) give the walrus an expression of ferocity--gaze, perhaps in -unbroken silence, from all sides upon the boat, See! the sun glints -along a hundred wet backs, and they are gone. - -Away you row at racing speed to where experience tells you they will -rise again. “Here they are! Take that old one with long tusks first!” A -couple of quick thrusts, right and left, and away you go again, fast to -two old fellows that will want a good deal of attention before you can -cut their tusks out. Indeed, unless one has served his apprenticeship, -he had better not meddle with the harpoon at all. The old skippers and -harpooners can spin many a yarn of lost crews and boats gone under the -ice through a fatal moment’s delay in cutting free from the diving -walrus. - - --_From “Big Game Shooting._” - - - - -THE DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII. - - -I. HISTORY. - -Volcanoes can never be trusted. No one knows when one will break out, or -what it will do; and those who live close to them--as the city of Naples -is close to Mount Vesuvius--must not be astonished if they are blown up -or swallowed, as that great and beautiful city of Naples may be without -a warning, any day. - -For what happened to that same Mount Vesuvius about eighteen hundred -years ago in the old Roman times? For ages and ages it had been lying -quiet, like any other hill. Beautiful cities were built at its -foot--cities filled with people who were as handsome and as comfortable -and, I am afraid, as wicked as any people ever were on earth. Fair -gardens, vineyards, and olive yards covered the mountain slopes. It was -held to be one of the Paradises of the world. - -As for the mountain’s being a volcano, who ever thought of that? To be -sure, the top of it was a great round crater, or cup, a mile or more -across, and a few hundred yards deep. But that was all overgrown with -bushes and wild vines full of deer and other wild animals. What sign of -fire was there in that? To be sure, also, there was an ugly place -below, by the seashore, where smoke and brimstone came out of the -ground; and a lake called Avernus, over which poisonous gases hung. But -what of that? It had never harmed any one, and how could it harm them? - -So they all lived on, merrily and happily enough, till the year A.D. 79. -At that time there was stationed in the Bay of Naples a Roman admiral, -called Pliny, who was also a very studious and learned man, and author -of a famous old book on natural history. He was staying on shore with -his sister; and as he sat in his study, she called him out to see a -strange cloud which had been hanging for some time over the top of Mount -Vesuvius. It was in shape just like a pine tree; not, of course, like -the pines which grow in this country, but like an Italian stone pine, -with a long straight stem and a flat parasol-shaped top. - -Sometimes it was blackish, sometimes spotted; and the good Admiral -Pliny, who was always curious about natural science, ordered his rowboat -and went away across the bay to see what it could be. Earthquake shocks -had been very common for the last few days, but I do not suppose that -Pliny thought that the earthquakes and the cloud had anything to do with -each other. However, he soon found out that they had; and to his cost. -When he was near the opposite shore, some of the sailors met him and -begged him to turn back. Cinders and pumice stones were falling down -from the sky, and flames were breaking out of the mountain above. But -Pliny would go on: he said that if people were in danger it was his duty -to help them; and that he must see this strange cloud, and note down the -different shapes into which it changed. - -But the hot ashes fell faster and faster; the sea ebbed out suddenly, -and almost left them on the beach; and Pliny turned away towards a place -called Stabiæ, to the house of an old friend who was just going to -escape in a boat. Brave Pliny told him not to be afraid; ordered his -bath like a true Roman gentleman, and then went in to dinner with a -cheerful face. Flames came down from the mountain, nearer and nearer as -the night drew on; but Pliny persuaded his friend that they were only -fires in some villages from which the peasants had fled; and then went -to bed and slept soundly. - -However, in the middle of the night, they found the courtyard being fast -filled with cinders, and if they had not awakened the Admiral in time, -he would never have been able to get out of the house. - -The earthquake shocks grew stronger and fiercer, till the house was -ready to fall; and Pliny and his - -[Illustration: - - From a Photograph. Engraved by E. Heinemann - -Mount Vesuvius during an Eruption.] - -friend, and the sailors and the slaves, all fled into the open fields, -having pillows over their heads to prevent their being beaten down. By -this time, day had come, but not the dawn: for it was still pitch dark. -They went down to their boats upon the shore; but the sea raged so -horribly that there was no getting on board of them. - -Then Pliny grew tired and made his men spread a sail for him that he -might lie down upon it. But there came down upon them a rush of flames -and a strong smell of sulphur, and all ran for their lives. - -Some of the slaves tried to help the Admiral; but he sank down again, -overpowered by the brimstone fumes, and so was left behind. When they -came back again, there he lay dead; but with his clothes in order, and -his face as quiet as if he had been only sleeping. And that was the end -of a brave and learned man, a martyr to duty and to the love of science. - -But what was going on in the meantime? Under clouds of ashes, cinders, -mud, lava, three of those happy cities--Herculaneum, Pompeii, -Stabiæ--were buried at once. They were buried just as the people had -fled from them, leaving the furniture and the earthenware, often even -jewels and gold behind, and here and there a human being who had not -had time to escape from the dreadful rain of ashes and dust. - -The ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii have been dug into since, and -partly uncovered; and the paintings, especially in Pompeii, are found -upon the walls still fresh, preserved from the air by the ashes which -have covered them in. At Naples there is a famous museum containing the -curiosities which have been dug out of the ruined cities; and one can -walk along the streets in Pompeii and see the wheel tracks in the -pavement along which carts and chariots rolled two thousand years ago. - -And what had become of Vesuvius, the treacherous mountain? Half, or more -than half, of the side of the old crater had been blown away; and what -was left, which is now called the Monte Somma, stands in a half circle -round the new cone and the new crater which is burning at this very day. -True, after that eruption which killed Pliny, Vesuvius fell asleep -again, and did not awake for one hundred and thirty-four years, and then -again for two hundred and sixty-nine years; but it has been growing more -and more restless as the ages have passed on, and now hardly a year -passes without its sending out smoke and stones from its crater, and -streams of lava from its sides. - - --_From “Madam How and Lady Why,” by Charles Kingsley._ - - -II. ROMANCE. - -[Illustration: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.] - -The most popular historical romance in the English language is “The Last -Days of Pompeii,” by Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. It was first published in -1834, and is a narrative depicting life and manners during the last -years of the doomed city. The description of the grand catastrophe is a -subject which called forth all the brilliant powers of the author. As a -piece of word-painting it has seldom been surpassed. - - * * * * * - -The cloud which had scattered so deep a murkiness over the day had now -settled into a solid and impenetrable mass. But in proportion as the -blackness gathered, did the lightnings around Vesuvius increase in their -vivid and scorching glare. Nor was their horrible beauty confined to the -usual hues of fire; no rainbow ever rivaled their varying and prodigal -dyes. Now brightly blue as the most azure depths of a southern sky,--now -of a livid and snake-like green, darting restlessly to and fro as the -folds of an enormous serpent,--now of a lurid and intolerable crimson, -gushing forth through the columns of smoke, far and wide, and lighting -up the whole city from arch to arch--then suddenly dying into a sickly -paleness, like the ghost of their own life! - -In the pauses of the showers you heard the rumbling of the earth -beneath, and the groaning waves of the tortured sea; or, lower still, -and audible but to the watch of intensest fear, the grinding and hissing -murmur of the escaping gases through the chasms of the distant mountain. -Sometimes the cloud appeared to break from its solid mass, and, by the -lightning to assume quaint and vast mimicries of human or of monster -shapes, striding across the gloom, hurtling one upon the other, and -vanishing swiftly into the abyss of shade; so that, to the eyes and -fancies of the affrighted wanderers, the vapors seemed like the bodily -forms of gigantic foes--the agents of terror and of death. - -The ashes in many places were already knee-deep; and the boiling showers -which came from the steaming breath of the volcano forced their way into -the houses, bearing with them a strong and suffocating vapor. In some -places, immense fragments of rock, hurled upon the house roofs, bore -down along the streets masses of confused ruin, yet more and more, with -every hour, obstructed the way; and as the day advanced, the motion of -the earth was more sensibly felt--the footing seemed to slide and - -[Illustration: - - From the Painting by J. Coomans. Engraved by E. Heinemann. - -Interior of a House in Pompeii.] - -creep--nor could chariot or litter be kept steady even on the most level -ground. - -Sometimes the huger stones, striking against each other as they fell, -broke into countless fragments, emitting sparks of fire, which caught -whatever was combustible within their reach; and along the plains beyond -the city the darkness was now terribly relieved, for several houses and -even vineyards had been set on flames; and at various intervals the -fires rose sullenly and fiercely against the solid gloom. To add to this -partial relief of the darkness, the citizens had, here and there, in the -more public places, such as the porticoes of temples and the entrances -to the forum, endeavored to place rows of torches; but these rarely -continued long; the showers and the winds extinguished them, and the -sudden darkness into which their sudden birth was converted had -something in it doubly terrible and doubly impressing on the impotence -of human hopes, the lesson of despair. - -Frequently, by the momentary light of these torches, parties of -fugitives encountered each other, some hurrying towards the sea, others -flying from the sea back to the land. The whole elements of civilization -were broken up. Ever and anon, by the flickering lights, you saw the -thief hastening by the most solemn authorities of the law, laden with -the produce of his sudden gains. If, in the darkness, wife was separated -from husband, or parent from child, vain was the hope of reunion. Each -hurried blindly and confusedly on. Nothing in all the various and -complicated machinery of social life was left save the primal law of -self-preservation. - -Through this awful scene did Glaucus wade his way, accompanied by Ione -and the blind girl. Suddenly, a rush of hundreds, in their path to the -sea, swept by them. Nydia was torn from the side of Glaucus, who with -Ione was borne rapidly onward; and when the crowd (whose forms they saw -not, so thick was the gloom) were gone, Nydia was still separated from -their side. Glaucus shouted her name. No answer came. They retraced -their steps,--in vain: they could not discover her,--it was evident she -had been swept along some other direction by the human current. Their -friend, their preserver was lost! And hitherto Nydia had been their -guide. Her blindness rendered the scene familiar to her alone. -Accustomed, through a perpetual night, to thread the windings of the -city, she had led them unerringly towards the seashore, by which they -had resolved to hazard an escape. Now, which way could they wend? All -was rayless to them--a maze without a clue. Wearied, despondent, -bewildered, they, however, passed along, the ashes falling upon their -heads, the fragmentary stones dashing up in sparkles before their feet. - -Advancing, as men grope for escape in a dungeon, they continued their -uncertain way. At the moments when the volcanic lightnings lingered over -the streets, they were enabled, by that awful light, to steer and guide -their progress: yet, little did the view it presented to them cheer or -encourage their path. In parts where the ashes lay dry and unmixed with -the boiling torrents, cast upward from the mountain at capricious -intervals, the surface of the earth presented a leprous and ghastly -white. In other places, cinder and rock lay matted in heaps. - -The groans of the dying were broken by wild shrieks of women’s -terror--now near, now distant--which, when heard in the utter darkness, -were rendered doubly appalling by the sense of helplessness and the -uncertainty of the perils around; and clear and distinct through all -were the mighty and various noises from the Fatal Mountain; its rushing -winds; its whirling torrents; and, from time to time, the burst and roar -of some more fiery and fierce explosion. - -Suddenly the place became lighted with an intense and lurid glow. Bright -and gigantic through the darkness, which closed around it like the walls -of hell, the mountain shone--a pile of fire. Its summit seemed riven in -two; or rather, above its surface there seemed to rise two monster -shapes, each confronting each, as Demons contending for a World. These -were of one deep blood-red hue of fire, which lighted up the whole -atmosphere far and wide; but _below_, the nether part of the mountain -was still dark and shrouded, save in three places, adown which flowed, -serpentine and irregular, rivers of the molten lava. Darkly red through -the profound gloom of their banks, they flowed slowly on, as towards the -devoted city. Over the broadest there seemed to spring a cragged and -stupendous arch, from which, as from the jaws of hell, gushed the -sources of the stupendous Phlegethon. And through the stilled air was -heard the rattling of the fragments of rock, hurling one upon another as -they were borne down the fiery cataracts--darkening, for one instant, -the spot where they fell, and suffused the next in the burnished hues of -the flood along which they floated. - -Glaucus turned in awe, caught Ione in his arms, and fled along the -street, that was now intensely luminous. But suddenly a duller shade -fell over the air. Instinctively he turned to the mountain, and behold! -one of the two gigantic crests, into which the summit had been divided, -rocked and wavered to and fro; and then, with a sound, the mightiness -of which no language can describe, it fell from its burning base, and -rushed, an avalanche of fire, down the sides of the mountain. At the -same instant gushed forth a volume of blackest smoke--rolling on, over -air, sea, and earth. - -Another--and another--and another shower of ashes, far more profuse than -before, scattered fresh desolation along the streets. Darkness once more -wrapped them as a veil; and Glaucus, his bold heart at last quelled and -despairing, sank beneath the cover of an arch, and, clasping Ione to his -heart, resigned himself to die. - -Meanwhile Nydia, when separated by the throng from Glaucus and Ione, had -in vain endeavored to regain them. In vain she raised that plaintive cry -so peculiar to the blind; it was lost amidst a thousand shrieks of more -selfish terror. Again and again she returned to the spot where they had -been divided--to find her companions gone, to seize every fugitive--to -inquire of Glaucus--to be dashed aside in the impatience of distraction. -Who in that hour spared one thought to his neighbor? - -At length it occurred to Nydia that, as it had been resolved to seek the -seashore for escape, her most probable chance of rejoining her -companions would be to persevere in that direction. Guiding her steps, -then, by the staff which she always carried, she continued to avoid the -masses of ruin which incumbered the path, and to take the nearest -direction to the seaside. - -She had gone some distance toward the seashore, when she chanced to hear -from one of the fugitives that Glaucus was resting beneath the arch of -the forum. She at once turned her back on the sea, and retraced her -steps to the city. She gained the forum--the arch; she stooped down--she -felt around--she called on the name of Glaucus. - -A weak voice answered, “Who calls on me? Is it the voice of the Shades? -Lo! I am prepared!” - -“Arise! follow me! Take my hand! Glaucus, thou shalt be saved!” - -In wonder and sudden hope, Glaucus arose, “Nydia still! Ah! thou, then, -art safe!” - -The tender joy of his voice pierced the heart of the poor Thessalian, -and she blessed him for his thought of her. - -Half-leading, half-carrying Ione, Glaucus followed his guide. After many -pauses they gained the sea, and joined a group, who, bolder than the -rest, resolved to hazard any peril rather than continue in such a scene. -In darkness they put forth to sea; but, as they cleared the land and -caught new aspects of the mountain, its channels of molten fire threw a -partial redness over the waves. - -Utterly exhausted and worn out, Ione slept on the breast of Glaucus, and -Nydia lay at his feet. Meanwhile the showers of dust and ashes, still -borne aloft, fell into the wave, and scattered their snows over the -deck. Far and wide, borne by the winds, those showers descended upon the -remotest climes, startling even the swarthy African, and whirled along -the antique soil of Syria and Egypt. - -And meekly, softly, beautifully dawned at last the light over the -trembling deep,--the winds were sinking into rest,--the foam died from -the glowing azure of that delicious sea. Around the east, their mists -caught gradually the rosy hues that heralded the morning. Light was -about to resume her reign. Yet, still, dark, and massive in the distance -lay the broken fragments of the destroying cloud, from which red -streaks, burning more and more dimly, betrayed the yet rolling fires of -the mountain of the “Scorched Fields.” The white walls and gleaming -columns that had adorned the lovely coasts were no more. Sullen and dull -were the shores so lately crested by the cities of Herculaneum and -Pompeii. The darlings of the Deep were snatched from her embrace. -Century after century shall the mighty Mother stretch forth her azure -arms, and know them not--moaning round the sepulchers of the Lost! - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE STRANGER ON THE SILL. - - - Between broad fields of wheat and corn - Is the lowly home where I was born; - The peach tree leans against the wall, - And the woodbine wanders over all; - There is the shaded doorway still, - But a stranger’s foot has crossed the sill. - - There is the barn--and, as of yore, - I can smell the hay from the open door, - And see the busy swallows throng, - And hear the pewee’s mournful song; - But the stranger comes--oh! painful proof-- - His sheaves are piled to the heated roof. - - There is the orchard--the very trees - Where my childhood knew long hours of ease, - And watched the shadowy moments run - Till my life imbibed more shade than sun; - The swing from the bough still sweeps the air, - But the stranger’s children are swinging there. - - Oh, ye who daily cross the sill, - Step lightly, for I love it still; - And when you crowd the old barn eaves, - Then think what countless harvest sheaves - Have passed within that scented door - To gladden eyes that are no more. - - Deal kindly with these orchard trees; - And when your children crowd their knees - Their sweetest fruit they shall impart, - As if old memories stirred their heart; - To youthful sport still leave the swing, - And in sweet reverence hold the spring. - - The barn, the trees, the brook, the birds, - The meadows with their lowing herds, - The woodbine on the cottage wall-- - My heart still lingers with them all. - Ye strangers on my native sill, - Step lightly, for I love it still. - --_Thomas Buchanan Mead._ - - - - -OUR COUNTRY. - - Sweet clime of my kindred, blest land of my birth! - The fairest, the dearest, the brightest on earth! - Where’er I may roam--howe’er blest I may be, - My spirit instinctively turns unto thee! - - -I. WHAT IS OUR COUNTRY. - -We cannot honor our country with too deep a reverence; we cannot love -her with an affection too pure and fervent; we cannot serve her with an -energy of purpose or a faithfulness of zeal too steadfast and ardent. -And what _is_ our country? It is not the East, with her hills and her -valleys, with her countless sails, and the rocky ramparts of her shores. -It is not the North, with her thousand villages and her harvest home, -with her frontiers of the lakes and the ocean. It is not the West, with -her forest sea and her inland isles, with her luxuriant expanses, -clothed in the verdant corn; with her beautiful Ohio and her verdant -Missouri. Nor is it yet the South, opulent in the mimic snow of the -cotton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, and in the golden -robes of the rice field. _What are these but the sister families of one -greater, better, holier family_, OUR COUNTRY? - - --_Thomas Grimke._ - - -II. LIBERTY AND UNION. - -I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the -prosperity and the honor of the whole country, and the preservation of -the Federal Union. I have not allowed myself to look beyond the Union, -to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind; I have not -coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds that -unite us together shall be broken asunder; I have not accustomed myself -to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short -sight, I can fathom the depths of the abyss below; nor could I regard -him as a safe counselor in the affairs of this government, whose -thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union should -be preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the people -when it shall be broken up and destroyed. - -While the Union lasts we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects -spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that, I seek not -to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my day, at least, that curtain -may not rise! God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies -behind! - -When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in -heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments -of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, -belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in -fraternal blood. Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather -behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored -throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies -streaming in their original luster, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor -a single star obscured; bearing for its motto no such miserable -interrogatory as, “What is all this worth?” nor those other words of -delusion and folly, “Liberty first, and Union afterwards”; but -everywhere spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all -its ample folds as they float over the sea, and over the land, and in -every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every -true American heart, “Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and -inseparable.” - - --_Daniel Webster._ - - -III. THE POLICY OF PEACE. - -A peaceful intercourse with the nations of the earth points to that -inspiring day which philosophers have hoped for, which poets have seen -in their bright dreams of fancy, and which prophets have beheld in holy -vision--when men shall learn war no more. Who can contemplate a state of -the world like this and not feel his heart exult at the prospect? I am -against war, because peace--peace is, above everything else, our -policy. Our great mission as a people is to occupy this vast -dominion--to level the forests and let in upon their solitudes the light -of day; to clear the swamps and make them ready for the plow and the -sickle; to spread over hill and dale the echoes of human labor and human -happiness; to fill the land with cities and towns; to unite its most -distant points by turnpikes and railroads; to scoop out canals and open -rivers that may serve as highways for trade. - -If we can preserve peace, who shall set bounds to our prosperity or our -success? With one foot planted on the Atlantic and the other on the -Pacific, we occupy a position between the two old continents of the -world--a position which necessarily secures to us the commerce and the -influence of both. If we abide by the counsels of common sense, if we -succeed in preserving our liberties, we shall in the end exhibit a -spectacle such as the world never saw. - -I know that this one great mission is encompassed with many -difficulties; but such is the energy of our political system, and such -is its expansive capability, that it may be made to govern the widest -space. If by war we become great, we cannot be free; if we will be both -great and free, our policy is peace. - - --_John C. Calhoun._ - - - - -A LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. - - -[Illustration: Washington Irving.] - -“The Sketch Book” is a collection of short tales, sketches, and essays, -written by Washington Irving, and published in 1820. Most of the -sketches are descriptive of English manners and scenery, but the -popularity of the book in this country is chiefly due to two well-known -stories of American life, “Rip Van Winkle” and “A Legend of Sleepy -Hollow.” The scenes of both stories are located in the valley of the -Hudson River, not far from New York. They are most picturesquely told, -and rank high among the best productions of their kind in American -literature. Here is the “Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” which we have -abridged in order to adapt it to the readers of this volume:-- - - -I. THE SCHOOLMASTER. - -In a remote period of American history, there lived in Sleepy Hollow a -worthy man whose name was Ichabod Crane. He sojourned, or, as he -expressed it, “tarried” in that quiet little valley for the purpose of -instructing the children of the vicinity. He was a native of -Connecticut. He was tall, but very lank, with narrow shoulders, long -arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, and feet -that might have served as shovels. His head was small, with huge ears, -large glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose. To see him striding along the -crest of a hill on a windy day, with his ill-fitting clothes fluttering -about him, one might have mistaken him for some scarecrow escaped from a -cornfield. - -His schoolhouse was a low building of one large room, rudely built of -logs. It stood in a rather lonely but pleasant place, just at the foot -of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a birch tree growing -near one end of it. From this place of learning the low murmur of -children’s voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard on a -drowsy summer day like the hum of a beehive. Now and then this was -interrupted by the stern voice of the master, or perhaps by the -appalling sound of a birch twig, as some loiterer was urged along the -flowery path of knowledge. - -When school hours were over, the teacher forgot that he was the master, -and was even the companion and playmate of the older boys; and on -holiday afternoons, he liked to go home with some of the smaller ones -who happened to have pretty sisters, or mothers noted for their skill in -cooking. Indeed, it was a wise thing for him to keep on good terms with -his pupils. He earned so little by teaching school, that he would -scarcely have had enough to eat, had he not, according to country -custom, boarded at the houses of the children whom he instructed. With -these he lived, by turns, a week at a time, thus going the rounds of the -neighborhood, with all his worldly goods tied up in a cotton -handkerchief. - -He had many ways of making himself both useful and agreeable. He helped -the farmers in the lighter labors of their farms, raked the hay at -harvest time, is mended the fences, took the horses to water, drove the -cows from pasture, and cut wood for the winter fire. He found favor in -the eyes of the mothers by petting the children, particularly the -youngest; and he would often sit with a child on one knee, and rock a -cradle with his foot for whole hours together. - -[Illustration: Ichabod Crane.] - -He was a man of some importance among the women of the neighborhood, -being looked upon as a kind of idle, gentlemanlike personage of finer -tastes and better manners than the rough young men who had been brought -up in the country. He was always welcome at the tea table of a -farmhouse; and his presence was almost sure to bring out an extra dish -of cakes or sweetmeats, or the parade of a silver teapot. He was happy, -too, in the smiles of all the young ladies. He would walk with them in -the churchyard, between services on Sundays; gathering grapes for them -from the wild vines that overrun the surrounding trees; or sauntering -with a whole bevy of them along the banks of the adjacent mill pond; -while the bashful country youngsters hung sheepishly back and hated him -for his fine manners. - -Another of his sources of pleasure was to pass long winter evenings with -the wives of the Dutch farmers, as they sat spinning by the fire with a -long row of apples roasting and sputtering along the hearth. He listened -to their wondrous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and -haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and -particularly of the headless horseman, or “Galloping Hessian of the -Hollow,” as they sometimes called him. And then he would entertain them -with stories of witchcraft, and would frighten them with woeful -speculations about comets and shooting stars, and by telling them that -the world did really turn round, and that they were half the time -topsy-turvy. - -There was pleasure in all this while snugly cuddling in the chimney -corner of a room that was lighted by the ruddy glow from a crackling -wood fire, and where no ghost dared show its face; but it was a pleasure -dearly bought by the terrors which would beset him during his walk -homewards. How fearful were the shapes and shadows that fell across his -way in the dim and ghastly glare of a snowy night! How often was he -appalled by some shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted specter, -beset his very path! How often did he shrink with curdling awe at the -sound of his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his feet, and dread -to look over his shoulder lest he should behold some uncouth being -tramping close behind him! and how often was he thrown into complete -dismay by some rushing blast, howling among the trees, in the idea that -it was the Galloping Hessian on one of his nightly scourings! - - -II. THE INVITATION. - -On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on -the lofty stool from whence he watched the doings of his little school. -In his hand he held a ferule, that scepter of despotic power; the birch -of justice reposed on three nails behind the stool, a constant terror to -evil doers; while on the desk were sundry contraband articles taken -from idle urchins, such as half-eaten apples, popguns, whirligigs, and -fly cages. His scholars were all busily intent upon their books, or -slyly whispering behind them with one eye kept upon the master, and a -kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the schoolroom. - -This stillness was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a negro, in -tow-cloth jacket and trowsers, who, mounted on the back of a ragged, -wild, half-broken colt, came clattering up to the schoolhouse door. He -brought an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merrymaking, or “quilting -frolic,” to be held that evening at the house of Mynheer Van Tassel; and -having delivered his message, he dashed over the brook, and was seen -scampering away up the hollow, full of the importance and hurry of his -mission. - -All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet schoolroom. The scholars -were hurried through their lessons. Those who were nimble skipped over -half without being noticed; and those who were slow were hurried along -by a smart application of the rod. Then books were flung aside without -being put away on the shelves; inkstands were overturned, benches thrown -down; and the whole school was turned loose an hour before the usual -time, the children yelping and racketing about the green, in joy at -their early freedom. - -The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half hour at his toilet, -brushing and furbishing his best and only suit of rusty black, and -arranging his looks by a bit of broken looking-glass that hung up in the -schoolhouse. That he might make his appearance at the party in the true -style of a cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he -was boarding, and, thus gallantly mounted, rode forth, like a -knight-errant in quest of adventures. The animal he bestrode was a -broken-down plow horse, that had outlived almost everything but his -viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a slender neck, and a head -like a hammer. His mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burs. One -eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral, but the other -still gleamed with genuine wickedness. He must have had plenty of fire -and mettle in his day, if we may judge from his name, which was -Gunpowder. - -Ichabod was a rider suited for such a steed. He rode with short -stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the saddle; -his elbows stuck out like a grasshopper’s; and as the horse jogged on, -the motion of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A -small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his scanty strip of -forehead might be called; and the skirts of his black coat fluttered -out almost to the horse’s tail. Such was the appearance of Ichabod and -his steed as they shambled along the highway; and it was altogether such -an apparition as is seldom to be met with in broad daylight. - -It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day. The sky was clear and -serene. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some -trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frost into brilliant -dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began -to make their appearance high in the air. The bark of the squirrel might -be heard from the groves of beech and hickory, and the pensive whistle -of the quail at intervals from the neighboring stubblefields. - -[Illustration: Ichabod and Gunpowder.] - -The small birds fluttered, chirping and frolicking from bush to bush, -and tree to tree, gay and happy because of the plenty and variety around -them. There were the twittering blackbirds, flying in sable clouds; and -the golden-winged woodpecker, with his crimson crest and splendid -plumage; and the cedar bird, with its red-tipped wings and yellow-tipped -tail; and the blue jay, in his gay, light-blue coat and white -underclothes, screaming and chattering, nodding and bowing, and -pretending to be on good terms with every songster of the grove. - -As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye ranged with delight over -the treasures of jolly autumn, On all sides he beheld vast store of -apples,--some still hanging on the trees, some gathered into baskets and -barrels for the market, others heaped up in rich piles for the cider -press. Farther on he beheld great fields of Indian corn, with its golden -ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holding out the promise of -cakes and hasty pudding. There, too, were multitudes of yellow pumpkins -turning up their yellow sides to the sun, and giving ample prospects of -the most luxurious of pies. And anon he passed the fragrant buckwheat -fields, breathing the odor of the beehive; and as he beheld them, he -dreamed of dainty slapjacks, well buttered, and garnished with honey, by -the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina, the daughter of Mynheer Van -Tassel. - -Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and “sugared -suppositions,” he journeyed along the sides of a range of hills which -look out upon some of the goodliest scenes of the mighty Hudson. The -sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down into the west. A few amber -clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. The -horizon was of a fine, golden tint, changing gradually into a pure -apple-green, and from that into the deep-blue of the midheaven. A -slanting ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that -overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to the dark gray -and purple of their rocky sides. - - -III. THE “QUILTING FROLIC.” - -It was toward evening when Ichabod arrived at the castle of the Herr Van -Tassel. He found it thronged with the pride and flower of the adjacent -country,--old farmers, in homespun coats and breeches, blue stockings, -huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles; their brisk little dames, in -close-crimped caps, long-waisted gowns, homespun petticoats, with -scissors and pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside; -buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting where a -straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a white frock, showed signs of city -innovations; the sons, in short, square-skirted coats with rows of huge -brass buttons, and their hair generally queued in the fashion of the -times, especially if an eel-skin could be had for that purpose, it -being esteemed as a potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair. - -What a world of charms burst upon the gaze of my hero, as he entered the -state parlor of Van Tassel’s mansion--the ample charms of a Dutch -country tea table, in the sumptuous time of autumn! Such heaped-up -platters of cakes, of various and indescribable kinds, known only to -experienced Dutch housewives! There was the doughty doughnut, and the -crisp, crumbling cruller; sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and -honey cakes, and the whole family of cakes; and then there were apple -pies, and peach pies, and pumpkin pies; and slices of ham and smoked -beef; and dishes of preserved plums, and peaches, and pears, and -quinces; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens, together with -bowls of milk and cream; all mingled, higgledy-piggledy,--with the -motherly teapot sending up its clouds of vapor from the midst! I want -breath and time to describe this banquet as I ought, and am too eager to -get on with my story. Happily, Ichabod Crane was not in so great a -hurry, but did ample justice to every dainty. - -And now, supper being ended, the sound of music from the common room -summoned to the dance. The musician was an old, gray-headed negro, who -had been the itinerant orchestra of the neighborhood for more than half -a century. His instrument was as old and battered as himself. The -greater part of the time he scraped away on two or three strings, moving -his head with every movement of the bow, and stamping his foot whenever -a fresh couple were to start. - -Ichabod prided himself on his dancing. Not a limb, not a fiber about him -was idle. How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated -and joyous? And pretty Katrina Van Tassel, the lady of his heart, was -his partner in the dance, smiling graciously in reply to all his gallant -remarks. When the dance was over, Ichabod joined a circle of the older -folks, who, with Mynheer Van Tassel, sat smoking at one end of the -piazza, and told stories of the war and wild and wonderful legends of -ghosts and other supernatural beings. Some mention was made of a woman -in white that haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard -to shriek on wintry nights before a storm, having perished there in the -snow. The chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite -specter of Sleepy Hollow, the headless horseman, who had been heard -several times of late, patrolling the country. One man told how he had -once met the horseman returning from a foray into Sleepy Hollow, and was -obliged to get up behind him; how they galloped over bush and brake, -over hill and swamp, until they reached the bridge by the church, when -the horseman suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw him into the brook, -and sprang away over the treetops with a clap of thunder. A wild, -roystering young man, who was called Brom Bones, declared that the -headless horseman was, after all, no rider compared with himself. He -said that returning one night from the neighboring village of Sing Sing, -he had been overtaken by this midnight trooper; that he had offered to -race with him for a bowl of punch, and would have won it, too, but just -as they came to the church bridge, the specter bolted and vanished in a -flash of fire. - -[Illustration: Katrina Van Tassel.] - -The party now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered together -their families in their wagons, and were heard for some time rattling -along the hollow roads, and over the distant hills. Some of the damsels -mounted on pillions behind their favorite swains; and their -light-hearted laughter, mingling with the clatter of hoofs, echoed -along the silent woodlands, growing fainter and fainter till they -gradually died away, and the late scene of noise and frolic was all -silent and deserted. Ichabod alone lingered behind, to have a parting -word with the pretty Katrina. What he said to her, and what was her -reply, I do not know. Something, however, must have gone wrong; for he -sallied forth, after no great length of time, with an air quite desolate -and chopfallen. - - -IV. THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN. - -It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod pursued his travel -homewards. In the dead hush of midnight he could hear the barking of a -dog on the opposite shore of the Hudson, but it was so vague and faint -as only to give an idea of the distance between them. No signs of life -occurred near, but now and then the chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the -guttural twang of a bullfrog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping -uncomfortably, and turning suddenly in his bed. - -All the stories that Ichabod had heard about ghosts and goblins, now -came crowding into his mind. The night grew darker and darker. The stars -seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid -them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and dismal. He was, -moreover, approaching the very place where many of the scenes of the -ghost stories had been laid. In the center of the road stood an enormous -tulip tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees of the -neighborhood, and formed a kind of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and -fantastic, large as the trunks of ordinary trees, twisting down almost -to the ground, and rising again into the air. - -As Ichabod approached this tree, he began to whistle. He thought his -whistle was answered: it was but a blast sweeping sharply through the -dry branches. Coming a little nearer, he thought he saw something white -hanging in the midst of the tree. He paused, and ceased whistling, but, -on looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the tree -had been struck by lightning, and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he -heard a groan. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the -saddle. It was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon another, as they -were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new -perils lay before him. - -About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the road, -and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded glen. A few rough logs laid -side by side served for a bridge over this stream. To pass this bridge -was the severest trial; for it was here that the unfortunate André had -been captured, and under covert of the thicket of chestnuts and vines by -the side of the road, had the sturdy yeomen, who surprised him, lain -concealed. The stream has ever since been considered a haunted stream, -and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone -after dark. - -As Ichabod approached the stream his heart began to thump. He gave his -horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and tried to dash briskly -across the bridge; but instead of starting forward, the perverse old -animal made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. -Ichabod jerked the rein on the other side, and kicked lustily with the -contrary foot. It was all in vain. His steed started, it is true, but it -was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of -brambles. The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel upon the ribs -of old Gunpowder, who dashed forward but came to a stand just by the -bridge with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling over -his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge -caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the trees, he -beheld something huge, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed -gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring -upon the traveler. - -The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. -What was to be done? Summoning up a show of courage, he called out in -stammering accents, “Who are you?” He received no reply. He repeated his -demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once -more he cudgeled the sides of Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke -forth into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put -itself in motion, and, with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the -middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form -of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to -be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a horse of powerful -frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on -one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, -who had now got over his fright and waywardness. - -Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, and -bethought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones and the headless -horseman, now quickened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The -stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod drew -up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind; the other did the -same. His heart began to sink within him. There was something in the -moody and dogged silence of his companion that was mysterious and -appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. - -On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his -fellow-traveler in relief against the sky, Ichabod was horror-struck on -perceiving that he was headless; but his horror was still more increased -on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, -was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle. His terror rose to -desperation. He rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, -hoping, by a sudden movement, to give his companion the slip; but the -specter started full jump with him. Away then they dashed, through thick -and thin; stones flying, and sparks flashing, at every bound. Ichabod’s -flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long, lank -body away over his horse’s head, in the eagerness of his flight. - -They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy Hollow; but -Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it, -made an opposite turn, and plunged headlong down hill to the left. This -road leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter -of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just -beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church. - -Just as he had got halfway through the hollow, the girths of the saddle -gave way, and Ichabod felt it slipping from under him. He seized it by -the pommel, and tried to hold it firm, but in vain. He had just time to -save himself by clasping Gunpowder round the neck, when the saddle fell -to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a -moment the terror of its owner’s wrath passed across his mind, for it -was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears. He had much -ado to keep his seat, sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on -another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse’s backbone -with a violence that was far from pleasant. - -An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hope that the church -bridge was at hand. “If I can but reach that bridge,” thought Ichabod, -“I am safe.” Just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing -close behind him. He even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another -kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he thundered -over the resounding planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod -cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish in a flash of -fire and brimstone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, -and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod tried to dodge -the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered his cranium with a -tremendous crash. He was tumbled headlong into the dust; and Gunpowder, -the black steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind. - -The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with -the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his master’s -gate. Ichabod did not make his appearance at breakfast. Dinner hour -came, but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the schoolhouse, and -strolled idly about the banks of the brook; but no schoolmaster. An -inquiry was set on foot, and after much investigation they came upon his -traces. In one part of the road by the church was found the saddle -trampled in the dirt. The tracks of horses’ hoofs deeply dented in the -road, and evidently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond -which, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water ran -deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close -beside it a shattered pumpkin. The brook was searched, but the body of -the schoolmaster was not to be discovered. - -As Ichabod was a bachelor, and in nobody’s debt, nobody troubled his -head any more about him. It is true, an old farmer, who went down to New -York on a visit several years after, brought home the intelligence that -Ichabod Crane was still alive; that he had left the neighborhood, -partly through fear of the goblin and the farmer whose horse he had -ridden, and partly for other reasons; that he had changed his quarters -to a distant part of the country, had kept school and studied law at the -same time, had written for the newspapers, and finally had been made a -justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones, too, who, shortly after the -schoolmaster’s disappearance, had married the blooming Katrina Van -Tassel, was observed to look very knowing whenever the story of Ichabod -was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the -pumpkin, which led some to suppose that he knew more about the matter -than he chose to tell. - - - - -THE MARINER’S DREAM. - - - In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay; - His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; - But, watchworn and weary, his cares flew away, - And visions of happiness danced o’er his mind. - - He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, - And pleasures that waited on life’s merry morn; - While Memory stood sideways, half covered with flowers, - And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. - - Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide, - And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise: - Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, - And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. - - The jessamine clambers in flower o’er the thatch, - And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall; - All trembling with transport, he raises the latch, - And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. - - A father bends o’er him with looks of delight; - His cheek is impearled with a mother’s warm tear; - And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite - With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. - - The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; - Joy quickens his pulses--all hardships seem o’er, - And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest: - “O God! thou hast blessed me; I ask for no more.” - - Ah! what is that flame which now bursts on his eye? - Ah! what is that sound which now ’larums his ear? - Tis the lightning’s red gleam, painting death in the sky! - ’Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere! - - He springs from his hammock--he flies to the deck! - Amazement confronts him with images dire; - Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck; - The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire! - - Like mountains the billows tremendously swell; - In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save; - Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, - And the death angel flaps his broad wing o’er the wave! - - O sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight! - In darkness dissolves the gay frost work of bliss. - Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright-- - Thy parents’ fond pressure, and Love’s honeyed kiss? - - O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again - Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay; - Unblessed, and unhonored, down deep in the main - Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay. - - Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, - And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; - Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye:-- - O sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul! - --_William Dimond._ - - - - -THE SANDS O’ DEE. - - - “O Mary, go and call the cattle home, - And call the cattle home, - And call the cattle home, - Across the sands o’ Dee!” - The western wind was wild and dank with foam, - And all alone went she. - - The creeping tide came up along the sand, - And o’er and o’er the sand, - And round and round the sand, - As far as eye could see. - The rolling mist came down and hid the land-- - And never home came she. - - “Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair-- - A tress of golden hair, - A drownèd maiden’s hair, - Above the nets at sea?” - Was never salmon yet that shone so fair - Among the stakes on Dee. - - They brought her in across the rolling foam, - The cruel crawling foam, - The cruel hungry foam, - To her grave beside the sea. - But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, - Across the sands o’ Dee. - --_Charles Kingsley._ - - - - -THE INVENTION OF PRINTING. - - -I. BLOCK BOOKS. - -Six hundred years ago every book was written by hand; for the art of -printing was then unknown, If there were pictures, they were drawn with -a pen or painted with a brush. It required a great deal of labor and -time to make a book; and when it was finished, it was so costly that -only a very rich person could afford to own it. - -There were no bookstores such as we have now, and books were very few. -But in the great schools and large monasteries there were men called -_scriptores_, or copyists, whose business it was to make written copies -of such works as were in demand. There were other men called -illuminators who ornamented the books with beautiful initials and -chapter headings, and sometimes encircled the pages with borders made -with ink of different colors. - -At last some copyist who had several copies to make of the same book -thought of a new plan. He carved a copy of each page on a block of wood. -If there was a picture, he carved that too, much in the same way that -wood engravings are made now. When the block was finished, it was -carefully wetted with a thin, inky substance; then a sheet of paper was -laid upon it and pressed down till an impression of the carved block -was printed upon it. Each page was treated in the same way, but the -paper could be printed only on one side. When all were finished, the -leaves were stitched together and made into a book. It was not as -handsome a book as those written with pen and ink; but, after the block -had once been engraved, the copyist could make fifty copies of it in -less time than he could make one by hand. - -Books made in this way were called block books. It required much time -and a great deal of skill to engrave the blocks; and so this method of -printing never came into very general use. - - -II. LAURENCE COSTER - -About the beginning of the fifteenth century there lived in the old -Dutch town of Haarlem a man whose name was Laurence Jaonssen. This man -was much looked up to by all his neighbors; for he was honest and -wealthy, and he had been in his younger days the treasurer of the town. -He was the sacristan of the Church of St. Bavon, and for that reason he -was called Laurence Coster, which means Laurence the Sacristan. As he -grew old and gray, he became very quiet in his ways, and there was -nothing that he liked so well as being alone, with the bright sun above -him and the trees and flowers and birds all around him. - -Every afternoon, as soon as he had dined, he threw his short black cloak -over his shoulders, took his broad-brimmed hat from its peg, and with -his staff in his hand sauntered out for a walk. Sometimes he strolled -along the banks of the broad and sluggish river, picking flowers as he -went; sometimes he rambled through the fields and came home by the great -road which led around to the other side of the town. But he liked best -to go out to the old forest which lay beyond the flat meadow lands a -mile farther away. There the trees grew large and tall, and afforded a -pleasant shelter on warm days from the sun, and in cooler weather from -the keen winds that blow across the meadows from the sea. - -When tired of walking, Laurence Coster would often sit down on the -spreading root of some old beech tree; and then, to pass away the time, -he would split off a piece of the bark, and with his knife would shape -it into one of the letters of the alphabet. This was an old habit of -his--a habit which he had learned when he was a boy; and afterwards, -when he was just turning into manhood, it had been no uncommon thing for -him to stroll into the woods and carve upon the trees the name of a -young maiden whom he knew. Now, old and gray and solemn, the habit still -remained with him. He liked to sit and cut out alphabets for the -amusement of his little grandchildren to whom he carried them. - -One day, having shaped the letters with more care than usual, he wrapped -them up in a piece of parchment that he had in his pocket. “The children -will be delighted with these, I know,” he said. - -When he reached home and opened the package, he was surprised to see the -imprint of several of the letters very clear and distinct upon the -parchment. The sap, running out of the green bark, had acted as ink on -the face of the letters. This accident set him to thinking. - -He carved another set of letters with very great care, and then, dipping -one side in ink, pressed them on a sheet of parchment. The result was a -print, almost as good as the block pictures and block books which were -sold in the shops, and were the only examples of printing then known. - -“I really believe,” said Laurence Coster, “that with enough of these -letters I could print a book. It would be better than printing by the -block method; for I would not be obliged to cut a separate block for -each page, but could arrange and rearrange the letters in any order that -might be required.” - -And so now, instead of idling his afternoons away, and instead of -cutting letters merely for the children, he set earnestly to work to -improve his invention. He made a kind of ink that was thicker and more -gluey than common ink, and not so likely to spread and leave an ugly -blot. He carved a great many letters of various sizes, and found that -with his improved ink he could make clear, distinct impressions, and -could print entire pages, with cuts and diagrams and fancy headings. - -After a while he thought of making the letters of lead instead of wood; -and finally he found that a mixture of lead and tin was better than pure -lead, because it was harder and more durable. And so, year after year, -Laurence Coster toiled at the making of types and the printing of books. -Soon his books began to attract attention, and as they were really -better and cheaper than the block books, there was much call for them. - -Some of the good people of Haarlem were greatly troubled because the old -gentleman spent so much of his time at such work. - -“He is bewitched,” said some. - -“He has sold himself to the evil one,” said others. - -“No good thing will ever come out of this business,” said they all. - - -III. JOHN GUTENBERG. - -One day when Laurence Coster was making his first experiments in -printing, a young traveler, with a knapsack on his back and a staff in -his hand, came trudging into Haarlem. - -“My name is John Gutenberg, and my home is at Mayence,” he said to the -landlord of the inn where he stopped. - -“And pray what may be your business in our good city of Haarlem?” asked -the landlord. - -“I am trying to gain knowledge by seeing the world,” was the answer. “I -have been to Rome and Venice and Genoa; I have visited Switzerland and -all the great cities in Germany; and now I am on my way through Holland -to France.” - -“What is the most wonderful thing that you have seen in your travels?” -asked the landlord. - -“There is nothing more wonderful to me than the general ignorance of the -people,” said Gutenberg. “They seem to know nothing about the country in -which they live; they know nothing about the peoples of other lands; -and, what is worse, they know nothing about the truths of religion. If -there were only some way to make books more plentiful, so that the -common people could buy them and learn to read them, a great deal of -this ignorance would be dispelled. Ever since I was a mere youth at -school, is this thought has been in my mind.” - -“Well,” said the landlord, “we have a man here in Haarlem who makes -books; and, although I know nothing about them myself, I have been told -that he makes them by a new method, and much faster and cheaper than -they have ever been made before.” - -“Who is this man? Tell me where I can find him!” cried Gutenberg. - -“His name is Laurence Coster, and he lives in the big house which you -see over there close by the market place. You can find him at home at -all hours of the day; for, since he got into this mad way about -printing, he never walks out.” - -[Illustration: John Gutenberg.] - -Gutenberg lost no time in making the acquaintance of Laurence Coster. -The kind old gentleman showed him his types, and told him all about his -plans; and when he brought out a Latin Grammar which he had just -finished, Gutenberg was filled with wonder and delight. - -“This is what I have so long hoped for,” he said. “Now knowledge will -fly on the wings of truth to the uttermost parts of the earth!” - -Many different stories have been told about the way in which Gutenberg -set to work to improve the art of printing. One relates that, after -having gained the confidence of Laurence Coster, he stole all his types -and tools and carried them to Mayence, where he opened a workshop of his -own. Another story is as follows: - -After seeing Laurence Coster’s work, he was so impatient to be doing -something of the kind himself that he left Haarlem the next morning, and -hurried to Strasburg. There he shut himself up in a room which he -rented, and set to work to carry out the plans which he had in mind. -With a knife and some pieces of wood he made several sets of movable -type, and arranging them in words and sentences, strung them together -upon pieces of wire. In this way he was able to print more rapidly than -by Laurence Coster’s method, where each letter, or at most each word, -was printed separately. - -He soon set up a shop in an old ruined monastery just outside of the -town, and began work as a jeweler. He polished precious stones, and he -dealt in mirrors which he mounted in frames of carved wood. He did this -partly to earn a livelihood, and partly to conceal the greater projects -which he had in hand. In a dark secluded corner of the monastery he -fitted up another workshop where he could secretly carry on his -experiments in printing. There, behind bolts and bars and a thick oaken -door, he spent all of his spare time with his types. - -Little by little, Gutenberg made improvements in his art. He invented -methods for making letters of metal that were better than any that -Laurence Coster had used. He learned how to mix inks of various colors. -He made brushes and rollers for inking the types; “forms” for keeping -the letters together when arranged for printing; and at last a press for -bringing the paper into contact with the inked type. - - -IV. THE TWO VOICES. - -Whether awake or asleep, John Gutenberg’s mind was always full of his -great invention. One night as he sat looking at a sheet that he had -printed on his first press, he thought that he heard two voices -whispering near him. One of the voices was soft and musical and very -pleasant to hear; the other was harsh and gruff and full of discordant -tones. The gentle voice spoke first, - -“Happy, happy man!” it said, “Go on with your great work, and be not -discouraged. In the ages to come, men of all lands will gain knowledge -and become wise by means of your great invention. Books will multiply -until they are within the reach of all classes of people. Every child -will learn to read. And to the end of time, the name of John Gutenberg -will be remembered.” - -[Illustration: - - Drawn by Arthur I. Keller. Engraved by E. Heinemann. - -Gutenberg and his Printing Press.] - -Then the harsh voice spoke: “Beware! beware! and think twice of what you -are doing. Evil as well as good will come from this invention upon which -you have set your heart. Instead of being a blessing to mankind, it will -prove to be a curse. Pause and consider before you place in the hands of -sinful and erring men another instrument of evil.” - -Gutenberg’s mind was filled with distress. He thought of the fearful -power which the art of printing would give to wicked men to corrupt and -debase their fellow-men. He leaped to his feet, he seized his hammer, -and had almost destroyed his types and press when the gentle voice spoke -again, and in accents loud enough to cause him to pause. - -“Think a moment,” it said. “God’s gifts are all good, and yet which one -of them is not abused and sometimes made to serve the purposes of wicked -men. What will the art of printing do? It will carry the knowledge of -good into all lands; it will promote virtue; it will be a new means of -giving utterance to the thoughts of the wise and the good.” - -Gutenberg threw down his hammer and set to work to repair the mischief -that he had done. But scarcely had he put his printing machine in good -order when other troubles arose. He was in debt, and he had difficulties -with the town officers. His goods were seized upon; his types were -destroyed; and he was at last obliged to return penniless to his old -home in Mayence. - - -V. JOHN FUST. - -In Mayence, Gutenberg had an old friend named John Fust, who was a -goldsmith and very rich. With this man he soon formed a partnership, and -a printing office much better than the one at Strasburg was set up. -Several books, most of them on religious subjects, were printed and sent -out, and the business was soon in a flourishing condition. - -But Gutenberg’s troubles were not yet ended. There were a great many -people who were opposed to his new way of making books. The copyists who -made their living by transcribing books were very bitter against it -because it would destroy their business. They formed a league to oppose -the printers, and before long drove Gutenberg out of Mayence. - -After wandering to various places in Germany, he at last gained the -friendship of Adolphus, the Elector of Nassau, who took a great interest -in his plans. A press was set up at the court of the Elector, and there -Gutenberg worked for several years, printing volume after volume with -his own hands. But his invention did not bring him wealth. When he died -at the age of sixty-nine years, he left no property but a few books -which he had printed. - -His partner, John Fust, had been much more fortunate. He had set up -another press at Mayence, and in spite of the copyists and their friends -was printing many books, and reaping great profits from their sale. One -summer he printed some Bibles and took them to Paris to sell. They -looked very much like the manuscript copies made by the copyists, for it -was to the interest of the printers to pass off their books as -manuscripts. People were astonished when Fust offered to sell his Bibles -at sixty crowns, while the copyists demanded five hundred. They were -still more astonished when he produced them as fast as they were wanted, -and finally lowered the price. The copyists were very bitter against -him. - -“He is a magician!” they cried. “No one but a magician could do this.” -And so the officers were sent to arrest him and search his rooms. They -found a great many Bibles and some red ink. - -“There is no doubt about it,” said the officers. “This is blood, and the -man is a magician.” - -In order to save himself from being burned as a wizard, Fust was obliged -to go before the Parliament of Paris and tell all about his new method -of making books, and how he used the red ink for embellishing the -borders of the pages. - -It was thus that the art of printing by movable types first became known -to the world. - - - - -THE WANDERER. - - -[Illustration: Eugene Field.] - - Upon a mountain height far from the sea - I found a shell, - And to my listening ear the lonely thing - Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, - Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. - - How came the shell upon that mountain height? - Ah, who can say? - Whether there dropped by some too careless hand - Or whether there cast when Ocean left the Land - Ere the Eternal had ordained the Day. - - Strange, was it not? Far from its native deep - One song it sang,-- - Sang of the awful mysteries of the tide, - Sang of the misty sea, profound and wide,-- - Ever with echoes of the ocean rang. - - And, as the shell upon the mountain height - Sings of the sea, - So do I ever, leagues and leagues away,-- - So do I ever, wandering where I may-- - Sing, O my home! sing, O my home, of thee! - --_Eugene Field._ - - - - -LEAD THOU ME ON. - - -[Illustration: Cardinal Newman.] - - Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, - Lead thou me on! - The night is dark, and I am far from home,-- - Lead thou me on! - Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see - The distant scene,--one step enough for me. - - I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou - Shouldst lead me on. - I loved to choose and see my path, but now - Lead thou me on! - I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, - Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. - - So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still - Will lead me on, - O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till - The night is gone; - And with the morn those angel faces smile - Which I have loved long since, and lost a while. - --_John Henry Newman._ - - - - -THE AMERICAN INDIAN. - - -Not many generations ago, where you now sit, encircled with all that -exalts and embellishes civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the -wind, and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved -another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your heads, -the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer; gazing on the same moon that -smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate. - -Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless, the council -fire glared on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs in -your sedgy lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe along your rocky -shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the -defying death song, all were here; and, when the tiger strife was over, -here curled the smoke of peace. - -Here, too, they worshiped; and from many a dark bosom went up a pure -prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on -tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. -The poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but the God of -the universe he acknowledged in everything around. - -He beheld him in the star that sank in beauty behind his lonely -dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his midday throne; -in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine, -that defied a thousand whirlwinds; in the timid warbler that never left -its native grove; in the fearless eagle whose untired pinion was wet in -clouds; in the worm that crawled at his foot; and in his own matchless -form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious Source he -bent, in humble, though blind, adoration. - -And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim bark, -bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you; the -latter sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years -have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted, forever, -from its face a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of -nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful -for the tribes of the ignorant. - -Here and there, a stricken few remain; but how unlike their bold, -untamed, untamable progenitors! The Indian of falcon glance and lion -bearing, the theme of the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic -tale, is gone! and his degraded offspring crawl upon the soil where he -walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man, when the foot of -the conqueror is on his neck. - -As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, -their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council -fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war cry is fast -dying to the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant -mountains. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing -them away; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will -settle over them forever. - -Ages hence, the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing -city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed remains, and -wonder to what manner of person they belonged. They will live only in -the songs and chronicles of their exterminators. Let these be faithful -to their rude virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate -as a people. - - --_Charles Sprague._ - - - - -THE PASSING OF KING ARTHUR. - - -Whether there ever was a real King Arthur, or whether he lived only in -the imagination of story-tellers and song writers, no one can tell. This -much is true, however, that the history of his exploits and those of his -Knights of the Round Table has existed in poetry and song for now almost -a thousand years. - -Long before there were any English books worth speaking of, the story of -King Arthur was sung and recited by wandering bards to delighted -listeners in the halls and castles of Old England. In the course of time -it was written down in poetry and in prose; it was turned into French, -and from the French back into English again; other stories were added to -it, and it became the most popular romance ever composed. In 1470, a -knight whose name was Sir Thomas Malory made a version of it in what was -then good English prose, taking it, as he said, “out of a certain book -of French.” This version has ever since been the one book to which all -who would know the story of King Arthur have turned; it is the mine from -which later writers have derived materials for their works. It is -written in a style which, although old-fashioned and quaint, is -wonderfully simple and beautiful. - -One of the most touching passages in the story is that which tells how -King Arthur, having fought his last battle, lay wounded upon the ground; -and how, being deserted by all the knights except Sir Bedivere, he -waited for the coming of fairy messengers to bear him away to the island -valley of Avilion. Here is the passage, not in the exact words of Sir -Thomas Malory, but repeated, somewhat after his manner, in words of -modern usage. - -“My hour is near at hand,” said the king to Sir Bedivere. “Therefore, -take thou my good sword Excalibur, and go with it to yonder water side; -and when thou comest there, I charge thee throw it in that water, and -then come and tell me what thou hast seen.” - -“My lord,” said Sir Bedivere, “your bidding shall be done, and I will -come quickly and bring you word.” - -So Sir Bedivere departed, and as he went he looked at that noble sword, -and saw that the hilt and guard were covered with precious stones; and -then he said to himself, “If I throw this rich sword into the water, no -good shall ever come of it, but only harm and loss.” - -Then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree. And as soon as he might, -he came again unto the king, and said he had been at the water side, and -had thrown the sword into the water. - -“What sawest thou there?” said the king. - -“Sir, I saw nothing but waves and winds.” - -“Thou speakest not the truth,” said the king. “Therefore, go quickly -again and do my bidding; and as thou art dear to me, spare not, but -throw the sword in.” - -Then Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his hand. But -when he looked at it he thought it a sin and a shame to throw away so -noble a sword. And so, after he had hidden it again, he came back and -told the king that he had been at the water and had done his bidding. - -“What sawest thou there?” said the king. - -[Illustration: And there came an arm and a hand above the water.] - -“Sir,” he said, “I saw nothing but the waves lapping on the beach, and -the water rising and falling among the reeds.” - -“Ah, traitor untrue,” said King Arthur, “now thou hast betrayed me -twice. Who would have thought that thou, who hast been so near and dear -to me and art called a noble knight, would betray me for the riches of -the sword? But now go again quickly, for I am chilled with cold, and my -life is in danger through thy long delay. And if thou dost not do my -bidding, and I ever see thee again, I will slay thee with my own hands; -for thou, for the sake of my rich sword, would see me dead.” - -Then Sir Bedivere departed; and he quickly took the sword and went to -the water side. Then he wrapped the belt about the hilt, and threw the -sword as far into the water as he could. And there came an arm and a -hand above the water, and caught the sword, and shook it thrice and -brandished it. Then the hand, with the sword, vanished in the water. So -Sir Bedivere came again to the king and told him what he had seen. - -“Alas,” said the king, “help me from this place; for I fear that I have -tarried too long.” - -Then Sir Bedivere took the king upon his back, and carried him to the -water side. And when they came to the water, a little barge was seen -floating close by the bank; and in the barge were many fair ladies, and -among them was a queen. All these wept and cried out when they saw King -Arthur. - -“Now put me into the barge,” said the king; and this Sir Bedivere did, -with tenderness and care. - -And three of the fair ladies received him with great mourning. Then that -one who was the queen said: “Ah, dear brother, why have you staid so -long? Alas, I fear lest this wound on your head has been chilled over -much with the cold!” - -Then they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere watched them. And he -cried: “Ah, my lord Arthur! What shall become of me, now you go away and -leave me here alone among my enemies?” - -“Comfort thyself,” said the king, “and do the best thou canst, for I can -no longer give thee help. For I go now into the vale of Avilion, to heal -me of my grievous wound. If thou never hear more of me, pray for my -soul.” - -But the ladies and the queen wept and cried in a way that was piteous to -hear. And when Sir Bedivere lost sight of the barge, he wept bitterly; -and, weeping, he went into the forest, where he wandered all that long -night. - -“Some men yet say,” continues Sir Thomas Malory, “that King Arthur is -not dead, but taken by the will of our Lord into another place. And men -say that he shall come again and shall win the holy cross. I will not -say it shall be so, but rather I will say that in this world he changed -his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb a verse -in Latin, which when turned into English, is this: ‘Here lieth Arthur, -that was and is to be King.’” - - - - -BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES. - -=George Bancroft:= An American historian. Born at Worcester, -Massachusetts, 1800; died, 1891. Wrote “History of the United States -from the Discovery of the Continent” (10 vols.). - -_Daniel Boone:_ The pioneer of Kentucky. Born in Pennsylvania, 1735; -died in Missouri, 1820. - -=William Cullen Bryant:= An eminent American poet. Born in Massachusetts, -1794; died, 1878. Wrote “Thanatopsis” and many other short poems. Was -one of the editors of the “Evening Post” (New York) for more than fifty -years. - -=John C. Calhoun:= An eminent American statesman and orator. Born in South -Carolina, 1782; died, 1850. - -=Richard Henry Dana, Jr.:= An American lawyer and author. Born at -Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1815; died, 1868. - -=Charles Dickens:= An English novelist. Born at Landport, England, 1812; -died, 1870. His best novel is generally conceded to be “David -Copperfield.” - -=William Dimond:= An English poet, remembered only for his “Mariner’s -Dream.” Died, about 1837. - -=Eugene Field:= An American author. Born in St. Louis, 1850; died in -Chicago, 1895. Wrote “A Little Book of Western Verse,” “A Little Book of -Profitable Tales,” etc. - -=Robert Fulton:= An American inventor. Born in Lancaster County, -Pennsylvania, 1765; died, 1815. - -=Charles E. A. Gayarré:= An American historian. Born in Louisiana, 1805; -died, 1895. Wrote a “History of Louisiana,” and several other works. - -=Sir Archibald Geikie:= A Scottish geologist. Born in Edinburgh, 1835. Has -written “The Story of a Boulder,” “A Class Book of Physical Geography,” -and many other popular and scientific works on geological subjects. - -=Thomas Grimke:= An American lawyer and philanthropist. Born in South -Carolina, 1786; died, 1834. - -=Nathaniel Hawthorne:= A distinguished American author. Born at Salem, -Massachusetts, 1804; died, 1864. Wrote “The Scarlet Letter,” “The Marble -Faun,” “The House of the Seven Gables,” “The Wonder Book,” “Tanglewood -Tales,” etc. His style has been said to possess “almost every -excellence--elegance, simplicity, grace, clearness, and force.” - -=Homer:= The reputed author of the two great poems, the “Iliad” and the -“Odyssey.” Supposed to have been born at Smyrna, or Chios, about one -thousand years before Christ. The “Iliad” has been called “the beginning -of all literature.” - -=Washington Irving:= An American author and humorist. Born in New York, -1783; died, 1859. Wrote “The Sketch Book,” “History of New York by -Diedrich Knickerbocker,” “Tales of a Traveler,” “The Alhambra,” -“Columbus and his Companions,” “Mahomet and his Successors,” and many -other works. - -=Charles Kingsley:= An English clergyman and writer. Born in Devonshire, -1819; died, 1875. Wrote “Hypatia,” “Westward Ho!” “The Heroes,” “The -Water Babies,” “Alton Locke, Tailor and Poet,” “Madame How and Lady -Why,” several poems, and a volume of sermons. - -=Sir Edwin Landseer:= The most famous of modern painters of animals. Born -in London, 1802; died, 1873. His pictures of dogs and horses have -seldom, if ever, been surpassed. - -=Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Baron Lytton:= A British novelist and poet. -Born in Norfolk, England, 1803; died, 1873. Wrote “The Last Days of -Pompeii,” “The Caxtons,” “My Novel,” and many other novels; also, -several volumes of poems, and two dramas, “The Lady of Lyons” and -“Richelieu.” - -=Sir Thomas Malory:= A Welsh or English Knight, remembered for his noble -prose epic, “Morte d’Arthur,” which he translated from the French. Born, -about 1430. - -=John Henry Newman:= An eminent English theologian. Born in London, 1801; -died, 1890. Wrote many religious and controversial works, and a few -beautiful hymns. In 1879 he was made cardinal-deacon in the Roman -Catholic Church. - -=John Ruskin:= A distinguished English author and art critic. Born in -London, 1819; died, 1900. Wrote “The Stones of Venice,” “Sesame and -Lilies,” “Ethics of the Dust,” “The Queen of the Air,” “Modern -Painters,” and many other works, chiefly on subjects connected with art. - -=Sir Walter Scott:= A celebrated novelist and poet. Born in Edinburgh, -Scotland, 1771; died, 1832. Wrote the “Waverley Novels,” “The Lay of the -Last Minstrel,” “The Lady of the Lake,” “Tales of a Grandfather,” and -many other works. - -=Charles Sprague:= An American poet. Born in Boston, 1791; died 1875. -Wrote several short poems, most of which are now forgotten. - -_Alfred, Lord Tennyson:_ Poet laureate of England. Born in Lincolnshire, -1809; died, 1892. Wrote “Idylls of the King,” “In Memoriam,” “The -Princess,” and many shorter poems; also the dramas “Queen Mary,” -“Harold,” and “Becket.” - -=Daniel Webster:= American statesman and orator. Born in New Hampshire, -1782; died, 1852. His most famous orations are those on Bunker Hill, -Adams and Jefferson, and his “Reply to Hayne.” - -=John Greenleaf Whittier:= A distinguished American poet. Born at -Haverhill, Massachusetts, 1807; died, 1892. Wrote many volumes of -poetry, including “In War Time,” “Snow-Bound,” “Mabel Martin,” “The -King’s Missive,” and others. - -=Samuel Woodworth:= An American journalist and poet. Born in -Massachusetts, 1785; died, 1842. He is remembered chiefly for his little -poem “The Old Oaken Bucket.” - - - - -WORD LIST. - -THE MOST DIFFICULT WORDS IN THE PRECEDING LESSONS PRONOUNCED AND -DEFINED. - - * * * * * - -KEY TO THE MARKS OF PRONUNCIATION. - - =ā, ē, ī, ō, ū=, long; =ă, ĕ, ĭ, ŏ, ŭ, y̆=, short; =câre=, =ärm=, - =ȧsk=, =ạll=; =fĕrn=; =fôrm=, =sȯn=; =rṳde=, =fṳll=, =ûrn=; =fōōd=, - b=ŏŏk=; =çinder=; =ġentle=; _chasm_; =thin=; =them=; =iṉk=. - - * * * * * - -a băn´don. To give up; relinquish. - -ăb´bot. The ruler of an abbey. - -a brĭdged´. Shortened. - -a by̆ss´. A bottomless gulf. - -ac çĕl´erated. Quickened; hastened. - -ăc´ çi dent. A sudden and unexpected event. - -a chiēved´. Done; accomplished. - -acknowl´edged (ăk nŏl´ĕjd). Assented to; owned as a fact. - -ăd mi rā´tion. Wonder and delight. - -ăf fĕct´ed. Moved; influenced. - -ăġ i tā´tion. Emotion; excitement. - -a lōōf´. Away from. - -a māze´ment. Wonder; astonishment. - -ăm´ber. Yellowish. - -ăm´bling. Going at an easy gait. - -ăm mu nĭ´tion. Articles used in charging firearms. - -ăm´ple. Sufficient. “Ample prospects” = wide or extended views. - -a nŏn´. “Ever and anon” = frequently; often. - -ăn´ti quāt ed. Old-fashioned. - -an tique´ (ăn tēēk´). Old; ancient. - -ăn´tlered. Having horns like a deer. - -ăp pạll´ing. Terrible; fearful. - -ăp pâr´ent ly. Clearly; seemingly. - -ăp pa rĭ´tion. A wonderful appearance; a ghost. - -ăp pli cā´tion (of the rod). The act of laying on. - -ăp point´ed. Set apart; named; established. - -ăp prĕn´tĭçe ship. Service under legal agreement for - the purpose of learning a trade or art. - -ăs çer tāined´. Learned; found out. - -ăsp´ens. Poplar trees of a certain kind, the leaves of - which are moved by the slightest breeze. - -ăs sạult´ed. Attacked; set upon with violence. - -ȧ stẽrn´. At the stern or hinder part. - -at most = at the greatest estimate. - -ăt´om. The smallest particle of matter. - -ạu´di ble. That can be heard. - -ạu´dience. An assembly of hearers. - -ȧ vĕnġe´. To inflict punishment upon evil doers for an - injury to one’s self or friends. - - -bạl´dric. A broad belt worn over one shoulder and under the opposite arm. - -bär. The legal profession. “Admitted to the bar” = authorized - to practice law in the courts. - -bā´sĭs. Foundation; groundwork. - -bȧsk´ing. Lying in a warm place. - -bāy. “Leaves of bay” = leaves of the laurel tree. - -be dīght´. Dressed. - -bĕl lĭġ´er ent. Warlike. - -be stōwed´. Placed; used; imparted. - -be wĭl´dered. Greatly perplexed. - -be wĭtched´. Charmed; entranced. - -bĭck´er. To move quickly. - -bĭlġe wạter. Water in the hold of a ship. - -bĩrch (of jŭs tice). A tough, slender twig, used in school for punishment. - -biv´ouac (bĭv´wăk). An encampment for the night without tents or covering. - -blā´zoned. Displayed in bright colors; published far and wide. - -blŭb´ber. The fat of whales and other large sea animals, - from which oil is obtained. - -blŭsh´ing gŏb´let. A goblet or glass full of red wine. - -boat´swain (bō´s’n). An officer who has charge of the boats of a ship. - -bŏnds´man. A slave. - -bow´er. A lady’s private apartment; a shady recess. - -brāke. A thicket; a place overgrown with shrubs. - -brăm´bly. Full of briers. - -brăn´dished. Shook or flourished. - -broạd´sīde. A discharge at the same time of all - the guns on one side of a ship. - -bŭc cȧ nēērs´. Robbers upon the sea. - -bṳl´lion. Gold or silver in the mass. - -bûrgh´er. Townsman; villager. - -bûr´nished. Polished. - -bûrnt ŏf´fer ing. Something offered and burnt - on an altar as an atonement for sin. - -bŭx´om. Stout and rosy. - - -cāne´brākes. Thickets of canes. - -ca prĭ´çious. Changeable; freakish. - -cär nĭv´or ous. Flesh-eating. - -cāse´ment. A window sash opening on hinges. - -căt´a răct. A waterfall. - -çĕl´lu lar. Containing cells. - -chasms (kăzmz). Deep openings in the earth. - -chŏp´fạll en. Dejected; downcast. - -chrŏn´i cles. Historical account of facts arranged in regular order. - -chûrls. Countrymen; laborers. - -çĩr cŭm´fer ençe. The distance around. - -çĭr´cum stan çes. Facts; events. - -clēave. Separate; divide. - -clōse hạuled. Moving as nearly as possible toward the wind. - -clūe. A thread; means of guidance. - -coin´aġe. The act of making pieces of money from metal. - -cŏm bŭs´ti ble. That can be burned. - -cŏm mŏd´i ties. Things bought and sold. - -cŏm´mon wĕalth. A state; the public. - -cŏm mūned´. Talked together. - -cŏm mū ni cā´tion. Intercourse; news. - -cŏm pen sā´tion. Payment; reward. - -cŏm´pli cat ed. Complex; combined in an intricate manner. - -cŏm pound´ed. Put together; mixed. - -cŏn çēd´ed. Gave up; yielded. - -cŏn çĕp´tions. Ideas; notions. - -cŏn fẽrred´. Gave; bestowed. - -cŏn frȯnts´. Meets face to face. - -con spĭc´u ous. Plain; distinct. - -con stĭt´u ents. Component parts. - -cŏn´tra band. Prohibited; forbidden. - -cōōt. A bird resembling a duck. - -cŏp´y ist. One who copies. - -cor rŭpt´. To change from good to bad; depraved. - -coun´te nançe. Face; appearance. - -crā´ni um. The skull. - -crā´ter. The opening or mouth of a volcano. - -cre dū´li ty. Readiness of belief. - -crŏpped. Grazed. “Hair cropped close” = hair cut short. - -crouched. Stooped low, as an animal when waiting for prey. - -cûr´dled. Coagulated; thickened. “Curdling awe” = awe that - thickens the blood in the veins. - -cŭs tō´di an. A keeper; guardian. - - -de clĕn´sion. A falling. “Declension of spirits” = loss of cheerfulness. - -dĕm´on strāte. To explain; point out. - -de nounçe´. To accuse; threaten. - -de prĕss´ing. Pressing down; humbling. - -de scrīed´. Saw; beheld. - -de serts´ (de zẽrts´). “According to his deserts” = as he deserves. - -de spīte´ful ly. Maliciously. - -des pŏt´ic (power). The power of a master; tyranny. - -de vŏlved´. Passed from one person to another. - -dī´a grăms. Drawings; plans. - -dĭc tāt´ed. Said; declared. - -dĭf fūsed´. Spread; circulated. - -dĭg´ni ty. Loftiness and grace. - -dĭl´i ġent. Busy; earnest. - -di mĕn´sions. Extent; measure. - -dis côrd´ant. Unmusical; jarring. - -dis coun´te nançed. Discouraged; abashed. - -dis guīsed´. Hidden. - -dĭsk. The face of a heavenly body. - -dis sĕv´ered. Separated. - -dŏg´ged. Sullen; obstinate. - -doŭb lōōn´. A Spanish coin worth about $15.00. - -drăm´a tīzed. Represented in a play. - -drŭdg´er y. Hard, mean labor. - -dūe. “A stranger’s due” = that which custom requires - to be given to a stranger. - -dŭsk. “Breezes dusk and shiver” = darken and cause to quiver. - - -ĕc´sta sy. Extreme delight. - -eight-bells. On shipboard, the striking of a bell - eight times at 4, 8, and 12 o’clock. - -ēked. Increased. - -ĕl´e ment. One of several parts of something. - -em bĕl´lish ing. Illustrating; beautifying. - -ĕm´blem. Sign. - -ĕm´i nençe. High place or station. - -e mĭt´ting. Sending out. - -en çĩr´cled. Surrounded. - -en coun´tered. Met face to face. - -ĕn´sīgn. A banner; one who carries a banner. - -ĕn´ter prī sing. Resolute; active. - -en thrōned´. Put on a throne. - -en trēat´. To beg off. - -e rŭp´tion. A breaking out. - -ē´ther. The air; a light, volatile liquid. - -ĕv er-vā´ry ing. Ever-changing. - -ĕv´i dence. Proof. - -ex alt´ed (ĕgz ạlt´ed). Raised on high. - -ex çēēd´ing. More than usual. - -ex çĕss´ive. Overmuch. - -ex clū´sive. Shutting out all others. - -ex e cūt´ed. Performed. - -ex haust´ing (ĕgz ạst´ing). Using up: tiring out. - -ex pĕr´i ments. Trials; tests. - -ex pōrt´ed. Carried out. - -ex pŏs tu lā´tions. Remonstrances. - -ex prĕss´ly. Particularly. - -ex´quis ite (ĕx´kwĭ zĭt). Very excellent; nice. - -ex´tant. Still existing. - -ex ult’ed (ĕgz ŭlt´ed). Rejoiced. - - -făl´low. Land left unplowed. - -fan tăs´tic. Fanciful; unreal. - -făth´om. Six feet. - -fa tig´u ing (fa tēg´ing). Tiring; wearying. - -fe rŏç´i ty. Fierceness. - -fer´ule (fĕr´rĭl). A short stick or ruler. - -feuds. Quarrels; disputes. - -flĭm´sy. Weak; limp. - -fo rāy´. An attack; a raid. - -fore´cas tle (fōr´kăs’l). The forward part of a ship. - -fōre´land. A cape; headland. - -for sweâr´. To declare or deny on oath. - -fō´rum. A court; tribunal. - -foul. Shameful; disgraceful. - -frăg´men tā ry. In pieces. - -fra tẽr´nal. Brotherly. - -frŏn´tiēr. Border land. - -fûr´bish ing. Scouring: cleaning. - - -gâr´ish. Showy. - -gär´nished. Decorated. - -gaunt (gänt). Thin; lean. - -ġĕm´my. Full of gems. - -gĩrth. Band fastening a saddle on a horse’s back. - -gla´cier (glā´shẽr). Field of ice. - -glū´ey. Full of glue; sticky. - -gnarled (närld). Knotty; twisted. - -gŏb´lin. A mischievous spirit; phantom. - -gŏŏd´man. A tenant. - -gŏs´sip. To tattle; talk. - -grăn´deur. Vastness; nobility. - -grăph´ic. Vivid; impressive. - -grāy´ling. A kind of fish. - -grēaves. Armor for the leg below the knee. - -griēv´ous. Causing sorrow. - -guärd. Protection. “Mounting guard” = keeping watch. - -gŭt´tur al. A sound made in the throat. - - -hăp´less. Unfortunate. - -hăp´ly. Fortunately. - -här pōōn´. A barbed spear, used in catching whales and other sea animals. - -häunts. Places of resort. - -hēav´ing. Hoisting; straining. - -hĕr´ald ed. Proclaimed; made known. - -hĕr´e sy. Opinion contrary to established belief. - -hẽrn. A wading bird. - -hĭg´gle dy-pĭggle dy. Topsy-turvy. - -hōōves. Feet of horses or cattle. - -hôrse´man ship. The riding of horses. - -hōve. Hoisted; came to a stop. - -hu māne´. Kind; gentle. - -hŭs´band man. Farmer. - -hus´tled (hŭs´l’d). Pushed; crowded. - - -il lū´mi nā tors. Illustrators; embellishers. - -il lŭs´tri ous. Noble; grand. - -im bĕd´ded. Covered over. - -im pẽarled´. Made look as though ornamented with pearls. - -im pĕn´e tra ble. Not to be entered. - -im per fĕc´tions. Shortcomings; failings. - -ĭm´po tence. Weakness; infirmity; having no power. - -im prẽs´sion. Mark made by pressure. - -ĭn´çi dents. Happenings. - -in cli nā´tion. Desire. - -in clīned´. Leaned toward; placed against. - -in con vēn´ience. Disadvantage; awkwardness. - -in crĕd´i ble. Not to be believed. - -in cre dū´li ty. Showing disbelief. - -in crĕd´u lous. Unbelieving. - -in den tā´tion. Notch; dent. - -in di cā´tions. Signs; symptoms. - -in dĭf´fer ençe. Carelessness; heedlessness. - -in ex prĕss´i ble. Not to be described. - -ĭn´no cençe. Harmlessness. - -in no vā´tions. Things not customary. - -in nū´mer a ble. Without number. - -in quī´ry. Research; an inquiring. - -in sĕp´a ra ble. Not to be divided. - -ĭn´so lent ly. Rudely. - -in sti tū´tion. Something established. - -in sure´ (-shṳre). To make sure. - -in tel lĕc´tu al. Belonging to the mind; mental. - -in tĕl´li gençe. News. - -intĕns´est. Strictest; extreme in degree. - -in ter çĕpt´ed. Cut off; stopped on the way. - -in ter fēred´. Meddled; interposed. - -in ter mĭn´gling. Mixing together. - -in un dā´tion. A flood. - -in vĕn´tion. Discovery; finding out. - -in ves ti gā´tion. A looking into. - -ir rĕs´o lute ly. In an undecided manner. - -ī tĭn´er ant. Wandering; not settled. - - -kēēl. The bottom part of a boat. - -knĕll. A funeral bell. - -knīght-ĕr´rant. A knight who traveled in search of adventures. - -knōll. A little round hill. - - -lâird. A Scottish landholder. - -lär´board. Left-hand side of a ship. - -’lăr´ums. Abbreviation of alarums = alarms. - -lăt´er al. Sideways. - -läunch´ing. Setting afloat. - -lạu´rel. An evergreen shrub; a symbol of honor. - -lä´vȧ. Melted rock from a volcano. - -lēague. About three miles; a treaty of friendship. - -lēē´ward. The part toward which the wind blows. - -lĕġ is lā´tion. Lawmaking. - -lĕp´rous. Affected with a disease called leprosy. - -lĭt´er al ly. Word for word. - -lŏck´er. A chest on shipboard. - -lū´mi nous. Shining; bright. - -lŭs´ti ly. Vigorously; with strength. - -lŭst´y. Stout; robust. - -lŭx ū´ri ous. Dainty; expensive; pleasing to the appetite. - -lȳre (līr). A stringed musical instrument. - - -ma gi´cian (-jĭsh´un). One skilled in magic. - -māin. The sea; the mainland; principal. - -ma jĕs´tic. Stately; grand. - -mal for mā´tion. Irregular formation. - -măl´low. A kind of plant. - -măn´i fest. Plain; clear. - -măn´ū script. Something written by hand. - -mĕd´i tā tive. Thoughtful. - -mĕt´tle. Spirit; temper. - -mi li´tia (mĭ lĭsh´ȧ). A body of citizen soldiers. - -mĭnt. A place where money is coined. - -mĭs chȧnçe´. Ill luck. - -mĭs´sĭle. Something thrown. - -mis trēat´ing. Abusing. - -mol es tā´tion. Troubling; annoyance. - -mōōd. Temper; humor; manner. - -môr ti fi cā´tion. Vexation; shame. - -mō´tive. Moving; causing to move; reason. - -mûrk´iness. Obscurity; darkness. - -mỹr´tle. A shrubby plant. - -my̆s tē´rious. Strange; unknown; unaccountable. - - -năr´ra tive. Story; tale. - -nạu´tic al. Belonging to the sea. - -nĕc´tar. A delicious drink. - -nĕth´er. Lower. - -no bĭ´li ty. The being noble; -those of high rank. - -noŭr´ish er. One who supports or feeds. - -nŏv´el. A fictitious narrative. - - -ob li gā´tions. Debts owing for a favor or kindness. - -ob ser vā´tion. View; notice; comment. - -ŏb´vi āt ed. Avoided. - -of fi´cious (ŏf fĭsh´us). Meddlesome. - -ŏm´i nous. Foreboding evil. - -ŏp por tū´ni ty. Chance; fit time. - -ŏp´u lent. Rich. - -ordāined´. Set apart; appointed. - - -păd´. An easy-paced horse. - -pāġe. A boy employed to attend a person of high rank. - -pȧ rāde´. Display; show. - -pärch´ment. Skin of a sheep prepared for writing on. - -pās´try cŏŏks. Cooks who make pies, tarts, etc. - -pa thĕt´ic. Full of tender pity. - -pa trōl´ling. Traversing; guarding. - -pe cūl´iar. Uncommon; particular. - -pĕd´a gŏgue. A schoolmaster. - -pĕn´sive. Thoughtful. - -pē´o ny. A big red flower. - -pẽr çĕp´ti ble. That can be seen. - -pẽr pĕt´u al. All the time. - -pẽr se cūt´ed. Punished on account of one´s belief; harassed. - -pẽr´son a ble. Well-formed; presentable. - -pẽr´ti nent. Well adapted to the purpose in view. - -per vẽrse´. Contrary. - -pē´wee. A small bird. - -pew´ter (pū´tẽr). An alloy of tin and lead. - -phe nŏm´e non. A remarkable thing or appearance. - -pic tur ĕsque´ly. Vividly; in a pleasing manner. - -pĭl´lion. Cushion behind a saddle. - -pī´lot. One who steers a vessel; a guide. - -pīned. Drooped; languished. - -pĭn´ions. Wings. - -pĭn´nacles. Lofty points or peaks. - -pī o nēēr´. One who goes before and prepares the way for others. - -pĭt´e ous. Exciting pity. - -pĭt´i able. Deserving pity. - -plăsh´y. Watery; splashy. - -poi´son ous. Full of poison. - -pol i ti´cian (-tĭsh´an). Statesman; office seeker. - -pol lūt´ed. Made impure. - -pom´mel (pŭm´mel). Knob of a saddle or of a sword. - -pŏn´der ous. Weighty. - -pōr´ti coes. Covered spaces before buildings. - -pŏs si bĭl´i ties. Things possible. - -pōs´tern. Back entrance. - -pō´tent. Powerful. - -prĕçious ness. Great value. - -prĕ´ma ture ly. Before the right time. - -prī´mal. First; original. - -prŏd´i gal dyes. Brilliant colors. - -prŏj´ects. Plans. - -pro mōt´ed. Assisted; raised. - -pro pĕll´ing. Driving. - -proph´e cy (prŏf´e sy̆). A foretelling. - -pro prī´e ta ry. Pertaining to an owner. - -prow. Fore part of a vessel. - -pŭb´li cans. Collectors of taxes; keepers of inns. - -pum´ice (pŭm´ĭs). A light volcanic stone. - -pûr´pos es. Aims; intentions. - - -quăg´mīre. A marsh; soft, wet land. - -quạr´ter-dĕck. That part of the upper-deck behind the main-mast. - -quạr´tern. A quarter of a pint; a fourth part. - -queued (kūd). Hair put up into a pigtail. - -quĭv´er. Case for carrying arrows. - - -răck´et ing. Frolicking; playing. - -răl´lied. Ridiculed pleasantly. - -rămp´ant. Leaping; frolicking. - -rānġed. Roved over; wandered. - -re çĕp´ta cle. Place to receive things. - -rĕc ol lĕc´tion. Remembrance. - -rĕc on noi´ter. To look around. - -re flĕc´tion. Consideration; meditation; musing; the - return of rays, sound, etc., from a surface. - -re lŭc´tance. Unwillingness. - -rĕm´nants. Pieces remaining. - -re nowned´. Celebrated; famous. - -re quīt´ed. Returned evil for evil. - -re sôrt´. To go; a place to which one is in the habit of going. - -res´pite (rĕs´pĭt). A putting off; reprieve. - -rĕv´er ençe. To treat with respect and fear. - -rĭv´en. Split apart. - -ro măn´tic. Unreal; picturesque. - -roȳs´ter ing. Blustering. - - -săc´ris tan. Sexton; church officer. - -săl´ly. A rushing out; to go out. - -sā´mite. A kind of silk stuff interwoven with gold. - -sap´phire (săf´īr). A blue precious stone. - -sea´soned. Dried and hardened. - -sē clūd´ed. Shut up apart from others. - -sē crēt´ed. Concealed. - -sĕn´ti ment. Thought; opinion. - -shăl´lop. A boat. - -shăm´bled. Shuffled along. - -shēathed. Put into a case. - -shĭṉ´gly bars. Gravelly shallows. - -shrouds of a ship. The set of ropes that stay the masts. - -si ĕs´ta. A midday nap. - -sĭm´mer. To boil gently. - -sim plĭç´i ty. Plainness; truthfulness. - -sin´ew y. Vigorous; firm. - -sit u ā´tion. Location; place. - -sĭx´pençe. A silver coin worth about 12 cents. - -skĕtch´es. Short essays or stories. - -skĭm´ming. Flying with a gentle motion. - -slăp´jăcks. Griddle cakes. - -slŭg´gish. Slow; lazy. - -smĭth´y. A blacksmith’s shop. - -snīpe. A small bird having a long, straight beak. “Snipe - nose” = a nose like a snipe’s beak. - -sō çia bĭl´i ty. Readiness to converse. - -sō joŭrned´. Remained awhile. - -sōle´ly. Alone; only. - -spē´cies (-shëz). Kind; variety. - -spĕc´ter. Ghost; phantom. - -spĕc u lā´tion. Notion; theory. - -stātes´men. Men eminent for their political abilities. - -steer´age. Part of a vessel below decks. - -stĕm and stẽrn. The fore part and the hind part of a vessel. - -stŏck āde´. A strong inclosure; or wall. - -stŭb´ble fields. Fields from which grain has recently been cut. - -stŭl´ti fy. To make a fool of. - -stū pĕn´dous. Wonderful; amazing. - -suf fūsed´. Overspread. - -sŭmp´tu ous. Costly; luxurious. - -sŭn´dry. Several; various. - -su per năt´u ral. Miraculous. - -sup po sĭ´tion. Something supposed. - -sur vey´ing (-vāĭng). Viewing; mapping out. - -swāins. Young rustics. - -swạrd. Turf; grassy surface of the land. - -swạrth´y. Dusky; tawny. - -sy̆mp´tom. Sign; token. - - -tăṉk´ards. Large drinking vessels. - -tăn´ta līz ing. Teasing. - -thătch. Straw covering the roof of a building. - -thēmes. Topics on which one writes or speaks. - -thôrps. Small villages. - -thrŏt´tling. Choking; strangling. - -thyme (tīm). A garden plant. - -tĭlt. A tournament. - -tĭr´rȧ lĭr´rȧ. An imitation of a musical sound. - -tŏl er ā´tion. Freedom. - -tŏp´sail hăl´yards. Ropes for hoisting the topsail on a mast. - -tŏp´sy-tûr´vy. Upside down. - -tour´na ment (tōōr´nȧ mĕnt). A mock fight between horsemen. - -tōw clŏth. Cloth made of coarse flax. - -trāiled. Drawn; dragged. - -trȧnçe. An unconscious condition or state of being. - -trăn scrīb´ing. Copying. - -trăns pōrt´. To carry; to carry away with joy. - -trăns´port. Conveyance; rapture. - -trĕach´er ous. Not to be trusted. - -tre mĕn´dous. Dreadful; awful. - -trĕm´u lous. Trembling. - -trim the yards. Arrange the vessel for sailing. - -trōōp´er. Horseman; cavalryman. - -tu mŭl´tu ous. Disorderly. - - -u biq´ui tous (ū bĭk´wĭ tŭs). In many places at the same time. - -ŭm´braġe. Resentment. - -ū na nĭm´i ty. Agreement. - -un bī´ased. Not prejudiced. - -un couth´ (ŭn kōōth´). Awkward. - -ŭn in tĕl´li ġi ble. Can not be understood. - -ū ni vẽr´sal. General. - -u´ni vẽrse. All created things. - -ŭn sûr păssed´. Having no superior. - -u surp´ (u zûrp´). To seize by force; without right. - -ŭt´ter most. Greatest; farthest limit. - -ū´til īzed. Made useful. - - -vā´grants. Wanderers; beggars. - -vāl´iant. Brave. - -văp´id. Having lost life and spirit. - -vĕn´i son. Flesh of the deer. - -vĕr´sion. A translation; a description from a particular point of view. - -vĭ çĭn´i ty. Neighborhood. - -vi´cious ness (vĭsh´ŭs nĕss). Wickedness. - -vict´uals (vĭt´’lz). Food; provisions. - -vĭg´or ous. Strong; healthy. - -vine´yards (vĭn´yẽrdz). Places where grapevines grow. - -vĩr´tues. Good qualities. - -vĭ´sion a ry. Imaginary. - -vŏl cā´noes. Burning mountains. - - -wạrd´er. A guard. - -wāy´ward ness. Willfulness. - -whey (whā). The watery part of milk, separated from the curd in cheese making. - -whole´some (hōl´sŭm). Healthful. - -wĭck´er. A twig or withe, used in making baskets. - -wĭl´der ness. A wild tract of country; desert. - -wĭnd´lass. Machine for raising weights by turning a crank. - -wĭtch´crăft. The art of witches. “Witching time of night” = time - favorable for witchery. - -wīthes. Long, flexible twigs. - -wĭz´ard. Magician; enchanter. - -wōe´ful. Wretched; sad. - -wōld. A wood; a plain. - -wŏŏd´bīne. A climbing plant. - -wŏŏd´crăft. Skill in anything connected with the woods. - -wres´tling (rĕs´lĭng). Struggling. - - -yärds (of a ship). The long, slender pieces which support the sails. - -yẽarned. Desired very much. - -yeō´man. A freeholder; a farmer. - -yōre. Long ago. - - - - -PROPER NAMES PRONOUNCED. - - -Æneas (ē nē´as). - -Æson (ē´son). - -Æsculapius (ĕs kū lā´pĭ ŭs). - -André (ăn´dra). - -Arnpryor (ärn´prĩ or). - -Aubrey de Montdidier (ō bra dŭ mōṉt dē dĭā´). - -Avernus (a vẽr´nus). - -Avilion (avĭl´yon). - - -Ballengiech (bạl´en gēk). - -Bedivere (bĕd´ĭ vēr). - -Bondy (bŏn´dē). - -Braehead (brā´hĕd). - -Buchanan (bŭk ăn´an). - -Burgundian (bẽr gŭn´dyan). - -Burgundy (bẽr´gŭn dĭ). - - -Cæneus (sē´nūs). - -Camelot (kăm´e lŏt). - -Cherokees (chĕr o kēz´). - -Chiron (kī´ron). - -Coster (kŏs´ter). - -Cramond (krā´mond). - -Cyclops (sī´klŏps). - - -Dana (dā´nȧ). - -Dimond (dī´mond). - -Dragon (drăg´on). - - -Edinburgh (ĕd´ĭn bŭr ro). - -Elaine (ē lān´). - -Excalibur (eks kăl´ĭ bŭr). - - -Finley (fĭn´la). - -Floyd (floid). - -Fust (fōōst). - - -Genoa (jĕn´o ȧ). - -Glaucus (glạ´kŭs). - -Grimke (grĭm´ke). - -Gutenberg (gōō´ten bẽrg). - - -Haarlem (här´lem). - -Hercules (hẽr´kū lēz). - -Herculaneum (hẽr´kū lā´nē ŭm). - -Holyrood (hŏl´ī rōōd). - -Howieson (hou´ĭ sȯn). - - -Ichabod (ĭk´ȧ bŏd). - -Iliad (ĭl´ĭ ad). - -Iolcus (ĭ ŏl´kŭs). - -Ione (ī´o ne). - -Ithaca (ĭth´ȧ kȧ). - - -Jaonssen (jaŏn´sen). - -Jason (jā´son). - -Jerusalem (je rōō´sa lem). - -Jupiter (jōō´pĭ tẽr). - - -Katrina (kăt rē´nȧ). - -Kentucky (kĕn tŭk´y̆). - -Kippen (kĭp´pĕn). - - -Lancelot (lăn´se lŏt). - -Lytton (lĭt´on). - - -Macaire (ma câr´). - -Malory (măl´ō rĭ). - -Mayence (mä yŏṉs´). - -Missouri (mĭs ōō´rī). - -Monte Somma (mŏn´te sŏm´mȧ). - -Montargis (mōṉ tär zhē´). - - -Naples (nā´p’lz). - -Narsac (när săk´). - -Nassau (năs´sạ). - -Neptune (nĕp´tūn). - -Nydia (nĭd´ĭȧ). - - -Odysseus (ō dĭs´ūs). - -Odyssey (ŏd´ĭs sy̆). - - -Paris (păr ĭs). - -Pelias (pe lī´as). - -Pelion (pē´lĭ ŏn). - -Phlegethon (flĕg´e thŏn). - -Pliny (plĭn´y). - -Polyphemus (pŏl y fē´mŭs). - -Pompeii (pŏm pā´yē). - -Portugal (pōr´tu gal). - -Provence (pro vŏṉs´). - - -Roman (rō´măn). - -Russia (rŭsh´ȧ). - - -Saint Bavon (sānt ba vōṉ´). - -Shalott (sha lŏt´). - -Sieur de Narsac (syẽr dŭ när săk´). - -Solon (sō´lŏn). - -Spitzbergen (spĭts bẽrg´en). - -Stabiæ (stăb´ ĭ ē). - -Strasburg (străz´bẽrg). - -Syria (sĭr´ĭ ȧ). - - -Thames (tĕmz). - -Thessaly (thĕs´a lĭ). - - -Ulysses (u lĭs´sẽz). - - -Van Tassel (văn tăs´’l). - -Venetian (ve nē´shan). - -Venice (vĕn´ĭs). - -Vesuvius (ve sū´vĭ ŭs). - - -Wallace (wŏl´as). - -Westminster (wĕst´mĭn ster). - - -Yadkin (yăd´kĭn). - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of School Reading By Grades: Fifth Year, by -James Baldwin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCHOOL READING BY GRADES *** - -***** This file should be named 51000-0.txt or 51000-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/0/0/51000/ - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: School Reading By Grades: Fifth Year - -Author: James Baldwin - -Release Date: January 22, 2016 [EBook #51000] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCHOOL READING BY GRADES *** - - - - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="397" height="500" alt="cover" title="" /> -</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border: 2px black solid;margin:auto auto;max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td> - -<p class="c"><a href="#CONTENTS">Contents.</a></p><p class="c"><span class="nonvis">(In certain versions of this etext [in certain browsers] -clicking on this symbol <img class="enlargeimage" src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" alt="" title="" height="14" width="18" />, -or directly on the image, -will bring up a larger version of the image.)</span></p> - -<p class="c">(etext transcriber's note)</p></td></tr> -</table> - -<h1>SCHOOL READING BY GRADES<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1"></a>{1}</span><br /> -<i>FIFTH YEAR</i></h1> - -<p class="c">BY<br /> -JAMES BALDWIN<br /><br /> -<a href="images/illus001_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus001_sml.jpg" width="182" height="183" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<br /><br /> -NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO<br /> -AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2"></a>{2}</span> </p> - -<p class="c"><small><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1897, by</span><br /> -AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.<br /> -SCH. READ. FIFTH YEAR.<br /> -W. P. 29</small></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3"></a>{3}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> pupil who has read the earlier numbers of this series is now -prepared to study with some degree of care the peculiarities of style -which distinguish the different selections in the present volume. Hence, -while due attention must be given to the study of words merely as -words,—that is to spelling, defining, and pronouncing,—considerable -time should be occupied in observing and discussing the literary -contents, the author’s manner of narrating a story, of describing an -action or an appearance, of portraying emotion, of producing an -impression upon the mind of the reader or the hearer. The pupils should -be encouraged to seek for and point out the particular passages or -expressions in each selection which are distinguished for their beauty, -their truth, or their peculiar adaptability to the purpose in view. The -habit should be cultivated of looking for and enjoying the admirable -qualities of any literary production, and particularly of such -productions as are by common consent recognized as classical.</p> - -<p>The lessons in this volume have been selected and arranged with a view -towards several ends: to interest the young reader; to cultivate a taste -for the best style of literature as regards both thought and expression; -to point the way to an acquaintance with good books; to appeal to the -pupil’s sense of duty, and strengthen his desire to do right; to arouse -patriotic feelings and a just pride in the achievements of our -countrymen; and incidentally to add somewhat to the learner’s knowledge -of history and science and art.</p> - -<p>The illustrations will prove to be valuable adjuncts to the text. -Spelling, defining, and punctuation should continue to receive special -attention. Difficult words and idiomatic expressions should be carefully -studied with the aid of the dictionary and of the Word List at the end -of this volume. Persistent and systematic practice in the pronunciation -of these words and of other difficult combinations of sounds will aid in -training the pupils’ voices to habits of careful articulation and -correct enunciation.</p> - -<p>While literary biography can be of but little, if any, value in -cultivating literary taste, it is desirable that pupils should acquire -some knowledge of the writers whose productions are placed before them -for study. To assist in the acquisition of this knowledge, and also to -serve for ready reference, a few Biographical Notes are inserted towards -the end of the volume. The brief suggestions given on page 6 should be -read and commented upon at the beginning, and frequently referred to and -practically applied in the lessons which follow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4"></a>{4}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr> -<td> </td> -<td align="center"><small>ADAPTED FROM</small></td> -<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SOMETHING_ABOUT_BOOKS">Something about Books</a></td><td><i>John Ruskin</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_7">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OLD_CHIRONS_SCHOOL">Old Chiron’s School</a></td><td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_12">12</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_DOG_OF_MONTARGIS">The Dog of Montargis</a></td><td><i>Old Legend</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_19">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_OLD_OAKEN_BUCKET">The Old Oaken Bucket</a></td><td><i>Samuel Woodworth</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_29">29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_VILLAGE_BLACKSMITH">The Village Blacksmith</a></td><td><i>Henry W. Longfellow</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_CHOICE_OF_HERCULES">The Choice of Hercules</a></td><td> </td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHRISTMAS_AT_THE_CRATCHITS">Christmas at the Cratchits’</a></td><td><i>Charles Dickens</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_37">37</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ON_THE_MOUNTAIN">On the Mountain</a></td><td><i>St. Matthew</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_45">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BETSEY_HULLS_WEDDING">Betsey Hull’s Wedding</a></td><td><i>Nathaniel Hawthorne</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_48">48</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ULYSSES_AND_THE_CYCLOPS">Ulysses and the Cyclops</a></td><td><i>Homer’s “Odyssey”</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_54">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BROOK">The Brook</a></td><td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_67">67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_LADY_OF_SHALOTT">The Lady of Shalott</a></td><td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_70">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LESSONS_FROM_NATURES_BOOK">Lessons from Nature’s Book</a></td><td><i>Sir Archibald Geikie</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_79">79</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_GOODMAN_OF_BALLENGIECH">The Goodman of Ballengiech</a></td><td><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BUGLE_SONG">Bugle Song</a></td><td><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_92">92</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SOME_EXPERIENCES_AT_SEA">Some Experiences at Sea</a></td><td><i>Richard Henry Dana, Jr.</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_93">93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_KING_AND_THE_REBEL">The King and the Rebel</a></td><td><i>Charles E. A. Gayarré</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_97">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DANIEL_BOONE">Daniel Boone</a></td><td><i>George Bancroft</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_100">100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FULTONS_FIRST_STEAMBOAT">Fulton’s First Steamboat</a></td><td><i>Robert Fulton</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_108">108</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PLANTING_OF_THE_APPLE_TREE">The Planting of the Apple Tree</a></td><td><i>William Cullen Bryant</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_111">111</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_CORN_SONG">The Corn Song</a></td><td><i>John G. Whittier</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_114">114</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HUNTING_THE_WALRUS">Hunting the Walrus</a></td><td> </td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_117">117</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_POMPEII">The Destruction of Pompeii.</a></td><td> </td><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#I_HISTORY"> I. History</a></td><td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_124">124</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#II_ROMANCE"> II. Romance</a></td><td><i>Sir E. Bulwer Lytton</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5"></a>{5}</span></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_130">130</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_STRANGER_ON_THE_SILL">The Stranger on the Sill</a></td><td><i>Thomas Buchanan Read</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_140">140</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OUR_COUNTRY">Our Country</a>.</td><td> </td><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#I_WHAT_IS_OUR_COUNTRY"> I. What is Our Country?</a></td><td><i>Thomas Grimke</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_142">142</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#II_LIBERTY_AND_UNION"> II. Liberty and Union</a></td><td><i>Daniel Webster</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_143">143</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#III_THE_POLICY_OF_PEACE"> III. The Policy of Peace</a></td><td><i>John C. Calhoun</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_144">144</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_LEGEND_OF_SLEEPY_HOLLOW">A Legend of Sleepy Hollow</a></td><td><i>Washington Irving</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_146">146</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_MARINERS_DREAM">The Mariner’s Dream</a></td><td><i>William Dimond</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_166">166</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SANDS_O_DEE">The Sands o’ Dee</a></td><td><i>Charles Kingsley</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_169">169</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_INVENTION_OF_PRINTING">The Invention of Printing</a></td><td> </td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_170">170</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_WANDERER">The Wanderer</a></td><td><i>Eugene Field</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_183">183</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LEAD_THOU_ME_ON">Lead Thou Me on</a></td><td><i>John Henry Newman</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_184">184</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_AMERICAN_INDIAN">The American Indian</a></td><td><i>Charles Sprague</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_185">185</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PASSING_OF_KING_ARTHUR">The Passing of King Arthur</a></td><td><i>Sir Thomas Malory</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_187">187</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BIOGRAPHICAL_NOTES"><span class="smcap">Biographical Notes</span></a></td><td> </td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_193">193</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WORD_LIST"><span class="smcap">Word List</span></a></td><td> </td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_196">196</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PROPER_NAMES_PRONOUNCED"><span class="smcap">Proper Names Pronounced</span></a></td><td> </td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_208">208</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p>Acknowledgments are due to Messrs. Charles Scribner’s Sons, publishers -of the works of Eugene Field, for permission to use the poem entitled -“The Wanderer”; to Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers of the -works of H. W. Longfellow and J. G. Whittier, for the use of “The -Village Blacksmith” and “The Corn Song”; and to The J. B. Lippincott -Company, publishers of the poems of T. Buchanan Read, for the piece -entitled “The Stranger on the Sill.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6"></a>{6}</span></p> - -<h2>TO THE LEARNER.</h2> - -<p>A <span class="smcap">famous</span> writer has said that the habit of reading is one’s pass to the -greatest, the purest, the most perfect pleasures that have been prepared -for human beings. “But,” he continued, “you cannot acquire this habit in -your old age; you cannot acquire it in middle age; you must do it now, -when you are young. You must learn to read, and to like reading now, or -you cannot do so when you are old.” Now, no one can derive very great -pleasure or very great profit from reading unless he is able to read -well. The boy or girl who stumbles over every hard word, or who is at a -loss to know the meaning of this or that expression, is not likely to -find much enjoyment in books. To read well to one’s self, one must be -able to read aloud in such a manner as to interest and delight those who -listen to him: and this is the chief reason why we have so many reading -books at school, and why your teachers are so careful that you should -acquire the ability to enunciate every sound distinctly, pronounce every -word properly, and read every sentence readily and with a clear -understanding of its meaning.</p> - -<p>Is the reading exercise a task to you? Try to make it a pleasure. Ask -yourself: What is there in this lesson that teaches me something which I -did not know before? What is there in this lesson that is beautiful, or -grand, or inspiring? Has the writer said anything in a manner that is -particularly pleasing—in a manner that perhaps no one else would have -thought to say it? What particular thought or saying, in this lesson, is -so good and true that it is worth learning by heart and remembering -always. Does the selection as a whole teach anything that will tend to -make me wiser, or better, or stronger than before? Or is it merely a -source of temporary amusement to be soon forgotten and as though it had -never been? Or does it, like fine music or a noble picture, not only -give present pleasure, but enlarge my capacity for enjoyment and enable -me to discover and appreciate beautiful things in literature and art and -nature which I would otherwise never have known?</p> - -<p>When you have asked yourself all these questions about any selection, -and have studied it carefully to find answers to them, you will be -prepared to read it aloud to your teacher and your classmates; and you -will be surprised to notice how much better you have read it than would -have been the case had you attempted it merely as a task or as an -exercise in the pronouncing of words. It is by thus always seeking to -discover things instructive and beautiful and enjoyable in books, that -one acquires that right habit of reading which has been spoken of as the -pass to the greatest, the purest, the most perfect of pleasures.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7"></a>{7}</span></p> - -<h1>SCHOOL READING.<br /><br /> -FIFTH YEAR.</h1> - -<h2><a name="SOMETHING_ABOUT_BOOKS" id="SOMETHING_ABOUT_BOOKS"></a>SOMETHING ABOUT BOOKS.</h2> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 205px;"> -<a href="images/illus007_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus007_sml.jpg" width="205" height="214" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>John Ruskin.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>A beautiful book, and one profitable to those who read it carefully, is -“Sesame and Lilies” by John Ruskin. It is beautiful because of the -pleasant language and choice words in which it is written; for, of all -our later writers, no one is the master of a style more pure and more -delightful in its simplicity than Mr. Ruskin’s. It is profitable because -of the lessons which it teaches; for it was written “to show somewhat -the use and preciousness of good books, and to awaken in the minds of -young people some thought of the purposes of the life into which they -are entering, and the nature of the world they have to conquer.” The -following<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8"></a>{8}</span> pertinent words concerning the choice of books have been -taken mainly from its pages:</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>All books may be divided into two classes,—books of the hour, and books -of all time. Yet it is not merely the bad book that does not last, and -the good one that does. There are good books for the hour and good ones -for all time; bad books for the hour and bad ones for all time.</p> - -<p>The good book of the hour,—I do not speak of the bad ones,—is simply -the useful or pleasant talk of some person printed for you. Very useful -often, telling you what you need to know; very pleasant often, as a -sensible friend’s present talk would be.</p> - -<p>These bright accounts of travels, good-humored and witty discussions of -questions, lively or pathetic story-telling in the form of novel: all -these are books of the hour and are the peculiar possession of the -present age. We ought to be entirely thankful for them, and entirely -ashamed of ourselves if we make no good use of them. But we make the -worst possible use, if we allow them to usurp the place of true books; -for, strictly speaking, they are not books at all, but merely letters or -newspapers in good print.</p> - -<p>Our friend’s letter may be delightful, or necessary,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9"></a>{9}</span> to-day; whether -worth keeping or not, is to be considered. The newspaper may be entirely -proper at breakfast time, but it is not reading for all day. So, though -bound up in a volume, the long letter which gives you so pleasant an -account of the inns and roads and weather last year at such a place, or -which tells you some amusing story, or relates such and such -circumstances of interest, may not be, in the real sense of the word, a -<i>book</i> at all, nor, in the real sense, to be <i>read</i>.</p> - -<p>A book is not a talked thing, but a written thing. The book of <i>talk</i> is -printed only because its author can not speak to thousands of people at -once; if he could, he would—the volume is mere multiplication of the -voice. You can not talk to your friend in India; if you could, you -would; you write instead; that is merely a way of carrying the voice.</p> - -<p>But a book is <i>written</i>, not to multiply the voice merely, not to carry -it merely, but to preserve it. The author has something to say which he -perceives to be true and useful, or helpfully beautiful. So far as he -knows, no one has yet said it; so far as he knows, no one can say it. He -is bound to say it, clearly and in a melodious manner if he may; -clearly, at all events.</p> - -<p>In the sum of his life he finds this to be the thing, or group of -things, manifest to him; this the piece of true knowledge, or sight, -which his share of sunshine<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10"></a>{10}</span> and earth has allowed him to seize. He -would set it down forever; carve it on a rock, if he could, saying, -“This is the best of me; for the rest, I ate and drank and slept, loved -and hated, like another; my life was as the vapor, and is not; but this -I saw and knew; this, if anything of mine, is worth your memory.” That -is his <i>writing</i>; that is a <i>book</i>.</p> - -<p>Now books of this kind have been written in all ages by their greatest -men—by great leaders, great statesmen, great thinkers. These are all at -your choice; and life is short. You have heard as much before; yet have -you measured and mapped out this short life and its possibilities? Do -you know, if you read this, that you can not read that—that what you -lose to-day you can not gain to-morrow?</p> - -<p>Will you go and gossip with the housemaid, or the stableboy, when you -may talk with queens and kings? Do you ask to be the companion of -nobles? Make yourself noble, and you shall be. Do you long for the -conversation of the wise? Learn to understand it, and you shall hear it.</p> - -<p>Very ready we are to say of a book, “How good this is—that is just what -I think!” But the right feeling is, “How strange that is! I never -thought of that before, and yet I see it is true; or if I do not now, I -hope I shall, some day.”</p> - -<p>But whether you feel thus or not, at least be sure<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11"></a>{11}</span> that you go to the -author to get at <i>his</i> meaning, not to find yours. And be sure also, if -the author is worth anything, that you will not get at his meaning all -at once; nay, that at his whole meaning you may not for a long time -arrive in any wise. Not that he does not say what he means, and in -strong words too; but he can not say it all, and, what is more strange, -will not, but in a hidden way in order that he may be sure you want it.</p> - -<p>When, therefore, you come to a good book, you must ask yourself, “Am I -ready to work as an Australian miner would? Are my pickaxes in good -order, and am I in good trim myself, my sleeves well up to the elbow, -and my breath good, and my temper?” For your pickaxes are your own care, -wit, and learning; your smelting furnace is your own thoughtful soul. Do -not hope to get at any good author’s meaning without these tools and -that fire; often you will need sharpest, finest carving, and the most -careful melting, before you can gather one grain of the precious gold.</p> - -<p>I can not, of course, tell you what to choose for your library, for -every several mind needs different books; but there are some books which -we all need, and which if you read as much as you ought, you will not -need to have your shelves enlarged to right and left for purposes of -study.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12"></a>{12}</span></p> - -<p>If you want to understand any subject whatever, read the best book upon -it you can hear of. A common book will often give you amusement, but it -is only a noble book that will give you dear friends.</p> - -<p>Avoid that class of literature which has a knowing tone; it is the most -poisonous of all. Every good book, or piece of book, is full of -admiration and awe; and it always leads you to reverence or love -something with your whole heart.</p> - -<h2><a name="OLD_CHIRONS_SCHOOL" id="OLD_CHIRONS_SCHOOL"></a>OLD CHIRON’S SCHOOL.</h2> - -<p>Æson was king of Iolcus by the sea; but for all that, he was an unhappy -man. For he had a stepbrother named Pelias, a fierce and lawless man who -was the doer of many a fearful deed, and about whom many dark and sad -tales were told. And at last Pelias drove out Æson, his stepbrother, and -took the kingdom for himself, and ruled over the rich town of Iolcus by -the sea.</p> - -<p>And Æson, when he was driven out, went sadly away from the town, leading -his little son by the hand; and he said to himself, “I must hide the -child in the mountains, or Pelias will surely kill him, because he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13"></a>{13}</span> is -the heir.” So he went up from the sea across the valley, through the -vineyards and the olive groves, and across a foaming torrent toward -Pelion, the ancient mountain, whose brows are white with snow.</p> - -<p>He went up and up into the mountain, over marsh and crag, and down, till -the boy was tired and foot-sore, and Æson had to bear him in his arms, -till he came to the mouth of a lonely cave at the foot of a mighty -cliff. Above the cliff the snow wreaths hung, dripping and cracking in -the sun; but at its foot, around the cave’s mouth, grew all fair flowers -and herbs, as if in a garden arranged in order, each sort by itself. -There they grew gayly in the sunshine, and in the spray of the torrent -from above; while from the cave came a sound of music, and a man’s voice -singing to the harp.</p> - -<p>Then Æson put down the lad, and whispered:</p> - -<p>“Fear not, but go in, and whomsoever you shall find, lay your hands upon -his knees, and say, ‘In the name of the Father of gods and men, I am -your guest from this day forth.’ ”</p> - -<p>Then the lad went in without trembling, for he too was a hero’s son; but -when he was within, he stopped in wonder, to listen to that magic song.</p> - -<p>And there he saw the singer lying upon bearskins and fragrant boughs; -Chiron, the ancient Centaur,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14"></a>{14}</span> the wisest of all beings beneath the sky. -Down to the waist he was a man; but below he was a noble horse; his -white hair rolled down over his broad shoulders, and his white beard -over his broad brown chest; and his eyes were wise and mild, and his -forehead like a mountain wall.</p> - -<p>And in his hands he held a harp of gold, and struck it with a golden -key; and as he struck he sang till his eyes glittered, and filled all -the cave with light.</p> - -<p>And he sang of the birth of Time, and of the heavens and the dancing -stars; and of the ocean, and the ether, and the fire, and the shaping of -the wondrous earth. And he sang of the treasures of the hills, and the -hidden jewels of the mine, and the veins of fire and metal, and the -virtues of all healing herbs; and of the speech of birds, and of -prophecy, and of hidden things to come.</p> - -<p>Then he sang of health, and strength, and manhood, and a valiant heart; -and of music and hunting, and wrestling, and all the games which heroes -love; and of travel, and wars, and sieges, and a noble death in fight,; -and then he sang of peace and plenty, and of equal justice in the land; -and as he sang, the boy listened wide-eyed, and forgot his errand in the -song.</p> - -<p>And at last Chiron was silent, and called the lad<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15"></a>{15}</span> with a soft voice. -And the lad ran trembling to him, and would have laid his hands upon his -knees; but Chiron smiled, and said, “Call hither your father Æson; for I -know you and all that has befallen you.”</p> - -<p>Then Æson came in sadly, and Chiron asked him, “Why came you not -yourself to me, Æson?”</p> - -<p>And Æson said: “I thought, Chiron will pity the lad if he sees him come -alone; and I wished to try whether he was fearless, and dare venture -like a hero’s son. But now I entreat you, let the boy be your guest till -better times, and train him among the sons of the heroes that he may -become like them, strong and brave.”</p> - -<p>And Chiron answered: “Go back in peace and bend before the storm like a -prudent man. This boy shall not leave me till he has become a glory to -you and to your house.”</p> - -<p>And Æson wept over his son and went away; but the boy did not weep, so -full was his fancy of that strange cave, and the Centaur, and his song, -and the playfellows whom he was to see. Then Chiron put the lyre into -his hands, and taught him how to play it, till the sun sank low behind -the cliff, and a shout was heard outside. And then in came the sons of -the heroes,—Æneas, and Hercules, and Peleus, and many another mighty -name.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16"></a>{16}</span></p> - -<p>And great Chiron leaped up joyfully, and his hoofs made the cave -resound, as they shouted, “Come out, Father Chiron; come out and see our -game.” And one cried, “I have killed two deer,” and another, “I took a -wild cat among the crags.” And Hercules dragged a wild goat after him by -its horns; and Cæneus carried a bear cub under each arm, and laughed -when they scratched and bit; for neither tooth nor steel could wound -him. And Chiron praised them all, each according to his deserts.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;"> -<a href="images/illus016_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus016_sml.jpg" width="372" height="286" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>And then in came the sons of the heroes.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Only one walked apart and silent, Æsculapius, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17"></a>{17}</span> too wise child, with -his bosom full of herbs and flowers, and round his wrist a spotted -snake; he came with downcast eyes to Chiron, and whispered how he had -watched the snake cast his old skin, and grow young again before his -eyes, and how he had gone down into a village in the vale, and cured a -dying man with a herb which he had seen a sick goat eat. And Chiron -smiled and said:</p> - -<p>“To each there has been given his own gift, and each is worthy in his -place. But to this child there has been given an honor beyond all -honors,—to cure while others kill.”</p> - -<p>Then some of the lads brought in wood, and split it, and lighted a -blazing fire; and others skinned the deer and quartered them, and set -them to roast before the fire; and while the venison was cooking they -bathed in the snow torrent, and washed away the dust and sweat. And then -all ate till they could eat no more—for they had tasted nothing since -the dawn—and drank of the clear spring water, for wine is not fit for -growing lads. And when the remnants were put away, they all lay down -upon the skins and leaves about the fire, and each took the lyre in -turn, and sang and played with all his heart.</p> - -<p>And after a while they all went out to a plot of grass at the cave’s -mouth, and there they boxed, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18"></a>{18}</span> ran, and wrestled, and laughed till -the stones fell from the cliffs.</p> - -<p>Then Chiron took his lyre, and all the lads joined hands; and as he -played, they danced to his measure, in and out, and round and round. -There they danced hand in hand, till the night fell over land and sea, -while the black glen shone with their broad white limbs, and the gleam -of their golden hair.</p> - -<p>And the lad danced with them, delighted, and then slept a wholesome -sleep, upon fragrant leaves of bay, and myrtle, and marjoram, and -flowers of thyme; and rose at the dawn, and bathed in the torrent, and -became a schoolfellow to the heroes’ sons. And in course of time he -forgot Iolcus, and Æson his father, and all his former life. But he grew -strong, and brave, and cunning, upon the rocky heights of Pelion, in the -keen, hungry, mountain air. And he learned to wrestle, and to box, and -to hunt, and to play upon the harp; and, next, he learned to ride, for -old Chiron often allowed him to mount upon his back; and he learned the -virtues of all herbs, and how to cure all wounds; and Chiron called him -Jason the healer, and that is his name until this day.</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>From “The Heroes; or Greek Fairy Tales,” by Charles Kingsley.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19"></a>{19}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_DOG_OF_MONTARGIS" id="THE_DOG_OF_MONTARGIS"></a>THE DOG OF MONTARGIS.</h2> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>In the old castle of Montargis in France, there was once a stone -mantelpiece of workmanship so rare that it was talked about by the whole -country. And yet it was not altogether its beauty that caused people to -speak of it and remember it. It was famous rather on account of the -strange scene that was carved upon it. To those who asked about its -meaning, the old custodian of the castle would sometimes tell the -following story.</p> - -<p>It happened more than five hundred years ago, when this castle was new -and strong, and people lived and thought in very different sort from -what they do now. Among the young men of that time there was none more -noble than Aubrey de Montdidier, the nephew of the Count of Montargis; -and among all the knights who had favor at the royal court, there was -none more brave than the young Sieur de Narsac, captain of the king’s -men at arms.</p> - -<p>Now these two men were devoted friends, and whenever their other duties -allowed them, they were sure to be in each other’s company. Indeed, it -was a rare thing to see either of them walking the streets of Paris -alone.</p> - -<p>“I will meet you at the tournament to-morrow,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20"></a>{20}</span> said Aubrey gayly, one -evening, as he was parting from his friend.</p> - -<p>“Yes, at the tournament to-morrow,” said De Narsac; “and be sure that -you come early.”</p> - -<p>The tournament was to be a grand affair. A gentleman from Provence was -to run a tilt with a famous Burgundian knight. Both men were noted for -their horsemanship and their skill with the lance. All Paris would be -out to see them.</p> - -<p>When the time came, De Narsac was at the place appointed. But Aubrey -failed to appear. What could it mean? It was not at all like Aubrey to -forget his promise; it was seldom that he allowed anything to keep him -away from the tournament.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen my friend Aubrey to-day?” De Narsac asked this question a -hundred times. Everybody gave the same answer, and wondered what had -happened.</p> - -<p>The day passed and another day came, and still there was no news from -Aubrey. De Narsac had called at his friend’s lodgings, but could learn -nothing. The young man had not been seen since the morning before the -tournament.</p> - -<p>Three days passed, and still not a word. De Narsac was greatly troubled. -He knew now that some accident must have happened to Aubrey. But what -could it have been?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21"></a>{21}</span></p> - -<p>Early in the morning of the fourth day he was aroused by a strange noise -at his door. He dressed himself in haste and opened it. A dog was -crouching there. It was a greyhound, so poor that its ribs stuck out, so -weak that it could hardly stand.</p> - -<p>De Narsac knew the animal without looking at the collar on its neck. It -was Dragon, his friend Aubrey’s greyhound,—the dog who went with him -whenever he walked out, the dog who was never seen save in its master’s -company.</p> - -<p>The poor creature tried to stand. His legs trembled from weakness; he -swayed from side to side. He wagged his tail feebly, and tried to put -his nose in De Narsac’s hand. De Narsac saw at once that he was half -starved; that he had not had food for a long time.</p> - -<p>He led the dog into his room and fed him some warm milk. He bathed the -poor fellow’s nose and bloodshot eyes with cold water. “Tell me where is -your master,” he said. Then he set before him a full meal that would -have tempted any dog.</p> - -<p>The greyhound ate heartily, and seemed to be much stronger. He licked De -Narsac’s hands. He fondled his feet. Then he ran to the door and tried -to make signs to his friend to follow him. He whined pitifully.</p> - -<p>De Narsac understood. “You want to lead me to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22"></a>{22}</span> your master, I see.” He -put on his hat and went out with the dog.</p> - -<p>Through the narrow lanes and crooked streets of the old city, Dragon led -the way. At each corner he would stop and look back to make sure that De -Narsac was following. He went over the long bridge—the only one that -spanned the river in those days. Then he trotted out through the gate of -St. Martin and into the open country beyond the walls.</p> - -<p>In a little while the dog left the main road and took a bypath that led -into the forest of Bondy. De Narsac kept his hand on his sword now, for -they were on dangerous ground. The forest was a great resort for robbers -and lawless men, and more than one wild and wicked deed had been enacted -there.</p> - -<p>But Dragon did not go far into the woods. He stopped suddenly near a -dense thicket of briers and tangled vines. He whined as though in great -distress. Then he took hold of the sleeve of De Narsac’s coat, and led -him round to the other side of the thicket.</p> - -<p>There under a low-spreading oak the grass had been trampled down; there -were signs, too, of freshly turned-up earth. With moans of distress the -dog stretched himself upon the ground, and with pleading eyes looked up -into De Narsac’s face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23"></a>{23}</span></p> - -<p>“Ah, my poor fellow!” said De Narsac, “you have led me here to show me -your master’s grave.” And with that he turned and hurried back to the -city; but the dog would not stir from his place.</p> - -<p>That afternoon a company of men, led by De Narsac, rode out to the -forest. They found in the ground beneath the oak what they had -expected—the murdered body of young Aubrey de Montdidier.</p> - -<p>“Who could have done this foul deed?” they asked of one another; and -then they wept, for they all loved Aubrey.</p> - -<p>They made a litter of green branches, and laid the body upon it. Then, -the dog following them, they carried it back to the city and buried it -in the king’s cemetery. And all Paris mourned the untimely end of the -brave young knight.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>After this, the greyhound went to live with the young Sieur de Narsac. -He followed the knight wherever he went. He slept in his room and ate -from his hand. He seemed to be as much devoted to his new master as he -had been to the old.</p> - -<p>One morning they went out for a stroll through the city. The streets -were crowded; for it was a holiday and all the fine people of Paris were -enjoying<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24"></a>{24}</span> the sunlight and the fresh air. Dragon, as usual, kept close -to the heels of his master.</p> - -<p>De Narsac walked down one street and up another, meeting many of his -friends, and now and then stopping to talk a little while. Suddenly, as -they were passing a corner, the dog leaped forward and planted himself -in front of his master. He growled fiercely; he crouched as though ready -for a spring; his eyes were fixed upon some one in the crowd.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;"> -<a href="images/illus024_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus024_sml.jpg" width="372" height="281" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>The dog planted himself in front of his master.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Then, before De Narsac could speak, he leaped forward upon a young man -whom he had singled<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25"></a>{25}</span> out. The man threw up his arm to save his throat; -but the quickness of the attack and the weight of the dog caused him to -fall to the ground. There is no telling what might have followed had not -those who were with him beaten the dog with their canes, and driven him -away.</p> - -<p>De Narsac knew the man. His name was Richard Macaire, and he belonged to -the king’s bodyguard.</p> - -<p>Never before had the greyhound been known to show anger towards any -person. “What do you mean by such conduct?” asked his master as they -walked homeward. Dragon’s only answer was a low growl; but it was the -best that he could give. The affair had put a thought into De Narsac’s -mind which he could not dismiss.</p> - -<p>Within less than a week the thing happened again. This time Macaire was -walking in the public garden. De Narsac and the dog were some distance -away. But as soon as Dragon saw the man, he rushed at him. It was all -that the bystanders could do to keep him from throttling Macaire. De -Narsac hurried up and called him away; but the dog’s anger was fearful -to see.</p> - -<p>It was well known in Paris that Macaire and young Aubrey had not been -friends. It was remembered that they had had more than one quarrel. And -now the people began to talk about the dog’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26"></a>{26}</span> strange actions, and some -went so far as to put this and that together.</p> - -<p>At last the matter reached the ears of the king. He sent for De Narsac -and had a long talk with him. “Come back to-morrow and bring the dog -with you,” he said. “We must find out more about this strange affair.”</p> - -<p>The next day De Narsac, with Dragon at his heels, was admitted into the -king’s audience room. The king was seated in his great chair, and many -knights and men at arms were standing around him. Hardly had De Narsac -stepped inside when the dog leaped quickly forward. He had seen Macaire, -and had singled him out from among all the rest. He sprang upon him. He -would have torn him in pieces if no one had interfered.</p> - -<p>There was now only one way to explain the matter.</p> - -<p>“This greyhound,” said De Narsac, “is here to denounce the Chevalier -Macaire as the slayer of his master, young Aubrey de Montdidier. He -demands that justice be done, and that the murderer be punished for his -crime.”</p> - -<p>The Chevalier Macaire was pale and trembling. He stammered a denial of -his guilt, and declared that the dog was a dangerous beast, and ought to -be put out of the way. “Shall a soldier in the service<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27"></a>{27}</span> of the king be -accused by a dog?” he cried. “Shall he be condemned on such testimony as -this? I, too, demand justice.”</p> - -<p>“Let the judgment of God decide!” cried the knights who were present.</p> - -<p>And so the king declared that there should be a trial by the judgment of -God. For in those rude times it was a very common thing to determine -guilt or innocence in this way—that is, by a combat between the accuser -and the accused. In such cases it was believed that God would always aid -the cause of the innocent and bring about the defeat of the guilty.</p> - -<p>The combat was to take place that very afternoon in the great common by -the riverside. The king’s herald made a public announcement of it, -naming the dog as the accuser and the Chevalier Macaire as the accused. -A great crowd of people assembled to see this strange trial by the -judgment of God.</p> - -<p>The king and his officers were there to make sure that no injustice was -done to either the man or the dog. The man was allowed to defend himself -with a short stick; the dog was given a barrel into which he might run -if too closely pressed.</p> - -<p>At a signal the combat began. Macaire stood upon his guard while the dog -darted swiftly around him, dodging the blows that were aimed at him, -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28"></a>{28}</span> trying to get at his enemy’s throat. The man seemed to have lost -all his courage. His breath came short and quick. He was trembling from -head to foot.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the dog leaped upon him and threw him to the ground. In his -great terror he cried to the king for mercy, and acknowledged his guilt.</p> - -<p>“It is the judgment of God!” cried the king.</p> - -<p>The officers rushed in and dragged the dog away before he could harm the -guilty man; and Macaire was hurried off to the punishment which his -crimes deserved.</p> - -<p>And this is the scene that was carved on the old mantelpiece in the -castle of Montargis—this strange trial by the judgment of God. Is it -not fitting that a dog so faithful, devoted, and brave should have his -memory thus preserved in stone? He is remembered also in story and song. -In France ballads have been written about him; and his strange history -has been dramatized in both French and English.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 301px;"> -<a href="images/illus028_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus028_sml.jpg" width="301" height="140" alt="[image not available" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29"></a>{29}</span></p> - -<h2> -<a href="images/illus029_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus029_sml.jpg" width="368" height="139" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<br /> -<a name="THE_OLD_OAKEN_BUCKET" id="THE_OLD_OAKEN_BUCKET"></a>THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When fond recollection presents them to view!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The orchard, the meadow, the deep, tangled wildwood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every loved spot that my infancy knew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cot of my father, the dairy house nigh it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And e’en the rude bucket which hung in the well—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That moss-covered bucket I hail as a treasure;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For often at noon, when returned from the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30"></a>{30}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dripping with coolness it rose from the well—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now, far removed from thy loved situation,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tear of regret will oftentimes swell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As fancy returns to my father’s plantation,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moss-covered bucket which hangs in the well.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>Samuel Woodworth.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_VILLAGE_BLACKSMITH" id="THE_VILLAGE_BLACKSMITH"></a>THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under a spreading chestnut tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The village smithy stands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The smith a mighty man is he,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With large and sinewy hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the muscles of his brawny arms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are strong as iron bands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31"></a>{31}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His hair is crisp and black and long;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His face is like the tan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His brow is wet with honest sweat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He earns whate’er he can,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And looks the whole world in the face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For he owes not any man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Week in, week out, from morn till night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You can hear his bellows blow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You can hear him swing his heavy sledge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With measured beat and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a sexton ringing the village bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the evening sun is low.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And children coming home from school<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Look in at the open door;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They love to see the flaming forge,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hear the bellows roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And catch the burning sparks that fly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like chaff from a threshing floor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He goes on Sunday to the church,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sits among his boys;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hears the parson pray and preach;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He hears his daughter’s voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing in the village choir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And it makes his heart rejoice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32"></a>{32}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It sounds to him like her mother’s voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing in Paradise!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He needs must think of her once more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How in the grave she lies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with his hard, rough hand he wipes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A tear out of his eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Onward through life he goes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each morning sees some task begun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each evening sees its close;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Something attempted, something done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has earned a night’s repose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the lesson thou hast taught!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus at the flaming forge of life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our fortunes must be wrought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus on its sounding anvil shaped<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each burning deed and thought.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>Henry W. Longfellow.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So nigh is grandeur to our dust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So near is God to man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Duty whispers low, “Thou must,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The youth replies, “I can.”<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>Ralph Waldo Emerson.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33"></a>{33}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/illus033_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus033_sml.jpg" width="365" height="474" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>The Village Blacksmith.</p> -<p class="capsml">From the Painting by Sir Edwin Landseer -<span style="margin-left:20%;">Engraved by Henry W. Peckwell.</span></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34"></a>{34}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_CHOICE_OF_HERCULES" id="THE_CHOICE_OF_HERCULES"></a>THE CHOICE OF HERCULES.</h2> - -<p>One morning when Hercules was a fair-faced lad of twelve years, he was -sent out to do an errand which he disliked very much. As he walked -slowly along the road, his heart was full of bitter thoughts; and he -murmured because others no better than himself were living in ease and -pleasure, while for him there was little but labor and pain. Thinking -upon these things, he came after a while to a place where two roads met; -and he stopped, not quite certain which one to take.</p> - -<p>The road on his right was hilly and rough, and there was no beauty in it -or about it; but he saw that it led straight toward the blue mountains -in the far distance. The road on his left was broad and smooth, with -shade trees on either side, where sang thousands of beautiful birds; and -it went winding in and out, through groves and green meadows, where -bloomed countless flowers; but it ended in fog and mist long before -reaching the wonderful mountains of blue.</p> - -<p>While the lad stood in doubt as to which way he should go, he saw two -ladies coming toward him, each by a different road. The one who came -down the flowery way reached him first, and Hercules saw that she was -beautiful as a summer day. Her cheeks<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35"></a>{35}</span> were red, her eyes sparkled, her -voice was like the music of morning.</p> - -<p>“O noble youth,” she said, “this is the road which you should choose. It -will lead you into pleasant ways where there is neither toil, nor hard -study, nor drudgery of any kind. Your ears shall always be delighted -with sweet sounds, and your eyes with things beautiful and gay; and you -need do nothing but play and enjoy the hours as they pass.”</p> - -<p>By this time the other fair woman had drawn near, and she now spoke to -the lad.</p> - -<p>“If you take my road,” said she, “you will find that it is rocky and -rough, and that it climbs many a hill and descends into many a valley -and quagmire. The views which you will sometimes get from the hilltops -are grand and glorious, while the deep valleys are dark and the uphill -ways are toilsome; but the road leads to the blue mountains of endless -fame, of which you can see faint glimpses, far away. They can not be -reached without labor; for, in fact, there is nothing worth having that -must not be won through toil. If you would have fruits and flowers, you -must plant and care for them; if you would gain the love of your -fellow-men, you must love them and suffer for them; if you would be a -man, you must make yourself strong by the doing of manly deeds.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36"></a>{36}</span></p> - -<p>Then the boy saw that this lady, although her face seemed at first very -plain, was as beautiful as the dawn, or as the flowery fields after a -summer rain.</p> - -<p>“What is your name?” he asked.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;"> -<a href="images/illus036_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus036_sml.jpg" width="368" height="277" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>“If you would be a man, you must make yourself strong.”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Some call me Labor,” she answered, “but others know me as Truth.”</p> - -<p>“And what is your name?” he asked, turning to the first lady.</p> - -<p>“Some call me Pleasure,” said she with a smile; “but I choose to be -known as the Joyous One.”</p> - -<p>“And what can you promise me at the end if I go with you?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37"></a>{37}</span></p> - -<p>“I promise nothing at the end. What I give, I give at the beginning.”</p> - -<p>“Labor,” said Hercules, “I will follow your road. I want to be strong -and manly and worthy of the love of my fellows. And whether I shall ever -reach the blue mountains or not, I want to have the reward of knowing -that my journey has not been without some worthy aim.”</p> - -<h2><a name="CHRISTMAS_AT_THE_CRATCHITS" id="CHRISTMAS_AT_THE_CRATCHITS"></a>CHRISTMAS AT THE CRATCHITS’.</h2> - -<p>Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned -gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for -sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second -of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master Cratchit plunged a -fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corner of his -monstrous shirt collar (Bob’s private property, conferred upon his son -and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself -so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable -Parks.</p> - -<p>And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming -that outside the baker’s they had smelt the goose, and known it for -their<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38"></a>{38}</span> own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these -young Cratchits danced about the table and exalted Master Peter Cratchit -to the skies, while he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked -him) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes bubbling up knocked loudly -at the saucepan lid to be let out and peeled.</p> - -<p>“What has ever got your precious father then?” said Mrs. Cratchit. “And -your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha wasn’t as late last Christmas Day, by -half an hour!”</p> - -<p>“Here’s Martha, mother!” said a girl, appearing as she spoke.</p> - -<p>“Here’s Martha, mother!” cried the two young Cratchits. “Hurrah! There’s -<i>such</i> a goose, Martha!”</p> - -<p>“Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!” said Mrs. -Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet -for her with officious zeal.</p> - -<p>“We’d a deal of work to finish up last night,” replied the girl, “and -had to clear away this morning, mother!”</p> - -<p>“Well! never mind so long as you are come,” said Mrs. Cratchit. “Sit ye -down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!”</p> - -<p>“No, no! There’s father coming,” cried the two<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39"></a>{39}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/illus039_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus039_sml.jpg" width="368" height="515" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim.</p> - -<p class="capsml">From the Painting by F. Barnard. -<span style="margin-left: 15%;">Engraved by Robert Varley.</span></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40"></a>{40}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. “Hide, Martha, hide!”</p> - -<p>So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least -three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe hanging down before him; -and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; -and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little -crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame!</p> - -<p>“Why, where’s our Martha?” cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.</p> - -<p>“Not coming,” said Mrs. Cratchit.</p> - -<p>“Not coming!” said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits; -for he had been Tim’s blood horse all the way from church, and had come -home rampant. “Not coming upon Christmas Day!”</p> - -<p>Martha did not like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so -she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his -arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off -into the washhouse that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.</p> - -<p>“And how did little Tim behave?” asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had -rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his -heart’s content.</p> - -<p>“As good as gold,” said Bob, “and better. Somehow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41"></a>{41}</span> he gets thoughtful, -sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever -heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the -church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to -remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men -see.”</p> - -<p>Bob’s voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when -he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.</p> - -<p>His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny -Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister -to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs,—as -if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more -shabby,—compounded some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and -stirred it round and round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter -and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with -which they soon returned in high procession.</p> - -<p>Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of -all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of -course—and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs. -Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing -hot; Master Peter<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42"></a>{42}</span> mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; Miss -Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob -took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young -Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and -mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest -they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At -last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a -breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving -knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when -the long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight -arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young -Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly -cried Hurrah!</p> - -<p>There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was -such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were -the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed -potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as -Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a -bone upon the dish), they hadn’t ate it all at last! Yet every one had -had enough, and the youngest Cratchits, in particular, were steeped in -sage and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43"></a>{43}</span> onion to the eyebrows! But now the plates being changed by -Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone—too nervous to bear -witnesses—to take the pudding up and bring it in.</p> - -<p>Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning -out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and -stolen it, while they were merry with the goose—a supposition at which -the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were -supposed.</p> - -<p>Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell -like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating house and -a pastry cook’s next door to each other, with a laundress’s next door to -that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit -entered—flushed, but smiling proudly—with the pudding like a speckled -cannon ball, so hard and firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas -holly stuck into the top.</p> - -<p>Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he -regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since -their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, -she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour. -Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it -was at all a small<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44"></a>{44}</span> pudding for a large family. It would have been flat -heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a -thing.</p> - -<p>At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth -swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and -considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a -shovel full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew -round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a -one; and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of glass,—two -tumblers and a custard cup without a handle.</p> - -<p>These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden -goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while -the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob -proposed: “A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!”</p> - -<p>Which all the family reëchoed.</p> - -<p>“God bless us every one!” said Tiny Tim, the last of all.</p> - -<p>He sat very close to his father’s side, upon his little stool. Bob held -his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to -keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>From “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45"></a>{45}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ON_THE_MOUNTAIN" id="ON_THE_MOUNTAIN"></a>ON THE MOUNTAIN.</h2> - -<p>And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was -set, his disciples came unto him; and he opened his mouth and taught -them, saying: Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom -of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted. -Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth.</p> - -<p>Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness; for -they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful; for they shall obtain -mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see God.</p> - -<p>Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of -God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake; for -theirs is the kingdom of heaven.</p> - -<p>Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall -say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be -exceeding glad; for great is your reward in heaven.</p> - -<p>Ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou shalt not -forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths: but I say -unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God’s throne: -nor by the earth; for it is his foot-stool:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46"></a>{46}</span> neither by Jerusalem; for -it is the city of the great King.</p> - -<p>Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one -hair white or black. But let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: -for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.</p> - -<p>Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for -a tooth: but I say unto you, That ye resist not evil; but whosoever -shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.</p> - -<p>And if any man will sue thee at law, and take away thy coat, let him -have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go -with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would -borrow of thee turn not thou away.</p> - -<p>Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor and -hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that -curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which -despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of -your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the -evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.</p> - -<p>For if ye love them that love you, what reward have ye? Do not even the -publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye -more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47"></a>{47}</span> than others? Do not even the publicans so? Be ye, therefore, -perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect....</p> - -<p>Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it -shall be opened unto you; for every one that asketh, receiveth; and he -that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened. Or -what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a -stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?</p> - -<p>If ye then, being evil know how to give good gifts unto your children, -how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to -them that ask him? Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men -should do to you, do ye even so to them.</p> - -<p>Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken -him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: and the rain -descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that -house; and it fell not; for it was founded upon a rock. And every one -that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened -unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: and the rain -descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that -house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>From the Gospel according to St. Matthew.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48"></a>{48}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BETSEY_HULLS_WEDDING" id="BETSEY_HULLS_WEDDING"></a>BETSEY HULL’S WEDDING.</h2> - -<p>In the early days of New England all the money that was used was brought -from Europe. Coins of gold and silver from England were the most -plentiful; but now and then one might see a doubloon, or some piece of -smaller value, that had been made in Spain or Portugal. As for paper -money, or bank bills, nobody had ever heard of them.</p> - -<p>Money was so scarce that people were often obliged to barter instead of -buying and selling. That is, if a lady wanted a yard of dress goods, she -would perhaps exchange a basket of fruit or some vegetables for it; if a -farmer wanted a pair of shoes, he might give the skin of an ox for it; -if he needed nails, he might buy them with potatoes. In many places -there was not money enough of any kind to pay the salaries of the -ministers; and so, instead of gold or silver, they were obliged to take -fish and corn and wood and anything else that the people could spare.</p> - -<p>As the people became more numerous, and there was more trade among them, -the want of money caused much inconvenience. At last, the General Court -of the colony passed a law providing for the coinage of small pieces of -silver—shillings, sixpences, and threepences. They also appointed -Captain John Hull to be mint-master for the colony, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49"></a>{49}</span> gave him the -exclusive right to make this money. It was agreed that for every twenty -shillings coined by him, he was to keep one shilling to pay him for his -work.</p> - -<p>And now, all the old silver in the colony was hunted up and carried to -Captain Hull’s mint. Battered silver cans and tankards, silver buckles, -broken spoons, old sword hilts, and many other such curious old articles -were doubtless thrown into the melting pot together. But by far the -greater part of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines of South -America, which the English buccaneers had taken from the Spaniards and -brought to Massachusetts. All this old and new silver was melted down -and coined; and the result was an immense amount of bright shillings, -sixpences, and threepences. Each had the date, 1652, on one side, and -the figure of a pine tree on the other; hence, the shillings were called -pine-tree shillings.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 247px;"> -<a href="images/illus049_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus049_sml.jpg" width="247" height="116" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Pine-tree Shilling.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>When the members of the General Court saw what an immense number of -coins had been made, and remembered that one shilling in every twenty -was to go into the pockets of Captain John Hull, they began<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50"></a>{50}</span> to think -that the mint-master was having the best of the bargain. They offered -him a large amount, if he would but give up his claim to that twentieth -shilling. But the Captain declared that he was well satisfied to let -things stand as they were. And so he might be, for in a few years his -money bags and his strong box were all overflowing with pine-tree -shillings.</p> - -<p>Now, the rich mint-master had a daughter whose name I do not know, but -whom I will call Betsey. This daughter was a fine, hearty damsel, by no -means so slender as many young ladies of our own days. She had been fed -on pumpkin pies, doughnuts, Indian puddings, and other Puritan dainties, -and so had grown up to be as round and plump as any lass in the colony. -With this round, rosy Miss Betsey, a worthy young man, Samuel Sewell by -name, fell in love; and as he was diligent in business, and a member of -the church, the mint-master did not object to his taking her as his -wife. “Oh, yes, you may have her,” he said in his rough way; “but you -will find her a heavy enough burden.”</p> - -<p>On the wedding day we may suppose that honest John Hull dressed himself -in a plum-colored coat, all the buttons of which were made of pine-tree -shillings. The buttons of his waistcoat were sixpences, and the knees of -his small clothes were buttoned with silver threepences. Thus attired, -he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51"></a>{51}</span> sat with dignity in the huge armchair which had been brought from -old England expressly for his comfort. On the other side of the room sat -Miss Betsey. She was blushing with all her might, and looked like a -full-blown peony or a great red apple.</p> - -<p>There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine purple coat and -gold-laced waistcoat. His hair was cropped close to his head, because -Governor Endicott had forbidden any man to wear it below the ears. But -he was a very personable young man; and so thought the bridesmaids and -Miss Betsey herself.</p> - -<p>When the marriage ceremony was over, Captain Hull whispered a word to -two of his men servants, who immediately went out, and soon returned -lugging in a large pair of scales. They were such a pair as wholesale -merchants use for weighing bulky commodities; and quite a bulky -commodity was now to be weighed in them.</p> - -<p>“Daughter Betsey,” said the mint-master, “get into one side of these -scales.” Miss Betsey—or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now call her—did as -she was bid, like a dutiful child, without any question of why and -wherefore. But what her father could mean, unless to make her husband -pay for her by the pound (in which case she would have been a dear -bargain), she had not the least idea.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said honest John Hull to the servants,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52"></a>{52}</span> “bring that box hither.” -The box to which the mint-master pointed was a huge, square, iron-bound, -oaken chest; it was big enough, my children, for three or four of you to -play at hide and seek in. The servants tugged with might and main, but -could not lift this enormous receptacle, and were finally obliged to -drag it across the floor. Captain Hull then took a key from his girdle, -unlocked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid.</p> - -<p>Behold! it was full to the brim of bright pine-tree shillings fresh from -the mint; and Samuel Sewell began to think that his father-in-law had -got possession of all the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But it -was only the mint-master’s honest share of the coinage.</p> - -<p>Then the servants, at Captain Hull’s command, heaped double handfuls of -shillings into one side of the scales, while Betsey remained in the -other. Jingle, jingle went the shillings, as handful after handful was -thrown in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, they fairly weighed the -young lady from the floor.</p> - -<p>“There, son Sewell!” cried the honest mint-master, “take these shillings -for my daughter’s portion. It is not every wife that is worth her weight -in silver.”</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>Adapted from “Grandfather’s Chair” by Nathaniel Hawthorne.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53"></a>{53}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 597px;"> -<a href="images/illus053_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus053_sml.jpg" width="597" height="328" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>A Puritan Wedding Procession.</p> - -<p class="capsml">From the Painting by C. G. Turner. -<span style="margin-left: 15%;">Engraved by Angelo Negri.</span></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54"></a>{54}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ULYSSES_AND_THE_CYCLOPS" id="ULYSSES_AND_THE_CYCLOPS"></a>ULYSSES AND THE CYCLOPS.</h2> - -<p>Among all the great poems that have ever been written none are grander -or more famous than the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey,” of the old Greek poet -Homer. They were composed and recited nearly three thousand years ago, -and yet nothing that has been written in later times has so charmed and -delighted mankind. In the “Iliad” the poet tells how the Greeks made war -upon Troy, and how they did brave deeds around the walls of that famed -city, and faltered not till they had won the stubborn fight. In the -“Odyssey” he tells how the Greek hero Ulysses or Odysseus, when the war -was ended, set sail for his distant home in Ithaca; how he was driven -from his course by the wind and waves; and how he was carried against -his will through unknown seas and to strange, mysterious shores where no -man had been before.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 202px;"> -<a href="images/illus054_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus054_sml.jpg" width="202" height="226" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Homer.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>One of the most famous passages in the “Odyssey” is that in which -Ulysses relates the story of his meeting with the one-eyed giant, -Polyphemus. He tells it in this manner:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55"></a>{55}</span></p> - -<p>When we had come to the land, we saw a cave not far from the sea. It was -a lofty cave roofed over with laurels, and in it large herds of sheep -and goats were used to rest. About it a high outer court was built with -stones set deep in the ground, and with tall pines and oaks crowned with -green leaves. In it was wont to sleep a man of monstrous size who -shepherded his flocks alone and had no dealings with others, but dwelt -apart in lawlessness of mind. Indeed, he was a monstrous thing, most -strangely shaped; and he was unlike any man that lives by bread, but -more like the wooded top of some towering hill that stands out apart and -alone from others.</p> - -<p>Then I bade the rest of my well-loved company stay close by the ship and -guard it; but I chose out twelve of my bravest men and sallied forth. We -bore with us a bag of corn and a great skin filled with dark sweet wine; -for in my lordly heart I had a foreboding that we should meet a man, a -strange, strong man who had little reason and cared nothing for the -right.</p> - -<p>Soon we came to the cave, but he was not within; he was shepherding his -fat flocks in the pastures. So we went into the cave and looked around. -There we saw many folds filled with lambs and kids. Each kind was penned -by itself; in one fold were the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56"></a>{56}</span> spring lambs, in one were the summer -lambs, and in one were the younglings of the flock. On one side of the -cave were baskets well laden with cheeses; and the milk pails and the -bowls and the well-wrought vessels into which he milked were filled with -whey.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"> -<a href="images/illus056_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus056_sml.jpg" width="370" height="285" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>He came back driving his flocks.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Then my men begged me to take the cheeses and return, and afterwards to -make haste and drive off the kids and lambs to the swift ship and sail -without delay over the salt waves. Far better would it have been had I -done as they wished; but I bade them wait and see the giant himself, for -perhaps he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57"></a>{57}</span> would give me gifts as a stranger’s due. Then we kindled a -fire and made a burnt-offering; and we ate some of the cheeses, and sat -waiting for him till he came back driving his flocks. In his arms he -carried a huge load of dry wood to be used in cooking supper. This he -threw down with a great noise inside the cave, and we in fear hid -ourselves in the dark corners behind the rocks.</p> - -<p>As for the giant, he drove into the wide cavern all those of his flock -that he was wont to milk; but the males, both of the sheep and of the -goats, he left outside in the high-walled yard. Then he lifted a huge -door stone and set it in the mouth of the cave; it was a stone so -weighty that two-and-twenty good, four-wheeled wagons could scarce have -borne it off the ground. Then he sat down and milked the ewes and the -bleating goats, each in its turn, and beneath each ewe he placed her -young. After that he curdled half of the white milk and stored it in -wicker baskets; and the other half he let stand in pails that he might -have it for his supper.</p> - -<p>Now, when he had done all his work busily, he kindled the fire, and as -its light shone into all parts of the cave, he saw us. “Strangers, who -are you?” he cried. “Whence sail you over the wet ways? Are you on some -trading voyage, or do you rove as sea robbers over the briny deep?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58"></a>{58}</span></p> - -<p>Such were his words, and so monstrous was he and so deep was his voice -that our hearts were broken within us for terror. But, for all that, I -stood up and answered him, saying:</p> - -<p>“Lo, we are Greeks, driven by all manner of winds over the great gulf of -the sea. We seek our homes, but have lost our way and know not where we -go. Now we have landed on this shore, and we come to thy knees, thinking -perhaps that thou wilt give us a stranger’s gift, or make any present, -as is the due of strangers. Think upon thy duty to the gods; for we are -thy suppliants. Have regard to Jupiter, the god of the sojourner and the -friend of the stranger.”</p> - -<p>This I said, and then the giant answered me out of his pitiless heart: -“Thou art indeed a foolish fellow and a stranger in this land, to think -of bidding me fear the gods. We Cyclops care nothing for Jupiter, nor -for any other of the gods; for we are better men than they. The fear of -them will never cause me to spare either thee or thy company, unless I -choose to do so.”</p> - -<p>Then the giant sprang up and caught two of my companions, and dashed -them to the ground so hard that they died before my eyes; and the earth -was wet with their blood. Then he cut them into pieces, and made ready -his evening meal. So he ate, as a lion of the mountains; and we wept and -raised our<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59"></a>{59}</span> hands to Jupiter, and knew not what to do. And after the -Cyclops had filled himself, he lay down among his sheep.</p> - -<p>Then I considered in my great heart whether I should not draw my sharp -sword, and stab him in the breast. But upon second thought, I held back. -For I knew that we would not be able to roll away with our hands the -heavy stone which the giant had set against the door, and we would then -have perished in the cave. So, all night long, we crouched trembling in -the darkness, and waited the coming of the day.</p> - -<p>Now, when the rosy-fingered Dawn shone forth, the Cyclops arose and -kindled the fire. Then he is milked his goodly flock, and beneath each -ewe he set her lamb. When he had done all his work busily, he seized two -others of my men, and made ready his morning meal. And after the meal, -he moved away the great door stone, and drove his fat flocks forth from -the cave; and when the last sheep had gone out, he set the stone in its -place again, as one might set the lid of a quiver. Then, with a loud -whoop, he turned his flocks toward the hills; but I was left shut up in -the cave, and thinking what we should do to avenge ourselves.</p> - -<p>And at last this plan seemed to me the best. Not far from the sheepfold -there lay a great club of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60"></a>{60}</span> Cyclops, a club of olive wood, yet green, -which he had cut to carry with him when it should be fully seasoned. Now -when we looked at this stick, it seemed to us as large as the mast of a -black ship of twenty oars, a wide merchant vessel that sails the vast -sea. I stood by it, and cut off from it a piece some six feet in length, -and set it by my men, and bade them trim it down and make it smooth; and -while they did this, I stood by and sharpened it to a point. Then I took -it and hardened it in the bright fire; and after that, I laid it away -and hid it. And I bade my men cast lots to determine which of them -should help me, when the time came, to lift the sharp and heavy stick -and turn it about in the Cyclops’ eye. And the lots fell upon those whom -I would have chosen, and I appointed myself to be the fifth among them.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>In the evening the Cyclops came home, bringing his well-fleeced flocks; -and soon he drove the beasts, each and all, into the cave, and left not -one outside in the high-walled yard. Then he lifted the huge door stone, -and set it in the mouth of the cave; and after that he milked the ewes -and the bleating goats, all in order, and beneath each ewe he placed her -young.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61"></a>{61}</span></p> - -<p>Now when he had done all his work busily, he seized two others of my -men, and made ready his supper. Then I stood before the Cyclops and -spoke to him, holding in my hands a bowl of dark wine: “Cyclops, take -this wine and drink it after thy feast, that thou mayest know what kind -of wine it was that our good ship carried. For, indeed, I was bringing -it to thee as a drink offering, if haply thou wouldst pity us and send -us on our way home; but thy mad rage seems to have no bounds.”</p> - -<p>So I spoke, and he took the cup and drank the wine; and so great was his -delight that he asked me for yet a second draught.</p> - -<p>“Kindly give me more, and tell me thy name, so that I may give thee a -stranger’s gift and make thee glad.”</p> - -<p>Thus he spoke, and again I handed him the dark wine. Three times did I -hand it to him, and three times did he drink it to the dregs. But when -the wine began to confuse his wits, then I spoke to him with soft words:</p> - -<p>“O Cyclops, thou didst ask for my renowned name, and now I will tell it -to thee; but do thou grant me a stranger’s gift, as thou hast promised. -My name is No-man; my father and my mother and all my companions call me -No-man.”</p> - -<p>Thus I spoke, and he answered me out of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62"></a>{62}</span> pitiless heart: “I will eat -thee, No-man, after I have eaten all thy fellows: that shall be thy -gift.”</p> - -<p>Then he sank down upon the ground with his face upturned; and there he -lay with his great neck bent round; and sleep, that conquers all men, -overcame him. Then I thrust that stake under the burning coals until the -sharpened end of it grew hot; and I spoke words of comfort to my men -lest they should hang back with fear. But when the bar of olive wood -began to glow and was about to catch fire, even then I came nigh and -drew it from the coals, and my men stood around me, and some god filled -our hearts with courage.</p> - -<p>The men seized the bar of olive wood and thrust it into the Cyclops’ -eye, while I from my place aloft turned it around. As when a man bores a -ship’s beam with a drill while his fellows below spin it with a strap, -which they hold at either end, and the auger runs round continually: -even so did we seize the fiery-pointed brand and whirl it round in his -eye. And the flames singed his eyelids and brows all about, as the ball -of the eye was burned away. And the Cyclops raised a great and terrible -cry that made the rocks around us ring, and we fled away in fear, while -he plucked the brand from his bleeding eye.</p> - -<p>Then, maddened with pain, he cast the bar from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63"></a>{63}</span> him, and called with a -loud voice to the Cyclopes, his neighbors, who dwelt near him in the -caves along the cliffs. And they heard his cry, and flocked together -from every side, and standing outside, at the door of the cave, asked -him what was the matter:</p> - -<p>“What troubles thee, Polyphemus, that thou criest thus in the night, and -wilt not let us sleep?”</p> - -<p>The strong Cyclops whom they thus called Polyphemus, answered them from -the cave: “My friends, No-man is killing me by guile, and not by force!”</p> - -<p>And they spoke winged words to him: “If no man is mistreating thee in -thy lonely cave, then it must be some sickness, sent by Jupiter, that is -giving thee pain. Pray to thy father, great Neptune, and perhaps he will -cure thee.”</p> - -<p>And when they had said this they went away; and my heart within me -laughed to see how my name and cunning counsel had deceived them. But -the Cyclops, groaning with pain, groped with his hands, and lifted the -stone from the door of the cave. Then he sat in the doorway, with arms -outstretched, to lay hold of any one that might try to go out with the -sheep; for he thought that I would be thus foolish. But I began to think -of all kinds of plans by which we might escape; and this was the plan -which seemed to me the best:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64"></a>{64}</span></p> - -<p>The rams of the flock were thick-fleeced, beautiful, and large; and -their wool was dark as the violet. These I quietly lashed together with -the strong withes which the Cyclops had laid in heaps to sleep upon. I -tied them together in threes: the middle one of the three was to carry a -man; but the sheep on either side went only as a shield to keep him from -discovery. Thus, every three sheep carried their man. As for me, I laid -hold of a young ram, the best and strongest of all the flock; and I -clung beneath him, face upward, grasping the wondrous fleece.</p> - -<p>As soon as the early Dawn shone forth, the rams of the flock hastened -out to the pasture, but the ewes bleated about the pens and waited to be -milked. As the rams passed through the doorway, their master, sore -stricken with pain, felt along their backs, and guessed not in his folly -that my men were bound beneath their wooly breasts. Last of all, came -the young ram cumbered with his heavy fleece, and the weight of me and -my cunning. The strong Cyclops laid his hands on him and spoke to him:</p> - -<p>“Dear ram,” he said, “pray tell me why you are the last of all to go -forth from the cave. You are not wont to lag behind. Hitherto you have -always been the first to pluck the tender blossoms<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65"></a>{65}</span> of the pasture, and -you have been the first to go back to the fold at evening. But now you -are the very last. Can it be that you are sorrowing for your master’s -eye which a wicked man blinded when he had overcome me with wine?</p> - -<p>“Ah, if you could feel as I—if you could speak and tell me where he is -hiding to shun my wrath—then I would smite him, and my heart would be -lightened of the sorrows that he has brought upon me.”</p> - -<p>Then he sent the ram from him; and when we had gone a little way from -the cave I loosed myself from under the ram, and then set my fellows -free. Swiftly we drove the flock before us, and often is turned to look -about, till at last we came to the ship.</p> - -<p>Our companions greeted us with glad hearts,—us who had fled from death; -and they were about to bemoan the others with tears when I forbade. I -told them to make haste and take on board the well-fleeced sheep, and -then sail away from that unfriendly shore. So they did as they were -bidden, and when all was ready, they sat upon the benches, each man in -his place, and smote the gray sea water with their oars.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 223px;"> -<a href="images/illus065_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus065_sml.jpg" width="223" height="124" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Ship in the Time of Homer.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66"></a>{66}</span></p> - -<p>But when we had not gone so far but that a man’s shout could be heard, I -called to the Cyclops and taunted him:</p> - -<p>“Cyclops, you will not eat us by main might in your hollow cave! Your -evil deeds, O cruel monster, were sure to find you out; for you -shamelessly ate the guests that were within your gates, and now Jupiter -and the other gods have requited you as you deserved.”</p> - -<p>Thus I spoke, and so great became his anger that he broke off the peak -of a great hill and threw it at us, and it fell in front of the -dark-prowed ship. And the sea rose in waves from the fall of the rock, -and drove the ship quickly back to the shore. Then I caught up a long -pole in my hands, and thrust the ship from off the land; and with a -motion of the head, I bade them dash in with their oars, so that we -might escape from our evil plight. So they bent to their oars and rowed -on.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>Such is the story which Ulysses told of his adventure with the giant -Cyclops. Many and strange were the other adventures through which he -passed before he reached his distant home; and all are related in that -wonderful poem, the “Odyssey.” This poem has been often translated into -the English language. Some of the translations are in the form of -poetry, and of these the best are the versions by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67"></a>{67}</span> George Chapman, by -Alexander Pope, and by our American poet William Cullen Bryant. The best -prose translation is that by Butcher and Lang—and this I have followed -quite closely in the story which you have just read.</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_BROOK" id="THE_BROOK"></a>THE BROOK.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I come from haunts of coot and hern:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I make a sudden sally,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sparkle out among the fern,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To bicker down the valley;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By thirty hills I hurry down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or slip between the ridges,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By twenty thorps, a little town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And half a hundred bridges.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 179px;"> -<a href="images/illus067_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus067_sml.jpg" width="179" height="191" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Alfred Tennyson.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till last by Philip’s farm I flow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To join the brimming river;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I go on forever.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I chatter over stony ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In little sharps and trebles.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bubble into eddying bays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I babble on the pebbles;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68"></a>{68}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With many a curve my banks I fret<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By many a field and fallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a fairy foreland set<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With willow-weed and mallow;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I chatter, chatter, as I flow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To join the brimming river;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For men may come, and men may go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I go on forever.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wind about, and in and out,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With here a blossom sailing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And here and there a lusty trout,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">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="i2">Upon me as I travel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With many a silvery waterbreak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the golden gravel,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And draw them all along, and flow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To join the brimming river;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For men may come, and men may go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">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="i2">I slide by hazel covers;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69"></a>{69}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I move the sweet forget-me-nots<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That grow for happy lovers;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 369px;"> -<a href="images/illus069_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus069_sml.jpg" width="369" height="270" alt="[image not available" /></a> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among my skimming swallows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I make the netted sunbeam dance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against my sandy shallows;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I murmur under moon and stars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In brambly wildernesses;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I linger by my shingly bars,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I loiter round my cresses;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70"></a>{70}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And out again I curve and flow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To join the brimming river;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For men may come, and men may go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I go on forever.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_LADY_OF_SHALOTT" id="THE_LADY_OF_SHALOTT"></a>THE LADY OF SHALOTT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">PART I.<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">On either side the river lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long fields of barley and of rye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That clothe the wold and meet the sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the fields the road runs by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To many-towered Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And up and down the people go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gazing where the lilies blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round an island there below,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The island of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Willows whiten, aspens quiver,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little breezes dusk and shiver<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the wave that runs forever<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the island in the river<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flowing down to Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Four gray walls, and four gray towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Overlook a space of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the silent isle imbowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71"></a>{71}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By the margin, willow-veiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slide the heavy barges, trailed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By slow horses; and unhailed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shallop flitteth silken-sailed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Skimming down to Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But who hath seen her wave her hand?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or at the casement seen her stand?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is she known in all the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only reapers, reaping early<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In among the bearded barley,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear a song that echoes cheerly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the river winding clearly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down to towered Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by the moon the reaper weary,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Piling sheaves in uplands airy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listening, whispers, “ ’Tis the fairy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lady of Shalott.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">PART II.<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">There she weaves by night and day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A magic web with colors gay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She has heard a whisper say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A curse is on her if she stay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To look down to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She knows not what the curse may be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so she weaveth steadily,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72"></a>{72}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And little other care hath she,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And moving through a mirror clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hangs before her all the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadows of the world appear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There she sees the highway near<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Winding down to Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There the river eddy whirls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there the surly village churls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the red cloaks of market girls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pass onward from Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An abbot on an ambling pad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes a curly shepherd lad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or long-haired page in crimson clad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Goes by to towered Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sometimes through the mirror blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The knights come riding two and two:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She hath no loyal knight and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But in her web she still delights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To weave the mirrored magic sights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For often through the silent nights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A funeral, with plumes and lights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And music, went to Camelot;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73"></a>{73}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, when the moon was overhead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came two young lovers lately wed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I am half-sick of shadows,” said<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">PART III.<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">A bowshot from her bower eaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He rode between the barley sheaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun came dazzling through the leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flamed upon the brazen greaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of bold Sir Lancelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A red-cross knight forever kneeled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a lady in his shield<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sparkled on the yellow field,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside remote Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The gemmy bridle glittered free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to some branch of stars we see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung in the golden Galaxy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bridle bells rang merrily<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from his blazoned baldric slung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mighty silver bugle hung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as he rode his armor rung,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside remote Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All in the blue unclouded weather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thick-jewelled shone the saddle leather,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74"></a>{74}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The helmet and the helmet feather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burned like one burning flame together,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As often through the purple night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the starry clusters bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some bearded meteor, trailing light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moves over still Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On burnished hooves his war horse trode;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From underneath his helmet flowed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His coal-black curls as on he rode,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the bank and from the river<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He flashed into the crystal mirror;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Tirra lirra,” by the river<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sang Sir Lancelot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She left the web, she left the loom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She made three paces through the room,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She saw the water lily bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She saw the helmet and the plume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She looked down to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out flew the web and floated wide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mirror cracked from side to side;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The curse is come upon me,” cried<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75"></a>{75}</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">PART IV.<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">In the stormy east wind straining,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pale yellow woods were waning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The broad stream in his banks complaining,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heavily the low sky raining<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over towered Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down she came and found a boat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath a willow left afloat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round about the prow she wrote,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The Lady of Shalott</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And down the river’s dim expanse—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some bold seer in a trance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing all his own mischance—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a glassy countenance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did she look to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at the closing of the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She loosed the chain, and down she lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The broad stream bore her far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lying, robed in snowy white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That loosely flew to left and right—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaves upon her falling light—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the noises of the night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She floated down to Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as the boat-head wound along<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76"></a>{76}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The willowy hills and fields among,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They heard her singing her last song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heard a carol, mournful, holy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till her blood was frozen slowly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her eyes were darkened wholly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turned to towered Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ere she reached upon the tide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first house by the waterside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing in her song she died,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under tower and balcony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By garden wall and gallery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gleaming shape she floated by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A corse between the houses high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silent into Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out upon the wharfs they came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knight and burgher, lord and dame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round the prow they read her name,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The Lady of Shalott</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who is this? and what is here?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the lighted palace near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Died the sound of royal cheer;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77"></a>{77}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they crossed themselves for fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All the knights at Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Lancelot mused a little space;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said, “She has a lovely face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God in his mercy lend her grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>This poem, by Alfred Tennyson, was written in 1832. Considered as a -picture, or as a series of pictures, its beauty is unsurpassed. The -story which is here so briefly told is founded upon a touching -legend connected with the romance of King Arthur and his Knights of -the Round Table. Tennyson afterwards (in 1859) expanded it into the -<i>Idyll</i> called “Elaine,” wherein he followed more closely the -original narrative as related by Sir Thomas Malory.</p> - -<p>Sir Lancelot was the strongest and bravest of the Knights of the -Round Table, and for love of him Elaine, “the fair maid of -Astolat,” pined away and died. But before her death she called her -brother, and having dictated a letter which he was to write, she -spoke thus:</p> - -<p>“ ‘While my body is whole, let this letter be put into my right -hand, and my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold, and -let me be put in a fair bed with all my richest clothes that I have -about me, and so let my bed and all my rich clothes be laid with me -in a chariot to the next place whereas the Thames is, and there let -me be put in a barge, and but one man with me, such as ye trust to -steer me thither, and that my barge be covered with black samite -over and over.’... So when she was dead, the corpse and the bed and -all was led the next way unto the Thames, and there all were put in -a barge on the Thames, and so the man steered the barge to -Westminster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro, or any -man espied.”<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> At length the King and his Knights, coming down to -the water side, and seeing the boat and the fair maid of Astolat, -they uplifted the hapless body of Elaine, and bore it to the hall.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Malory’s “King Arthur,” Book XVIII.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78"></a>{78}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 580px;"> -<a href="images/illus078_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus078_sml.jpg" width="580" height="369" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Elaine.</p> - -<p class="capsml">From the Painting by T. E. Rosenthal. -<span style="margin-left: 15%;">Engraved by Henry Wolf.</span></p> - -<p>(See note, p. 77.)</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79"></a>{79}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LESSONS_FROM_NATURES_BOOK" id="LESSONS_FROM_NATURES_BOOK"></a>LESSONS FROM NATURE’S BOOK.</h2> - -<p>Let us suppose that it is summer time, that you are in the country, and -that you have fixed upon a certain day for a holiday ramble. Some of you -are going to gather wild flowers, some to collect pebbles, and some -without any very definite aim beyond the love of the holiday and of any -sport or adventure which it may bring with it.</p> - -<p>Soon after sunrise on the eventful day you are awake, and great is your -delight to find the sky clear, and the sun shining warmly. It is -arranged, however, that you do not start until after breakfast time, and -meanwhile you busy yourselves in getting ready all the baskets and -sticks and other gear of which you are to make use during the day. But -the brightness of the morning begins to get dimmed. The few clouds which -were to be seen at first have grown large, and seem evidently gathering -together for a storm. And sure enough, ere breakfast is well over, the -first ominous big drops are seen falling.</p> - -<p>You cling to the hope that it is only a shower which will soon be over, -and you go on with the preparations for the journey notwithstanding. But -the rain shows no symptom of soon ceasing. The big drops come down -thicker and faster. Little pools of water begin to form in the hollows -of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80"></a>{80}</span> road, and the window panes are now streaming with rain. With sad -hearts you have to give up all hope of holding your excursion to-day.</p> - -<p>It is no doubt very tantalizing to be disappointed in this way when the -promised pleasure was on the very point of becoming yours. But let us -see if we can not derive some compensation even from the bad weather. -Late in the afternoon the sky clears a little, and the rain ceases. You -are glad to get outside again, and so we all sally forth for a walk. -Streams of muddy water are still coursing along the sloping roadway. If -you will let me be your guide, I would advise that we should take our -walk by the neighboring river. We wend our way by wet paths and green -lanes, where every hedgerow is still dripping with moisture, until we -gain the bridge, and see the river right beneath us. What a change this -one day’s heavy rain has made! Yesterday you could almost count the -stones in the channel, so small and clear was the current. But look at -it now!</p> - -<p>The water fills the channel from bank to bank, and rolls along swiftly. -We can watch it for a little from the bridge. As it rushes past, -innumerable leaves and twigs are seen floating on its surface. Now and -then a larger branch, or even a whole tree trunk, comes down, tossing -and rolling about on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81"></a>{81}</span> flood. Sheaves of straw or hay, planks of -wood, pieces of wooden fence, sometimes a poor duck, unable to struggle -against the current, roll past us and show how the river has risen above -its banks and done damage to the farms higher up its course.</p> - -<p>We linger for a while on the bridge, watching this unceasing tumultuous -rush of water and the constant variety of objects which it carries down -the channel. You think it was perhaps almost worth while to lose your -holiday for the sake of seeing so grand a sight as this angry and -swollen river, roaring and rushing with its full burden of dark water. -Now, while the scene is still fresh before you, ask yourselves a few -simple questions about it, and you will find perhaps additional reasons -for not regretting the failure of the promised excursion.</p> - -<p>In the first place, where does all this added mass of water in the river -come from? You say it was the rain that brought it. Well, but how should -it find its way into this broad channel? Why does not the rain run off -the ground without making any river at all?</p> - -<p>But, in the second place, where does the rain come from? In the early -morning the sky was bright, then clouds appeared, and then came the -rain, and you answer that it was the clouds which supplied the rain. But -the clouds must have derived the water<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82"></a>{82}</span> from some source. How is it that -clouds gather rain, and let it descend upon the earth?</p> - -<p>In the third place, what is it which causes the river to rush on in one -direction more than another? When the water was low, and you could, -perhaps, almost step across the channel on the stones and gravel, the -current, small though it might be, was still quite perceptible. You saw -that the water was moving along the channel always from the same -quarter. And now when the channel is filled with this rolling torrent of -dark water, you see that the direction of the current is still the same. -Can you tell why this should be?</p> - -<p>Again, yesterday the water was clear, to-day it is dark and discolored. -Take a little of this dirty-looking water home with you, and let it -stand all night in a glass. To-morrow morning you will find that it is -clear, and that a fine layer of mud has sunk to the bottom. It is mud, -therefore, which discolors the swollen river. But where did this mud -come from? Plainly, it must have something to do with the heavy rain and -the flooded state of the stream.</p> - -<p>Well, this river, whether in shallow or in flood, is always moving -onward in one direction, and the mud which it bears along is carried -toward the same point to which the river itself is hastening. While we -sit on the bridge watching the foaming water as it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83"></a>{83}</span> eddies and whirls -past us, the question comes home to us—what becomes of all this vast -quantity of water and mud?</p> - -<p>Remember, now, that our river is only one of many hundreds which flow -across this country, and that there are thousands more in other -countries where the same thing may be seen which we have been watching -to-day. They are all flooded when heavy rains come; they all flow -downwards; and all of them carry more or less mud along with them.</p> - -<p>As we walk homewards again, it will be well to put together some of the -chief features of this day’s experience. We have seen that sometimes the -sky is clear and blue, with the sun shining brightly and warmly in it; -that sometimes clouds come across the sky, and that, when they gather -thickly, rain is apt to fall. We have seen that a river flows, that it -is swollen by heavy rain, and that when swollen it is apt to be muddy. -In this way we have learned that there is a close connection between the -sky above us and the earth under our feet. In the morning, it seemed but -a little thing that clouds should be seen gathering overhead; and yet, -ere evening fell, these clouds led by degrees to the flooding of the -river, the sweeping down of trees and fences and farm produce; and it -might even be to the destruction of bridges, the inundation of fields -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84"></a>{84}</span> villages and towns, and a large destruction of human life and -property.</p> - -<p>But perhaps you live in a large town and have no opportunity of seeing -such country sights as I have been describing, and in that case you may -naturally enough imagine that these things cannot have much interest for -you. You may learn a great deal, however, about rain and streams even in -the streets of a town. Catch a little of the rain in a plate, and you -will find it to be so much clear water. But look at it as it courses -along the gutters. You see how muddy it is. It has swept away the loose -dust worn by wheels and feet from the stones of the street, and carried -it into the gutters. Each gutter thus becomes like the flooded river. -You can watch, too, how chips of straw, corks, bits of wood, and other -loose objects lying in the street are borne away, very much as the -trunks of trees are carried by the river. Even in a town, therefore, you -can see how changes in the sky lead to changes on the earth.</p> - -<p>If you think for a little, you will recall many other illustrations of -the way in which the common things of everyday life are connected -together. As far back as you can remember, you have been familiar with -such things as sunshine, clouds, wind, rain, rivers, frost, and snow, -and they have grown so commonplace that you never think of considering -about<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85"></a>{85}</span> them. You cannot imagine them, perhaps, as in any way different -from what they are; they seem, indeed, so natural and so necessary that -you may even be surprised when any one asks you to give a reason for -them.</p> - -<p>But if you had lived all your lives in a country where no rain ever -fell, and if you were to be brought to such a country as this, and were -to see such a storm of rain as you have been watching to-day, would it -not be very strange to you, and would you not naturally enough begin to -ask the meaning of it? Or suppose that a boy from some very warm part of -the world were to visit this country in winter, and see for the first -time snow falling, and the rivers solidly frozen over, would you be -surprised if he showed great astonishment? If he asked you to tell him -what snow is, and why the ground is so hard, and the air so cold, why -the streams no longer flow, but have become crusted with ice—could you -answer his questions?</p> - -<p>And yet these questions relate to very common, everyday things. If you -think about them, you will learn, perhaps, that the answers are not -quite so easily found as you had imagined. Do not suppose that because a -thing is common, it can have no interest for you. There is really -nothing so common as not to deserve your attention.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86"></a>{86}</span></p> - -<p>I would fain have you not to be content with what is said in books, -whether small or great, but rather to get into the habit of using your -own eyes and seeing for yourselves what takes place in this wonderful -world of ours. All round you there is abundant material for this most -delightful inquiry. No excursion you ever made in pursuit of mere -enjoyment and adventure by river, heath, or hill, could give you more -hearty pleasure than a ramble, with eyes and ears alike open to note the -lessons to be learned from every day and from every landscape. Remember -that besides the printed books which you use at home, or at school, -there is the great book of Nature, wherein each of us, young and old, -may read, and go on reading all through life without exhausting even a -small part of what it has to teach us.</p> - -<p>It is this book—about Air, Earth, and Sea—that I would have you look -into. Do not be content with merely noticing that such and such events -take place. For instance, to return to our walk to the flooded river: do -not let a fact such as a storm or a flood pass without trying to find -out something about it. Get into the habit of asking Nature questions. -Never rest until you get at the reasons for what you notice going on -around you.</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>Sir Archibald Geikie.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87"></a>{87}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GOODMAN_OF_BALLENGIECH" id="THE_GOODMAN_OF_BALLENGIECH"></a>THE GOODMAN OF BALLENGIECH.</h2> - -<p>Perhaps few books of Scottish history have been more generally read than -the “Tales of a Grandfather,” written seventy years ago by Sir Walter -Scott for the amusement of his little grandson. These “Tales” are -supposed to be taken from the old Scotch chronicles, and they relate, -with many touches of romance, the stirring and most graphic incidents in -the early history of Scotland. They embrace the stories of William -Wallace, the patriot chief, and of brave King Robert Bruce, and of many -another hero of Scotch history. The following account of King James V., -who was the father of Mary, Queen of Scots, is taken from these “Tales.”</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>James the Fifth had a custom of going about the country disguised as a -private person, in order to hear complaints that might not otherwise -reach his ears, and perhaps also to enjoy amusement which he could not -have partaken of in his character as King of Scotland.</p> - -<p>When James traveled in disguise he used a name which was known only to -some of his nobles and attendants. He was called the Goodman (the -tenant, that is) of Ballengiech.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Ballengiech is a steep<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88"></a>{88}</span> pass which -leads down behind the castle of Stirling. Once upon a time, when the -court was feasting in Stirling, the king sent for some venison from the -neighboring hills. The deer were killed and put on horses’ backs to be -transported to Stirling.</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Pronounced bạll´en gēēk.</p></div> - -<p>Unluckily they had to pass the castle gates of Arnpryor, belonging to a -chief of the Buchanans, who chanced to have a considerable number of -guests with him. It was late, and the company was rather short of -victuals, though they had more than enough of liquor. The chief, seeing -so much fat venison passing his very door, seized on it; and to the -expostulations of the keepers, who told him it belonged to King James, -he answered insolently that if James was king in Scotland, he, Buchanan, -was king in Kippen, that being the name of the district in which the -castle of Arnpryor lay.</p> - -<p>On hearing what had happened, the king got on horseback and rode -instantly from Stirling to Buchanan’s house, where he found a strong, -fierce-looking Highlander, with an ax on his shoulder, standing sentinel -at the door. This grim warder refused the king admittance, saying that -the laird was at dinner and would not be disturbed. “Yet go up to the -company, my good friend,” said the king, “and tell him that the Goodman -of Ballengiech is come to feast with the King of Kippen.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89"></a>{89}</span></p> - -<p>The porter went grumbling into the house and told his master that there -was a fellow with a red beard at the gate, who called himself the -Goodman of Ballengiech, and said he was come to dine with the King of -Kippen. As soon as Buchanan heard these words, he knew that the king was -come in person, and hastened down to kneel at James’s feet and ask -forgiveness for his insolent behavior. But the king, who only meant to -give him a fright, forgave him freely, and going into the castle, -feasted on his own venison which the chief had taken from his men. -Buchanan of Arnpryor was ever afterwards called the King of Kippen.</p> - -<p>Upon another occasion, King James, being alone and in disguise, fell -into a quarrel with some gypsies, or other vagrants, and was assaulted -by four or five of them. This chanced to be very near the bridge of -Cramond; so the king got on the bridge, which, as it was high and -narrow, enabled him to defend himself with his sword against the number -of persons by whom he was attacked.</p> - -<p>There was a poor farmer threshing corn in a barn near by, who came out -on hearing the noise of the scuffle, and, seeing one man defending -himself against numbers, gallantly took the king’s part with his flail, -to such good purpose that the gypsies were obliged to fly. The farmer -then took the king<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90"></a>{90}</span> into the barn, brought him a towel and water to wash -the blood from his face and hands, and finally walked with him a little -way toward Edinburgh, in case he should be again attacked.</p> - -<p>On the way, the king asked his companion what and who he was. The man -answered that his name was John Howieson, and that he was a bondsman on -the farm of Braehead, near Cramond, which belonged to the King of -Scotland. James then asked him if there was any wish in the world which -he would particularly wish to have gratified; and honest John confessed -he should think himself the happiest man in Scotland were he but -proprietor of the farm on which he wrought as a laborer.</p> - -<p>He then asked the king in turn who <i>he</i> was, and James replied, as -usual, that he was the Goodman of Ballengiech, a poor man who had a -small appointment about the palace; but he added that, if John Howieson -would come to see him on the next Sunday, he would endeavor to repay his -manful assistance, and, at least, give him the pleasure of seeing the -royal apartments.</p> - -<p>John put on his best clothes, as you may suppose, and, appearing at a -postern gate of the palace, inquired for the Goodman of Ballengiech. The -king had given orders that he should be admitted; and John found his -friend, the goodman, in the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91"></a>{91}</span> disguise which he had formerly worn. -The king conducted John Howieson from one apartment of the palace to -another, and was amused with his wonder and his remarks.</p> - -<p>At length James asked his visitor if he would like to see the king; to -which John replied that nothing would delight him so much, if he could -do so without giving offense. The Goodman of Ballengiech, of course, -undertook that the king would not be angry. “But,” said John, “how am I -to know his grace from the nobles who will be all about him?”—“Easily,” -replied his companion; “all the others will be uncovered—the king alone -will wear his hat or bonnet.”</p> - -<p>So speaking, King James introduced the countryman into a great hall, -which was filled with the nobility and officers of the crown. John was a -little frightened, and drew close to his attendant, but was still unable -to distinguish the king. “I told you that you should know him by his -wearing his hat,” said the conductor. “Then,” said John, after he had -again looked around the room, “it must be either you or me, for all but -us two are bareheaded.”</p> - -<p>The king laughed at John’s fancy; and, that the good yeoman might have -occasion for mirth also, he made him a present of the farm of Braehead, -which he had wished so much to possess.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92"></a>{92}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BUGLE_SONG" id="BUGLE_SONG"></a>BUGLE SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">The splendor falls on castle walls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And snowy summits old in story:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The long light shakes across the lakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the wild cataract leaps in glory.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Oh hark! oh hear! how thin and clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thinner, clearer, further going!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Oh sweet and far, from cliff and scar,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Oh love, they die in yon rich sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They faint on hill or field or river:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Our echoes roll from soul to soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And grow for ever and for ever.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>Alfred Tennyson.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93"></a>{93}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SOME_EXPERIENCES_AT_SEA" id="SOME_EXPERIENCES_AT_SEA"></a>SOME EXPERIENCES AT SEA.</h2> - -<h3>THE FIRST DAYS OUT.</h3> - -<p>In 1834, Richard Henry Dana, Jr., then a young man of nineteen, made a -voyage to California, which was at that time almost an unknown region. -He went as a common sailor “before the mast”; and on his return he wrote -a narrative of his experience, depicting in its true colors the real -life of the sailor at sea. This narrative was published in a volume -entitled “Two Years before the Mast,” and is still regarded as one of -the most interesting stories of its kind. The following is Mr. Dana’s -account of some of his first experiences at sea:—</p> - -<p>“With all my imperfections on my head,” I joined the crew. We hauled out -into the stream, and came to anchor for the night. The next morning was -Saturday; and, a breeze having sprung up from the southward, we took a -pilot on board, hove up our anchor, and began beating down the bay.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 173px;"> -<a href="images/illus093_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus093_sml.jpg" width="173" height="195" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>A Full-rigged Ship.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>I took leave of those of my friends who came to see me off, and had -barely opportunity to take a last look at the city and well-known -objects, as no time<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94"></a>{94}</span> is allowed on board ship for sentiment. As we drew -down into the lower harbor, we found the wind ahead in the bay, and were -obliged to come to anchor in the roads. We remained there through the -day and a part of the night.</p> - -<p>About midnight the wind became fair; and having called the captain, I -was ordered to call all hands. How I accomplished this I do not know; -but I am quite sure that I did not give the true, hoarse, boatswain call -of “A-a-ll ha-a-a-nds! up anchor, a-ho-oy!” In a short time every one -was in motion, the sails loosed, the yards braced, and we began to heave -up the anchor, which was our last hold upon Yankee-land.</p> - -<p>I could take but little part in these preparations. My little knowledge -of a vessel was all at fault. Unintelligible orders were so rapidly -given, and so immediately executed, there was such a hurrying about, -such an intermingling of strange cries and stranger actions, that I was -completely bewildered. There is not so helpless and pitiable an object -in the world as a landsman beginning a sailor’s life.</p> - -<p>The first day we passed at sea was the Sabbath. As we were just from -port, and there was a great deal to be done on board, we were kept at -work all day. At night the watches were set, and everything put into sea -order. I had now a fine time for reflection.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95"></a>{95}</span> I felt for the first time -the perfect silence of the sea. The officer was walking the -quarter-deck, where I had no right to go. One or two men were talking on -the forecastle, whom I had little inclination to join; so that I was -left open to the full impression of everything about me.</p> - -<p>However much I was affected by the beauty of the sea, the bright stars, -and the clouds driven swiftly over them, I could not but remember that I -was separating myself from all the social and intellectual enjoyments of -life. Yet, strange as it may seem, I did then and afterwards take -pleasure in these reflections, hoping by them to prevent my becoming -insensible to the value of what I was leaving.</p> - -<p>But all my dreams were soon put to flight by an order from the officer -to trim the yards, as the wind was getting ahead. I could plainly see, -by the looks the sailors occasionally cast to windward, and by the dark -clouds that were fast coming up, that we had bad weather to prepare for, -and had heard the captain say that he expected to be in the Gulf Stream -by twelve o’clock. In a few minutes “eight bells” was struck, the watch -called, and we went below.</p> - -<p>I now began to feel the first discomforts of a sailor’s life. The -steerage in which I lived was filled with coils of rigging, spare sails, -old junk, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96"></a>{96}</span> ship stores, which had not been stowed away. Moreover, -there had been no berths built for us to sleep in, and we were not -allowed to drive nails to hang our clothes upon.</p> - -<p>The sea, too, had risen, the vessel was rolling heavily, and everything -was pitched about in grand confusion. I shortly heard the raindrops -falling on deck, thick and fast. The watch had evidently their hands -full of work, for I could hear the loud and repeated orders of the mate, -the trampling of feet, the creaking of blocks, and all the indications -of a coming storm.</p> - -<p>When I got upon deck, a new scene and a new experience were before me. -The little brig was close-hauled upon the wind, and lying over, as it -then seemed to me, nearly upon her beam ends. The heavy head sea was -beating against her bows with the noise and force almost of a sledge -hammer, and flying over the deck, drenching us completely through. The -topsail halyards had been let go, and the great sails were filling out -and backing against the masts with a noise like thunder. The wind was -whistling through the rigging, loose ropes flying about; loud, and to me -unintelligible, orders were constantly given, and rapidly executed; and -the sailors were “singing out” at the ropes in their hoarse and peculiar -strains.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97"></a>{97}</span></p> - -<p>In addition to all this, I had not got my “sea legs on,” was dreadfully -sick, with hardly strength enough to hold on to anything; and it was -pitch dark. This was my state when I was ordered aloft, for the first -time, to reef topsails.</p> - -<p>How I got along I cannot now remember. I “laid out” on the yards, and -held on with all my strength. I could not have been of much service, for -I remember having been sick several times before I left the topsail -yard. Soon, however, all was snug aloft, and we were again allowed to go -below.</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_KING_AND_THE_REBEL" id="THE_KING_AND_THE_REBEL"></a>THE KING AND THE REBEL.</h2> - -<p>In Spain there once lived two men each of whom claimed to be the -rightful king. I do not remember their names, the time was so long ago, -but to make the story easier to tell, let us call one Alfonso and the -other John. Of course John declared that Alfonso was a traitor, and -Alfonso said that John was a rebel and must be put down. At last, in a -great battle, John overthrew his rival and made himself master of the -country. But one strong town which Alfonso had intrusted to a knight -called Aguilar still held out, and although John besieged it with all -his army, he could not take it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98"></a>{98}</span></p> - -<p>“You have done enough for honor,” said King John one day to the knight. -“Come, open the gates of the town to my army, and I promise that you -shall not suffer.”</p> - -<p>“If you had read the history of our country,” answered Aguilar, “you -would have learned that no man of my family ever surrenders.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will starve you where you are!”</p> - -<p>“Starve the eagle if you can,” said the knight.</p> - -<p>“I will put you and your town to the sword.”</p> - -<p>“Try it,” was the reply, and the siege went on.</p> - -<p>One morning, as the rising sun was beginning to gild with its rays the -highest towers of the city, a trumpet sounded in the camp of the enemy. -It was the signal for a parley. The old knight soon appeared on the wall -and looked down on the king.</p> - -<p>“Surrender,” said King John again. “My rival Alfonso is dead, and our -dispute is ended.”</p> - -<p>“Sir,” said the knight, “I believe that you speak the truth, but I must -see my dead master.”</p> - -<p>“Go, then, to Seville, where his body lies,” said the king. “You have my -word that no harm shall befall you.”</p> - -<p>The knight came out with banners flying and an escort of a few -half-starved warriors. As he rode slowly along, the soldiers who knew of -his courage and his many brave deeds, greeted him with loud<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99"></a>{99}</span> shouts and -gazed after him until the red plume above his helmet disappeared in the -distance.</p> - -<p>As soon as he reached Seville, he went straight to the great church -where he was told the body of his master was still lying in its open -coffin. Gazing awhile with tearful eyes at the pale face which met his -look, he thus spoke to the dead Alfonso: “Sir, I promised never to -surrender to any one but yourself the keys of the town which you -intrusted to my care. Here they are. I have kept my promise.” With that, -he laid the keys on the breast of his master, and then, mounting his -steed, he galloped back to his post.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the king, “are you satisfied, and are you willing to give -up?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“But where are the keys of the town?”</p> - -<p>“I have delivered them to my master, King Alfonso, and of him you may -get them. Now I ride on, and we shall meet no more.”</p> - -<p>“Not so,” said the king. “You shall hold the town for me and be its -governor in my name.”</p> - -<p>The followers of the king murmured, and complained at his thus rewarding -a rebel. “He is no longer a rebel,” said King John; “such men when won, -become the best of subjects.”</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>Charles E. A. Gayarré.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="DANIEL_BOONE" id="DANIEL_BOONE"></a>DANIEL BOONE.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p>The settlement of the wilderness beyond the Alleghany Mountains was -promoted by native pioneers. In his peaceful habitation on the banks of -the Yadkin River in North Carolina, Daniel Boone, the illustrious -hunter, had heard Finley, a trader, describe a tract of land, west of -Virginia, as the richest in North America, or in the world. In May, -1769, leaving his wife and offspring, having Finley as his pilot, and -four others as companions, the young man, of about three and twenty, -wandered forth through the wilderness of America “in quest of the -country of Kentucky,” known to the savages as “the dark and bloody -ground.” After a long and fatiguing journey through mountain ranges, the -party found themselves in June on the Red River, a tributary of the -Kentucky, and from the top of an eminence surveyed with delight the -beautiful plain that stretched to the northwest. Here they built their -shelter and began to reconnoiter the country, and to hunt.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 209px;"> -<a href="images/illus100_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus100_sml.jpg" width="209" height="217" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Daniel Boone.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span></p> - -<p>All the kinds of wild beasts that were natural to America—the stately -elk, the timid deer, the antlered stag, the wild-cat, the bear, the -panther, and the wolf—couched among the canes, or roamed over the rich -grasses, which even beneath the thickest shade sprung luxuriantly out of -the generous soil. The buffaloes cropped fearlessly the herbage, or -browsed on the leaves of the reed, and were more frequent than cattle in -the settlements of Carolina. Sometimes there were hundreds in a drove, -and round the salt licks their numbers were amazing.</p> - -<p>The summer in which, for the first time, a party of white men enjoyed -the brilliancy of nature near and in the valley of the Elkhorn passed -away in the occupations of exploring parties and the chase. But, one by -one, Boone’s companions dropped off, till he was left alone with John -Stewart. They jointly found unceasing delight in the wonders of the -forest, till, one evening near the Kentucky River, they were taken -prisoners by a band of Indians, wanderers like themselves. They escaped, -and were joined by Boone’s brother; so that when Stewart was soon after -killed by savages, Boone still had his brother to share with him the -dangers and the attractions of the wilderness, the building and -occupying of the first cottage in Kentucky.</p> - -<p>In the spring of 1770 that brother returned to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span> settlements for -horses and supplies of ammunition, leaving the renowned hunter “by -himself, without bread, or salt, or even a horse or dog.” The idea of a -beloved wife anxious for his safety, tinged his thoughts with sadness; -but otherwise the cheerful, meditative man, careless of wealth, knowing -the use of the rifle, not the plow, of a strong robust frame, in the -vigorous health of early manhood, ignorant of books, but versed in the -forest and in forest life, ever fond of tracking the deer on foot, away -from men, yet in his disposition humane, generous, and gentle, was happy -in the uninterrupted succession of sylvan pleasures. He held unconscious -intercourse with beauty old as creation.</p> - -<p>One calm summer’s evening, as he climbed a commanding ridge, and looked -upon the remote, venerable mountains and the nearer ample plains, and -caught a glimpse in the distance of the Ohio, which bounded the land of -his affections with majestic grandeur, his heart exulted in the region -he had discovered. All things were still. Not a breeze so much as shook -a leaf. He kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, and feasted on -the loin of a buck. He was no more alone than a bee among flowers, but -communed familiarly with the whole universe of life. Nature was his -intimate, and she responded to his intelligence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span></p> - -<p>For him the rocks and the fountains, the leaf and the blade of grass, -had life; the cooling air laden with the wild perfume came to him as a -friend; the dewy morning wrapped him in its embrace; the trees stood up -gloriously round about him as so many myriads of companions. All forms -wore the character of desire or peril. But how could he be afraid? -Triumphing over danger, he knew no fear. The perpetual howling of the -wolves by night round his cottage or his bivouac in the brake was his -diversion; and by day he had joy in surveying the various species of -animals that surrounded him. He loved the solitude better than the -towered city or the hum of business.</p> - -<p>Near the end of 1770, his faithful brother came back to meet him at the -old camp. Shortly after they proceeded together to the Cumberland River, -giving names to the different waters; and he then returned to his wife -and children, fixed in his purpose, at the risk of life and fortune, to -bring them as soon as possible to live in Kentucky, which he esteemed a -second Paradise.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>In March, 1775, Daniel Boone, with a body of enterprising companions, -proceeded to mark out a path up Powell’s valley, and through the -mountains and canebrakes beyond. On the twenty-fifth of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span> month they -were waylaid by Indians, who killed two men and wounded another very -severely. Two days later the savages killed and scalped two more. “Now,” -wrote Daniel Boone, “is the time to keep the country while we are in it. -If we give way now, it will ever be the case,” and he pressed forward to -the Kentucky River. There, on the first day of April, at the distance of -about sixty yards from its west bank, near the mouth of Otter Creek, he -began a stockade fort, which took the name of Boonesboro.</p> - -<p>At that place, while the congress at Philadelphia was groping -irresolutely in the dark, seventeen men assembled as representatives of -the four “towns” that then formed the seed of the state. Among these -children of nature was Daniel Boone, the pioneer of the party. His -colleague, Richard Calloway, was one of the founders of Kentucky, and -one of its early martyrs. The town of St. Asaph sent John Floyd, a -surveyor, who emigrated from southwestern Virginia; an able writer, -respected for his culture and dignity of manner; of innate good -breeding; ready to defend the weak; heedless of his own life if he could -recover women and children who had been made captive by the savages; -destined to do good service, and survive the dangers of western life -till American independence should be fought for and won.</p> - -<p>From the settlement at Boiling Spring came James<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span> Harrod, the same who, -in 1774, had led a party of forty-one to Harrodsburg, and during the -summer of that year had built the first log-cabin in Kentucky; a tall, -erect, and resolute backwoodsman; unlettered but not ignorant; intrepid -yet gentle; never weary of kind offices to those around him; a skillful -hunter, for whom the rifle had a companionship, and the wilderness a -charm.</p> - -<p>These and their associates, the fathers of Kentucky, seventeen in all, -met on the 23d of May, beneath the great elm tree of Boonesboro, outside -of the fort, on the thick sward of the fragrant white clover. The -convention having been organized, prayers were read by a minister of the -Church of England. A speech was then delivered to the convention in -behalf of the proprietary purchases of the land from the Cherokees. To -it a committee, of which Calloway was the head, made reply. “Deeply -impressed,” they said, “with a sense of the importance of the trust our -constituents have reposed in us, we will attempt the task with vigor, -not doubting but unanimity will insure us success. That we have a right, -as a political body, without giving umbrage to Great Britain, or any of -the colonies, to frame rules for the government of our little society, -cannot be doubted by any sensible or unbiased mind.”</p> - -<p>So reasoned the fathers of Kentucky. In their<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span> legislation, it was their -chief care to copy after the happy pattern of the English laws. Their -colony they called Transylvania. For defense against the savages, they -organized a militia; they discountenanced profane swearing and Sabbath -breaking; they took thought for preventing the waste of game, and -improving the breed of horses; and by solemn agreement they established -as the basis of their constitution the annual choice of delegates; taxes -to be raised by the convention alone; perfect religious freedom and -general toleration.</p> - -<p>Thus a little band of hunters put themselves at the head of the -countless hosts of civilization in establishing the great principle of -intellectual freedom. Long as the shadows of the western mountain shall -move round with the sun, long as the rivers that gush from those -mountains shall flow toward the sea, long as seedtime and harvest shall -return, that rule shall remain the law of the West.</p> - -<p>The state of Kentucky honors the memory of the plain, simple hearted -man, who is best known as its pioneer. He was kindly in his nature, and -never wronged a human being, not even an Indian, nor, indeed, animal -life of any kind. “I with others have fought Indians,” he would say; -“but I do not know that I ever killed one. If I did, it was in battle, -and I never knew it.” In woodcraft he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span> acknowledged to be the first -among men. This led him to love solitude, and to hover on the frontier, -with no abiding place, accompanied by the wife of his youth, who was the -companion of his long life and travel. When, at last, death put them -both to rest, Kentucky reclaimed their bones from their graves far up -the Missouri; and now they lie buried on the hill above the cliffs of -the Kentucky River, overlooking the lovely valley of the capital of that -commonwealth. Around them are emblems of wilderness life; the turf of -the blue grass lies lightly above them; and they are laid with their -faces turned upward and westward, and their feet toward the setting sun.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>Such is the account which George Bancroft, the first of American -historians, gives of Daniel Boone, the pioneer of Kentucky, and of the -founding of the commonwealth of which Boone was the earliest and most -distinguished promoter. Few other works have contributed so much to the -dignity and distinction of our literature as has Bancroft’s “History of -the United States,” from which this extract has been taken.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 202px;"> -<a href="images/illus107_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus107_sml.jpg" width="202" height="210" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>George Bancroft.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FULTONS_FIRST_STEAMBOAT" id="FULTONS_FIRST_STEAMBOAT"></a>FULTON’S FIRST STEAMBOAT.</h2> - -<p>It is common to speak of Robert Fulton as the inventor of the steamboat. -Other persons before him, however, had experimented with machinery for -propelling vessels by steam. They had met with but little success or -encouragement, and it was left for Fulton to demonstrate the practical -value of steam as a means of propulsion and to show the superiority of -steamboats to vessels depending solely upon the wind for motive power. -Robert Fulton was born in Pennsylvania in 1765. He began his experiments -with steam in 1793, and his first successful steamboat, the “Clermont,” -was launched on the Hudson in 1807. The trip from New York to Albany -occupied thirty-two hours, the rate of speed being about five miles an -hour. Mr. Fulton himself has left us the following account of the trial -of his boat:—</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 183px;"> -<a href="images/illus108_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus108_sml.jpg" width="183" height="206" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Robert Fulton.</p></div> -</div> - -<p> </p> - -<p>When I was building my first steamboat, the project was viewed by the -public at New York either with indifference or contempt, as a visionary<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span> -scheme. My friends indeed were civil, but they were shy. They listened -with patience to my explanations, but with a settled cast of incredulity -on their countenances. I felt the full force of the lamentation of the -poet—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Truths would you teach, to save a sinking land?<br /></span> -<span class="i1">All shun, none aid you, and few understand.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>As I had occasion to pass daily to and from the building yard while my -boat was in progress, I often loitered, unknown, near the idle groups of -strangers gathering in little circles, and heard various inquiries as to -the object of this new vehicle. The language was uniformly that of -scorn, sneer, or ridicule. The loud laugh rose at my expense, the dry -jest, the wise calculations of losses and expenditure; the dull but -endless repetition of “<i>the Fulton folly!</i>” Never did an encouraging -remark, a bright hope, or a warm wish cross my path.</p> - -<p>At length the day arrived when the experiment was to be made. To me it -was a most trying and interesting occasion. I wanted my friends to go on -board and witness the first successful trip. Many of them did me the -favor to attend, as a matter of personal respect; but it was manifest -they did it with reluctance, fearing to be partakers of my mortification -and not of my triumph.</p> - -<p>The moment approached in which the word was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span> to be given for the vessel -to move. My friends were in groups on the deck. There was anxiety mixed -with fear among them. I read in their looks nothing but disaster, and -almost repented of my efforts. The signal was given, and the boat moved -on a short distance, and then stopped and became immovable.</p> - -<p>To the silence of the preceding moment now succeeded murmurs of -discontent and agitation, and whispers and shrugs. I could hear -distinctly repeated, “I told you so—it is a foolish scheme. I wish we -were well out of it.” I elevated myself on a platform, and addressed the -assembly. I stated that I knew not what was the matter; but if they -would indulge me for half an hour, I would either go on or abandon the -voyage for that time.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 207px;"> -<a href="images/illus110_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus110_sml.jpg" width="207" height="79" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>The “Clermont.”</p></div> -</div> - -<p>This short respite was conceded without objection. I went below and -examined the machinery, and discovered that the cause was a slight -defect in a part of the work. This was soon remedied; the boat was put -again in motion; she continued to move on. All were still incredulous; -none seemed willing to trust the evidence of their own senses.</p> - -<p>We left the fair city of New York; we passed through the romantic and -ever-varying scenery of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span> the Highlands; we descried the clustering -houses of Albany; we reached its shores; yet even then imagination -superseded the force of fact. It was doubted if it could be done again.</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_PLANTING_OF_THE_APPLE_TREE" id="THE_PLANTING_OF_THE_APPLE_TREE"></a>THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE.</h2> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 201px;"> -<a href="images/illus111_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus111_sml.jpg" width="201" height="207" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>William Cullen Bryant.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Come, let us plant the apple tree!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide let its hollow bed be made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There gently lay the roots, and there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sift the dark mold with kindly care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And press it o’er them tenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As round the sleeping infant’s feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We softly fold the cradle sheet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So plant we the apple tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">What plant we in this apple tree?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Buds, which the breath of summer days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Boughs, where the thrush with crimson breast<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We plant upon the sunny lea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shadow for the noontide hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shelter from the summer shower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When we plant the apple tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">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="i2">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="i2">We plant with the apple tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">What plant we in this apple tree?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And redden in the August noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drop when gentle airs come by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fan the blue September sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While children, wild with noisy glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall scent their fragrance as they pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And search for them the tufted grass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the foot of the apple tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">And when above this apple tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winter stars are quivering bright,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And winds go howling through the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Girls whose young eyes o’erflow with mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And guests in prouder homes shall see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaped with the orange and the grape,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As fair as they in tint and shape,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fruit of the apple tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">The fruitage of this apple tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds and our flag of stripe and star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where men shall wonder at the view<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ask in what fair groves they grew;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And they who roam beyond the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall think of childhood’s careless day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And long hours passed in summer play<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the shade of the apple tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">But time shall waste this apple tree.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! when its aged branches throw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their shadows on the world below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall fraud and force and iron will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oppress the weak and helpless still?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What shall the task of mercy be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those who live when length of years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is wasting this apple tree?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“Who planted this old apple tree?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The children of that distant day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus to some aged man shall say;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, gazing on its mossy stem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gray-haired man shall answer them:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“A poet of the land was he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Born in the rude but good old times;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On planting the apple tree.”<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>William Cullen Bryant.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_CORN_SONG" id="THE_CORN_SONG"></a>THE CORN SONG.</h2> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 169px;"> -<a href="images/illus114_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus114_sml.jpg" width="169" height="202" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>John G. Whittier.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heap high the farmer’s wintry hoard!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heap high the golden corn!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No richer gift has Autumn poured<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From out her lavish horn!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let other lands, exulting, glean<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The apple from the pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The orange from its glossy green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cluster from the vine;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We better love the hardy gift<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our rugged vales bestow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cheer us when the storm shall drift<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our harvest fields with snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through vales of grass and meads of flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our plows their furrows made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While on the hills the sun and showers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of changeful April played.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We dropped the seed o’er hill and plain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the sun of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frightened from our sprouting grain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The robber crows away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All through the long, bright days of June<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its leaves grew green and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waved in hot, midsummer’s noon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its soft and yellow hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now with autumn’s moonlit eves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its harvest time has come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We pluck away the frosted leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bear the treasure home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, when the snows about us drift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And winter winds are cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And knead its meal of gold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let vapid idlers loll in silk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around their costly board;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give us the bowl of samp and milk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By homespun beauty poured!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where’er the wide old kitchen hearth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sends up its smoky curls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who will not thank the kindly earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bless our farmer girls!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then shame on all the proud and vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose folly laughs to scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blessing of our hardy grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our wealth of golden corn!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let earth withhold her goodly root,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let mildew blight the rye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give to the worm the orchard’s fruit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wheatfield to the fly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But let the good old crop adorn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hills our fathers trod;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still let us, for his golden corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Send up our thanks to God.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>John G. Whittier.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="HUNTING_THE_WALRUS" id="HUNTING_THE_WALRUS"></a>HUNTING THE WALRUS.</h2> - -<p>The walrus is one of the largest animals still extant, and although the -element of personal danger is not so great in hunting it as in hunting -some beasts of lesser bulk, yet the conditions under which the sport is -pursued, as well as the nature of the sport itself, are such as will -probably tempt one who has once tried this form of sport to return to -it.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 369px;"> -<a href="images/illus117_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus117_sml.jpg" width="369" height="224" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Walruses at Home.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>An average-sized four-year-old walrus will measure ten feet in length -and about the same in girth. The weight is, of course, difficult to -determine; but it is probably about 3000 pounds, of which 350 pounds may -be reckoned as blubber, and 300 pounds as hide.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span></p> - -<p>The blubber, to be utilized, is mixed with that of the seals which may -be obtained, and the oil, which is extracted by heat and pressure, sold -as “seal oil”; the hide, which is from an inch to an inch and a half in -thickness, and makes a soft, spongy leather, is exported principally to -Russia and Germany, where it is used for making harness and other heavy -leather goods.</p> - -<p>The walrus is a carnivorous animal, feeding mostly upon shellfish and -worms, and is therefore generally found in the shallow waters along a -coast line, diving for its food on banks which lie at a depth of from -two to twenty fathoms below the surface. Deeper than that the walrus -does not care to go; in fact, it generally feeds in about fifteen -fathoms.</p> - -<p>The tusks are principally used to plow up the bottom in search of food, -but are also employed as weapons, and in climbing upon the ice. They are -composed of hard white ivory, set for about six inches of their length -in a hard bony mass, about six inches in diameter, which forms the front -of the head; the breathing passage runs through this mass, and -terminates in two “blow holes” between the roots of the tusks. The tusk -itself is solid, except that portion which is imbedded in the bone, and -this is filled with a cellular structure containing a whitish oil.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span></p> - -<p>A walrus killed in the water immediately sinks; even if mortally -wounded, it will in nine cases out of ten escape, and sink to the -bottom. When on the ice, these animals always lie close to the water, -and it is therefore necessary to kill them instantly, or they will reach -the water and be lost before the boat can arrive within harpooning -distance. This can only be done by shooting them in such a way as to -penetrate the brain, which is no easy matter. The brain lies in what -appears to be the neck; that which one would naturally suppose to be the -head being nothing but the heavy jaw bones, and mass of bone in which -the tusks are set.</p> - -<p>What becomes of the walrus in winter it is hard to say; but I have heard -them blowing in an open pool of water among the ice on the north coast -of Spitzbergen in the month of December. In the spring, however, when -the ice begins to break up, they collect in herds on their feeding -grounds around the coasts, where they may be found diving for shellfish, -or basking and sleeping, singly or in “heaps” of two or three, often -five or six, together.</p> - -<p>They seem to prefer to lie on small cakes of flat bay ice; a single -walrus will often take his siesta on a cake only just large enough to -float him, and it is among such ice, therefore, rather than among rough -old pack and glacier blocks, that they should be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span> sought, although I -have seen them lying on heavy old water-worn ice, four and five feet -above the water. In this case, however, they had no choice.</p> - -<p>The boats of the walrus hunters are strongly yet lightly built. They are -bow-shaped at both ends; the stem and stern posts are made thick and -strong in order to resist the blows of the ice, and the bow sheathed -with zinc plates to prevent excessive chafing. It is most important that -they should be easy and quick in turning, and this quality is obtained -by depressing the keel in the middle. They are painted red inside and -white outside, so that they may not be conspicuous amongst ice, but the -hunters stultify this idea to some extent by dressing themselves in dark -colors.</p> - -<p>The harpoon, the point and edges of which are ground and whetted to a -razor-like sharpness, is a simple but very effective weapon. When thrust -into a walrus or seal, a large outer barb “takes up” a loop of the tough -hide, whilst a small inner fishhook barb prevents it from becoming -disengaged, so that when once properly harpooned, it is seldom, if ever, -that an animal escapes through the harpoon “drawing.” The harpoon line -consists of sixteen fathoms of two-inch tarred rope, very carefully made -of the finest hemp, “soft laid”; each line is neatly coiled in a -separate box placed beneath the forward thwart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span></p> - -<p>A boat’s crew consists of four or five men, and the quickness with which -they can turn their boat is greatly accelerated by their method of -rowing and steering. Each man rows with a pair of oars, which he can -handle much better than one long one when amongst ice.</p> - -<p>The harpooner, who commands the boat’s crew, rows from the bow thwart, -near the weapons and telescope, which he alone uses. It is he who -searches for game, and decides on the method of attack when it is found. -“No. 2,” generally the strongest man in the boat, is called the “line -man”; it is his duty to tend the line when a walrus is struck, and to -assist the harpooner.</p> - -<p>In such a boat, then, one lovely September morning, we are rowing easily -back to the sloop, which is lying off Bird Bay, a small indentation in -the east face of the northernmost point of Spitzbergen. The harpooner is -balancing himself, one foot on the forward locker, and one on the -thwart, examining through a telescope something which appears to be a -lump of dirty ice, about half a mile away. Suddenly he closes his glass -and seizes the oars. “There he is!” he says, and without another word -the boat is headed for the black mass.</p> - -<p>Now we are within a couple of hundred yards, and each man crouches in -the bottom of the boat, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span> harpooner still in the bow, his eyes -intently fixed upon the walrus. Suddenly the walrus raises his head, and -we are motionless. It is intensely still, and the scraping of a piece of -ice along the boat seems like the roar of a railway train passing -overhead on some bridge. Down goes the head, and we glide forward again. -The walrus is uneasy; again and again he raises his head and looks round -with a quick motion, but we have the sun right at our back, and he never -notices us.</p> - -<p>At last we are within a few feet, and with a shout of “Wake up, old -boy!” which breaks the stillness like a shot, the harpooner is on his -feet, his weapon clasped in both hands above his head. As the walrus -plunges into the sea, the iron is buried in his side, and, with a quick -twist to prevent the head from slipping out of the same slit that it has -cut in the thick hide, the handle is withdrawn and thrown into the boat. -Bumping and scraping amongst the floating ice, we are towed along for -about five minutes, and then stop as the wounded walrus comes to the -surface to breathe.</p> - -<p>In the old days the lance would finish the business, but now it is the -rifle. He is facing the boat; I sight for one of his eyes, and let him -have both barrels, without much effect apparently, for away we rush for -two or three minutes more, when he is up<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span> again, still facing the boat. -He seems to care no more for the solid “Express” bullets than if they -were peas; but he is slow this time, and, as he turns to dive, exposes -the fatal spot at the back of the head, and dies.</p> - -<p>Few men are likely ever to forget the first occasion on which they found -themselves amongst a herd of walrus in the water. Scores of -fierce-looking heads—for the long tusks, small bloodshot eyes, and -moustache on the upper lip (every bristle of which is as thick as a crow -quill) give the walrus an expression of ferocity—gaze, perhaps in -unbroken silence, from all sides upon the boat, See! the sun glints -along a hundred wet backs, and they are gone.</p> - -<p>Away you row at racing speed to where experience tells you they will -rise again. “Here they are! Take that old one with long tusks first!” A -couple of quick thrusts, right and left, and away you go again, fast to -two old fellows that will want a good deal of attention before you can -cut their tusks out. Indeed, unless one has served his apprenticeship, -he had better not meddle with the harpoon at all. The old skippers and -harpooners can spin many a yarn of lost crews and boats gone under the -ice through a fatal moment’s delay in cutting free from the diving -walrus.</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>From “Big Game Shooting.</i>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_POMPEII" id="THE_DESTRUCTION_OF_POMPEII"></a>THE DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII.</h2> - -<h3><a name="I_HISTORY" id="I_HISTORY"></a>I. HISTORY.</h3> - -<p>Volcanoes can never be trusted. No one knows when one will break out, or -what it will do; and those who live close to them—as the city of Naples -is close to Mount Vesuvius—must not be astonished if they are blown up -or swallowed, as that great and beautiful city of Naples may be without -a warning, any day.</p> - -<p>For what happened to that same Mount Vesuvius about eighteen hundred -years ago in the old Roman times? For ages and ages it had been lying -quiet, like any other hill. Beautiful cities were built at its -foot—cities filled with people who were as handsome and as comfortable -and, I am afraid, as wicked as any people ever were on earth. Fair -gardens, vineyards, and olive yards covered the mountain slopes. It was -held to be one of the Paradises of the world.</p> - -<p>As for the mountain’s being a volcano, who ever thought of that? To be -sure, the top of it was a great round crater, or cup, a mile or more -across, and a few hundred yards deep. But that was all overgrown with -bushes and wild vines full of deer and other wild animals. What sign of -fire was there in that? To be sure, also, there was an ugly place<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span> -below, by the seashore, where smoke and brimstone came out of the -ground; and a lake called Avernus, over which poisonous gases hung. But -what of that? It had never harmed any one, and how could it harm them?</p> - -<p>So they all lived on, merrily and happily enough, till the year <small>A.D.</small> 79. -At that time there was stationed in the Bay of Naples a Roman admiral, -called Pliny, who was also a very studious and learned man, and author -of a famous old book on natural history. He was staying on shore with -his sister; and as he sat in his study, she called him out to see a -strange cloud which had been hanging for some time over the top of Mount -Vesuvius. It was in shape just like a pine tree; not, of course, like -the pines which grow in this country, but like an Italian stone pine, -with a long straight stem and a flat parasol-shaped top.</p> - -<p>Sometimes it was blackish, sometimes spotted; and the good Admiral -Pliny, who was always curious about natural science, ordered his rowboat -and went away across the bay to see what it could be. Earthquake shocks -had been very common for the last few days, but I do not suppose that -Pliny thought that the earthquakes and the cloud had anything to do with -each other. However, he soon found out that they had; and to his cost. -When<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span> he was near the opposite shore, some of the sailors met him and -begged him to turn back. Cinders and pumice stones were falling down -from the sky, and flames were breaking out of the mountain above. But -Pliny would go on: he said that if people were in danger it was his duty -to help them; and that he must see this strange cloud, and note down the -different shapes into which it changed.</p> - -<p>But the hot ashes fell faster and faster; the sea ebbed out suddenly, -and almost left them on the beach; and Pliny turned away towards a place -called Stabiæ, to the house of an old friend who was just going to -escape in a boat. Brave Pliny told him not to be afraid; ordered his -bath like a true Roman gentleman, and then went in to dinner with a -cheerful face. Flames came down from the mountain, nearer and nearer as -the night drew on; but Pliny persuaded his friend that they were only -fires in some villages from which the peasants had fled; and then went -to bed and slept soundly.</p> - -<p>However, in the middle of the night, they found the courtyard being fast -filled with cinders, and if they had not awakened the Admiral in time, -he would never have been able to get out of the house.</p> - -<p>The earthquake shocks grew stronger and fiercer, till the house was -ready to fall; and Pliny and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/illus127_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus127_sml.jpg" width="587" height="373" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Mount Vesuvius during an Eruption.</p> -<p class="capsml">From a Photograph. -<span style="margin-left: 15%;"> Engraved by E. Heinemann</span></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">friend, and the sailors and the slaves, all fled into the open fields, -having pillows over their heads to prevent their being beaten down. By -this time, day had come, but not the dawn: for it was still pitch dark. -They went down to their boats upon the shore; but the sea raged so -horribly that there was no getting on board of them.</p> - -<p>Then Pliny grew tired and made his men spread a sail for him that he -might lie down upon it. But there came down upon them a rush of flames -and a strong smell of sulphur, and all ran for their lives.</p> - -<p>Some of the slaves tried to help the Admiral; but he sank down again, -overpowered by the brimstone fumes, and so was left behind. When they -came back again, there he lay dead; but with his clothes in order, and -his face as quiet as if he had been only sleeping. And that was the end -of a brave and learned man, a martyr to duty and to the love of science.</p> - -<p>But what was going on in the meantime? Under clouds of ashes, cinders, -mud, lava, three of those happy cities—Herculaneum, Pompeii, -Stabiæ—were buried at once. They were buried just as the people had -fled from them, leaving the furniture and the earthenware, often even -jewels and gold behind, and here and there a human being who had not -had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span> time to escape from the dreadful rain of ashes and dust.</p> - -<p>The ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii have been dug into since, and -partly uncovered; and the paintings, especially in Pompeii, are found -upon the walls still fresh, preserved from the air by the ashes which -have covered them in. At Naples there is a famous museum containing the -curiosities which have been dug out of the ruined cities; and one can -walk along the streets in Pompeii and see the wheel tracks in the -pavement along which carts and chariots rolled two thousand years ago.</p> - -<p>And what had become of Vesuvius, the treacherous mountain? Half, or more -than half, of the side of the old crater had been blown away; and what -was left, which is now called the Monte Somma, stands in a half circle -round the new cone and the new crater which is burning at this very day. -True, after that eruption which killed Pliny, Vesuvius fell asleep -again, and did not awake for one hundred and thirty-four years, and then -again for two hundred and sixty-nine years; but it has been growing more -and more restless as the ages have passed on, and now hardly a year -passes without its sending out smoke and stones from its crater, and -streams of lava from its sides.</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>From “Madam How and Lady Why,” by Charles Kingsley.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="II_ROMANCE" id="II_ROMANCE"></a>II. ROMANCE.</h3> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 193px;"> -<a href="images/illus130_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus130_sml.jpg" width="193" height="224" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>The most popular historical romance in the English language is “The Last -Days of Pompeii,” by Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. It was first published in -1834, and is a narrative depicting life and manners during the last -years of the doomed city. The description of the grand catastrophe is a -subject which called forth all the brilliant powers of the author. As a -piece of word-painting it has seldom been surpassed.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>The cloud which had scattered so deep a murkiness over the day had now -settled into a solid and impenetrable mass. But in proportion as the -blackness gathered, did the lightnings around Vesuvius increase in their -vivid and scorching glare. Nor was their horrible beauty confined to the -usual hues of fire; no rainbow ever rivaled their varying and prodigal -dyes. Now brightly blue as the most azure depths of a southern sky,—now -of a livid and snake-like green, darting restlessly to and fro as the -folds of an enormous serpent,—now of a lurid and intolerable crimson, -gushing forth through the columns of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span> smoke, far and wide, and lighting -up the whole city from arch to arch—then suddenly dying into a sickly -paleness, like the ghost of their own life!</p> - -<p>In the pauses of the showers you heard the rumbling of the earth -beneath, and the groaning waves of the tortured sea; or, lower still, -and audible but to the watch of intensest fear, the grinding and hissing -murmur of the escaping gases through the chasms of the distant mountain. -Sometimes the cloud appeared to break from its solid mass, and, by the -lightning to assume quaint and vast mimicries of human or of monster -shapes, striding across the gloom, hurtling one upon the other, and -vanishing swiftly into the abyss of shade; so that, to the eyes and -fancies of the affrighted wanderers, the vapors seemed like the bodily -forms of gigantic foes—the agents of terror and of death.</p> - -<p>The ashes in many places were already knee-deep; and the boiling showers -which came from the steaming breath of the volcano forced their way into -the houses, bearing with them a strong and suffocating vapor. In some -places, immense fragments of rock, hurled upon the house roofs, bore -down along the streets masses of confused ruin, yet more and more, with -every hour, obstructed the way; and as the day advanced, the motion of -the earth was more sensibly felt—the footing seemed to slide and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 536px;"> -<a href="images/illus132_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus132_sml.jpg" width="536" height="373" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Interior of a House in Pompeii.</p> - -<p class="capsml">From the Painting by J. Coomans. -<span style="margin-left: 15%;">Engraved by E. Heinemann.</span></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">creep—nor could chariot or litter be kept steady even on the most level -ground.</p> - -<p>Sometimes the huger stones, striking against each other as they fell, -broke into countless fragments, emitting sparks of fire, which caught -whatever was combustible within their reach; and along the plains beyond -the city the darkness was now terribly relieved, for several houses and -even vineyards had been set on flames; and at various intervals the -fires rose sullenly and fiercely against the solid gloom. To add to this -partial relief of the darkness, the citizens had, here and there, in the -more public places, such as the porticoes of temples and the entrances -to the forum, endeavored to place rows of torches; but these rarely -continued long; the showers and the winds extinguished them, and the -sudden darkness into which their sudden birth was converted had -something in it doubly terrible and doubly impressing on the impotence -of human hopes, the lesson of despair.</p> - -<p>Frequently, by the momentary light of these torches, parties of -fugitives encountered each other, some hurrying towards the sea, others -flying from the sea back to the land. The whole elements of civilization -were broken up. Ever and anon, by the flickering lights, you saw the -thief hastening by the most solemn authorities of the law, laden<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span> with -the produce of his sudden gains. If, in the darkness, wife was separated -from husband, or parent from child, vain was the hope of reunion. Each -hurried blindly and confusedly on. Nothing in all the various and -complicated machinery of social life was left save the primal law of -self-preservation.</p> - -<p>Through this awful scene did Glaucus wade his way, accompanied by Ione -and the blind girl. Suddenly, a rush of hundreds, in their path to the -sea, swept by them. Nydia was torn from the side of Glaucus, who with -Ione was borne rapidly onward; and when the crowd (whose forms they saw -not, so thick was the gloom) were gone, Nydia was still separated from -their side. Glaucus shouted her name. No answer came. They retraced -their steps,—in vain: they could not discover her,—it was evident she -had been swept along some other direction by the human current. Their -friend, their preserver was lost! And hitherto Nydia had been their -guide. Her blindness rendered the scene familiar to her alone. -Accustomed, through a perpetual night, to thread the windings of the -city, she had led them unerringly towards the seashore, by which they -had resolved to hazard an escape. Now, which way could they wend? All -was rayless to them—a maze without a clue. Wearied, despondent, -bewildered, they, however, passed along, the ashes falling upon their<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span> -heads, the fragmentary stones dashing up in sparkles before their feet.</p> - -<p>Advancing, as men grope for escape in a dungeon, they continued their -uncertain way. At the moments when the volcanic lightnings lingered over -the streets, they were enabled, by that awful light, to steer and guide -their progress: yet, little did the view it presented to them cheer or -encourage their path. In parts where the ashes lay dry and unmixed with -the boiling torrents, cast upward from the mountain at capricious -intervals, the surface of the earth presented a leprous and ghastly -white. In other places, cinder and rock lay matted in heaps.</p> - -<p>The groans of the dying were broken by wild shrieks of women’s -terror—now near, now distant—which, when heard in the utter darkness, -were rendered doubly appalling by the sense of helplessness and the -uncertainty of the perils around; and clear and distinct through all -were the mighty and various noises from the Fatal Mountain; its rushing -winds; its whirling torrents; and, from time to time, the burst and roar -of some more fiery and fierce explosion.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the place became lighted with an intense and lurid glow. Bright -and gigantic through the darkness, which closed around it like the walls -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> hell, the mountain shone—a pile of fire. Its summit seemed riven in -two; or rather, above its surface there seemed to rise two monster -shapes, each confronting each, as Demons contending for a World. These -were of one deep blood-red hue of fire, which lighted up the whole -atmosphere far and wide; but <i>below</i>, the nether part of the mountain -was still dark and shrouded, save in three places, adown which flowed, -serpentine and irregular, rivers of the molten lava. Darkly red through -the profound gloom of their banks, they flowed slowly on, as towards the -devoted city. Over the broadest there seemed to spring a cragged and -stupendous arch, from which, as from the jaws of hell, gushed the -sources of the stupendous Phlegethon. And through the stilled air was -heard the rattling of the fragments of rock, hurling one upon another as -they were borne down the fiery cataracts—darkening, for one instant, -the spot where they fell, and suffused the next in the burnished hues of -the flood along which they floated.</p> - -<p>Glaucus turned in awe, caught Ione in his arms, and fled along the -street, that was now intensely luminous. But suddenly a duller shade -fell over the air. Instinctively he turned to the mountain, and behold! -one of the two gigantic crests, into which the summit had been divided, -rocked and wavered to and fro; and then, with a sound, the mightiness -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span> which no language can describe, it fell from its burning base, and -rushed, an avalanche of fire, down the sides of the mountain. At the -same instant gushed forth a volume of blackest smoke—rolling on, over -air, sea, and earth.</p> - -<p>Another—and another—and another shower of ashes, far more profuse than -before, scattered fresh desolation along the streets. Darkness once more -wrapped them as a veil; and Glaucus, his bold heart at last quelled and -despairing, sank beneath the cover of an arch, and, clasping Ione to his -heart, resigned himself to die.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Nydia, when separated by the throng from Glaucus and Ione, had -in vain endeavored to regain them. In vain she raised that plaintive cry -so peculiar to the blind; it was lost amidst a thousand shrieks of more -selfish terror. Again and again she returned to the spot where they had -been divided—to find her companions gone, to seize every fugitive—to -inquire of Glaucus—to be dashed aside in the impatience of distraction. -Who in that hour spared one thought to his neighbor?</p> - -<p>At length it occurred to Nydia that, as it had been resolved to seek the -seashore for escape, her most probable chance of rejoining her -companions would be to persevere in that direction. Guiding her steps, -then, by the staff which she always carried, she continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span> to avoid the -masses of ruin which incumbered the path, and to take the nearest -direction to the seaside.</p> - -<p>She had gone some distance toward the seashore, when she chanced to hear -from one of the fugitives that Glaucus was resting beneath the arch of -the forum. She at once turned her back on the sea, and retraced her -steps to the city. She gained the forum—the arch; she stooped down—she -felt around—she called on the name of Glaucus.</p> - -<p>A weak voice answered, “Who calls on me? Is it the voice of the Shades? -Lo! I am prepared!”</p> - -<p>“Arise! follow me! Take my hand! Glaucus, thou shalt be saved!”</p> - -<p>In wonder and sudden hope, Glaucus arose, “Nydia still! Ah! thou, then, -art safe!”</p> - -<p>The tender joy of his voice pierced the heart of the poor Thessalian, -and she blessed him for his thought of her.</p> - -<p>Half-leading, half-carrying Ione, Glaucus followed his guide. After many -pauses they gained the sea, and joined a group, who, bolder than the -rest, resolved to hazard any peril rather than continue in such a scene. -In darkness they put forth to sea; but, as they cleared the land and -caught new aspects of the mountain, its channels of molten fire threw a -partial redness over the waves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span></p> - -<p>Utterly exhausted and worn out, Ione slept on the breast of Glaucus, and -Nydia lay at his feet. Meanwhile the showers of dust and ashes, still -borne aloft, fell into the wave, and scattered their snows over the -deck. Far and wide, borne by the winds, those showers descended upon the -remotest climes, startling even the swarthy African, and whirled along -the antique soil of Syria and Egypt.</p> - -<p>And meekly, softly, beautifully dawned at last the light over the -trembling deep,—the winds were sinking into rest,—the foam died from -the glowing azure of that delicious sea. Around the east, their mists -caught gradually the rosy hues that heralded the morning. Light was -about to resume her reign. Yet, still, dark, and massive in the distance -lay the broken fragments of the destroying cloud, from which red -streaks, burning more and more dimly, betrayed the yet rolling fires of -the mountain of the “Scorched Fields.” The white walls and gleaming -columns that had adorned the lovely coasts were no more. Sullen and dull -were the shores so lately crested by the cities of Herculaneum and -Pompeii. The darlings of the Deep were snatched from her embrace. -Century after century shall the mighty Mother stretch forth her azure -arms, and know them not—moaning round the sepulchers of the Lost!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 369px;"> -<a href="images/illus140_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus140_sml.jpg" width="369" height="230" alt="[image not available" /></a> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_STRANGER_ON_THE_SILL" id="THE_STRANGER_ON_THE_SILL"></a>THE STRANGER ON THE SILL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between broad fields of wheat and corn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the lowly home where I was born;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The peach tree leans against the wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the woodbine wanders over all;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is the shaded doorway still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a stranger’s foot has crossed the sill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is the barn—and, as of yore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can smell the hay from the open door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see the busy swallows throng,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hear the pewee’s mournful song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the stranger comes—oh! painful proof—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His sheaves are piled to the heated roof.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is the orchard—the very trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where my childhood knew long hours of ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And watched the shadowy moments run<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till my life imbibed more shade than sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swing from the bough still sweeps the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the stranger’s children are swinging there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, ye who daily cross the sill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Step lightly, for I love it still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when you crowd the old barn eaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then think what countless harvest sheaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have passed within that scented door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To gladden eyes that are no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deal kindly with these orchard trees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when your children crowd their knees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their sweetest fruit they shall impart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if old memories stirred their heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To youthful sport still leave the swing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in sweet reverence hold the spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The barn, the trees, the brook, the birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meadows with their lowing herds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woodbine on the cottage wall—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart still lingers with them all.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye strangers on my native sill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Step lightly, for I love it still.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>Thomas Buchanan Mead.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="OUR_COUNTRY" id="OUR_COUNTRY"></a>OUR COUNTRY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet clime of my kindred, blest land of my birth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fairest, the dearest, the brightest on earth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er I may roam—howe’er blest I may be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My spirit instinctively turns unto thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="I_WHAT_IS_OUR_COUNTRY" id="I_WHAT_IS_OUR_COUNTRY"></a>I. WHAT IS OUR COUNTRY.</h3> - -<p>We cannot honor our country with too deep a reverence; we cannot love -her with an affection too pure and fervent; we cannot serve her with an -energy of purpose or a faithfulness of zeal too steadfast and ardent. -And what <i>is</i> our country? It is not the East, with her hills and her -valleys, with her countless sails, and the rocky ramparts of her shores. -It is not the North, with her thousand villages and her harvest home, -with her frontiers of the lakes and the ocean. It is not the West, with -her forest sea and her inland isles, with her luxuriant expanses, -clothed in the verdant corn; with her beautiful Ohio and her verdant -Missouri. Nor is it yet the South, opulent in the mimic snow of the -cotton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, and in the golden -robes of the rice field. <i>What are these but the sister families of one -greater, better, holier family</i>, <small>OUR COUNTRY</small>?</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>Thomas Grimke.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="II_LIBERTY_AND_UNION" id="II_LIBERTY_AND_UNION"></a>II. LIBERTY AND UNION.</h3> - -<p>I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the -prosperity and the honor of the whole country, and the preservation of -the Federal Union. I have not allowed myself to look beyond the Union, -to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind; I have not -coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds that -unite us together shall be broken asunder; I have not accustomed myself -to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short -sight, I can fathom the depths of the abyss below; nor could I regard -him as a safe counselor in the affairs of this government, whose -thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union should -be preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the people -when it shall be broken up and destroyed.</p> - -<p>While the Union lasts we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects -spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that, I seek not -to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my day, at least, that curtain -may not rise! God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies -behind!</p> - -<p>When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in -heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments -of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span> -belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in -fraternal blood. Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather -behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored -throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies -streaming in their original luster, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor -a single star obscured; bearing for its motto no such miserable -interrogatory as, “What is all this worth?” nor those other words of -delusion and folly, “Liberty first, and Union afterwards”; but -everywhere spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all -its ample folds as they float over the sea, and over the land, and in -every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every -true American heart, “Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and -inseparable.”</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>Daniel Webster.</i><br /> -</p> - -<h3><a name="III_THE_POLICY_OF_PEACE" id="III_THE_POLICY_OF_PEACE"></a>III. THE POLICY OF PEACE.</h3> - -<p>A peaceful intercourse with the nations of the earth points to that -inspiring day which philosophers have hoped for, which poets have seen -in their bright dreams of fancy, and which prophets have beheld in holy -vision—when men shall learn war no more. Who can contemplate a state of -the world like this and not feel his heart exult at the prospect? I am -against war, because peace—peace is, above<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span> everything else, our -policy. Our great mission as a people is to occupy this vast -dominion—to level the forests and let in upon their solitudes the light -of day; to clear the swamps and make them ready for the plow and the -sickle; to spread over hill and dale the echoes of human labor and human -happiness; to fill the land with cities and towns; to unite its most -distant points by turnpikes and railroads; to scoop out canals and open -rivers that may serve as highways for trade.</p> - -<p>If we can preserve peace, who shall set bounds to our prosperity or our -success? With one foot planted on the Atlantic and the other on the -Pacific, we occupy a position between the two old continents of the -world—a position which necessarily secures to us the commerce and the -influence of both. If we abide by the counsels of common sense, if we -succeed in preserving our liberties, we shall in the end exhibit a -spectacle such as the world never saw.</p> - -<p>I know that this one great mission is encompassed with many -difficulties; but such is the energy of our political system, and such -is its expansive capability, that it may be made to govern the widest -space. If by war we become great, we cannot be free; if we will be both -great and free, our policy is peace.</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>John C. Calhoun.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_LEGEND_OF_SLEEPY_HOLLOW" id="A_LEGEND_OF_SLEEPY_HOLLOW"></a>A LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW.</h2> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 185px;"> -<a href="images/illus146_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus146_sml.jpg" width="185" height="227" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Washington Irving.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>“The Sketch Book” is a collection of short tales, sketches, and essays, -written by Washington Irving, and published in 1820. Most of the -sketches are descriptive of English manners and scenery, but the -popularity of the book in this country is chiefly due to two well-known -stories of American life, “Rip Van Winkle” and “A Legend of Sleepy -Hollow.” The scenes of both stories are located in the valley of the -Hudson River, not far from New York. They are most picturesquely told, -and rank high among the best productions of their kind in American -literature. Here is the “Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” which we have -abridged in order to adapt it to the readers of this volume:—</p> - -<h3><a name="I_THE_SCHOOLMASTER" id="I_THE_SCHOOLMASTER"></a>I. THE SCHOOLMASTER.</h3> - -<p>In a remote period of American history, there lived in Sleepy Hollow a -worthy man whose name was Ichabod Crane. He sojourned, or, as he -expressed it, “tarried” in that quiet little valley for the purpose of -instructing the children of the vicinity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span> He was a native of -Connecticut. He was tall, but very lank, with narrow shoulders, long -arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, and feet -that might have served as shovels. His head was small, with huge ears, -large glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose. To see him striding along the -crest of a hill on a windy day, with his ill-fitting clothes fluttering -about him, one might have mistaken him for some scarecrow escaped from a -cornfield.</p> - -<p>His schoolhouse was a low building of one large room, rudely built of -logs. It stood in a rather lonely but pleasant place, just at the foot -of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a birch tree growing -near one end of it. From this place of learning the low murmur of -children’s voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard on a -drowsy summer day like the hum of a beehive. Now and then this was -interrupted by the stern voice of the master, or perhaps by the -appalling sound of a birch twig, as some loiterer was urged along the -flowery path of knowledge.</p> - -<p>When school hours were over, the teacher forgot that he was the master, -and was even the companion and playmate of the older boys; and on -holiday afternoons, he liked to go home with some of the smaller ones -who happened to have pretty sisters, or mothers noted for their skill in -cooking. Indeed, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span> was a wise thing for him to keep on good terms with -his pupils. He earned so little by teaching school, that he would -scarcely have had enough to eat, had he not, according to country -custom, boarded at the houses of the children whom he instructed. With -these he lived, by turns, a week at a time, thus going the rounds of the -neighborhood, with all his worldly goods tied up in a cotton -handkerchief.</p> - -<p>He had many ways of making himself both useful and agreeable. He helped -the farmers in the lighter labors of their farms, raked the hay at -harvest time, is mended the fences, took the horses to water, drove the -cows from pasture, and cut wood for the winter fire. He found favor in -the eyes of the mothers by petting the children, particularly the -youngest; and he would often sit with a child on one knee, and rock a -cradle with his foot for whole hours together.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 208px;"> -<a href="images/illus148_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus148_sml.jpg" width="208" height="284" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Ichabod Crane.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>He was a man of some importance among the women of the neighborhood, -being looked upon as a kind of idle, gentlemanlike personage of finer -tastes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span> and better manners than the rough young men who had been brought -up in the country. He was always welcome at the tea table of a -farmhouse; and his presence was almost sure to bring out an extra dish -of cakes or sweetmeats, or the parade of a silver teapot. He was happy, -too, in the smiles of all the young ladies. He would walk with them in -the churchyard, between services on Sundays; gathering grapes for them -from the wild vines that overrun the surrounding trees; or sauntering -with a whole bevy of them along the banks of the adjacent mill pond; -while the bashful country youngsters hung sheepishly back and hated him -for his fine manners.</p> - -<p>Another of his sources of pleasure was to pass long winter evenings with -the wives of the Dutch farmers, as they sat spinning by the fire with a -long row of apples roasting and sputtering along the hearth. He listened -to their wondrous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and -haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and -particularly of the headless horseman, or “Galloping Hessian of the -Hollow,” as they sometimes called him. And then he would entertain them -with stories of witchcraft, and would frighten them with woeful -speculations about comets and shooting stars, and by telling them that -the world did really turn round, and that they were half the time -topsy-turvy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span></p> - -<p>There was pleasure in all this while snugly cuddling in the chimney -corner of a room that was lighted by the ruddy glow from a crackling -wood fire, and where no ghost dared show its face; but it was a pleasure -dearly bought by the terrors which would beset him during his walk -homewards. How fearful were the shapes and shadows that fell across his -way in the dim and ghastly glare of a snowy night! How often was he -appalled by some shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted specter, -beset his very path! How often did he shrink with curdling awe at the -sound of his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his feet, and dread -to look over his shoulder lest he should behold some uncouth being -tramping close behind him! and how often was he thrown into complete -dismay by some rushing blast, howling among the trees, in the idea that -it was the Galloping Hessian on one of his nightly scourings!</p> - -<h3><a name="II_THE_INVITATION" id="II_THE_INVITATION"></a>II. THE INVITATION.</h3> - -<p>On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on -the lofty stool from whence he watched the doings of his little school. -In his hand he held a ferule, that scepter of despotic power; the birch -of justice reposed on three nails behind the stool, a constant terror to -evil doers; while on the desk were sundry contraband articles<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span> taken -from idle urchins, such as half-eaten apples, popguns, whirligigs, and -fly cages. His scholars were all busily intent upon their books, or -slyly whispering behind them with one eye kept upon the master, and a -kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the schoolroom.</p> - -<p>This stillness was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a negro, in -tow-cloth jacket and trowsers, who, mounted on the back of a ragged, -wild, half-broken colt, came clattering up to the schoolhouse door. He -brought an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merrymaking, or “quilting -frolic,” to be held that evening at the house of Mynheer Van Tassel; and -having delivered his message, he dashed over the brook, and was seen -scampering away up the hollow, full of the importance and hurry of his -mission.</p> - -<p>All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet schoolroom. The scholars -were hurried through their lessons. Those who were nimble skipped over -half without being noticed; and those who were slow were hurried along -by a smart application of the rod. Then books were flung aside without -being put away on the shelves; inkstands were overturned, benches thrown -down; and the whole school was turned loose an hour before the usual -time, the children yelping and racketing about the green, in joy at -their early freedom.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span></p> - -<p>The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half hour at his toilet, -brushing and furbishing his best and only suit of rusty black, and -arranging his looks by a bit of broken looking-glass that hung up in the -schoolhouse. That he might make his appearance at the party in the true -style of a cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he -was boarding, and, thus gallantly mounted, rode forth, like a -knight-errant in quest of adventures. The animal he bestrode was a -broken-down plow horse, that had outlived almost everything but his -viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a slender neck, and a head -like a hammer. His mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burs. One -eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral, but the other -still gleamed with genuine wickedness. He must have had plenty of fire -and mettle in his day, if we may judge from his name, which was -Gunpowder.</p> - -<p>Ichabod was a rider suited for such a steed. He rode with short -stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the saddle; -his elbows stuck out like a grasshopper’s; and as the horse jogged on, -the motion of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A -small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his scanty strip of -forehead might be called; and the skirts of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span> black coat fluttered -out almost to the horse’s tail. Such was the appearance of Ichabod and -his steed as they shambled along the highway; and it was altogether such -an apparition as is seldom to be met with in broad daylight.</p> - -<p>It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day. The sky was clear and -serene. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some -trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frost into brilliant -dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began -to make their appearance high in the air. The bark of the squirrel might -be heard from the groves of beech and hickory, and the pensive whistle -of the quail at intervals from the neighboring stubblefields.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 216px;"> -<a href="images/illus153_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus153_sml.jpg" width="216" height="305" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Ichabod and Gunpowder.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>The small birds fluttered, chirping and frolicking from bush to bush, -and tree to tree, gay and happy because of the plenty and variety around -them. There were the twittering blackbirds, flying in sable clouds; and -the golden-winged woodpecker, with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span> crimson crest and splendid -plumage; and the cedar bird, with its red-tipped wings and yellow-tipped -tail; and the blue jay, in his gay, light-blue coat and white -underclothes, screaming and chattering, nodding and bowing, and -pretending to be on good terms with every songster of the grove.</p> - -<p>As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye ranged with delight over -the treasures of jolly autumn, On all sides he beheld vast store of -apples,—some still hanging on the trees, some gathered into baskets and -barrels for the market, others heaped up in rich piles for the cider -press. Farther on he beheld great fields of Indian corn, with its golden -ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holding out the promise of -cakes and hasty pudding. There, too, were multitudes of yellow pumpkins -turning up their yellow sides to the sun, and giving ample prospects of -the most luxurious of pies. And anon he passed the fragrant buckwheat -fields, breathing the odor of the beehive; and as he beheld them, he -dreamed of dainty slapjacks, well buttered, and garnished with honey, by -the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina, the daughter of Mynheer Van -Tassel.</p> - -<p>Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and “sugared -suppositions,” he journeyed along the sides of a range of hills which -look out upon some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span> of the goodliest scenes of the mighty Hudson. The -sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down into the west. A few amber -clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. The -horizon was of a fine, golden tint, changing gradually into a pure -apple-green, and from that into the deep-blue of the midheaven. A -slanting ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that -overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to the dark gray -and purple of their rocky sides.</p> - -<h3><a name="III_THE_QUILTING_FROLIC" id="III_THE_QUILTING_FROLIC"></a>III. THE “QUILTING FROLIC.”</h3> - -<p>It was toward evening when Ichabod arrived at the castle of the Herr Van -Tassel. He found it thronged with the pride and flower of the adjacent -country,—old farmers, in homespun coats and breeches, blue stockings, -huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles; their brisk little dames, in -close-crimped caps, long-waisted gowns, homespun petticoats, with -scissors and pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside; -buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting where a -straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a white frock, showed signs of city -innovations; the sons, in short, square-skirted coats with rows of huge -brass buttons, and their hair generally queued in the fashion of the -times, especially if an eel-skin could be had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span> for that purpose, it -being esteemed as a potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair.</p> - -<p>What a world of charms burst upon the gaze of my hero, as he entered the -state parlor of Van Tassel’s mansion—the ample charms of a Dutch -country tea table, in the sumptuous time of autumn! Such heaped-up -platters of cakes, of various and indescribable kinds, known only to -experienced Dutch housewives! There was the doughty doughnut, and the -crisp, crumbling cruller; sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and -honey cakes, and the whole family of cakes; and then there were apple -pies, and peach pies, and pumpkin pies; and slices of ham and smoked -beef; and dishes of preserved plums, and peaches, and pears, and -quinces; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens, together with -bowls of milk and cream; all mingled, higgledy-piggledy,—with the -motherly teapot sending up its clouds of vapor from the midst! I want -breath and time to describe this banquet as I ought, and am too eager to -get on with my story. Happily, Ichabod Crane was not in so great a -hurry, but did ample justice to every dainty.</p> - -<p>And now, supper being ended, the sound of music from the common room -summoned to the dance. The musician was an old, gray-headed negro, who -had been the itinerant orchestra of the neighborhood<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span> for more than half -a century. His instrument was as old and battered as himself. The -greater part of the time he scraped away on two or three strings, moving -his head with every movement of the bow, and stamping his foot whenever -a fresh couple were to start.</p> - -<p>Ichabod prided himself on his dancing. Not a limb, not a fiber about him -was idle. How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated -and joyous? And pretty Katrina Van Tassel, the lady of his heart, was -his partner in the dance, smiling graciously in reply to all his gallant -remarks. When the dance was over, Ichabod joined a circle of the older -folks, who, with Mynheer Van Tassel, sat smoking at one end of the -piazza, and told stories of the war and wild and wonderful legends of -ghosts and other supernatural beings. Some mention was made of a woman -in white that haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard -to shriek on wintry nights before a storm, having perished there in the -snow. The chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite -specter of Sleepy Hollow, the headless horseman, who had been heard -several times of late, patrolling the country. One man told how he had -once met the horseman returning from a foray into Sleepy Hollow, and was -obliged to get<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span> up behind him; how they galloped over bush and brake, -over hill and swamp, until they reached the bridge by the church, when -the horseman suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw him into the brook, -and sprang away over the treetops with a clap of thunder. A wild, -roystering young man, who was called Brom Bones, declared that the -headless horseman was, after all, no rider compared with himself. He -said that returning one night from the neighboring village of Sing Sing, -he had been overtaken by this midnight trooper; that he had offered to -race with him for a bowl of punch, and would have won it, too, but just -as they came to the church bridge, the specter bolted and vanished in a -flash of fire.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 165px;"> -<a href="images/illus158_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus158_sml.jpg" width="165" height="305" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Katrina Van Tassel.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>The party now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered together -their families in their wagons, and were heard for some time rattling -along the hollow roads, and over the distant hills. Some of the damsels -mounted on pillions behind their favorite swains; and their -light-hearted laughter, mingling with the clatter of hoofs, echoed -along<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span> the silent woodlands, growing fainter and fainter till they -gradually died away, and the late scene of noise and frolic was all -silent and deserted. Ichabod alone lingered behind, to have a parting -word with the pretty Katrina. What he said to her, and what was her -reply, I do not know. Something, however, must have gone wrong; for he -sallied forth, after no great length of time, with an air quite desolate -and chopfallen.</p> - -<h3><a name="IV_THE_HEADLESS_HORSEMAN" id="IV_THE_HEADLESS_HORSEMAN"></a>IV. THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN.</h3> - -<p>It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod pursued his travel -homewards. In the dead hush of midnight he could hear the barking of a -dog on the opposite shore of the Hudson, but it was so vague and faint -as only to give an idea of the distance between them. No signs of life -occurred near, but now and then the chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the -guttural twang of a bullfrog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping -uncomfortably, and turning suddenly in his bed.</p> - -<p>All the stories that Ichabod had heard about ghosts and goblins, now -came crowding into his mind. The night grew darker and darker. The stars -seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid -them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and dismal. He was, -moreover,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span> approaching the very place where many of the scenes of the -ghost stories had been laid. In the center of the road stood an enormous -tulip tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees of the -neighborhood, and formed a kind of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and -fantastic, large as the trunks of ordinary trees, twisting down almost -to the ground, and rising again into the air.</p> - -<p>As Ichabod approached this tree, he began to whistle. He thought his -whistle was answered: it was but a blast sweeping sharply through the -dry branches. Coming a little nearer, he thought he saw something white -hanging in the midst of the tree. He paused, and ceased whistling, but, -on looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the tree -had been struck by lightning, and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he -heard a groan. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the -saddle. It was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon another, as they -were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new -perils lay before him.</p> - -<p>About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the road, -and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded glen. A few rough logs laid -side by side served for a bridge over this stream. To pass this bridge -was the severest trial; for it was here<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span> that the unfortunate André had -been captured, and under covert of the thicket of chestnuts and vines by -the side of the road, had the sturdy yeomen, who surprised him, lain -concealed. The stream has ever since been considered a haunted stream, -and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone -after dark.</p> - -<p>As Ichabod approached the stream his heart began to thump. He gave his -horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and tried to dash briskly -across the bridge; but instead of starting forward, the perverse old -animal made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. -Ichabod jerked the rein on the other side, and kicked lustily with the -contrary foot. It was all in vain. His steed started, it is true, but it -was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of -brambles. The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel upon the ribs -of old Gunpowder, who dashed forward but came to a stand just by the -bridge with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling over -his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge -caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the trees, he -beheld something huge, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed -gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring -upon the traveler.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span></p> - -<p>The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. -What was to be done? Summoning up a show of courage, he called out in -stammering accents, “Who are you?” He received no reply. He repeated his -demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once -more he cudgeled the sides of Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke -forth into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put -itself in motion, and, with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the -middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form -of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to -be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a horse of powerful -frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on -one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, -who had now got over his fright and waywardness.</p> - -<p>Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, and -bethought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones and the headless -horseman, now quickened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The -stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod drew -up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind; the other did the -same. His heart began to sink within him. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span> was something in the -moody and dogged silence of his companion that was mysterious and -appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for.</p> - -<p>On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his -fellow-traveler in relief against the sky, Ichabod was horror-struck on -perceiving that he was headless; but his horror was still more increased -on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, -was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle. His terror rose to -desperation. He rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, -hoping, by a sudden movement, to give his companion the slip; but the -specter started full jump with him. Away then they dashed, through thick -and thin; stones flying, and sparks flashing, at every bound. Ichabod’s -flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long, lank -body away over his horse’s head, in the eagerness of his flight.</p> - -<p>They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy Hollow; but -Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it, -made an opposite turn, and plunged headlong down hill to the left. This -road leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter -of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just -beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span></p> - -<p>Just as he had got halfway through the hollow, the girths of the saddle -gave way, and Ichabod felt it slipping from under him. He seized it by -the pommel, and tried to hold it firm, but in vain. He had just time to -save himself by clasping Gunpowder round the neck, when the saddle fell -to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a -moment the terror of its owner’s wrath passed across his mind, for it -was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears. He had much -ado to keep his seat, sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on -another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse’s backbone -with a violence that was far from pleasant.</p> - -<p>An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hope that the church -bridge was at hand. “If I can but reach that bridge,” thought Ichabod, -“I am safe.” Just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing -close behind him. He even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another -kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he thundered -over the resounding planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod -cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish in a flash of -fire and brimstone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, -and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod tried to dodge<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span> -the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered his cranium with a -tremendous crash. He was tumbled headlong into the dust; and Gunpowder, -the black steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind.</p> - -<p>The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with -the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his master’s -gate. Ichabod did not make his appearance at breakfast. Dinner hour -came, but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the schoolhouse, and -strolled idly about the banks of the brook; but no schoolmaster. An -inquiry was set on foot, and after much investigation they came upon his -traces. In one part of the road by the church was found the saddle -trampled in the dirt. The tracks of horses’ hoofs deeply dented in the -road, and evidently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond -which, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water ran -deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close -beside it a shattered pumpkin. The brook was searched, but the body of -the schoolmaster was not to be discovered.</p> - -<p>As Ichabod was a bachelor, and in nobody’s debt, nobody troubled his -head any more about him. It is true, an old farmer, who went down to New -York on a visit several years after, brought home the intelligence that -Ichabod Crane was still alive; that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span> he had left the neighborhood, -partly through fear of the goblin and the farmer whose horse he had -ridden, and partly for other reasons; that he had changed his quarters -to a distant part of the country, had kept school and studied law at the -same time, had written for the newspapers, and finally had been made a -justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones, too, who, shortly after the -schoolmaster’s disappearance, had married the blooming Katrina Van -Tassel, was observed to look very knowing whenever the story of Ichabod -was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the -pumpkin, which led some to suppose that he knew more about the matter -than he chose to tell.</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MARINERS_DREAM" id="THE_MARINERS_DREAM"></a>THE MARINER’S DREAM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, watchworn and weary, his cares flew away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And visions of happiness danced o’er his mind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pleasures that waited on life’s merry morn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Memory stood sideways, half covered with flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now far, far behind him the green waters glide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The jessamine clambers in flower o’er the thatch,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A father bends o’er him with looks of delight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His cheek is impearled with a mother’s warm tear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Joy quickens his pulses—all hardships seem o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“O God! thou hast blessed me; I ask for no more.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! what is that flame which now bursts on his eye?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah! what is that sound which now ’larums his ear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tis the lightning’s red gleam, painting death in the sky!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He springs from his hammock—he flies to the deck!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amazement confronts him with images dire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like mountains the billows tremendously swell;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the death angel flaps his broad wing o’er the wave!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In darkness dissolves the gay frost work of bliss.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy parents’ fond pressure, and Love’s honeyed kiss?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unblessed, and unhonored, down deep in the main<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>William Dimond.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_SANDS_O_DEE" id="THE_SANDS_O_DEE"></a>THE SANDS O’ DEE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">“O Mary, go and call the cattle home,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And call the cattle home,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And call the cattle home,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Across the sands o’ Dee!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The western wind was wild and dank with foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all alone went she.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">The creeping tide came up along the sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And o’er and o’er the sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And round and round the sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">As far as eye could see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rolling mist came down and hid the land—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never home came she.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">“Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">A tress of golden hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">A drownèd maiden’s hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Above the nets at sea?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was never salmon yet that shone so fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the stakes on Dee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">They brought her in across the rolling foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The cruel crawling foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The cruel hungry foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">To her grave beside the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the sands o’ Dee.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>Charles Kingsley.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_INVENTION_OF_PRINTING" id="THE_INVENTION_OF_PRINTING"></a>THE INVENTION OF PRINTING.</h2> - -<h3>I. BLOCK BOOKS.</h3> - -<p>Six hundred years ago every book was written by hand; for the art of -printing was then unknown, If there were pictures, they were drawn with -a pen or painted with a brush. It required a great deal of labor and -time to make a book; and when it was finished, it was so costly that -only a very rich person could afford to own it.</p> - -<p>There were no bookstores such as we have now, and books were very few. -But in the great schools and large monasteries there were men called -<i>scriptores</i>, or copyists, whose business it was to make written copies -of such works as were in demand. There were other men called -illuminators who ornamented the books with beautiful initials and -chapter headings, and sometimes encircled the pages with borders made -with ink of different colors.</p> - -<p>At last some copyist who had several copies to make of the same book -thought of a new plan. He carved a copy of each page on a block of wood. -If there was a picture, he carved that too, much in the same way that -wood engravings are made now. When the block was finished, it was -carefully wetted with a thin, inky substance; then a sheet of paper was -laid upon it and pressed down till an impression<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span> of the carved block -was printed upon it. Each page was treated in the same way, but the -paper could be printed only on one side. When all were finished, the -leaves were stitched together and made into a book. It was not as -handsome a book as those written with pen and ink; but, after the block -had once been engraved, the copyist could make fifty copies of it in -less time than he could make one by hand.</p> - -<p>Books made in this way were called block books. It required much time -and a great deal of skill to engrave the blocks; and so this method of -printing never came into very general use.</p> - -<h3>II. LAURENCE COSTER</h3> - -<p>About the beginning of the fifteenth century there lived in the old -Dutch town of Haarlem a man whose name was Laurence Jaonssen. This man -was much looked up to by all his neighbors; for he was honest and -wealthy, and he had been in his younger days the treasurer of the town. -He was the sacristan of the Church of St. Bavon, and for that reason he -was called Laurence Coster, which means Laurence the Sacristan. As he -grew old and gray, he became very quiet in his ways, and there was -nothing that he liked so well as being alone, with the bright sun above -him and the trees and flowers and birds all around him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span></p> - -<p>Every afternoon, as soon as he had dined, he threw his short black cloak -over his shoulders, took his broad-brimmed hat from its peg, and with -his staff in his hand sauntered out for a walk. Sometimes he strolled -along the banks of the broad and sluggish river, picking flowers as he -went; sometimes he rambled through the fields and came home by the great -road which led around to the other side of the town. But he liked best -to go out to the old forest which lay beyond the flat meadow lands a -mile farther away. There the trees grew large and tall, and afforded a -pleasant shelter on warm days from the sun, and in cooler weather from -the keen winds that blow across the meadows from the sea.</p> - -<p>When tired of walking, Laurence Coster would often sit down on the -spreading root of some old beech tree; and then, to pass away the time, -he would split off a piece of the bark, and with his knife would shape -it into one of the letters of the alphabet. This was an old habit of -his—a habit which he had learned when he was a boy; and afterwards, -when he was just turning into manhood, it had been no uncommon thing for -him to stroll into the woods and carve upon the trees the name of a -young maiden whom he knew. Now, old and gray and solemn, the habit still -remained with him. He liked to sit and cut out alphabets for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span> the -amusement of his little grandchildren to whom he carried them.</p> - -<p>One day, having shaped the letters with more care than usual, he wrapped -them up in a piece of parchment that he had in his pocket. “The children -will be delighted with these, I know,” he said.</p> - -<p>When he reached home and opened the package, he was surprised to see the -imprint of several of the letters very clear and distinct upon the -parchment. The sap, running out of the green bark, had acted as ink on -the face of the letters. This accident set him to thinking.</p> - -<p>He carved another set of letters with very great care, and then, dipping -one side in ink, pressed them on a sheet of parchment. The result was a -print, almost as good as the block pictures and block books which were -sold in the shops, and were the only examples of printing then known.</p> - -<p>“I really believe,” said Laurence Coster, “that with enough of these -letters I could print a book. It would be better than printing by the -block method; for I would not be obliged to cut a separate block for -each page, but could arrange and rearrange the letters in any order that -might be required.”</p> - -<p>And so now, instead of idling his afternoons away, and instead of -cutting letters merely for the children, he set earnestly to work to -improve his invention.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span> He made a kind of ink that was thicker and more -gluey than common ink, and not so likely to spread and leave an ugly -blot. He carved a great many letters of various sizes, and found that -with his improved ink he could make clear, distinct impressions, and -could print entire pages, with cuts and diagrams and fancy headings.</p> - -<p>After a while he thought of making the letters of lead instead of wood; -and finally he found that a mixture of lead and tin was better than pure -lead, because it was harder and more durable. And so, year after year, -Laurence Coster toiled at the making of types and the printing of books. -Soon his books began to attract attention, and as they were really -better and cheaper than the block books, there was much call for them.</p> - -<p>Some of the good people of Haarlem were greatly troubled because the old -gentleman spent so much of his time at such work.</p> - -<p>“He is bewitched,” said some.</p> - -<p>“He has sold himself to the evil one,” said others.</p> - -<p>“No good thing will ever come out of this business,” said they all.</p> - -<h3>III. JOHN GUTENBERG.</h3> - -<p>One day when Laurence Coster was making his first experiments in -printing, a young traveler, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span> a knapsack on his back and a staff in -his hand, came trudging into Haarlem.</p> - -<p>“My name is John Gutenberg, and my home is at Mayence,” he said to the -landlord of the inn where he stopped.</p> - -<p>“And pray what may be your business in our good city of Haarlem?” asked -the landlord.</p> - -<p>“I am trying to gain knowledge by seeing the world,” was the answer. “I -have been to Rome and Venice and Genoa; I have visited Switzerland and -all the great cities in Germany; and now I am on my way through Holland -to France.”</p> - -<p>“What is the most wonderful thing that you have seen in your travels?” -asked the landlord.</p> - -<p>“There is nothing more wonderful to me than the general ignorance of the -people,” said Gutenberg. “They seem to know nothing about the country in -which they live; they know nothing about the peoples of other lands; -and, what is worse, they know nothing about the truths of religion. If -there were only some way to make books more plentiful, so that the -common people could buy them and learn to read them, a great deal of -this ignorance would be dispelled. Ever since I was a mere youth at -school, is this thought has been in my mind.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the landlord, “we have a man here in Haarlem who makes -books; and, although I know<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span> nothing about them myself, I have been told -that he makes them by a new method, and much faster and cheaper than -they have ever been made before.”</p> - -<p>“Who is this man? Tell me where I can find him!” cried Gutenberg.</p> - -<p>“His name is Laurence Coster, and he lives in the big house which you -see over there close by the market place. You can find him at home at -all hours of the day; for, since he got into this mad way about -printing, he never walks out.”</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 210px;"> -<a href="images/illus176_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus176_sml.jpg" width="210" height="219" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>John Gutenberg.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Gutenberg lost no time in making the acquaintance of Laurence Coster. -The kind old gentleman showed him his types, and told him all about his -plans; and when he brought out a Latin Grammar which he had just -finished, Gutenberg was filled with wonder and delight.</p> - -<p>“This is what I have so long hoped for,” he said. “Now knowledge will -fly on the wings of truth to the uttermost parts of the earth!”</p> - -<p>Many different stories have been told about the way in which Gutenberg -set to work to improve the art of printing. One relates that, after -having<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span> gained the confidence of Laurence Coster, he stole all his types -and tools and carried them to Mayence, where he opened a workshop of his -own. Another story is as follows:</p> - -<p>After seeing Laurence Coster’s work, he was so impatient to be doing -something of the kind himself that he left Haarlem the next morning, and -hurried to Strasburg. There he shut himself up in a room which he -rented, and set to work to carry out the plans which he had in mind. -With a knife and some pieces of wood he made several sets of movable -type, and arranging them in words and sentences, strung them together -upon pieces of wire. In this way he was able to print more rapidly than -by Laurence Coster’s method, where each letter, or at most each word, -was printed separately.</p> - -<p>He soon set up a shop in an old ruined monastery just outside of the -town, and began work as a jeweler. He polished precious stones, and he -dealt in mirrors which he mounted in frames of carved wood. He did this -partly to earn a livelihood, and partly to conceal the greater projects -which he had in hand. In a dark secluded corner of the monastery he -fitted up another workshop where he could secretly carry on his -experiments in printing. There, behind bolts and bars and a thick oaken -door, he spent all of his spare time with his types.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span></p> - -<p>Little by little, Gutenberg made improvements in his art. He invented -methods for making letters of metal that were better than any that -Laurence Coster had used. He learned how to mix inks of various colors. -He made brushes and rollers for inking the types; “forms” for keeping -the letters together when arranged for printing; and at last a press for -bringing the paper into contact with the inked type.</p> - -<h3>IV. THE TWO VOICES.</h3> - -<p>Whether awake or asleep, John Gutenberg’s mind was always full of his -great invention. One night as he sat looking at a sheet that he had -printed on his first press, he thought that he heard two voices -whispering near him. One of the voices was soft and musical and very -pleasant to hear; the other was harsh and gruff and full of discordant -tones. The gentle voice spoke first,</p> - -<p>“Happy, happy man!” it said, “Go on with your great work, and be not -discouraged. In the ages to come, men of all lands will gain knowledge -and become wise by means of your great invention. Books will multiply -until they are within the reach of all classes of people. Every child -will learn to read. And to the end of time, the name of John Gutenberg -will be remembered.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 565px;"> -<a href="images/illus179_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus179_sml.jpg" width="565" height="366" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Gutenberg and his Printing Press.</p> - -<p>Drawn by Arthur I. Keller. <span style="margin-left: 15%;">Engraved by E. Heinemann.</span></p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span></p> - -<p>Then the harsh voice spoke: “Beware! beware! and think twice of what you -are doing. Evil as well as good will come from this invention upon which -you have set your heart. Instead of being a blessing to mankind, it will -prove to be a curse. Pause and consider before you place in the hands of -sinful and erring men another instrument of evil.”</p> - -<p>Gutenberg’s mind was filled with distress. He thought of the fearful -power which the art of printing would give to wicked men to corrupt and -debase their fellow-men. He leaped to his feet, he seized his hammer, -and had almost destroyed his types and press when the gentle voice spoke -again, and in accents loud enough to cause him to pause.</p> - -<p>“Think a moment,” it said. “God’s gifts are all good, and yet which one -of them is not abused and sometimes made to serve the purposes of wicked -men. What will the art of printing do? It will carry the knowledge of -good into all lands; it will promote virtue; it will be a new means of -giving utterance to the thoughts of the wise and the good.”</p> - -<p>Gutenberg threw down his hammer and set to work to repair the mischief -that he had done. But scarcely had he put his printing machine in good -order when other troubles arose. He was in debt, and he had difficulties -with the town officers. His goods were seized upon; his types were -destroyed;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span> and he was at last obliged to return penniless to his old -home in Mayence.</p> - -<h3>V. JOHN FUST.</h3> - -<p>In Mayence, Gutenberg had an old friend named John Fust, who was a -goldsmith and very rich. With this man he soon formed a partnership, and -a printing office much better than the one at Strasburg was set up. -Several books, most of them on religious subjects, were printed and sent -out, and the business was soon in a flourishing condition.</p> - -<p>But Gutenberg’s troubles were not yet ended. There were a great many -people who were opposed to his new way of making books. The copyists who -made their living by transcribing books were very bitter against it -because it would destroy their business. They formed a league to oppose -the printers, and before long drove Gutenberg out of Mayence.</p> - -<p>After wandering to various places in Germany, he at last gained the -friendship of Adolphus, the Elector of Nassau, who took a great interest -in his plans. A press was set up at the court of the Elector, and there -Gutenberg worked for several years, printing volume after volume with -his own hands. But his invention did not bring him wealth. When he died -at the age of sixty-nine years, he left no property but a few books -which he had printed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span></p> - -<p>His partner, John Fust, had been much more fortunate. He had set up -another press at Mayence, and in spite of the copyists and their friends -was printing many books, and reaping great profits from their sale. One -summer he printed some Bibles and took them to Paris to sell. They -looked very much like the manuscript copies made by the copyists, for it -was to the interest of the printers to pass off their books as -manuscripts. People were astonished when Fust offered to sell his Bibles -at sixty crowns, while the copyists demanded five hundred. They were -still more astonished when he produced them as fast as they were wanted, -and finally lowered the price. The copyists were very bitter against -him.</p> - -<p>“He is a magician!” they cried. “No one but a magician could do this.” -And so the officers were sent to arrest him and search his rooms. They -found a great many Bibles and some red ink.</p> - -<p>“There is no doubt about it,” said the officers. “This is blood, and the -man is a magician.”</p> - -<p>In order to save himself from being burned as a wizard, Fust was obliged -to go before the Parliament of Paris and tell all about his new method -of making books, and how he used the red ink for embellishing the -borders of the pages.</p> - -<p>It was thus that the art of printing by movable types first became known -to the world.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_WANDERER" id="THE_WANDERER"></a>THE WANDERER.</h2> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 205px;"> -<a href="images/illus183_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus183_sml.jpg" width="205" height="205" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Eugene Field.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon a mountain height far from the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I found a shell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to my listening ear the lonely thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How came the shell upon that mountain height?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, who can say?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether there dropped by some too careless hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or whether there cast when Ocean left the Land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere the Eternal had ordained the Day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Strange, was it not? Far from its native deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One song it sang,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang of the awful mysteries of the tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang of the misty sea, profound and wide,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ever with echoes of the ocean rang.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, as the shell upon the mountain height<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sings of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So do I ever, leagues and leagues away,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So do I ever, wandering where I may—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing, O my home! sing, O my home, of thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">—<i>Eugene Field.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LEAD_THOU_ME_ON" id="LEAD_THOU_ME_ON"></a>LEAD THOU ME ON.</h2> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 194px;"> -<a href="images/illus184_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus184_sml.jpg" width="194" height="202" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>Cardinal Newman.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Lead thou me on!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night is dark, and I am far from home,—<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Lead thou me on!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The distant scene,—one step enough for me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Shouldst lead me on.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I loved to choose and see my path, but now<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Lead thou me on!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Will lead me on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till<br /></span> -<span class="i5">The night is gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with the morn those angel faces smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which I have loved long since, and lost a while.<br /></span> -<span class="i5">—<i>John Henry Newman.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_AMERICAN_INDIAN" id="THE_AMERICAN_INDIAN"></a>THE AMERICAN INDIAN.</h2> - -<p>Not many generations ago, where you now sit, encircled with all that -exalts and embellishes civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the -wind, and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved -another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your heads, -the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer; gazing on the same moon that -smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate.</p> - -<p>Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless, the council -fire glared on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs in -your sedgy lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe along your rocky -shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the -defying death song, all were here; and, when the tiger strife was over, -here curled the smoke of peace.</p> - -<p>Here, too, they worshiped; and from many a dark bosom went up a pure -prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on -tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. -The poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but the God of -the universe he acknowledged in everything around.</p> - -<p>He beheld him in the star that sank in beauty<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span> behind his lonely -dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his midday throne; -in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine, -that defied a thousand whirlwinds; in the timid warbler that never left -its native grove; in the fearless eagle whose untired pinion was wet in -clouds; in the worm that crawled at his foot; and in his own matchless -form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious Source he -bent, in humble, though blind, adoration.</p> - -<p>And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim bark, -bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you; the -latter sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years -have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted, forever, -from its face a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of -nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful -for the tribes of the ignorant.</p> - -<p>Here and there, a stricken few remain; but how unlike their bold, -untamed, untamable progenitors! The Indian of falcon glance and lion -bearing, the theme of the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic -tale, is gone! and his degraded offspring crawl upon the soil where he -walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man, when the foot of -the conqueror is on his neck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span></p> - -<p>As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, -their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council -fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war cry is fast -dying to the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant -mountains. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing -them away; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will -settle over them forever.</p> - -<p>Ages hence, the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing -city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed remains, and -wonder to what manner of person they belonged. They will live only in -the songs and chronicles of their exterminators. Let these be faithful -to their rude virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate -as a people.</p> - -<p class="c"> -—<i>Charles Sprague.</i><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_PASSING_OF_KING_ARTHUR" id="THE_PASSING_OF_KING_ARTHUR"></a>THE PASSING OF KING ARTHUR.</h2> - -<p>Whether there ever was a real King Arthur, or whether he lived only in -the imagination of story-tellers and song writers, no one can tell. This -much is true, however, that the history of his exploits and those of his -Knights of the Round Table has existed in poetry and song for now almost -a thousand years.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span></p> - -<p>Long before there were any English books worth speaking of, the story of -King Arthur was sung and recited by wandering bards to delighted -listeners in the halls and castles of Old England. In the course of time -it was written down in poetry and in prose; it was turned into French, -and from the French back into English again; other stories were added to -it, and it became the most popular romance ever composed. In 1470, a -knight whose name was Sir Thomas Malory made a version of it in what was -then good English prose, taking it, as he said, “out of a certain book -of French.” This version has ever since been the one book to which all -who would know the story of King Arthur have turned; it is the mine from -which later writers have derived materials for their works. It is -written in a style which, although old-fashioned and quaint, is -wonderfully simple and beautiful.</p> - -<p>One of the most touching passages in the story is that which tells how -King Arthur, having fought his last battle, lay wounded upon the ground; -and how, being deserted by all the knights except Sir Bedivere, he -waited for the coming of fairy messengers to bear him away to the island -valley of Avilion. Here is the passage, not in the exact words of Sir -Thomas Malory, but repeated, somewhat after his manner, in words of -modern usage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span></p> - -<p>“My hour is near at hand,” said the king to Sir Bedivere. “Therefore, -take thou my good sword Excalibur, and go with it to yonder water side; -and when thou comest there, I charge thee throw it in that water, and -then come and tell me what thou hast seen.”</p> - -<p>“My lord,” said Sir Bedivere, “your bidding shall be done, and I will -come quickly and bring you word.”</p> - -<p>So Sir Bedivere departed, and as he went he looked at that noble sword, -and saw that the hilt and guard were covered with precious stones; and -then he said to himself, “If I throw this rich sword into the water, no -good shall ever come of it, but only harm and loss.”</p> - -<p>Then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree. And as soon as he might, -he came again unto the king, and said he had been at the water side, and -had thrown the sword into the water.</p> - -<p>“What sawest thou there?” said the king.</p> - -<p>“Sir, I saw nothing but waves and winds.”</p> - -<p>“Thou speakest not the truth,” said the king. “Therefore, go quickly -again and do my bidding; and as thou art dear to me, spare not, but -throw the sword in.”</p> - -<p>Then Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his hand. But -when he looked at it he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span> thought it a sin and a shame to throw away so -noble a sword. And so, after he had hidden it again, he came back and -told the king that he had been at the water and had done his bidding.</p> - -<p>“What sawest thou there?” said the king.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 369px;"> -<a href="images/illus190_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/illus190_sml.jpg" width="369" height="275" alt="[image not available" /></a> -<div class="caption"><p>And there came an arm and a hand above the water.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>“Sir,” he said, “I saw nothing but the waves lapping on the beach, and -the water rising and falling among the reeds.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, traitor untrue,” said King Arthur, “now thou hast betrayed me -twice. Who would have thought that thou, who hast been so near and dear -to me and art called a noble knight, would betray<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span> me for the riches of -the sword? But now go again quickly, for I am chilled with cold, and my -life is in danger through thy long delay. And if thou dost not do my -bidding, and I ever see thee again, I will slay thee with my own hands; -for thou, for the sake of my rich sword, would see me dead.”</p> - -<p>Then Sir Bedivere departed; and he quickly took the sword and went to -the water side. Then he wrapped the belt about the hilt, and threw the -sword as far into the water as he could. And there came an arm and a -hand above the water, and caught the sword, and shook it thrice and -brandished it. Then the hand, with the sword, vanished in the water. So -Sir Bedivere came again to the king and told him what he had seen.</p> - -<p>“Alas,” said the king, “help me from this place; for I fear that I have -tarried too long.”</p> - -<p>Then Sir Bedivere took the king upon his back, and carried him to the -water side. And when they came to the water, a little barge was seen -floating close by the bank; and in the barge were many fair ladies, and -among them was a queen. All these wept and cried out when they saw King -Arthur.</p> - -<p>“Now put me into the barge,” said the king; and this Sir Bedivere did, -with tenderness and care.</p> - -<p>And three of the fair ladies received him with great mourning. Then that -one who was the queen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span> said: “Ah, dear brother, why have you staid so -long? Alas, I fear lest this wound on your head has been chilled over -much with the cold!”</p> - -<p>Then they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere watched them. And he -cried: “Ah, my lord Arthur! What shall become of me, now you go away and -leave me here alone among my enemies?”</p> - -<p>“Comfort thyself,” said the king, “and do the best thou canst, for I can -no longer give thee help. For I go now into the vale of Avilion, to heal -me of my grievous wound. If thou never hear more of me, pray for my -soul.”</p> - -<p>But the ladies and the queen wept and cried in a way that was piteous to -hear. And when Sir Bedivere lost sight of the barge, he wept bitterly; -and, weeping, he went into the forest, where he wandered all that long -night.</p> - -<p>“Some men yet say,” continues Sir Thomas Malory, “that King Arthur is -not dead, but taken by the will of our Lord into another place. And men -say that he shall come again and shall win the holy cross. I will not -say it shall be so, but rather I will say that in this world he changed -his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb a verse -in Latin, which when turned into English, is this: ‘Here lieth Arthur, -that was and is to be King.’ ”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BIOGRAPHICAL_NOTES" id="BIOGRAPHICAL_NOTES"></a>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.</h2> - -<p><b>George Bancroft:</b> An American historian. Born at Worcester, -Massachusetts, 1800; died, 1891. Wrote “History of the United States -from the Discovery of the Continent” (10 vols.).</p> - -<p><i>Daniel Boone:</i> The pioneer of Kentucky. Born in Pennsylvania, 1735; -died in Missouri, 1820.</p> - -<p><b>William Cullen Bryant:</b> An eminent American poet. Born in Massachusetts, -1794; died, 1878. Wrote “Thanatopsis” and many other short poems. Was -one of the editors of the “Evening Post” (New York) for more than fifty -years.</p> - -<p><b>John C. Calhoun:</b> An eminent American statesman and orator. Born in South -Carolina, 1782; died, 1850.</p> - -<p><b>Richard Henry Dana, Jr.:</b> An American lawyer and author. Born at -Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1815; died, 1868.</p> - -<p><b>Charles Dickens:</b> An English novelist. Born at Landport, England, 1812; -died, 1870. His best novel is generally conceded to be “David -Copperfield.”</p> - -<p><b>William Dimond:</b> An English poet, remembered only for his “Mariner’s -Dream.” Died, about 1837.</p> - -<p><b>Eugene Field:</b> An American author. Born in St. Louis, 1850; died in -Chicago, 1895. Wrote “A Little Book of Western Verse,” “A Little Book of -Profitable Tales,” etc.</p> - -<p><b>Robert Fulton:</b> An American inventor. Born in Lancaster County, -Pennsylvania, 1765; died, 1815.</p> - -<p><b>Charles E. A. Gayarré:</b> An American historian. Born in Louisiana, 1805; -died, 1895. Wrote a “History of Louisiana,” and several other works.</p> - -<p><b>Sir Archibald Geikie:</b> A Scottish geologist. Born in Edinburgh, 1835. Has -written “The Story of a Boulder,” “A<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span> Class Book of Physical Geography,” -and many other popular and scientific works on geological subjects.</p> - -<p><b>Thomas Grimke:</b> An American lawyer and philanthropist. Born in South -Carolina, 1786; died, 1834.</p> - -<p><b>Nathaniel Hawthorne:</b> A distinguished American author. Born at Salem, -Massachusetts, 1804; died, 1864. Wrote “The Scarlet Letter,” “The Marble -Faun,” “The House of the Seven Gables,” “The Wonder Book,” “Tanglewood -Tales,” etc. His style has been said to possess “almost every -excellence—elegance, simplicity, grace, clearness, and force.”</p> - -<p><b>Homer:</b> The reputed author of the two great poems, the “Iliad” and the -“Odyssey.” Supposed to have been born at Smyrna, or Chios, about one -thousand years before Christ. The “Iliad” has been called “the beginning -of all literature.”</p> - -<p><b>Washington Irving:</b> An American author and humorist. Born in New York, -1783; died, 1859. Wrote “The Sketch Book,” “History of New York by -Diedrich Knickerbocker,” “Tales of a Traveler,” “The Alhambra,” -“Columbus and his Companions,” “Mahomet and his Successors,” and many -other works.</p> - -<p><b>Charles Kingsley:</b> An English clergyman and writer. Born in Devonshire, -1819; died, 1875. Wrote “Hypatia,” “Westward Ho!” “The Heroes,” “The -Water Babies,” “Alton Locke, Tailor and Poet,” “Madame How and Lady -Why,” several poems, and a volume of sermons.</p> - -<p><b>Sir Edwin Landseer:</b> The most famous of modern painters of animals. Born -in London, 1802; died, 1873. His pictures of dogs and horses have -seldom, if ever, been surpassed.</p> - -<p><b>Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Baron Lytton:</b> A British novelist and poet. -Born in Norfolk, England, 1803; died, 1873. Wrote “The Last Days of -Pompeii,” “The Caxtons,” “My Novel,” and many other novels; also, -several volumes of poems, and two dramas, “The Lady of Lyons” and -“Richelieu.”</p> - -<p><b>Sir Thomas Malory:</b> A Welsh or English Knight, remembered<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span> for his noble -prose epic, “Morte d’Arthur,” which he translated from the French. Born, -about 1430.</p> - -<p><b>John Henry Newman:</b> An eminent English theologian. Born in London, 1801; -died, 1890. Wrote many religious and controversial works, and a few -beautiful hymns. In 1879 he was made cardinal-deacon in the Roman -Catholic Church.</p> - -<p><b>John Ruskin:</b> A distinguished English author and art critic. Born in -London, 1819; died, 1900. Wrote “The Stones of Venice,” “Sesame and -Lilies,” “Ethics of the Dust,” “The Queen of the Air,” “Modern -Painters,” and many other works, chiefly on subjects connected with art.</p> - -<p><b>Sir Walter Scott:</b> A celebrated novelist and poet. Born in Edinburgh, -Scotland, 1771; died, 1832. Wrote the “Waverley Novels,” “The Lay of the -Last Minstrel,” “The Lady of the Lake,” “Tales of a Grandfather,” and -many other works.</p> - -<p><b>Charles Sprague:</b> An American poet. Born in Boston, 1791; died 1875. -Wrote several short poems, most of which are now forgotten.</p> - -<p><i>Alfred, Lord Tennyson:</i> Poet laureate of England. Born in Lincolnshire, -1809; died, 1892. Wrote “Idylls of the King,” “In Memoriam,” “The -Princess,” and many shorter poems; also the dramas “Queen Mary,” -“Harold,” and “Becket.”</p> - -<p><b>Daniel Webster:</b> American statesman and orator. Born in New Hampshire, -1782; died, 1852. His most famous orations are those on Bunker Hill, -Adams and Jefferson, and his “Reply to Hayne.”</p> - -<p><b>John Greenleaf Whittier:</b> A distinguished American poet. Born at -Haverhill, Massachusetts, 1807; died, 1892. Wrote many volumes of -poetry, including “In War Time,” “Snow-Bound,” “Mabel Martin,” “The -King’s Missive,” and others.</p> - -<p><b>Samuel Woodworth:</b> An American journalist and poet. Born in -Massachusetts, 1785; died, 1842. He is remembered chiefly for his little -poem “The Old Oaken Bucket.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WORD_LIST" id="WORD_LIST"></a>WORD LIST.</h2> - -<p class="c">THE MOST DIFFICULT WORDS IN THE PRECEDING LESSONS PRONOUNCED AND -DEFINED.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="c">KEY TO THE MARKS OF PRONUNCIATION.</p> - -<p><b>ā, ē, ī, ō, ū</b>, long; <b>ă, ĕ, ĭ, ŏ, ŭ, y̆</b>, short; <b>câre</b>, <b>ärm</b>, <b>ȧsk</b>, <b>ạll</b>; -<b>fĕrn</b>; <b>fôrm</b>, <b>sȯn</b>; <b>rṳde</b>, <b>fṳll</b>, <b>ûrn</b>; <b>fōōd</b>, b<b>ŏŏk</b>; <b>çinder</b>; <b>ġentle</b>; -<i>chasm</i>; <b><span style="text-decoration:line-through;">th</span>in</b>; <b><span style="text-decoration:line-through;">th</span>em</b>; <b>iṉk</b>.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="nind"> -a băn´don. To give up; relinquish.<br /> -ăb´bot. The ruler of an abbey.<br /> -a brĭdged´. Shortened.<br /> -a by̆ss´. A bottomless gulf.<br /> -ac çĕl´erated. Quickened; hastened.<br /> -ăc´ çi dent. A sudden and unexpected event.<br /> -a chiēved´. Done; accomplished.<br /> -acknowl´edged (ăk nŏl´ĕjd). Assented to; owned as a fact.<br /> -ăd mi rā´tion. Wonder and delight.<br /> -ăf fĕct´ed. Moved; influenced.<br /> -ăġ i tā´tion. Emotion; excitement.<br /> -a lōōf´. Away from.<br /> -a māze´ment. Wonder; astonishment.<br /> -ăm´ber. Yellowish.<br /> -ăm´bling. Going at an easy gait.<br /> -ăm mu nĭ´tion. Articles used in charging firearms.<br /> -ăm´ple. Sufficient. “Ample prospects” = wide or extended views.<br /> -a nŏn´. “Ever and anon” = frequently; often.<br /> -ăn´ti quāt ed. Old-fashioned.<br /> -an tique´ (ăn tēēk´). Old; ancient.<br /> -ăn´tlered. Having horns like a deer.<br /> -ăp pạll´ing. Terrible; fearful.<br /> -ăp pâr´ent ly. Clearly; seemingly.<br /> -ăp pa rĭ´tion. A wonderful appearance; a ghost.<br /> -ăp pli cā´tion (of the rod). The act of laying on.<br /> -ăp point´ed. Set apart; named; established.<br /> -ăp prĕn´tĭçe ship. Service under legal agreement for the purpose of learning a trade or art.<br /> -ăs çer tāined´. Learned; found out.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span><br /> -ăsp´ens. Poplar trees of a certain kind, the leaves of which are moved by the slightest breeze.<br /> -ăs sạult´ed. Attacked; set upon with violence.<br /> -ȧ stẽrn´. At the stern or hinder part.<br /> -at most = at the greatest estimate.<br /> -ăt´om. The smallest particle of matter.<br /> -ạu´di ble. That can be heard.<br /> -ạu´dience. An assembly of hearers.<br /> -ȧ vĕnġe´. To inflict punishment upon evil doers for an injury to one’s self or friends.<br /> -<br /> -bạl´dric. A broad belt worn over one shoulder and under the opposite arm.<br /> -bär. The legal profession. “Admitted to the bar” = authorized to practice law in the courts.<br /> -bā´sĭs. Foundation; groundwork.<br /> -bȧsk´ing. Lying in a warm place.<br /> -bāy. “Leaves of bay” = leaves of the laurel tree.<br /> -be dīght´. Dressed.<br /> -bĕl lĭġ´er ent. Warlike.<br /> -be stōwed´. Placed; used; imparted.<br /> -be wĭl´dered. Greatly perplexed.<br /> -be wĭtched´. Charmed; entranced.<br /> -bĭck´er. To move quickly.<br /> -bĭlġe wạter. Water in the hold of a ship.<br /> -bĩrch (of jŭs tice). A tough, slender twig, used in school for punishment.<br /> -biv´ouac (bĭv´wăk). An encampment for the night without tents or covering.<br /> -blā´zoned. Displayed in bright colors; published far and wide.<br /> -blŭb´ber. The fat of whales and other large sea animals, from which oil is obtained.<br /> -blŭsh´ing gŏb´let. A goblet or glass full of red wine.<br /> -boat´swain (bō´s’n). An officer who has charge of the boats of a ship.<br /> -bŏnds´man. A slave.<br /> -bow´er. A lady’s private apartment; a shady recess.<br /> -brāke. A thicket; a place overgrown with shrubs.<br /> -brăm´bly. Full of briers.<br /> -brăn´dished. Shook or flourished.<br /> -broạd´sīde. A discharge at the same time of all the guns on one side of a ship.<br /> -bŭc cȧ nēērs´. Robbers upon the sea.<br /> -bṳl´lion. Gold or silver in the mass.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span><br /> -bûrgh´er. Townsman; villager.<br /> -bûr´nished. Polished.<br /> -bûrnt ŏf´fer ing. Something offered and burnt on an altar as an atonement for sin.<br /> -bŭx´om. Stout and rosy.<br /> -<br /> -cāne´brākes. Thickets of canes.<br /> -ca prĭ´çious. Changeable; freakish.<br /> -cär nĭv´or ous. Flesh-eating.<br /> -cāse´ment. A window sash opening on hinges.<br /> -căt´a răct. A waterfall.<br /> -çĕl´lu lar. Containing cells.<br /> -chasms (kăzmz). Deep openings in the earth.<br /> -chŏp´fạll en. Dejected; downcast.<br /> -chrŏn´i cles. Historical account of facts arranged in regular order.<br /> -chûrls. Countrymen; laborers.<br /> -çĩr cŭm´fer ençe. The distance around.<br /> -çĭr´cum stan çes. Facts; events.<br /> -clēave. Separate; divide.<br /> -clōse hạuled. Moving as nearly as possible toward the wind.<br /> -clūe. A thread; means of guidance.<br /> -coin´aġe. The act of making pieces of money from metal.<br /> -cŏm bŭs´ti ble. That can be burned.<br /> -cŏm mŏd´i ties. Things bought and sold.<br /> -cŏm´mon wĕalth. A state; the public.<br /> -cŏm mūned´. Talked together.<br /> -cŏm mū ni cā´tion. Intercourse; news.<br /> -cŏm pen sā´tion. Payment; reward.<br /> -cŏm´pli cat ed. Complex; combined in an intricate manner.<br /> -cŏm pound´ed. Put together; mixed.<br /> -cŏn çēd´ed. Gave up; yielded.<br /> -cŏn çĕp´tions. Ideas; notions.<br /> -cŏn fẽrred´. Gave; bestowed.<br /> -cŏn frȯnts´. Meets face to face.<br /> -con spĭc´u ous. Plain; distinct.<br /> -con stĭt´u ents. Component parts.<br /> -cŏn´tra band. Prohibited; forbidden.<br /> -cōōt. A bird resembling a duck.<br /> -cŏp´y ist. One who copies.<br /> -cor rŭpt´. To change from good to bad; depraved.<br /> -coun´te nançe. Face; appearance.<br /> -crā´ni um. The skull.<br /> -crā´ter. The opening or mouth of a volcano.<br /> -cre dū´li ty. Readiness of belief.<br /> -crŏpped. Grazed. “Hair cropped close” = hair cut short.<br /> -crouched. Stooped low, as an animal when waiting for prey.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span><br /> -cûr´dled. Coagulated; thickened. “Curdling awe” = awe that thickens the blood in the veins.<br /> -cŭs tō´di an. A keeper; guardian.<br /> -<br /> -de clĕn´sion. A falling. “Declension of spirits” = loss of cheerfulness.<br /> -dĕm´on strāte. To explain; point out.<br /> -de nounçe´. To accuse; threaten.<br /> -de prĕss´ing. Pressing down; humbling.<br /> -de scrīed´. Saw; beheld.<br /> -de serts´ (de zẽrts´). “According to his deserts” = as he deserves.<br /> -de spīte´ful ly. Maliciously.<br /> -des pŏt´ic (power). The power of a master; tyranny.<br /> -de vŏlved´. Passed from one person to another.<br /> -dī´a grăms. Drawings; plans.<br /> -dĭc tāt´ed. Said; declared.<br /> -dĭf fūsed´. Spread; circulated.<br /> -dĭg´ni ty. Loftiness and grace.<br /> -dĭl´i ġent. Busy; earnest.<br /> -di mĕn´sions. Extent; measure.<br /> -dis côrd´ant. Unmusical; jarring.<br /> -dis coun´te nançed. Discouraged; abashed.<br /> -dis guīsed´. Hidden.<br /> -dĭsk. The face of a heavenly body.<br /> -dis sĕv´ered. Separated.<br /> -dŏg´ged. Sullen; obstinate.<br /> -doŭb lōōn´. A Spanish coin worth about $15.00.<br /> -drăm´a tīzed. Represented in a play.<br /> -drŭdg´er y. Hard, mean labor.<br /> -dūe. “A stranger’s due” = that which custom requires to be given to a stranger.<br /> -dŭsk. “Breezes dusk and shiver” = darken and cause to quiver.<br /> -<br /> -ĕc´sta sy. Extreme delight.<br /> -eight-bells. On shipboard, the striking of a bell eight times at 4, 8, and 12 o’clock.<br /> -ēked. Increased.<br /> -ĕl´e ment. One of several parts of something.<br /> -em bĕl´lish ing. Illustrating; beautifying.<br /> -ĕm´blem. Sign.<br /> -ĕm´i nençe. High place or station.<br /> -e mĭt´ting. Sending out.<br /> -en çĩr´cled. Surrounded.<br /> -en coun´tered. Met face to face.<br /> -ĕn´sīgn. A banner; one who carries a banner.<br /> -ĕn´ter prī sing. Resolute; active.<br /> -en thrōned´. Put on a throne.<br /> -en trēat´. To beg off.<br /> -e rŭp´tion. A breaking out.<br /> -ē´ther. The air; a light, volatile liquid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span><br /> -ĕv er-vā´ry ing. Ever-changing.<br /> -ĕv´i dence. Proof.<br /> -ex alt´ed (ĕgz ạlt´ed). Raised on high.<br /> -ex çēēd´ing. More than usual.<br /> -ex çĕss´ive. Overmuch.<br /> -ex clū´sive. Shutting out all others.<br /> -ex e cūt´ed. Performed.<br /> -ex haust´ing (ĕgz ạst´ing). Using up: tiring out.<br /> -ex pĕr´i ments. Trials; tests.<br /> -ex pōrt´ed. Carried out.<br /> -ex pŏs tu lā´tions. Remonstrances.<br /> -ex prĕss´ly. Particularly.<br /> -ex´quis ite (ĕx´kwĭ zĭt). Very excellent; nice.<br /> -ex´tant. Still existing.<br /> -ex ult’ed (ĕgz ŭlt´ed). Rejoiced.<br /> -<br /> -făl´low. Land left unplowed.<br /> -fan tăs´tic. Fanciful; unreal.<br /> -făth´om. Six feet.<br /> -fa tig´u ing (fa tēg´ing). Tiring; wearying.<br /> -fe rŏç´i ty. Fierceness.<br /> -fer´ule (fĕr´rĭl). A short stick or ruler.<br /> -feuds. Quarrels; disputes.<br /> -flĭm´sy. Weak; limp.<br /> -fo rāy´. An attack; a raid.<br /> -fore´cas tle (fōr´kăs’l). The forward part of a ship.<br /> -fōre´land. A cape; headland.<br /> -for sweâr´. To declare or deny on oath.<br /> -fō´rum. A court; tribunal.<br /> -foul. Shameful; disgraceful.<br /> -frăg´men tā ry. In pieces.<br /> -fra tẽr´nal. Brotherly.<br /> -frŏn´tiēr. Border land.<br /> -fûr´bish ing. Scouring: cleaning.<br /> -<br /> -gâr´ish. Showy.<br /> -gär´nished. Decorated.<br /> -gaunt (gänt). Thin; lean.<br /> -ġĕm´my. Full of gems.<br /> -gĩrth. Band fastening a saddle on a horse’s back.<br /> -gla´cier (glā´shẽr). Field of ice.<br /> -glū´ey. Full of glue; sticky.<br /> -gnarled (närld). Knotty; twisted.<br /> -gŏb´lin. A mischievous spirit; phantom.<br /> -gŏŏd´man. A tenant.<br /> -gŏs´sip. To tattle; talk.<br /> -grăn´deur. Vastness; nobility.<br /> -grăph´ic. Vivid; impressive.<br /> -grāy´ling. A kind of fish.<br /> -grēaves. Armor for the leg below the knee.<br /> -griēv´ous. Causing sorrow.<br /> -guärd. Protection. “Mounting guard” = keeping watch.<br /> -gŭt´tur al. A sound made in the throat.<br /> -<br /> -hăp´less. Unfortunate.<br /> -hăp´ly. Fortunately.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span><br /> -här pōōn´. A barbed spear, used in catching whales and other sea animals.<br /> -häunts. Places of resort.<br /> -hēav´ing. Hoisting; straining.<br /> -hĕr´ald ed. Proclaimed; made known.<br /> -hĕr´e sy. Opinion contrary to established belief.<br /> -hẽrn. A wading bird.<br /> -hĭg´gle dy-pĭggle dy. Topsy-turvy.<br /> -hōōves. Feet of horses or cattle.<br /> -hôrse´man ship. The riding of horses.<br /> -hōve. Hoisted; came to a stop.<br /> -hu māne´. Kind; gentle.<br /> -hŭs´band man. Farmer.<br /> -hus´tled (hŭs´l’d). Pushed; crowded.<br /> -<br /> -il lū´mi nā tors. Illustrators; embellishers.<br /> -il lŭs´tri ous. Noble; grand.<br /> -im bĕd´ded. Covered over.<br /> -im pẽarled´. Made look as though ornamented with pearls.<br /> -im pĕn´e tra ble. Not to be entered.<br /> -im per fĕc´tions. Shortcomings; failings.<br /> -ĭm´po tence. Weakness; infirmity; having no power.<br /> -im prẽs´sion. Mark made by pressure.<br /> -ĭn´çi dents. Happenings.<br /> -in cli nā´tion. Desire.<br /> -in clīned´. Leaned toward; placed against.<br /> -in con vēn´ience. Disadvantage; awkwardness.<br /> -in crĕd´i ble. Not to be believed.<br /> -in cre dū´li ty. Showing disbelief.<br /> -in crĕd´u lous. Unbelieving.<br /> -in den tā´tion. Notch; dent.<br /> -in di cā´tions. Signs; symptoms.<br /> -in dĭf´fer ençe. Carelessness; heedlessness.<br /> -in ex prĕss´i ble. Not to be described.<br /> -ĭn´no cençe. Harmlessness.<br /> -in no vā´tions. Things not customary.<br /> -in nū´mer a ble. Without number.<br /> -in quī´ry. Research; an inquiring.<br /> -in sĕp´a ra ble. Not to be divided.<br /> -ĭn´so lent ly. Rudely.<br /> -in sti tū´tion. Something established.<br /> -in sure´ (-shṳre). To make sure.<br /> -in tel lĕc´tu al. Belonging to the mind; mental.<br /> -in tĕl´li gençe. News.<br /> -intĕns´est. Strictest; extreme in degree.<br /> -in ter çĕpt´ed. Cut off; stopped on the way.<br /> -in ter fēred´. Meddled; interposed.<br /> -in ter mĭn´gling. Mixing together.<br /> -in un dā´tion. A flood.<br /> -in vĕn´tion. Discovery; finding out.<br /> -in ves ti gā´tion. A looking into.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span><br /> -ir rĕs´o lute ly. In an undecided manner.<br /> -ī tĭn´er ant. Wandering; not settled.<br /> -<br /> -kēēl. The bottom part of a boat.<br /> -knĕll. A funeral bell.<br /> -knīght-ĕr´rant. A knight who traveled in search of adventures.<br /> -knōll. A little round hill.<br /> -<br /> -lâird. A Scottish landholder.<br /> -lär´board. Left-hand side of a ship.<br /> -’lăr´ums. Abbreviation of alarums = alarms.<br /> -lăt´er al. Sideways.<br /> -läunch´ing. Setting afloat.<br /> -lạu´rel. An evergreen shrub; a symbol of honor.<br /> -lä´vȧ. Melted rock from a volcano.<br /> -lēague. About three miles; a treaty of friendship.<br /> -lēē´ward. The part toward which the wind blows.<br /> -lĕġ is lā´tion. Lawmaking.<br /> -lĕp´rous. Affected with a disease called leprosy.<br /> -lĭt´er al ly. Word for word.<br /> -lŏck´er. A chest on shipboard.<br /> -lū´mi nous. Shining; bright.<br /> -lŭs´ti ly. Vigorously; with strength.<br /> -lŭst´y. Stout; robust.<br /> -lŭx ū´ri ous. Dainty; expensive; pleasing to the appetite.<br /> -lȳre (līr). A stringed musical instrument.<br /> -<br /> -ma gi´cian (-jĭsh´un). One skilled in magic.<br /> -māin. The sea; the mainland; principal.<br /> -ma jĕs´tic. Stately; grand.<br /> -mal for mā´tion. Irregular formation.<br /> -măl´low. A kind of plant.<br /> -măn´i fest. Plain; clear.<br /> -măn´ū script. Something written by hand.<br /> -mĕd´i tā tive. Thoughtful.<br /> -mĕt´tle. Spirit; temper.<br /> -mi li´tia (mĭ lĭsh´ȧ). A body of citizen soldiers.<br /> -mĭnt. A place where money is coined.<br /> -mĭs chȧnçe´. Ill luck.<br /> -mĭs´sĭle. Something thrown.<br /> -mis trēat´ing. Abusing.<br /> -mol es tā´tion. Troubling; annoyance.<br /> -mōōd. Temper; humor; manner.<br /> -môr ti fi cā´tion. Vexation; shame.<br /> -mō´tive. Moving; causing to move; reason.<br /> -mûrk´iness. Obscurity; darkness.<br /> -mỹr´tle. A shrubby plant.<br /> -my̆s tē´rious. Strange; unknown; unaccountable.<br /> -<br /> -năr´ra tive. Story; tale.<br /> -nạu´tic al. Belonging to the sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span><br /> -nĕc´tar. A delicious drink.<br /> -nĕth´er. Lower.<br /> -no bĭ´li ty. The being noble;<br /> -those of high rank.<br /> -noŭr´ish er. One who supports or feeds.<br /> -nŏv´el. A fictitious narrative.<br /> -<br /> -ob li gā´tions. Debts owing for a favor or kindness.<br /> -ob ser vā´tion. View; notice; comment.<br /> -ŏb´vi āt ed. Avoided.<br /> -of fi´cious (ŏf fĭsh´us). Meddlesome.<br /> -ŏm´i nous. Foreboding evil.<br /> -ŏp por tū´ni ty. Chance; fit time.<br /> -ŏp´u lent. Rich.<br /> -ordāined´. Set apart; appointed.<br /> -<br /> -păd´. An easy-paced horse.<br /> -pāġe. A boy employed to attend a person of high rank.<br /> -pȧ rāde´. Display; show.<br /> -pärch´ment. Skin of a sheep prepared for writing on.<br /> -pās´try cŏŏks. Cooks who make pies, tarts, etc.<br /> -pa thĕt´ic. Full of tender pity.<br /> -pa trōl´ling. Traversing; guarding.<br /> -pe cūl´iar. Uncommon; particular.<br /> -pĕd´a gŏgue. A schoolmaster.<br /> -pĕn´sive. Thoughtful.<br /> -pē´o ny. A big red flower.<br /> -pẽr çĕp´ti ble. That can be seen.<br /> -pẽr pĕt´u al. All the time.<br /> -pẽr se cūt´ed. Punished on account of one´s belief; harassed.<br /> -pẽr´son a ble. Well-formed; presentable.<br /> -pẽr´ti nent. Well adapted to the purpose in view.<br /> -per vẽrse´. Contrary.<br /> -pē´wee. A small bird.<br /> -pew´ter (pū´tẽr). An alloy of tin and lead.<br /> -phe nŏm´e non. A remarkable thing or appearance.<br /> -pic tur ĕsque´ly. Vividly; in a pleasing manner.<br /> -pĭl´lion. Cushion behind a saddle.<br /> -pī´lot. One who steers a vessel; a guide.<br /> -pīned. Drooped; languished.<br /> -pĭn´ions. Wings.<br /> -pĭn´nacles. Lofty points or peaks.<br /> -pī o nēēr´. One who goes before and prepares the way for others.<br /> -pĭt´e ous. Exciting pity.<br /> -pĭt´i able. Deserving pity.<br /> -plăsh´y. Watery; splashy.<br /> -poi´son ous. Full of poison.<br /> -pol i ti´cian (-tĭsh´an). Statesman; office seeker.<br /> -pol lūt´ed. Made impure.<br /> -pom´mel (pŭm´mel). Knob of a saddle or of a sword.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span><br /> -pŏn´der ous. Weighty.<br /> -pōr´ti coes. Covered spaces before buildings.<br /> -pŏs si bĭl´i ties. Things possible.<br /> -pōs´tern. Back entrance.<br /> -pō´tent. Powerful.<br /> -prĕçious ness. Great value.<br /> -prĕ´ma ture ly. Before the right time.<br /> -prī´mal. First; original.<br /> -prŏd´i gal dyes. Brilliant colors.<br /> -prŏj´ects. Plans.<br /> -pro mōt´ed. Assisted; raised.<br /> -pro pĕll´ing. Driving.<br /> -proph´e cy (prŏf´e sy̆). A foretelling.<br /> -pro prī´e ta ry. Pertaining to an owner.<br /> -prow. Fore part of a vessel.<br /> -pŭb´li cans. Collectors of taxes; keepers of inns.<br /> -pum´ice (pŭm´ĭs). A light volcanic stone.<br /> -pûr´pos es. Aims; intentions.<br /> -<br /> -quăg´mīre. A marsh; soft, wet land.<br /> -quạr´ter-dĕck. That part of the upper-deck behind the main-mast.<br /> -quạr´tern. A quarter of a pint; a fourth part.<br /> -queued (kūd). Hair put up into a pigtail.<br /> -quĭv´er. Case for carrying arrows.<br /> -<br /> -răck´et ing. Frolicking; playing.<br /> -răl´lied. Ridiculed pleasantly.<br /> -rămp´ant. Leaping; frolicking.<br /> -rānġed. Roved over; wandered.<br /> -re çĕp´ta cle. Place to receive things.<br /> -rĕc ol lĕc´tion. Remembrance.<br /> -rĕc on noi´ter. To look around.<br /> -re flĕc´tion. Consideration; meditation; musing; the return of rays, sound, etc., from a surface.<br /> -re lŭc´tance. Unwillingness.<br /> -rĕm´nants. Pieces remaining.<br /> -re nowned´. Celebrated; famous.<br /> -re quīt´ed. Returned evil for evil.<br /> -re sôrt´. To go; a place to which one is in the habit of going.<br /> -res´pite (rĕs´pĭt). A putting off; reprieve.<br /> -rĕv´er ençe. To treat with respect and fear.<br /> -rĭv´en. Split apart.<br /> -ro măn´tic. Unreal; picturesque.<br /> -roȳs´ter ing. Blustering.<br /> -<br /> -săc´ris tan. Sexton; church officer.<br /> -săl´ly. A rushing out; to go out.<br /> -sā´mite. A kind of silk stuff interwoven with gold.<br /> -sap´phire (săf´īr). A blue precious stone.<br /> -sea´soned. Dried and hardened.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span><br /> -sē clūd´ed. Shut up apart from others.<br /> -sē crēt´ed. Concealed.<br /> -sĕn´ti ment. Thought; opinion.<br /> -shăl´lop. A boat.<br /> -shăm´bled. Shuffled along.<br /> -shēathed. Put into a case.<br /> -shĭṉ´gly bars. Gravelly shallows.<br /> -shrouds of a ship. The set of ropes that stay the masts.<br /> -si ĕs´ta. A midday nap.<br /> -sĭm´mer. To boil gently.<br /> -sim plĭç´i ty. Plainness; truthfulness.<br /> -sin´ew y. Vigorous; firm.<br /> -sit u ā´tion. Location; place.<br /> -sĭx´pençe. A silver coin worth about 12 cents.<br /> -skĕtch´es. Short essays or stories.<br /> -skĭm´ming. Flying with a gentle motion.<br /> -slăp´jăcks. Griddle cakes.<br /> -slŭg´gish. Slow; lazy.<br /> -smĭth´y. A blacksmith’s shop.<br /> -snīpe. A small bird having a long, straight beak. “Snipe nose” = a nose like a snipe’s beak.<br /> -sō çia bĭl´i ty. Readiness to converse.<br /> -sō joŭrned´. Remained awhile.<br /> -sōle´ly. Alone; only.<br /> -spē´cies (-shëz). Kind; variety.<br /> -spĕc´ter. Ghost; phantom.<br /> -spĕc u lā´tion. Notion; theory.<br /> -stātes´men. Men eminent for their political abilities.<br /> -steer´age. Part of a vessel below decks.<br /> -stĕm and stẽrn. The fore part and the hind part of a vessel.<br /> -stŏck āde´. A strong inclosure; or wall.<br /> -stŭb´ble fields. Fields from which grain has recently been cut.<br /> -stŭl´ti fy. To make a fool of.<br /> -stū pĕn´dous. Wonderful; amazing.<br /> -suf fūsed´. Overspread.<br /> -sŭmp´tu ous. Costly; luxurious.<br /> -sŭn´dry. Several; various.<br /> -su per năt´u ral. Miraculous.<br /> -sup po sĭ´tion. Something supposed.<br /> -sur vey´ing (-vāĭng). Viewing; mapping out.<br /> -swāins. Young rustics.<br /> -swạrd. Turf; grassy surface of the land.<br /> -swạrth´y. Dusky; tawny.<br /> -sy̆mp´tom. Sign; token.<br /> -<br /> -tăṉk´ards. Large drinking vessels.<br /> -tăn´ta līz ing. Teasing.<br /> -thătch. Straw covering the roof of a building.<br /> -thēmes. Topics on which one writes or speaks.<br /> -thôrps. Small villages.<br /> -thrŏt´tling. Choking; strangling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span><br /> -thyme (tīm). A garden plant.<br /> -tĭlt. A tournament.<br /> -tĭr´rȧ lĭr´rȧ. An imitation of a musical sound.<br /> -tŏl er ā´tion. Freedom.<br /> -tŏp´sail hăl´yards. Ropes for hoisting the topsail on a mast.<br /> -tŏp´sy-tûr´vy. Upside down.<br /> -tour´na ment (tōōr´nȧ mĕnt). A mock fight between horsemen.<br /> -tōw clŏth. Cloth made of coarse flax.<br /> -trāiled. Drawn; dragged.<br /> -trȧnçe. An unconscious condition or state of being.<br /> -trăn scrīb´ing. Copying.<br /> -trăns pōrt´. To carry; to carry away with joy.<br /> -trăns´port. Conveyance; rapture.<br /> -trĕach´er ous. Not to be trusted.<br /> -tre mĕn´dous. Dreadful; awful.<br /> -trĕm´u lous. Trembling.<br /> -trim the yards. Arrange the vessel for sailing.<br /> -trōōp´er. Horseman; cavalryman.<br /> -tu mŭl´tu ous. Disorderly.<br /> -<br /> -u biq´ui tous (ū bĭk´wĭ tŭs). In many places at the same time.<br /> -ŭm´braġe. Resentment.<br /> -ū na nĭm´i ty. Agreement.<br /> -un bī´ased. Not prejudiced.<br /> -un couth´ (ŭn kōōth´). Awkward.<br /> -ŭn in tĕl´li ġi ble. Can not be understood.<br /> -ū ni vẽr´sal. General.<br /> -u´ni vẽrse. All created things.<br /> -ŭn sûr păssed´. Having no superior.<br /> -u surp´ (u zûrp´). To seize by force; without right.<br /> -ŭt´ter most. Greatest; farthest limit.<br /> -ū´til īzed. Made useful.<br /> -<br /> -vā´grants. Wanderers; beggars.<br /> -vāl´iant. Brave.<br /> -văp´id. Having lost life and spirit.<br /> -vĕn´i son. Flesh of the deer.<br /> -vĕr´sion. A translation; a description from a particular point of view.<br /> -vĭ çĭn´i ty. Neighborhood.<br /> -vi´cious ness (vĭsh´ŭs nĕss). Wickedness.<br /> -vict´uals (vĭt´’lz). Food; provisions.<br /> -vĭg´or ous. Strong; healthy.<br /> -vine´yards (vĭn´yẽrdz). Places where grapevines grow.<br /> -vĩr´tues. Good qualities.<br /> -vĭ´sion a ry. Imaginary.<br /> -vŏl cā´noes. Burning mountains.<br /> -<br /> -wạrd´er. A guard.<br /> -wāy´ward ness. Willfulness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span><br /> -whey (whā). The watery part of milk, separated from the curd in cheese making.<br /> -whole´some (hōl´sŭm). Healthful.<br /> -wĭck´er. A twig or withe, used in making baskets.<br /> -wĭl´der ness. A wild tract of country; desert.<br /> -wĭnd´lass. Machine for raising weights by turning a crank.<br /> -wĭtch´crăft. The art of witches. “Witching time of night” = time favorable for witchery.<br /> -wīthes. Long, flexible twigs.<br /> -wĭz´ard. Magician; enchanter.<br /> -wōe´ful. Wretched; sad.<br /> -wōld. A wood; a plain.<br /> -wŏŏd´bīne. A climbing plant.<br /> -wŏŏd´crăft. Skill in anything connected with the woods.<br /> -wres´tling (rĕs´lĭng). Struggling.<br /> -<br /> -yärds (of a ship). The long, slender pieces which support the sails.<br /> -yẽarned. Desired very much.<br /> -yeō´man. A freeholder; a farmer.<br /> -yōre. Long ago.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a name="PROPER_NAMES_PRONOUNCED" id="PROPER_NAMES_PRONOUNCED"></a>PROPER NAMES PRONOUNCED.</h2> - -<p class="nind"> -Æneas (ē nē´as).<br /> -Æson (ē´son).<br /> -Æsculapius (ĕs kū lā´pĭ ŭs).<br /> -André (ăn´dra).<br /> -Arnpryor (ärn´prī or).<br /> -Aubrey de Montdidier (ō bra dŭ mōṉt dē dĭā´).<br /> -Avernus (a vẽr´nus).<br /> -Avilion (avĭl´yon).<br /> -<br /> -Ballengiech (bạl´en gēk).<br /> -Bedivere (bĕd´ĭ vēr).<br /> -Bondy (bŏn´dē).<br /> -Braehead (brā´hĕd).<br /> -Buchanan (bŭk ăn´an).<br /> -Burgundian (bẽr gŭn´dyan).<br /> -Burgundy (bẽr´gŭn dĭ).<br /> -<br /> -Cæneus (sē´nūs).<br /> -Camelot (kăm´e lŏt).<br /> -Cherokees (chĕr o kēz´).<br /> -Chiron (kī´ron).<br /> -Coster (kŏs´ter).<br /> -Cramond (krā´mond).<br /> -Cyclops (sī´klŏps).<br /> -<br /> -Dana (dā´nȧ).<br /> -Dimond (dī´mond).<br /> -Dragon (drăg´on).<br /> -<br /> -Edinburgh (ĕd´ĭn bŭr ro).<br /> -Elaine (ē lān´).<br /> -Excalibur (eks kăl´ĭ bŭr).<br /> -<br /> -Finley (fĭn´la).<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span><br /> -Floyd (floid).<br /> -Fust (fōōst).<br /> -<br /> -Genoa (jĕn´o ȧ).<br /> -Glaucus (glạ´kŭs).<br /> -Grimke (grĭm´ke).<br /> -Gutenberg (gōō´ten bẽrg).<br /> -<br /> -Haarlem (här´lem).<br /> -Hercules (hẽr´kū lēz).<br /> -Herculaneum (hẽr´kū lā´nē ŭm).<br /> -Holyrood (hŏl´ī rōōd).<br /> -Howieson (hou´ĭ sȯn).<br /> -<br /> -Ichabod (ĭk´ȧ bŏd).<br /> -Iliad (ĭl´ĭ ad).<br /> -Iolcus (ĭ ŏl´kŭs).<br /> -Ione (ī´o ne).<br /> -Ithaca (ĭth´ȧ kȧ).<br /> -<br /> -Jaonssen (jaŏn´sen).<br /> -Jason (jā´son).<br /> -Jerusalem (je rōō´sa lem).<br /> -Jupiter (jōō´pĭ tẽr).<br /> -<br /> -Katrina (kăt rē´nȧ).<br /> -Kentucky (kĕn tŭk´y̆).<br /> -Kippen (kĭp´pĕn).<br /> -<br /> -Lancelot (lăn´se lŏt).<br /> -Lytton (lĭt´on).<br /> -<br /> -Macaire (ma câr´).<br /> -Malory (măl´ō rĭ).<br /> -Mayence (mä yŏṉs´).<br /> -Missouri (mĭs ōō´rī).<br /> -Monte Somma (mŏn´te sŏm´mȧ).<br /> -Montargis (mōṉ tär zhē´).<br /> -<br /> -Naples (nā´p’lz).<br /> -Narsac (när săk´).<br /> -Nassau (năs´sạ).<br /> -Neptune (nĕp´tūn).<br /> -Nydia (nĭd´ĭȧ).<br /> -<br /> -Odysseus (ō dĭs´ūs).<br /> -Odyssey (ŏd´ĭs sy̆).<br /> -<br /> -Paris (păr ĭs).<br /> -Pelias (pe lī´as).<br /> -Pelion (pē´lĭ ŏn).<br /> -Phlegethon (flĕg´e thŏn).<br /> -Pliny (plĭn´y).<br /> -Polyphemus (pŏl y fē´mŭs).<br /> -Pompeii (pŏm pā´yē).<br /> -Portugal (pōr´tu gal).<br /> -Provence (pro vŏṉs´).<br /> -<br /> -Roman (rō´măn).<br /> -Russia (rŭsh´ȧ).<br /> -<br /> -Saint Bavon (sānt ba vōṉ´).<br /> -Shalott (sha lŏt´).<br /> -Sieur de Narsac (syẽr dŭ när săk´).<br /> -Solon (sō´lŏn).<br /> -Spitzbergen (spĭts bẽrg´en).<br /> -Stabiæ (stăb´ ĭ ē).<br /> -Strasburg (străz´bẽrg).<br /> -Syria (sĭr´ĭ ȧ).<br /> -<br /> -Thames (tĕmz).<br /> -Thessaly (thĕs´a lĭ).<br /> -<br /> -Ulysses (u lĭs´sẽz).<br /> -<br /> -Van Tassel (văn tăs´’l).<br /> -Venetian (ve nē´shan).<br /> -Venice (vĕn´ĭs).<br /> -Vesuvius (ve sū´vĭ ŭs).<br /> -<br /> -Wallace (wŏl´as).<br /> -Westminster (wĕst´mĭn ster).<br /> -<br /> -Yadkin (yăd´kĭn).<br /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/back.jpg" width="339" height="500" alt="cover" title="" /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of School Reading By Grades: Fifth Year, by -James Baldwin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCHOOL READING BY GRADES *** - -***** This file should be named 51000-h.htm or 51000-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/0/0/51000/ - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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