目　录

第1册

第2册

第3册

第4册

第5册

第6册

第7册

第8册

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

美国学生文学读本／（美）贾德森编．—天津：天津人民出版社，2012.6

ISBN 978-7-201-07527-3

Ⅰ．①美…　Ⅱ．①贾…　Ⅲ．①英语课—中小学—课外读物　Ⅳ．①G634.413

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2012）第082671号

天津人民出版社出版、发行

出版人：刘晓津

（天津市西康路35号　邮政编码：300051）

网址：http://www.tjrmcbs.com.cn

电子信箱：tjrmcbs@126.com

北京领先印刷有限公司印刷

2012年6月第1版　2012年6月第1次印刷

880×1230毫米　32开本　58.5印张　字数：1200千字

定　价：168.00元（全八册）

第1册目录

CONTENTS

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

60

61

62

63

64

65

66

67

68

69

70

71

72

73

74

75

76

77

78

79

80

81

82

83

84

85

86

87

88

89

90

91

92

WORDS IN FIRST READER

返回总目录

Harry Pratt Judson (1849 - 1927) was an American educator and historian, born at Jamestown, New York, and educated at Williams College. He taught in the Troy High School in Troy, New York in 1870-1885 and was professor of history and lecturer on pedagogic at the University of Minnesota in 1885-1892. At the University of Chicago he became professor of political science and head dean of the colleges in 1892 and head of the political science department and dean of the faculties of arts, literature, and science in 1894. He served as the acting president of the University of Chicago between 1906 and 1907 and as the president of the University of Chicago from 1907 until 1923.

Judson became a member of the General Education Board in 1906 and of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913. He edited a series of readers for school students, and wrote some great books.

欢迎访问家庭学校微博／博客

http://weibo.com/318999618

http://blog.sina.com.cn/homeschoolnow

GRADED

LITERATURE

READERS

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森主编的经典文学读本

美国学生

文学读本

HARRY PRATT JUDSON

〔美〕哈里·P·贾德森／编

天津人民出版社

PREFACE

It is believed that the Graded Literature Readers will commend themselves to thoughtful teachers by their careful grading, their sound methods, and the variety and literary character of their subject matter.

They have been made not only in recognition of the growing discontent with the selections in the older readers, but also with an appreciation of the value of the educational features which many of those readers contained. Their chief points of divergence from other new books, therefore, are their choice of subject matter and their conservatism in method.

A great consideration governing the choice of all the selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classic tales and fables, to which constant allusion is made in literature and daily life, are largely used.

Nature study has received due attention. The lessons about scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

The careful drawings of plants and animals, and the illustrations in color——many of them photographs from nature——will be attractive to the pupil and helpful in connection with nature study.

No expense has been spared to maintain a high standard in the illustrations, and excellent engravings of masterpieces are given throughout the series with a view to quickening appreciation of the best in art.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different parts of the country, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediate, and advanced grades. While it is impossible to give in every case credit where credit is due, mention must be made of the valuable suggestions of Miss M. Adella Pinney, Roger Sherman School, New Haven, Conn., and Miss Florence M. Holbrook, Principal of Forestville School, Chicago, Ill.

INTRODUCTION

Method. The editors are convinced by their own experience and by that of many eminently successful teachers that the best way to teach beginners to read is by the Word and Sentence Method in the first lessons, combined later with the Phonic Method. This method, which is employed by the majority of successful primary teachers, has governed the selection and arrangement of matter in this reader.

New Words. The vocabulary, small enough to be mastered in the time assigned to the use of the book, is made up of words habitually used by children. The few new words introduced in each lesson are placed at the head of the lesson for drill in pronunciation and spelling.

Repetition. It will be noticed that no new words are brought in only to be dropped after a page or two. The fresh interest of each lesson is obtained by the skillful combination of a few new words with those with which the pupil is already familiar. This repetition is secured without any sacrifice of interest and variety, and frequent reviews keep the newly acquired vocabulary constantly in use. Experience has shown that in no other way can it be so readily made a permanent possession of the pupil's mind.

Script. Blackboard work takes a prominent place in the preparation for the reading lesson to-day; consequently, script is used freely throughout the book.

Suggestions to Teachers

These suggestions are not intended as hard and fast rules, but as indications of methods found most satisfactory by successful teachers.

Method. Begin the reading lesson by creating an interest in the subject of the lesson. When the interest is keenly aroused, write the new words upon the board. Then pronounce and discuss them until the pupils are familiar with them. If the new, unknown word comes for the first time in the middle of a sentence, the child will hesitate and acquire bad habits of reading. Have the sentences read as wholes, not by parts, and insist upon distinct natural reading. If the pupil has difficulty in pronouncing words of more than one syllable, these words may be syllabified on the blackboard.

Discuss the appearance and qualities of the objects or animals mentioned in each lesson, and inculcate lessons of kindness, unselfishness, courage, etc., using the illustrations as bases of oral lessons in language and number. At the close of the lesson the children may repeat the story from memory and illustrate it upon the board or paper. Lessons should frequently be supplemented by an appropriate story or poem read aloud by the teacher.

Phonetic Drill. After some study by the Word Method, it will be found that the pupil, without conscious effort, has gained a general idea of the sounds which the letters represent. Exercises in phonetic analysis and synthesis should now be given and the alphabet may be taught. A drill on lists of words, arranged with reference to their phonetic construction, will help the pupil to observe analogies of pronunciation. The wise teacher, however, mindful of the phonetic irregularities of the language, will not place too much dependence upon this method as a means of acquiring a correct pronunciation.

Phonetic exercises teach distinct pronunciation and enable the pupil to become self helpful in learning new words.

Ⅰ. To accustom the ear of the child to recognize words, pronounce them slowly: as, "Get me a c-u-p," "Ring the b-e-ll," etc.

Ⅱ. To train the eye to recognize the character by sound, pronounce many words which begin with the same sound: as, f-au, f-ed, f-un, f-ind, f-all, f-ace, etc. Place the character denoting the sound upon the board and teach the children to recognize the form and to utter the sound. The simple consonant sounds are perhaps best taught in the following order: t, s, f, r, n, m, h, v, p, k, c, w, j, x, g, l, y, z, s, g, b, d, q.

Ⅲ. Silent letters are most easily taught by elision.

Ⅳ. The pupils should be thoroughly drilled upon the short and long vowels. Very distinct pronunciation should be insisted upon.

Ⅴ. In teaching the long vowels show that final e usually lengthens the sound; also, that when two vowels occur in the same syllable one is usually silent: as, hat, hate; rod, road.

Ⅵ. Having taught these elementary sounds, show how words are formed by their combinations, Teach the formation of words by analogous pronunciation in lists or families. For example, having taught the value of the consonant and short vowel characters, lists like the following may be used:

h-at　　p-et　　t-op

p-at　　l-et　　h-op

c-at　　g-et　　p-op

When the phonograms -at, -et, -it, -ot, -ut, and the like are mastered, together with the knowledge of the power of letters, the child will readily pronounce a large vocabulary, the words of which can be arranged to form simple sentences. This vocabulary is greatly extended by adding the long vowel sounds.

Ⅶ. There should be drill upon initial and final consonants, digraphs, diphthongs, and all the vowel sounds.

Exceptions to general phonetic rules are best taught by the Word Method.

1

a　　　　　robin　　　　　see　　　　　I

I see a robin.

2

James

dog

This is

a dog

This is James.

I see James.

I see a dog.

3

run

can

has

the dog

can run

James has a dog.

This is the dog.

James can run.

See James run.

4

fly　　　　　and　　　　　blue　　　　　bird

bluebird　　　　　can　　　　　fly

This is a bluebird.

The bluebird can fly.

The robin and the bluebird can fly.

5

eggs

are

nest

tree

in

in the tree

in the nest

I see a robin and a bluebird.

See the bluebird fly.

Can the robin fly?

The robin is in the tree.

The robin has a nest in the tree.

Eggs are in the nest.

The robin can see the eggs.

6

REVIEW—BIRDS

This bird is blue.

See the bluebird fly.

The robin can fly.

James and the dog can run.

The robin has a nest.

The nest is in the tree.

I see the nest.

The eggs are in the nest.

7

kitty　　　　with　　　　play　　　　mouse　　　　Rose

with the kitty

Rose has a kitty.

This is Rose with the kitty.

The kitty can run and play.

Rose plays with the kitty.

I see a mouse.

dog

bird

see

play

dogs

birds

sees

plays

8

now　　　　jump　　　　catch　　　　little　　　　it

See the kitty jump.

Now the kitty sees the little mouse.

Now it sees the kitty.

The kitty jumps and the mouse runs.

Run, little mouse, run.

Can the kitty catch it?

9

hen　　　　you　　　　chicken　　　　likes　　　　to

Can you see the hen?

Rose likes to play with the chickens.

Rose likes to catch the little chickens.

10

no　　　　gone　　　　where　　　　she

I see James and I see the dog.

Can you see the nest?

Where is it?

I see the egg in the nest.

Is Rose with James?

No. She has gone to see the chickens.

She likes to play with the chickens.

Can you see the kitty?

No. Where is she?

11

apple　　　　there　　　　leaves　　　　winter　　　　on

on the tree

See this little tree.

It is a little apple tree.

Where are the apples?

There are no apples on the tree now.

Are there leaves on the tree?

No. The leaves and apples are gone.

It is winter.

Can you see the bluebird?

12

spring　　pretty　　back　　blossoms　　come

Now spring has come.

The apple tree has blossoms on it.

See the pretty blossoms.

The birds fly back in the spring.

The robin has come back.

The bluebird has come back.

13

autumn　　　seed　　　red　　　from　　　what

Autumn has come.

The tree has no blossoms in autumn.

What can you see on the tree now?

There are red apples on it.

Can you see a tree with pretty red leaves?

There are seeds in apples.

What come from a seed?

Tree, blossoms, leaves, and apples come from a seed.

14

REVIEW

There are no blossoms on the apple tree in autumn.

There are pretty red apples on it.

What is this? It is a seed.

Trees come from little seeds.

James likes to play with the dog.

Rose likes to play with the hen and chickens.

Kitty likes to catch a mouse.

She can run and jump.

15

do　　　　ripe　　　　good　　　　eat　　　　for

for you

Do you like apples?

Ripe apples are good to eat.

I like pretty red apples.

This apple is for you.

It is ripe.

It is good for you to eat.

Do you see the little seeds in it?

16

fruit　　grapes　　oranges　　green　　too

See the pretty fruit.

There are apples and oranges.

I see grapes too.

The apples are red.

Are the grapes and oranges red, too?

There are green grapes.

Do you like fruit?

I like pretty ripe fruit.

17

yellow　　　　find　　　　look　　　　color

Look, look! See the pretty colors.

There are red, blue, and yellow.

Can you find yellow?

Can you find green?

Can you find orange?

What colors do you like?

Red is a pretty color. I like it.

18

bee　　　honey　　　not　　　have　　　make

Look, look! What is this?

See, now it is on a blossom!

Is it not a little bird?

No. It is not a bird.

It is a bee.

It makes honey.

Honey is good to eat.

Little bee, have you honey for Rose and for James?

19

wax　　　all　　　mother　　　work　　　queen

What can a bee do?

It can make wax and honey.

It makes honey from the blossoms.

It makes wax, too.

Worker

Do all bees work?

No. All bees do not work.

All bees like to eat honey.

All do not like to work.

Drone

The bees have a mother.

The mother bee is the queen.

Queen bees do not make wax and honey.

The little bees work for the queen.

Queen

20

flower　　　violet　　　big　　　they　　　white

This big red flower is a rose.

Can you find a white rose?

There are white and yellow roses.

Look! There are violets too.

They are little flowers.

The roses are big.

I like roses and violets.

They are all pretty.

21

flag　　　Amy　　　these　　　love　　　oh

Oh, come, Amy, and see this flag!

What a pretty flag it is!

I love the flag.

What color is it?

It is red, white, and blue.

Oh, look, Amy! The flowers are red, white, and blue, too.

This rose is red, and these roses are white; the little flowers are blue.

I love the pretty flowers.

22

Review

Rose and James have ripe fruit.

There are yellow oranges, green grapes, and big red apples.

Amy finds pretty flowers in the spring.

She has violets and roses.

James has a flag. What color is it?

Look! It is red, white, and blue like these flowers.

Do you not love the flag?

The little bees make honey from the flowers.

They make wax too.

Honey is good to eat.

The queen is the mother bee.

Do all bees work?

Oh, no. All bees do not work.

23

rain

when

does

grow

me

sun

shine

sunshine

Mother makes me come in when it rains.

Mother likes the rain.

I do not like it.

What good does it do?

What good does the rain do, Amy?

The seeds and flowers grow when it rains.

They love the rain. They love the sunshine too.

Rain and sunshine make flowers grow.

24

rainbow　　　how　　　after　　　yes　　　beautiful

Now the rain has gone and the sunshine has come back.

Oh, yes! See the rainbow.

How beautiful it is!

The rainbow comes after the rain.

What makes the rainbow?

The sun and the rain make it.

It comes when the sun shines after the rain.

Oh, how beautiful the colors are!

They are violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red.

25

cherry

fall

bud

cherries

then

by

See the cherry buds.

They are white and green.

The little green buds come on the tree in spring.

By and by they grow white.

Then they are cherry blossoms.

By and by they fall from the tree.

Little cherries come after the blossoms fall.

Then rain and sunshine make these grow.

26

one　　　two　　　three　　　four　　　five　　　old

This is one,

and these are two;

And there are three

little birds for you.

Two and two make four,

you see;

Now there are five on

the old tree.

PHONETIC EXERCISE

an

en

in

tan

ten

tin

fan

fen

fin

pan

pen

pin

27

am　　　morning　　　doll　　　Kate　　　new　glad

"Good morning, Kate. I am glad you have come to see me this morning. See what I have!"

"Oh, Amy, you have a new doll. How pretty she is!"

"Yes. She is a wax doll. Have you a new doll, Kate?"

"No. I have three old dolls."

"I have old dolls, too. I love the old ones. I am glad to have a new one."

28

butter

cup

buttercup

if

know

other

any

tell

field

These are buttercups.

Are they not pretty little flowers?

They are yellow.

The leaves and buds are green.

Do you know any other yellow flowers?

Buttercups grow in the fields.

The flowers are like little cups.

Do you know how to tell if you like butter?

See if you like it.

I find violets in the fields, too.

Do you know any other field flowers?

Tell me what flowers you like.

29

butterfly　　　goes　　　　flies　　　　summer

here　　　　warm

Here is a butterfly.

Oh, how beautiful it is!

There are not any butterflies in the winter.

The butterfly likes the warm summer.

It flies here and there in the warm sunshine.

It goes from flower to flower.

The bee goes from flower to flower, too.

The bee makes honey in summer.

It makes honey for you and me.

30

kite　　　　　my　　　　　high　　　　their

boys　　　　girls　　　　horse

I am glad it does not rain this morning.

I can play in the field.

The other boys play horse.

I like to fly my new kite.

I run and it flies high.

See how high it goes!

It falls if I do not run.

I know how to make a big kite.

Boys and girls like to play.

Boys play horse and fly their kites.

Girls play with their dolls.

PHONETIC EXERCISE

it

et

and

end

sit

set

sand

send

lit

let

land

lend

bit

bet

band

bend

31

wagon

ride

he

Henry

black

grass

his

Henry's

Here is Henry's big black horse.

Henry can ride.

He does not fall from his horse.

His horse likes grass.

Is grass all he has to eat?

Henry's dog is in the little wagon.

He likes to ride in the wagon.

PHONETIC EXERCISE

a

e

i

o

say

me

tie

no

hay

be

die

go

32

tiger　　that　　head　　paw　　cat　　seen

Do you know what this is?

It is a tiger.

A Tiger

Have you seen a tiger?

He is like a big black and yellow cat.

What a big head he has, and what big paws!

Do you know that a tiger's paw looks like a cat's?

See! Here is a tiger's paw.

You have seen a cat's paw.

Is this not like it?

A cat's paws are little, and the tiger's are big.

33

REVIEW

Kitty likes to catch a mouse.

My dog likes to run after cats.

This big black horse likes to eat grass.

Boys and girls like to run and jump.

The two girls play with their dolls.

Amy has a new wax doll and three old ones.

She loves the old dolls.

Rose has a hen and five chickens, too.

Does Henry play with Kate's dolls?

No, he goes for a ride on his good old horse.

He plays with his wagon, and flies his kite high.

James has a flag. It is red, white. and blue.

James has seen a tiger.

A tiger's head and paws look like a car's.

Can you tell me what the rainbow colors are?

Yes, they are violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red.

The rainbow comes when the sun shines after the rain.

Oh, how beautiful it is now!

I like a spring morning.

I am glad to see the birds fly back.

In spring the seeds grow.

Buds and blossoms are on the apple and cherry trees.

When summer comes, there are four eggs in a robin's nest.

By and by pretty little birds come from these eggs.

The roses and other flowers come back in the warm summer.

I find buttercups in the fields.

Do you know any other flowers that grow there?

The bees make honey from the flowers.

They can make honey from fruit, too.

The mother bee is the queen, and she does not work.

In autumn the apples and grapes are ripe.

Then, too, all the pretty red and yellow leaves fall from the trees.

In winter there are no birds and butterflies here.

Tell me, if you can, where the birds have gone.

PHONETIC EXERCISE

fat

fin

rod

tun

fate

fine

rode

tune

mat

pin

cod

dun

mate

pine

code

dune

34

cluck　　　queer　　　them　　　quack　　　duck

feet　　　　swim　　　　said

"Cluck, cluck," said the hen.

"What queer feet the duck has!"

"Quack, quack," said the duck.

"I like my queer feet. I can swim with them. Can you swim, hen?"

"No, I do not like to swim,"

"Oh, oh," said the duck, "you do not know how to swim. My three little ducks can swim. See them swim now! I am glad that they have queer feet and can swim. Quack, quack!"

35

up

may

take

meadow

lark

be

will

ground

meadowlark

"Look, here is a nest on the ground!"

"Can it be a robin's nest?"

"Oh, no, Kate, a robin's nest is high up in a tree. This is on the ground. It is a meadowlark's nest. The meadowlark makes a nest in the grass in the field."

"Henry, see these little eggs. May I take them?"

"Oh, no. By and by there will be little larks in this nest.

Then you may come back with me to see them."

36

me　　　　　my　　　　　may　　　　　meadow

ball　　go　　us　　throw　　let　　we　　down

"Look, Henry! See my new ball! Will you go down to the meadow with me this morning?"

"Yes. Let us go down there and play ball."

"We can take my black dog with us. If we do not catch the ball, he will run and find it."

"I will throw the ball to you. Catch it, if you can. Now throw it back to me."

"Let us see how high up we can throw it."

37

her　　saw　　caught　　ran　　did　　made　went

"Rose, do you see any birds?"

"I do not see any now. I saw two."

"Did they make a nest?"

"Yes. They made a nest. They made it high up in the apple tree."

"Did kitty go to it?"

"Yes. She went up the tree. She went after a little bird."

"Did you not run to catch her?"

"When I saw her, I ran to the tree. She caught a little bird in her paws. Then I ran and caught her."

"Did you take the bird from her?"

"Oh, yes. I let it fly back to the nest. Now I do not let kitty go there."

38

do

see

go

run

catch

make

did

saw

went

ran

caught

made

get

wish

away

but

could

again

worm

I wish I could find my mother.

I ran away from her, and now I can not find her again.

A boy saw me and ran to catch me.

But I ran to the high grass, and he did not see me.

Now I can not get back to my mother.

I wish I could find a worm to eat.

My mother knows how to get worms from the ground, but I do not.

Mother, Mother! Come and find me!

39

came　　　sat　　　day　　　frog　　　him　　water

into　　　jumped

One warm summer day an old green frog sat by the water. By and by my cat came by and saw him there.

"What can this be?" she said. "Is it good to eat? I will catch it and see."

When the frog saw her come, he jumped. She ran after him. When she came up to him, he jumped into the water. She jumped after him, and in she went.

My kitty does not like frogs now.

40

six　　seven　　eight　　nine　　ten　　count　　say

Six little cats, white, yellow, and black.

Seven ducks in the water, and all say,"Quack, quack."

Eight pretty buds that grow on the tree.

Nine ripe cherries for you and for me.

Ten little chickens with the old hen.

Now you know how to count from one up to ten.

41

do

does

did

day

doll

about

school

bought

home

book

buy

read

Henry goes to school. One day his mother said, "When you can read, I will buy you a new book."

Now he knows how to read, and his mother has bought him a book.

He reads to Amy when he comes home from school.

The dog does not like this. He likes to run about and play with Henry and Amy.

42

REVIEW—WHAT HENRY READS

Look! This is my new book.

I can read it.

Do you wish me to tell you what I read? I read about the hen that said, "Cluck, cluck!" and the duck that said, "Quack, quack!" Ducks have queer feet and can swim.

I read about a lark that made a nest on the ground. Henry saw her eggs, but he did not take them.

He said, "Let us leave them here now. In summer there will be little birds in the nest. Then we may come to see them."

I read about the kitty that saw a bird in a tree. She ran up the tree and caught it.

I read about an old green frog. He sat by the water one day.

The cat jumped for him and went into the water.

I read about the ball that the boys throw. They play with it when they go down to the meadow.

I read about a little chicken that ran away from its mother. It could not find her again, and could not get a worm to eat.

Henry's mother bought a book for him to read when he came from school.

Now I can read, and my mother will buy me a book like his.

I know how to count, too. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

PHONETIC EXERCISE

net

cot

red

neat

coat

read

bet

got

bed

beat

goat

bead

43

rabbit

thank

out

Mr.

hungry

lion

fox

den

A hungry old lion sat in his den.

"What can I get to eat?" he said. "Oh, here comes a rabbit.

Good morning, Mr. Rabbit. Come in and see me."

"Thank you," said the rabbit, and went in. But he did not come out.

Then a dog came by.

"Come in, Mr. Dog," said the lion.

The dog went in, but he did not come out.

By and by a fox came by.

"Good morning, Mr. Fox," said the lion. "Come into my den and see me."

"No, thank you," said the fox. "I saw the dog and the rabbit go in, but I have not seen them come out."

44

was　　　　　snow　　　　　give　　　　　man

some　　　　at　　　　　children

One day all the boys and girls went out to play. It was winter and the ground was white with snow.

The children made a big snow man.

Then Henry made some snowballs to throw at it. When he was at work, his mother came out.

"Oh, children, what a big snow man you have made!" she said. "Now, come in and get warm. I will give you some pretty red apples."

PHONETIC EXERCISE

sing

rowing

king

saying

ring

mowing

wing

laying

45

had　　　as　　　wall　　　were　　　last　　　sour

A hungry fox saw some beautiful grapes. They were up on a high wall.

"How good they look!" he said. "I am hungry. I will have some."

He jumped as high as he could. But the grapes were up too high on the wall.

He jumped and jumped, but could not get them. At last he had a fall.

Then he ran away and said, "They are sour grapes, and not good to eat."

46

mew

chirp

upon

Redbreast

flew

almost

sang

Pussy cat

Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree,

Up went Pussy cat, and down went he;

Down came Pussy cat, and away Robin ran;

Said little Robin Redbreast,

"Catch me if you can."

Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a wall,

Pussy cat jumped after him, and almost had a fall;

Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did Pussy say?

Pussy cat said "Mew," and Robin flew away.

47

pig　　　　　market　　　　way　　　　　of

fast　　　　　so　　　　　help

One autumn day a man bought a little black pig at the market.

When he was on his way home from market, it ran away.

The children saw it as they came out of school.

"Let us help catch that pig. The man is old. He cannot run so fast as we can," said Henry.

So some of the boys ran after the pig. It ran fast, but at last they caught it.

Then the old man came up and said, "Thank you, boys. I could not have caught my pig if you had not come to help me. When I come by in my wagon, you may take a ride with me."

48

stones　　pond　　threw　　lived　　hurt　　put

One day some boys at play by a pond threw stones into the water.

Some frogs lived in this pond. When a frog put his head out of the water, the boys threw stones at him.

At last an old frog put up his head and said, "Boys, do not throw stones. You hurt us."

"We are in play," said the boys.

"Yes," the frog said, "but the stones hurt us. It is play for you, but it is not play for us."

49

hide　　　game　　　found　　　house　　　shall

seek　　　your

"What game shall we play, Amy?"

"Oh, Henry, let us play hide and seek. See if you can find us.

"Good. We will play hide and seek. I will put away my kite and ball.

"Put your dolls down and hide. I will look for you."

"Now here I come. Where can they be?

"I see you, Amy, in the wagon.

"I have found you too, James. You are up in the cherry tree.

"Where is Kate? Oh, I see your head, Kate. You are in that high grass by the house.

"I have found you all. You were the last one caught, Kate. Now, Amy, you are to find us."

50

51

REVIEW—WHAT I CAN READ

Let me tell you what I can read about in this book.

I read about a fox. He jumped for some grapes, but he could not get them. So at last he went away and said they were sour.

A dog and a rabbit went into a hungry lion's den, but they did not come out. Mr. Fox said, "Thank you, I will not go in."

I read here about a cat.

She jumped for Robin Redbreast when he flew down upon a wall. She almost had a fall, but she did not catch him. He chirped and sang; she said "Mew!"

Pussy cat had been to London. She caught a mouse under the Queen's chair.

I read, too, about the children.

They made a snow man.

They had a game of hide and seek, and Henry found them all.

A man's pig ran away on the way from market. Then the boys ran as fast as they could to help catch it.

Some boys threw stones into a pond. The boys were in play, but they hurt the frogs in the water.

When I can read all of this book, I shall put it away. Then my mother will give me a new one to read.

What makes wax and honey?

What has paws like a tiger?

When are cherries ripe?

FOR SENTENCE MAKING

buy

eight

lived

flies

count

girl

queer

seed

ride

worm

school

color

wish

seven

shine

spring

nine

seen

fruit

rainbow

52

rock-a-bye　　baby　　　top　　　wind　　　blows

cradle　　　bough　　　break　　　rock

Rock-a-bye, baby,

On the tree top,

When the wind blows

The cradle will rock;

When the bough breaks

The cradle will fall,

Down will come baby,

Bough, cradle, and all.

53

Albert

toy

many

walk

wheels

best

pull

why

Here is Albert with his horse.

The horse can not walk, but it can run. It runs on its four wheels when Albert pulls it.

Albert has many toys. He has a ball, a top, and a kite. But he likes this best of all his toys.

Do you know why? I will tell you.

Albert loves horses.

He says, "When I am a man, I shall have a big black horse to ride."

54

swan　　　or　　　young　　　name　　　would

well　　　who　　　very　　　sometimes

Who knows this bird's name?

It is a swan.

It can not walk well or fly high.

But it can swim very fast.

Its feet are like a duck's feet.

This big swan is white. Young swans are not very pretty.

They look like ducks.

Sometimes the mother swan swims with her young ones on her back.

Would you not like to see her?

55

stood　　　tail　　　long　　　still　　　gave　　　time

played　　　　　　strong

Albert and Rose are two little children.

One day their mother gave them a little red horse. The children played with it for a time.

Then Albert said, "Now I will take the horse and go to market."

"Oh, no," said Rose. "I will take it. and give my dolls a ride."

"It is my horse," said Albert.

"Oh, no. It is my horse," said Rose. "Mother bought it for me."

"You shall not have it," said Albert.

"I will have it," said Rose.

All this time the little red horse stood still on its four wheels.

Then Rose caught it by the head and Albert caught it by the tail.

Oh, how they did pull! The little horse jumped about on its wheels.

Then Albert gave a long pull and a strong pull. Rose did not let go.

Albert said, "I have it," and Rose said, "I have it," and so they had. But what?

56

face

think

sick

every

cry

washed

much

Daisy

My doll's name is Daisy.

Her face was as red as a rose, but now it is white.

Albert thinks she is sick.

I do not think she is sick.

She did not eat too much or go out in the rain.

I know why her face is so white.

Shall I tell you?

I washed it this morning.

My face is washed every day. So I did not think it would hurt Daisy.

She was good and did not cry at all.

But see how white she is!

What do you think I can do for her?

57

mile　　　　　against　　　　　which　　　　　crooked

sixpence　　　　　stile　　　　　together

There was a crooked man

and he went a crooked mile,

He found a crooked sixpence

against a crooked stile;

He bought a crooked cat

which caught a crooked mouse,

And they all lived together

in a little crooked house.

58

SIGHT READING

"Good morning, pretty flower. How do you do?"

"Good morning, little girl. I am very well, I thank you."

"I am glad to see you, little flower. What is your name?"

"My name is daisy."

"Why, my doll's name is Daisy too! Where is your home, little daisy?"

"It is here in the green grass."

"What do you do in the grass?"

"I make the field look pretty. I play with the other flowers."

"Does it hurt you to have the rain fall on you?"

"Oh, no. I like the rain. It makes me grow."

59

brother　　fun　　sweet　　creep　　only　　our

don't　　　　　do　　　　　not

This is our little baby brother.

We think he is a pretty baby. Don't you?

His name is Henry.

He is sweet and pretty. He is good too.

Baby and I have fun together.

He cannot walk. He is too young. He can only creep.

He creeps to kitty, but she runs away.

He pulls her tail and she does not like that. It hurts her.

He does not know it hurts her.

60

cold　　　　　　bed　　　　　coat　　　　　started

south　　　　　north　　　　　Frank

Frank is a little boy. His home is in the south where the winters are warm.

It does not snow there.

This winter Frank is with James. James lives in the north.

One cold morning James jumped out of bed. "Oh, Frank, Frank," he said, "get up and see the snow!"

Frank started up and ran to look at it.

The boys put on their warm coats and went out to play.

James made a snowball for Frank.

What do you think Frank said?

"Oh, how cold it is! I will take it into the house and warm it."

61

snowflake　　sea　　　drop　　　　sky　　　keep

sleep　　　waterdrop　over

We are snowflakes.

Our home was in the big sea. When we were there, we were drops of water.

We have many brothers.

One day the sun said to us, "Little waterdrops, come up into the sky."

So we went to ride about in the sunshine.

By and by we started home. It was a cold day, so we put on our white coats.

The children saw us come and said, "Oh, see the pretty snowflakes!"

The children are very glad to see us. We play with them. But we work too.

There are many of us, and we all work together.

We come when the flowers sleep in their beds. We put our coats over them and keep them warm.

They are glad to have us come. When it is warm, our work here will be over.

Then we shall go home to the sea.

62

REVIEW EXERCISE

What will the cradle do when the wind blows and the bough breaks?

Why does Albert like his toy horse so much?

Did it hurt Daisy to have her face washed?

What do young swans look like?

Who played with the little red horse which stood on wheels?

What did the crooked man find against the stile?

Was Frank's home in the north or in the south?

How do snowflakes go from the sky to the sea?

FOR SENTENCE MAKING

only

kee

strong

walk

started

tail

coat

every

our

together

fun

reek

baby

pull

almost

63

once　　　mice　　　bell　　　round　　　neck　　　near

hang　　　　　without

Once there was no cat in the house. Then the mice had a good time. When she came, their fun was over. If one only put his head out, her paws were on him at once.

So the mice came together to see what they could do about it.

"Let us hang a bell round her neck," said a little mouse. "It will tell when she is near, and we can hide."

"Good," said the other mice.

Some ran at once to get a bell.

"Now," said an old mouse. "who will hang it round the cat's neck?"

"Not I," said the little mouse. "I am too little."

"Not I," "Not I," said all.

So she still goes without any bell.

64

while　　　　　　　　　happy　　　　　　　gay

Work while you work,

Play while you play,

This is the way

To be happy and gay.

LANGUAGE EXERCISE

What game did the children play?

They______hide and seek.

How many chickens did you count?

I______ten chickens.

Did the fox jump for the grapes?

He______and said they were sour.

live

lived

love

loved

help

helped

look

looked

play

played

work

worked

tail

maid

main

tear

pail

paid

pain

dear

65

met

woman

bite

to-night

stick

beat

fire

burn

ox

drink

kill

rope

gnaw

cheese

began

night

THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG

One day an old woman found a sixpence.

"What shall I do with this little sixpence?" said she. "I will go to market and buy a pig." So she went to market and bought a little white pig.

On the way home they came to a stile and the pig would not jump over.

The old woman went a little way and she met a dog. So she said, "Dog! dog! bite pig! Pig will not jump over the stile, and I shall not get home to-night." But the dog would not.

The old woman went on and she met a stick. So she said, "Stick! stick! beat dog! Dog will not bite pig; pig will not jump over the stile, and I shall not get home to-night." But the stick would not.

She went on and she met a fire. So she said, "Fire! fire! burn stick! Stick will not beat dog; dog will not bite pig; pig will not jump over the stile, and I shall not get home to-night." But the fire would not.

She went on and she met some water. So she said, "Water! water! put out fire! Fire will not burn stick; stick will not beat dog; dog will not bite pig; pig will not jump over the stile, and I shall not get home to-night." But the water would not.

She went on and she met an ox. So she said, "Ox! ox! drink water! Water will not put out fire; fire will not burn stick; stick will not beat dog; dog will not bite pig; pig will not jump over the stile, and I shall not get home to-night." But the ox would not.

She went on and she met a man. So she said, "Man! man! kill ox! Ox will not drink water; water will not put out fire; fire will not burn stick; stick will not beat dog; dog will not bite pig; pig will not jump over the stile, and I shall not get home to-night." But the man would not.

She went on and she met a rope. So she said, "Rope! rope! hang man! Man will not kill ox; ox will not drink water; water will not put out fire; fire will not burn stick; stick will not beat dog; dog will not bite pig; pig will not jump over the stile, and I shall not get home to-night." But the rope would not.

She went on and she met a mouse. So she said, "Mouse! mouse! gnaw rope! Rope will not hang man; man will not kill ox; ox will not drink water; water will not put out fire; fire will not burn stick; stick will not beat dog; dog will not bite pig; pig will not jump over the stile. and I shall not get home to-night."

"I will," said the mouse, "if you will give me some cheese."

The old woman had some cheese with her, and she gave some of it to the mouse. Then the mouse began to gnaw the rope; the rope began to hang the man; the man began to kill the ox; the ox began to drink the water; the water began to put out the fire; the fire began to burn the stick; the stick began to beat the dog; the dog began to bite the pig, and the little white pig jumped over the stile. So the old woman did get home that night after all.

66

TALL OAKS FROM LITTLE ACORNS GRAW

Once I was a little acorn. All summer I stayed with my mother, the oak tree.

One autumn day a strong wind began to blow. It said, "Come with me, little acorn. I Will take you to see the big world."

But the Wind only took me to the ground, and then it went on. There I stayed.

One day a man put his foot on me, so that I went down into the ground.

Then winter came and I went to sleep. It was night for me.

When spring came, my long sleep was over. The sunshine and the warm rain said, "Wake up, little acorn. Spring is here. Come up out of the ground."

So I began to grow and put out some little green leaves.

Many years have gone by. Now I am a tall tree with strong boughs.

Little birds make their homes among my boughs.

Now I have many little children. They all leave me. They go out to see the world, as I did.

Some of them become oak trees. But many of them I do not see again. Do you know what becomes of them?

PHONETIC EXERCISE

when

whim

whine

whet

whit

white

67

born

asleep

sure

corn

sheep

haystack

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn;

The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.

Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep?

He is under the haystack, fast asleep.

Will you wake him? No, not I;

For if I do, he'll be sure to cry.

cow's=cow is

sheep's=sheep is

he'll=he will

where's=where is

68

SIGHT READING

What does the cat say? What do dogs say? What do ducks say?

What would a horse tell you if he could?

I think he would say, "I let you ride on my back. I pull your wagon."

The hen would say, "I give you eggs to eat."

What does the cow do for us?

What does the sheep do for us?

Why did not the mice hang a bell round the cat's neck?

What is the way to be happy and gay?

What did the acorn become after many years?

What did the crooked man find against the stile?

Who was fast asleep under the haystack?

69

wing　　　peep　　　longer　　　birdie　　　till

rest　　　　　rise　　　　　stronger　　　　　limb

What does little birdie say,

In her nest at peep of day?

"Let me fly," says little birdie,

"Mother, let me fly away."

"Birdie, rest a little longer,

Till the little wings are stronger."

So she rests a little longer,

Then she flies away.

What does little baby say,

In her bed at peep of day?

Baby says, like little birdie,

"Let me rise and fly away."

"Baby, sleep a little longer,

Till the little limbs are stronger."

If she sleeps a little longer,

Baby too shall fly away.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

say　　　　　　　says [sez]

70

bean

plant

root

stem

food

light

send

air

Here is a bean.

A plant is asleep in it.

This baby plant has root and stem and leaves.

Would you like to see it wake from its sleep?

Then put the bean in the ground.

The rain will fall on it, and the sun will warm it.

After a while the baby plant will wake and creep up to the light.

Then it will get food. But how?

It will send its roots into the ground, and its stem and leaves into the air.

The root will get food from the ground.

The leaves will get food from the air and sunshine.

The plant will grow big and strong.

71

deep　　　　　lay　　　　　voice　　　dear

heart　　　　　buried　　　　　bright

In the heart of a seed,

Buried deep, so deep,

A dear little plant

Lay fast asleep.

"Wake," said the sunshine,

"And creep to the light."

"Wake," said the voice

Of the raindrops bright.

KATE LOUISE BROWN

FOR SENTENCE MAKING

face

horn

year

eight

peep

cow

word

best

seven

wash

foot

name

gnaw

worm

swan

met

bite

chair

best

beat

rain

read

ring

other

brain

bread

bring

brother

72

dry

men

soft

another

hay

cut

ever

cattle

Do you know what hay is?

Men cut the tall green grass which grows in the meadows.

Then they leave it there to dry in the sun. The dry grass is hay. Cattle like to eat it.

The children like to go out in the fields and play on the soft sweet hay.

They throw it over one another till they are almost buried in it.

Did you ever ride on a hay wagon?

73

cross　　　　want　　　　　soon　　　　barn

ask　　　　　selfish　　　　　manger

One day a cross dog went into a barn and lay down in a manger.

Soon an ox came into the barn. He had been at work and was hungry.

He wanted the hay in the manger, but the cross dog would not let him come near it.

"Do you want that hay?" asked the ox.

"No, I don't eat hay," said the dog.

"How selfish you are!" said the ox. "You can not eat the hay, and you will not let me eat it."

74

wonder　　　　　　　sharp　　　　　　　must

claw　　　　eye　　　　harm　　　　hear

I like little pussy

Her coat is so warm,

And if I don't hurt her,

She'll do me no harm.

Eyes in Daytime

Let me see your soft paws, kitty.

Your claws are sharp.

You can pull them in or put them out.

You keep them in when you creep up near a mouse.

No wonder he does not hear you come. Out come your sharp claws when you spring on him.

I wonder how you see the mice at night!

You can see as well in the night as in the day.

I think you must have very queer eyes.

Eyes at Night

75

SIGHT READING—WHAT THEY WISHED

"I wish I were a buttercup down in the meadow," Kate said. "The grass would make a cradle for me. The wind would rock me all day long. What fun that would be!"

"I do not want to be a buttercup," said Amy. "It has to stay in the meadow all the time. I want to see the world. I wish I were a butterfly.

"I could fly about everywhere, and go from flower to flower in the sunshine. I am sure that would make me happy."

"What would you like to be, Rose?"

"I like the yellow buttercups," said Rose, "and the butterflies too. But I like best to be my mother's little girl, and have her to love me. That is best of all."

76

mamma

papa

sing

try

tried

grew

side

got

Mr. Robin had a little round nest in an oak tree. This was his house.

His four baby robins lived in it. They grew very fast. Soon the house was too little for them.

"It is time for you to fly," said Papa Robin.

"Oh, we can not fly," said the robins.

"You can, if you try," said Papa.

One young robin got up on the side of the nest.

"Oh, no, I can not fly. I shall fall."

"Try, try to fly," said his papa.

The robin did try. He flew into a tree.

"Oh, what fun!" said the little bird. "I like to fly. See me go!"

Then the other robins tried.

In a little while they could all fly.

The robins could fly, but they could not sing.

Papa Robin said to them, "Come, little robins, it is time for you to sing."

"No, Papa, we can not sing."

"Oh, yes, little ones, you can. Hear the other birds sing. Look at the pretty flowers and the blue sky. Then you will want to sing. Hear me sing to you. Now sing for me."

One little robin did sing.

Then they all sang with their mamma.

A little girl came by. "Why, hear the birds sing!" she said. "How happy they are!"

PHONETIC EXERCISE

then

thee

this

these

than

thine

that

those

77

doth　　　thing　　　poor　　　sit　　　hive　　　himself

The north wind doth blow,

And we shall have snow,

And what will the robin do then?

Poor thing!

He will sit in a barn,

And to keep himself warm,

Will hide his head under his wing,

Poor thing!

The north wind doth blow,

And we shall have snow,

And what will the honey-bee do?

Poor thing!

In his hive he will stay,

Till the snow's gone away,

And then he'll come out in the spring,

Poor thing!

78

garden

swing

boat

wide

roof

country

pleasantest

child

far

story

bad

picture

bring

pleasant

Don't you like to swing?

I think it is the pleasantest thing a child can do.

Sometimes I play my swing is a boat. The wind blows. My boat rises and falls on the sea.

Sometimes I play I am a bird. I fly high in the air.

Birds can look down on woods, gardens, and roofs of houses. They see far and wide over the country. I wish I could fly as high as a bird can.

The dog in the manger was cross and selfish.

But all dogs are not bad.

From the painting by sir Edwin Landseer　　　　　　Engraved by Walter Aikman

Saved

Here is the picture of a good dog.

I wonder if any child can tell a story about this picture.

I play with the flowers in the garden. I rock the birds in their nests on the boughs.

Sometimes I break boughs from big trees, and blow roofs from houses.

I bring rain and snow. I bring pleasant days and sunshine too.

You can not see me, but you hear me. No one knows where I come from or where I go.

79

picnic

city

river

Brown

never

friends

fell

jam

bread

such

This year Amy Brown had a picnic on the river.

Two of her friends, who live far away in the city, were with her for the summer. She asked some of her little friends in the country to come, too.

The day of the picnic was bright and beautiful. The children all went down to the side of the river.

Mr. Brown got into the boat. He helped the children in and away they went.

The city children had never been on the river. So they saw many pretty things which were new to them.

Some swans were on the river. Rose tried to throw some food to them, and almost fell into the deep water. Then the girls saw some sheep in a meadow near by.

One of the city children said, "Oh, what queer little cows!"

"They are not cows," said Amy. "They are sheep."

They went on by green meadows and by beautiful fields of corn.

At last they got out under a tall oak tree. They pulled flowers and played till they were hungry.

Then they all sat down on the soft grass.

Mr. Brown took out the things to eat.

They had chicken, bread and butter with jam on it, and fruit.

Then they played hide and seek and other games.

After a while they were glad to rest and hear Mr. Brown tell a story.

What a happy day they had!

At last it was time to go home.

"We have had such a good time!" all the children said.

"Thank you, Mr. Brown, for our pleasant picnic."

PHONETIC EXERCISE

find

told

mild

mind

sold

wild

kind

hold

child

anything

something

everything

anywhere

somewhere

everywhere

80

laugh

great

tie

roar

free

set

heard

deed

thought

word

kind

One warm day a great lion lay asleep near his den.

A little mouse played near by.

At last he ran over the lion's paw, and the lion caught him.

"Do not kill me, Mr. Lion," the mouse said. "Let me go now and some time I may be of help to you."

The old lion laughed. "How can such a little thing ever be of any help to me?" he said.

But he set the little mouse free.

Not long after this some men caught the lion.

They tied him with strong ropes and then went away for a while.

When the lion found that he was tied fast, he roared and roared.

The little mouse heard him and ran to him.

When he saw how the lion was caught, he began to gnaw the ropes.

At last he set the lion free.

"Once you laughed at me," he said, "but now you see a little mouse may help a great lion, after all."

Kind hearts are the gardens,

Kind thoughts are the roots,

Kind words are the blossoms,

Kind deeds are the fruits.

81

moon

shining

lamp

shape

week

smaller

bow

bigger

grown

Oh, look at the moon,

She is shining up there;

O Mother, she looks

Like a lamp in the air.

Last week she was smaller,

And shaped like a bow,

But now she's grown bigger,

And round like an O.

(ELIZA LEE FOLLEN)

The moon shines.

The moon is shining.

The birds and flowers sleep.

The birds and flowers are sleeping.

The children go to bed.

The children are going to bed.

82

lady　　　tea　　　talk　　　than　　　more　　true

you'd　　　you　　　would

It is raining this morning.

Kate can not go out, so she is playing with her dolls at home.

She plays she is a lady like Mamma.

The dolls are friends who have come to take tea with her.

She gives them tea and talks to them.

She has Rose May sit by her and she talks to her more than to the others.

Now, Rose May is not the beautiful wax doll.

She is the old doll. She has only one foot, and the pretty color is gone from her face.

Poor Rose May!

Do you wonder why Kate is so kind to her?

Kate knows that a lady is kind to every one and true to her old friends.

FOR SENTENCE MAKING

eyes

wish

picture

limb

buried

boat

neck

cheese

harm

sharp

hive

grew

laugh

papa

daisy

moon

tied

shaped

voice

bring

name

stem

threw

stone

cattle

sick

week

cherry

bean

another

83

sailor

Japan

ship

Spain

organ

speckled

Of speckled eggs the birdie sings

And nests among the trees;

The sailor sings of ropes and things

In ships upon the seas.

The children sing in far Japan,

The children sing in Spain;

The organ with the organ man

Is singing in the rain.

(R. L. STEVENSON)

84

first　　　skin　　　hard　　　leg　　　thin　　hair

At first a fly is a little white egg.

Then it becomes a worm.

This worm is very hungry, and eats all it can.

Then it goes to sleep. Its skin becomes hard, and its head, legs, and wings grow.

At last it breaks its hard skin and comes out a fly.

Flies have two wings and six legs.

Look at a fly and see how light and thin its wings are. But they are very strong.

Here is a picture of a fly's foot.

Look at the little hairs on it. These hairs help the fly to walk up the wall.

85

secret　　　crawl　　　yet　　　believe　　　ope

watch　　　use　　　bye　　　　spider

Baby bye,

Here's a fly;

Let us watch him, you and I.

How he crawls

Up the walls,

Yet he never falls!

I believe with six such legs

You and I could walk on eggs.

Flies can see

More than we,

So how bright their eyes must be!

Little fly,

Ope your eye;

Spiders are near by.

For a secret I can tell,

Spiders never use flies well.

Then away! Do not stay.

Little fly, good-day!

(THEODORE TILTON)

86

hand　　　held　　　wishes　　　fairy　　　kiss

One day Rose ran in from the garden. She had something in her hands. She held it so that no one could see it.

"O Mamma," she said, "let us play three wishes. Play that you are a poor old woman, and I am a fairy."

Her mother laughed and said, "Very well, dear."

"I will give you three wishes," said Rose. "Wish for something good a rose, an apple or anything."

"First, I wish for a rose," said her mother.

"Here it is," said Rose, and she gave her a beautiful rose. " Now wish again!"

"Let me think," said her mother. "I wonder what I shall say this time! Oh, I believe I shall wish for an apple."

"Good, good!" said Rose, and gave her a big apple. "Is it sour?"

"No, it is very sweet. Thank you, dear," said her mother, "but I have another wish yet."

"But, Mamma, I don't know how to play any more wishes," said Rose.

"I do," said her mother. "I wish for a kiss."

Rose kissed her again and again.

"That was the best wish of all," said her mother.

87

SIGHT READING

First, I will tell you what I do. Then I am sure you can tell my name.

You see me almost every day in the year.

I am very bright and very big.

I am much bigger than the world on which you live.

I am very far away from you. That is why I look smaller than I am.

Your world would be cold without me.

There would be no trees or flowers.

I make the plants grow.

I make the fruit and corn ripe.

I give light to all things.

Now, can you tell my name?

88

off　　　just　　　blew　　　cloud　　　shone

The North Wind once said to the Sun: "I am stronger than you."

"Let us see." said the Sun.

Just then a man came by.

"I can make that man take off his coat," said the Wind.

He blew as hard as he could, yet the man only said, "How the wind blows! I am glad I have such a warm coat."

"Now let me try," said the Sun.

So he came out from a cloud and shone as bright as he could.

"How warm it is!" the man said, and took off his coat.

89

captain

soldier

gun

enemy

fight

march

call

sword

One day the boys and girls played soldier. Albert was the captain. He had a horse and a sword.

Frank had a gun, and Rose had a flag. May blew a horn for them to march by.

When Albert said "March!" they marched round and round.

"Now," Albert said, "we will go to fight the enemy. We will play the chairs are the enemy. You must fight like good soldiers."

So the soldiers marched off to fight. They killed all the enemy. They did not leave one on his feet.

What fun it is to play soldier!

Just then Mamma came in.

"What are you doing, children?" she said.

"We are not children, Mamma," said Albert. "We are soldiers, and I am the captain. If you call us children, the soldiers will cut your head off!"

"Dear me! I did not know you were soldiers," Mamma said. "If you have been fighting, you must be hungry now. Shall I give you and your soldiers tea?"

"Yes, thank you," the captain said. "The soldiers want food. They have to march miles and miles and do great deeds; so they would like jam on their bread."

90

REVIEW EXERCISE

Who gnawed the ropes and set the lion free?

What shines like a lamp in the air?

Why was Kate so kind to poor Rose May?

Who was captain when the children played soldier?

Tell about the old woman and the pig which she bought with her sixpence.

Tell the story of the cross, selfish dog in the manger.

FOR SENTENCE MAKING

ship

bad

tiger

crooked

fairy

fell

deep

sailor

speckled

organ

kiss

swan

sharp

thoughts

spider

ride

men

crawl

pleasant

sword

hair

mew

watch

believe

wheel

gun

use

wide

rabbit

hand

city

bite

hard

secret

lady

91

scratch

grain

bill

ate

mill

thresh

flour

wheat

nor

bake

As Little Red Hen scratched the ground, she found a grain of wheat.

"Who will plant this?" she asked.

"I will not do it," said the cat.

"Nor I," said the dog and the pig.

"Then I will," said Little Red Hen.

So she buried the wheat in the ground. It grew up yellow and ripe.

"The wheat is ripe now," said Little Red Hen. "Who will cut and thresh it?"

"I will not," said the pig.

"Nor I," said the cat and dog.

"Then I will," said she.

So she cut it with her bill and threshed it with her wings.

Then she asked, "Who will take this wheat to mill?"

"I will not," said the dog.

"Nor I," said the cat and the pig.

"Then I will," said Little Red Hen.

So she took the wheat to mill and had it ground. Then she took the flour home.

"Who will make some bread with this flour?" she asked.

"Not I," said the dog.

"Nor I," said the pig and the cat.

"Then I will," said Little Red Hen.

So she made and baked the bread.

Then she said, "Now let us see who will eat this bread."

"We will," said dog, cat, and pig.

"To be sure you would," said Little Red Hen, "if you could get it."

Then she called her chickens, and they ate all the bread.

92

THE SWING

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

Till I can see so wide,

Rivers and trees and cattle, and all

Over the countryside—

Till I look down on the garden green,

Down on the roof so brown—

Up in the air I go flying again,

Up in the air and down!

(ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON)

WORDS IN FIRST READER

The following list will be useful for review exercises in enunciation, pronunciation, spelling, and language work.

A

about

acorn

after

again

against

air

Albert

almost

all

am

among

Amy

an

and

another

any

anything

apple

are

as

ask

asleep

at

ate

autumn

away

B

baby

back

bad

bake

ball

barn

be

bean

beat

beautiful

become

bed

bee

been

began

believe

bell

best

big

bigger

bill

bird

birdie

bite

black

blew

blossom

blow

blue

bluebird

boat

book

bough

bought

bow

boy

bread

break

bright

bring

brother

brown

bud

buried

burn

but

butter

buttercup

butterfly

buy

by

bye

C

call

came

can

captain

cat

cattle

catch

caught

chair

cheese cherries

cherry

chicken

child

children

chirp

city

claw

cloud

cluck

coat

cold

color

come

corn

could

count

country

cow

cradle

crawl

creep

crooked

cross

cry

cup

cut

D

daisy

day

dear

deed

deep

den

did

do

does

dog

doll

dloth

down

drink

drop

dry

duck

E

eat

egg

eight

enemy

ever

every

eye

F

face

fairy

fall

far

fast

feet

fell

field

fight

find

fire

first

five

flag

flew

flies

flour

flower

fly

food

foot

for

found

four

fox

Frank

free

friend

frog

from

fruit

fun

G

game

garden

gave

gay

get

girl

give

glad

gnaw

go

goes

gone

good

got

grain

grapes

grass

great

green

grew

ground

grow

grown

gun

H

had

hair

hand

hang

happy

hard harm

has

have

hay

haystack

he

head

hear

heard

heart

held

help

hen

Henry

her

here

hide

high

him

himself

his

hive

home

honey

horn

horse

house

how

hungry

hurt

I

if

in

into

is

it

J

jam

James

Japan

jump

just

K

Kate

keep

kill

kind

kiss

kite

kitty

know

L

lady

lamp

lark

last

laugh

lay

leaves

leg

let

light

like

limb

lion

little

live

London

long

longer

look

love

M

made

make

mamma

man

manger

many

march

market

may

me

meadow

meadowlark

men

met

mew

mice

mile

mill

moon

more

morning

mother

mouse

Mr.

much

must

my

N

name

near

neck

nest

never

new

night

nine

no

nor

north

not

now

O

oak

of off

oh

old

on

once

one

only

ope

or

orange

organ

other

our

out

over

ox

P

papa

paw

peep

picnic

picture

pig

plant

play

pleasant

pleasantest

pond

poor

pretty

pull

pussy

put

Q

quack

queen

queer

R

rabbit

rain

rainbow

ran

read

red

redbreast

rest

ride

ripe

rise

river

roar

robin

rock

rockabye

roof

root

rope

rose

round

run

S

said

sailor

sang

sat

saw

say

says

school

scratch

sea

secret

see

seed

seek

seen

selfish

send

set

seven

shall

shape

sharp

she

sheep

shining

shine

ship

shone

sick

side

sing

sit

six

sixpence

skin

sky

sleep

smaller

snow

snowflake

so

soft

soldier

some

sometimes

soon

sour

south

Spain

speckled

spider

spring

started

stay

stem

stick

stile

still

stones stood

story

strong

stronger

such

summer

sun

sunshine

sure

swan

sweet

swim

swing

sword

T

tail

take

talk

tall

tea

tell

ten

than

thank

that

the

their

them

then

there

these

they

thin

thing

think

this

thought

three

thresh

threw

throw

tie

tiger

till

time

to

together

to-night

too

took

top

toy

tree

tried

true

try

two

U

under

up

upon

us

use

V

very

violet

voice

W

wagon

wake

walk

wall

want

warm

was

wash

watch

water

waterdrop

wax

way

we

week

well

went

were

what

wheat

wheel

when

where

which

while

white

who

why

wide

will

wind

wing

winter

wish

wishes

with

without

woman

wonder

word

work

world

worm

would

Y

year

yellow

yes

yet

you

young

your

读累了记得休息一会哦~

公众号：古德猫宁李

- 电子书搜索下载

- 书单分享

- 书友学习交流

网站：沉金书屋 https://www.chenjin5.com

- 电子书搜索下载

- 电子书打包资源分享

- 学习资源分享

A great consideration governing the choice of all selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is to minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

— Harry Pratt Judson

(The 2nd president of the University of Chicago)

出版策划：神鸟文化

责任编辑：伍绍东

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森

为美国学生选编的经典文学读本

This series of literature readers is edited by the president of the University of Chicago Harry Pratt Judson, as to supply almost the only reading of many children, and stimulate their taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classical tales and fables are largely used. Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different part of the United States, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediated, and advanced grades.

We believe that Graded Literature Readers disclose a broader knowledge of literature, better taste and judgment in its selections.

010-62627373

第2册目录

CONTENTS

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 THE LARKS AND THE FARMER

2 THE GOOD SOLDIER

3 LITTLE KITTY

4 A BIRD'S STORY

5 THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER

6 THE NEW MOON

7 CHICKEN-LITTLE

8 THE ROBINS

9 THE VOICE IN THE WOOD

10 THE STORY OF A LEAF

11 THE WIND AND THE LEAVES

12 THE LITTLE PINE TREE

13 IN A MINUTE

14 SHEEP

15 GOOD-BYE, PRETTY BUTTERFLY

16 BESSIE AND THE BIRDS

17 ONE GOOD TRICK

18 THE THREE BILLY GOATS GRUFF

19 THE GOOSE AND THE GOLDEN EGGS

20 HOW TO DO IT

21 THE WAY TO HAVE A GOOD GAME

22 A USEFUL ANIMAL

23 THE COW

24 A KIND BROTHER

25 THE CAT, THE MONKEY, AND THE CHESTNUTS

26 BIRD THOUGHTS

27 LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

28 TWO LITTLE KITTENS

29 JAMES AND HIS ARMY

30 FEATHERS

31 THE CLUCKING HEN

32 A KIND GIRL

33 HABITS OF FLOWERS

34 THE BEE AND THE FLOWER

35 THE DOG AND HIS SHADOW

36 ONLY A SNAIL

37 LITTLE DUCKS

38 THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE

39 BOATS SAIL ON THE RIVERS

40 TOO MANY DOLLS

41 THE LOST DOLL

42 THE SNOW MAN

43 LITTLE WHITE LILY

44 WASPS

45 THE WASP AND THE BEE

46 THE SONG OF THE BEE

47 THE THREE BEARS

48 MY SHADOW

49 THE GARDEN SPIDER

50 THE YOUNG ARTIST

51 LITTLE THINGS

52 HALF CHICK

53 WHERE GO THE BOATS?

54 FROGS

55 PICCOLA

56 A TALK ABOUT REDCOAT

57 WHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST?

58 THE SHOEMAKER AND THE ELVES

59 A SPRING MORNING

60 THE TOWN MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE

61 JOHN'S NEW HORSE

62 LADY MOON

63 LITTLE GEORGE WASHINGTON

64 AMERICA

65 THE MILKMAID

66 THE GOLDEN TOUCH

67 SWEET AND LOW

WORDS IN SECOND READER

返回总目录

Harry Pratt Judson (1849 - 1927) was an American educator and historian, born at Jamestown, New York, and educated at Williams College. He taught in the Troy High School in Troy, New York in 1870-1885 and was professor of history and lecturer on pedagogic at the University of Minnesota in 1885-1892. At the University of Chicago he became professor of political science and head dean of the colleges in 1892 and head of the political science department and dean of the faculties of arts, literature, and science in 1894. He served as the acting president of the University of Chicago between 1906 and 1907 and as the president of the University of Chicago from 1907 until 1923.

Judson became a member of the General Education Board in 1906 and of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913. He edited a series of readers for school students, and wrote some great books.

欢迎访问家庭学校微博／博客

http://weibo.com/318999618

http://blog.sina.com.cn/homeschoolnow

GRADED

LITERATURE

READERS

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森主编的经典文学读本

美国学生

文学读本

HARRY PRATT JUDSON

〔美〕哈里·P·贾德森／编

天津人民出版社

PREFACE

It is believed that the Graded Literature Readers will commend themselves to thoughtful teachers by their careful grading, their sound methods, and the variety and literary character of their subject matter.

They have been made not only in recognition of the growing discontent with the selections in the older readers, but also with an appreciation of the value of the educational features which many of those readers contained. Their chief points of divergence from other new books, therefore, are their choice of subject matter and their conservatism in method.

A great consideration governing the choice of all the selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classic tales and fables, to which constant allusion is made in literature and daily life, are largely used.

Nature study has received due attention. The lessons about scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

The careful drawings of plants and animals, and the illustrations in color——many of them photographs from nature——will be attractive to the pupil and helpful in connection with nature study.

No expense has been spared to maintain a high standard in the illustrations, and excellent engravings of masterpieces are given throughout the series with a view to quickening appreciation of the best in art.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different parts of the country, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediate, and advanced grades. While it is impossible to give in every case credit where credit is due, mention must be made of the valuable suggestions of Miss M. Adella Pinney, Roger Sherman School, New Haven, Conn., and Miss Florence M. Holbrook, Principal of Forestville School, Chicago, Ill.

INTRODUCTION

It has been possible in the Second Reader to give more selections of a purely literary character than in the First. Among less familiar stories it has been thought wise to include a number of the old-time favorites, which are perennially fresh and charming to children.

Some of the stories are rather longer than those usually given for this grade. These have been found more interesting to pupils than the usual short and fragmentary selections. Any inconvenience which might arise from their length is removed by their careful division into sections.

The lists at the head of the lessons include all new words, except simple derivatives formed by the addition of one or two letters to the primitives. Pupils are taught the formation of these by simple exercises early in the book.

Some lessons may appear a little difficult owing to the number of words at the head of the selections. It has been thought better, however, to include every one of the new words. The teacher will exercise her own discretion as to assigning them for study. In actual use the book will be found no higher in grade than other books which omit word lists entirely or give only a few of the more difficult words at the head of each lesson.

The frequent language and phonetic exercises are varied and suggestive, and are devised so that the teacher can expand or contract them at will. Words which do not occur in the text of the reading lessons proper, are occasionally used in the phonetic exercises to give practice in combining familiar sounds.

The last pages are given to a list of words used in this book which were not in the First Reader. This will be valuable for review and for drill in pronunciation and spelling; it will also prepare the pupil for the use of a dictionary.

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

Fables

The Larks and the Farmer

The Ant and the Grasshopper

One Good Trick

The Goose and the Golden Eggs

The Cat, the Monkey, and the Chestnuts

The Dog and his Shadow

The Hare and the Tortoise

The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse

The Milkmaid

Fairy and Classical Tales

Chicken-little

The Little Pine Tree

The Three Billy Goats Gruff

Little Red Riding Hood

The Snow Man

The Three Bears

Half Chick

The Shoemaker and the Elves

The Golden Touch

Child Stories

The Good Soldier

The Voice in the Wood

In a Minute

Bessie and the Birds

The Way to have a Good Game

A Kind Brother

James and his Army

Too Many Dolls

The Young Artist

Piccola

History and Biography

A Kind Girl

Little George Washington

Nature Study

A Bird's Story

The Story of a Leaf

Sheep

A Useful Animal

Feathers

Habits of Flowers

Only a Snail

Wasps

The Wasp and the Bee

The Garden Spider

Frogs

A Talk about Redcoat

John's New Horse

Poems

Little Kitty

The New Moon

The Robins

The Wind and the Leaves

Good-bye, Pretty Butterfly

How to Do It

The Cow

Bird Thoughts

Two Little Kittens

The Clucking Hen

The Bee and the Flower

Little Ducks

Boats Sail on the Rivers

The Lost Doll

Little White Lily

The Song of the Bee

My Shadow

Little Things

Where Go the Boats?

Who Stole the Bird's Nest

A Spring Morning

The City and the Garden Mouse

Lady Moon

America

Sweet and Low

1

THE LARKS AND THE FARMER

done

wait

might

should

cousin

farmer

better

1. A lark once had her nest in a wheat field. Every day she flew off to find food for her young ones.

2. One day when she was away the farmer came into the field.

3. "This wheat is ripe," he said. "I will get my friends to help me cut it."

4. When the lark came home, her young ones chirped, "O mother, we must fly away at once. The farmer has gone for his friends. They are to help him cut his wheat."

5. "Oh," said their mother, "then we can stay here a little longer."

6. After a time the farmer came again.

"My friends have not come," he said. "It will be better not to wait for them. I will go to my cousins and get them to help me."

7. That night, the little larks said, "O mother, the farmer has gone to get his cousins to help him. Must we go now?"

8. "Oh, no," said the mother. "We can still stay a little longer."

9. In a day or two the farmer came back.

"My cousins have not come," he said. "This work should be done at once. I see I might as well do it myself. In the morning I will come and cut this wheat."

10. That night the young larks said, "O mother, the farmer says he will cut the wheat himself. Should we not go?"

11. "Yes, my children," said the mother lark. "Now we must fly away at once. The wheat is sure to be cut. The farmer is to do it himself."

2

THE GOOD SOLDIER

kept

box

kitten

redder

pressed

hat

squeak

wood

"What a good soldier;" said Frank.

1. The soldier was made of wood. He had a red coat and a black hat.

2. He stood still and held up his gun. He never took his eyes away from Frank's toy kitten.

3. The kitten sat on a little box. When any one pressed the box, there was a squeak.

4. You might think it was the kitten that squeaked. Maybe the little soldier could tell if it was the kitten, but he did not.

5. Frank had set the soldier to watch the kitten. As long as the soldier held up his gun and kept his eyes on her, she did not try to run away.

6. But if he had put down his gun, who knows what she would have done?

7. "What a good little soldier!" said Frank. "I can run out and play now, for he will watch my kitten."

8. "Yes," said Frank's mother; "he will watch better than a little boy I know. The little boy was to watch the baby. But he went off to play with his ball, and let the baby burn its hand."

9. The little soldier still stood there, and did not say a word. He kept on looking at the kitten. His coat looked as red as ever, but Frank's face was redder. Frank was thinking of the baby's hand.

————

sing

sang

sung

song

ring

rang

rung

long

king

hang

hung

gong

3

LITTLE KITTY

row

crow

pearl

frolic

spied

ago

fro

teeth

mousie

bit

In the barn she used to frolic.

1. Once there was a little kitty,

White as the snow;

In the barn she used to frolic.

Long time ago.

2. In the barn a little mousie

Ran to and fro;

For she heard the kitty coming,

Long time ago.

3. Two black eyes had little kitty,

Black as a crow;

And they spied the little mousie,

Long time ago.

4. Nine pearl teeth had little kitty,

All in a row;

And they bit the little mousie,

Long time ago.

5. When the teeth bit little mousie,

Little mousie cried, "Oh!"

But she got away from kitty,

Long time ago.

————

cry

cried

spy

spied

————

Copy and memorize

4

A BIRD'S STORY

people

stairs

crumb

late

door

early

meet

always

hill

few

Ⅰ

1. Would you like to hear me tell a story? I will tell you where I live, what I do, and what I see.

2. My little round house is up in a tree. It has no doors, no upstairs, and no downstairs.

3. "Oh, oh!" I hear you say. "We think your house must be all upstairs, for it is a long way up in the tree."

4. But you see I do not go up any stairs to get to my house. I fly into it when I have been out.

5. I always go home early, and never sit up late at night. That is not good for me any more than it is good for boys and girls.

Birds asleep

Ⅱ

6. I go out very early in the morning to look for something to eat.

That is the best time to find worms, which I like very much.

7. Now and then I find a few crumbs which some kind little boy or girl has put out for me.

A robin catching a worm

8. As I fly about, I see all kinds of things and people.

9. I see horses, cows, sheep, dogs, and rabbits in the fields. I see people going to work, and children going to school.

10. You like to go out for a walk, but I go out for a fly. How queer it would be if you were to fly home from school!

11. I should not like to meet you up in the air. But I know I shall not, for you have no wings.

12. I can fly over the houses, over the trees, and over the hills and far away.

13. I cannot stay to tell you any more now. I must fly home to my nest.

People going to work

5

THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER

ant

wise

dance

expect

through

full

lazy

knocked

grasshopper

both

themselves

Ⅰ

1. An ant and a grasshopper both lived in a field. In summer the ant worked to lay up food for winter. The grasshopper played all day long.

2. "Why do you work so hard, friend Ant?" he asked. "I dance and sing all day. Come and play with me. It is very pleasant."

3. "Yes," said the ant, "but if I play in summer, what shall I do for food in winter?"

4. "Oh, it is not winter yet," said the grasshopper, and off he went to play.

Ⅱ

5. But at last winter came. The ant could not work, and the grasshopper could not play. But the ant had her house full of food.

6. The poor grasshopper was both cold and hungry. So he went to the ant to ask for food.

He knocked at the door.

7. "Who is there?" called the ant.

"Your friend, the grasshopper. I have come to ask for something to eat."

8. "I have no food to give you. You sang all through the summer when I was at work. Now you may go and dance."

9. She was a wise ant and what she said was true.

10. Lazy people should not expect others to work for them. They should work for themselves.

————

Write answers to these questions:

1. What did the ant do in summer?

2. What was the grasshopper doing then?

3. What did the grasshopper do in winter?

4. What did he say to the ant?

5. What did the ant say to him?

6

THE NEW MOON

Nicely

middle

hope

next

roam

before

end

hold

1. Dear mother, how pretty

The moon looks to-night!

She was never so pretty before;

Her two little horns

Are so sharp and so bright,

I hope she'll not grow any more.

2. If I were up there,

With you and my friends,

I'd rock in it nicely, you'd see;

I'd sit in the middle

And hold by both ends;

Oh, what a bright cradle 't would be!

3. And there we would stay

In the beautiful skies,

And through the bright clouds we would roam;

We would see the sun set,

And see the sun rise,

And on the next rainbow come home.

(ELIZA LEE FOLLEN)

7

CHICKEN-LITTLE

king

told

lives

maid

news

show

right

haste

part

Ⅰ

1. One day Chicken-little went to the woods, where she had no right to be. As she was scratching about, an acorn fell upon her head.

2. "Oh, dear," she said, "the sky is falling! I must run and tell the king."

Chicken-little and Hen-len

Cock-lock

3. So off she ran as fast as she could. Soon she met Hen-len.

4. "Hen-len, Hen-len!" she cried. "The sky is falling. I saw it; I heard it; and part of it fell on my poor head. Let us go and tell the king."

5. So Hen-len ran with her. Then they met Cock-lock.

6. "O Cock-lock," said Hen-len, "run with us! The sky is falling."

7. "Why! How do you know?" asked Cock-lock.

8. "Chicken-little told me. She saw it; she heard it; and part of it fell on her poor head."

Ⅱ

9. Then all three ran as fast as they could. On the way they met Duck-luck.

10. "Where are you going in such great haste?" she asked.

11. "O Duck-luck, run with us! The sky is falling!" Cock-lock said.

"Who told you so?" asked Duck-luck.

Duck-luck

12. "Hen-len told me. She had the news from Chicken-little. Chicken-little saw it and heard it, and part of it fell on her poor head."

13. So Duck-luck ran with them. Soon they met Drake-lake.

14. "O Drake-lake," said Duck-luck, "have you not heard that the sky is falling?"

"No, no!" cried Drake-lake. "Who said so?"

Drake-lake

15. "Cock-lock told me," said Duck-luck, "and Hen-len told him. Hen-len had it from Chicken-little; she saw it and heard it, and part of it fell on her poor head."

Goose-loose

Gander-lander

Ⅲ

16. And so all five ran as if for their lives. Then they met Goose-loose.

17. "Come, Goose-loose," cried Drake-lake, "run with us to the king. The sky is falling!"

18. "How do you know?" asked Goose-loose. "Duck-luck told me." "And how did Duck-luck know?"

19. "Cock-lock told her. He heard it from Hen-len, who had it from Chicken-little. Chicken-little saw it and heard it, and part of it fell on her poor head."

Turkey-lurkey

20. They ran on till they met Gander-lander. When they told him their story, he ran with them. Then they met Turkey-lurkey. He too ran with them. So they all ran and ran.

Ⅳ

21. At last they met Fox-lox.

"Where are you going, my pretty maids?" said he, "and why are you running so fast?"

22. "O Fox-lox!" cried all of them at once, "the sky is falling, and we are going to tell the king."

23. "That is great news," said Fox-lox. "Come with me and I will show you the way."

24. So they all went with him. But he only took them into his den. Then he and his little ones ate up poor Chicken-little, Hen-len, Cock-lock, Duck-luck, Drake-lake, Goose-loose, Gander-lander, and Turkey-lurkey. So they never saw the king to tell him that the sky was falling.

They all went with him.

————

Chicken-little

Duck-luck

Gander-lander

Hen-len

Drake-lake

Turkey-lurkey

Cock-lock

Goose-loose

Fox-lox

8

THE ROBINS

1. One day the sun was warm and bright,

No cloud was in the sky,

Cock Robin said, "My little dears,

It's time for you to fly."

And every little robin said,

"I'll try, I'll try, I'll try."

2. I know a child, and who she is

I'll tell you by and by;

When Mother says, "Do this, or that,"

She says, "What for?" and "Why?"

She'd be a better child by far

If she would say, "I'll try."

"It's time for you to fly."

9

THE VOICE IN THE WOOD

hurrah

speak

gentle

angry

to-day

often

father

echo

playmate

Ⅰ

1. Albert was at play all by himself in a field near a wood. He was so happy that he called out, "Hurrah! hurrah!"

2. A voice from the wood said, "Hurrah! hurrah!"

3. Albert thought the voice came from some boy in the wood. He looked all about, but could not see any one. Then he called out, "Who are you?"

4. "Who are you?" said the voice.

5. "What is your name?" called Albert.

"What is your name?" came back from the wood.

"Hurrah! hurrah!"

6. Albert was getting angry. So he called out at the top of his voice, "You are a goose."

Back came the voice, "You are a goose."

7. At this Albert was very angry. He looked everywhere; no one was to be seen.

Ⅱ

8. So he went home and told his father that some one in the wood had called him names.

"Did he speak first?" asked his father.

9. "No," said Albert. "I was just calling out 'Hurrah!' and he began to say 'Hurrah!' too. I could not see him, so I asked 'Who are you?' Then he called out 'Who are you?' And everything I said he said after me."

10. "There was only one boy there, Albert," said his father, "and that was yourself.

"What you heard to-day was the echo of your voice. If you had used kind and gentle words, you would have heard kind and gentle words from the echo.

11. "This was the echo from the wood, Albert But you will often hear an echo from your playmates. They will speak to you as you do to them. Try always to speak to them as you wish them to speak to you."

10

THE STORY OF A LEAF

leaf

mouth

breath

branch

shell

open

dress

blanket

wrapped

wear

close

breeze

brought

Jack

Frost

Ⅰ

1. I am a leaf. My home is in a great tree. All winter I was wrapped close and warm in a blanket. I was in a little brown cradle rocked by the breeze.

2. Would you like to see a leaf cradle? Next autumn break off a branch of a tree, and see if you cannot find a leaf bud.

Leaf buds

3. Break it open and you will see in it some soft white down. That is the blanket. The little leaf is wrapped warn and close in it. The brown shell that you break is the cradle.

4. I was rocked all winter in my cradle on the bough. Then spring came with its warm sunshine and soft rains.

5. I threw off my blanket, got up out of my cradle, and put on my pretty green dress. I was no longer a baby leaf.

A leaf bud cut open

Ⅱ

6. Then I wanted food. How do you think I got it?

7. The roots of the tree found some for me. The stems and branches and boughs brought it up to me. Some of my food I get for myself from the air.

8. I have many mouths. They are so little that you cannot see them. But I could not do without them. Could you do without your one big mouth?

Breathing pores of a leaf

9. I take in food through my little mouths, and I breathe through them, too. Like you, I must breathe as well as eat if I am to live and grow.

10. I had on my pretty green dress all summer. Now it is autumn, and Jack Frost has dressed me in other colors. I shall not wear these colors very long.

A horse chestnut leaf

11. I must go down to the ground and put on my brown winter dress. My work up here will be ended, but I shall have work to do down there.

12. Did you think that all I had to do was to dance in the wind and play in the sunshine? I work all the year round. See if you can find out some of the work that I do.

Copy these sentences and fill in the missing words:

In____the leaf is in the little leaf cradle.

In____the warm sunshine and rain make the leaf grow.

In____the leaf wears a green dress.

In____the leaf is dressed in yellow.

————

Use these words in sentences:

leaf

blanket

dress

mouth

————

bring

bringing

brought

think

thinking

thought

buy

buying

bought

11

THE WIND AND THE LEAVES

song

loud

earthy

fluttering

knew

laid

o'er

content

coverlet

gold

1. "Come, little leaves," said the wind one day.

"Come o'er the meadows with me, and play;

Put on your dresses of red and gold,—

Summer is gone, and the days grow cold."

2. Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud call,

Down they came fluttering, one and all;

Over the brown fields they danced and flew,

Singing the soft little songs they knew.

3. Dancing and flying the little leaves went;

Winter had called them, and they were content.

Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,

The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.

(GEORGE COOPER)

12

THE LITTLE PINE TREE

pine

most

bare

pieces

forest

awoke

covered

fresh

needle

fine

glass

goat

even

quite

broken

sad

Ⅰ

1. There was once a pretty little pine tree in the forest. It had needles that were green all the year round. But it was not content with these.

2. "I do not like needles," said the little tree. "They are not even so pretty as leaves.

3. "I should like to be the most beautiful tree in the forest. I should like to have leaves of shining gold."

4. The next morning when the little tree awoke, it no longer had needles. It had leaves of gold, which shone in the sunlight. How happy it was!

5. "No other tree is so fine as I am," it said, and that was quite true.

Ⅱ

6. But after a while a man walking through the forest saw the leaves of gold.

He ran at once to the tree and began to pull them off.

7. When he went away, the poor little tree was quite bare.

The man took the leaves of gold.

8. "I see it is not well to have gold leaves," it said. "They are very beautiful, but I should like something people would not take from me.

9. "I wish I had leaves of glass. They would be pretty, and yet no one would want to take them."

10. The next morning when the little tree awoke, it was covered with leaves of glass. They shone in the sunlight.

11. "These leaves are much better than gold ones," it said, "and they are quite as beautiful."

12. But when the wind began to blow, the glass leaves were knocked against one another. Soon they were all broken to pieces. When night came, the little tree was again without a leaf.

13. "Leaves of gold and of glass are pretty," it said, "but they are not the best kind. I should like to have green leaves like the other trees."

The goat ate them all.

Ⅲ

14. The next morning when the little pine tree awoke, it had green leaves like the other trees. Its young fresh leaves were even more beautiful than theirs.

15. "After all, green leaves are best," it said. "Now I am like the other trees, but more beautiful."

16. But after a while a goat came by. He was hungry and the leaves of the little tree were fresh and sweet. So the goat ate them all. That night the little tree was again without a leaf.

17. It was very sad; it said, "Gold leaves are fine, glass leaves are pretty, and green leaves are good for other trees. But after all my needles were best for me. How I wish I could have them back again!"

18. The next morning when the little tree awoke, it had its needles once more. It was so glad to have them again that it laughed, and all the other trees of the forest laughed with it.

19. And always after that the little tree was contented.

(ADAPTED FROM THE GERMAN)

Copy and fill in the missing words:

The first leaves the little tree had were of____.

Next it had leaves of____.

Then it had leaves of____.

After that it was glad to have its＿＿back.

————

wish

gold

pond

night

would

fish

hold

fond

right

could

dish

told

bond

sight

should

13

IN A MINUTE

May came back crying.

same

happen

floor

forget

dead

finish

room

lesson

shut

minute

left

habit

1. Little May had one bad habit. If you asked her to do anything, she would say, "In a minute."

2. If her mother said, "May, dear, bring me my coat," she would say, "Yes, Mother, in a minute."

3. And even if her father called her for a ride, it was the same. She never did at once what she was told to do.

4. One day May's bird was flying about the room. Some one went out and left the door open.

5. May's mother said, "Shut the door, my dear."

"Yes, Mother, in a minute," said May. "I only want to finish this story."

6. But the cat did not wait. In she came, and with one jump had the bird in her mouth.

7. Down went the book on the floor, and away ran May after the cat.

Soon poor May came back crying with the dead bird in her hand.

8. Her mother was sad, too, but she said, "My dear little girl, you see that a great many things may happen in a minute."

9. It was a sad lesson for May, but it was one she did not forget.

————

wait

maid

rain

dear

roam

gait

paid

gain

fear

foam

bait

raid

pain

near

loam

14

SHEEP

wife

sorry

nice

stream

clean

feed

lamb

pet

coarse

cloth

wool

playful

grandmother

Ⅰ

1. Have you ever seen sheep feeding in the meadows? It is pleasant to watch them. The sheep feed on the green grass. The little lambs play about them.

2. Sometimes the man who looks after the sheep has a dog to help him. This dog makes the sheep go where the man wants them to go. The dog will not let anything hurt them.

3. A lamb is a nice pet. It is gentle and playful. It will run after you and will feed from your hand.

A lamb is a nice pet.

Ⅱ

4. Sheep are covered with long hair called wool. This keeps them warm in winter.

5. In summer the farmer takes the sheep to a stream and washes them. This makes their wool clean and white. Then he cuts it off.

6. The sheep are not sorry to give up their warm coats in summer. Before winter comes back, they will have new ones.

7. The farmer sends the wool to the mill. There it is made into cloth. From this cloth the coat you wear is made. So you see your new coat is made out of the sheep's old one.

A spinning wheel.

8. When your great grandmother was a little girl, the farmer did not take the wool to a mill. His wife made it into cloth at home.

9. The farmer and his wife and children had coats and dresses made from this cloth.

10. A goat looks a little like a sheep. But the goat's hair is coarse, while the sheep's wool is fine and soft.

————

What is wool?

Name some things that are made of wool.

————

COPY THIS LETTER AND WRITE A REPLY TO IT.

15

GOOD-BYE, PRETTY BUTTERFLY

softly

noise

prettier

good-bye

1. Butterflies are pretty things,

Prettier than you or I;

See the color on their wings—

Who would hurt a butterfly?

2. Softly, softly, girls and boys,

He'll come near us by and by;

Here he is, don't make a noise—

We'll not hurt you, butterfly!

3. Not to hurt a living thing

Let all little children try.

So, again he's on the wing;

Good-bye, pretty butterfly!

16

BESSIE AND THE BIRDS

Christmas

felt

afraid

pecked

hopping

plan

basket

fed

window

street

present

place

suppose

Bessie

evening

She stood at the window to watch them.

Ⅰ

1. It was Christmas morning. The ground was white with snow. The poor hungry birds could not get anything to eat.

2. Bessie looked out of the window and saw them hopping about the street. They were looking for food.

3. Bessie was a kind little girl. She felt sorry for the poor birds. She wanted to ask them to come into her warm hone. But she knew that they were afraid to do this.

4. What could she do to help them? At last she thought of a plan. What do you suppose it was?

5. "Mamma," she said, "may I make a Christmas tree for the birds?"

"How can you do that?" asked her mother.

6. "Oh, I will take the little Christmas tree I had last night. I will put it outside the window. Then I will hang on it little baskets full of crumbs and seeds for the birds."

7. "That will be a very good way," said her mother.

Ⅱ

8. So Bessie put the little tree outside the window. Then she put her presents on it for the birds.

9. At first the birds did not come to the tree. They did not know it was for them. But by and by two or three came near and looked at it.

10. They pecked some of the seeds and crumbs. Then they flew off to tell the other birds about their Christmas tree. Soon there were many birds at the tree to get their presents.

11. They liked the crumbs of bread as much as Bessie had liked her presents the evening before. They chirped their thanks to Bessie as she stood at the window to watch them.

12. "I am glad we have made the birds so happy, mamma," she said. "We will let the little tree stay here at the window, will we not?

13. "Every day I will give some of my bread to the birds. I will put the crumbs in the baskets for them."

Ⅲ

14. Her father and mother were glad to see that she was so kind. But her father said, "After all, Bessie, what good can you do?

15. "There are many hungry birds in the world. You can feed only a few near your home. Even if you and I gave all our bread, we could not feed all the hungry birds."

16. This made little Bessie very sad. After a while she said, "It is true, papa, I cannot feed all the birds. But there are many other little children all over the world who like to feed them.

17. "I will give crumbs to the birdies here every cold day. Then, if the other children give crumbs in other places, all the dear little birds will be fed. Will they not, papa?"

————

Copy and memorize:

————

black

peck

pick

rock

duck

pack

neck

lick

lock

luck

rack

speck

sick

sock

buck

17

ONE GOOD TRICK

chase

snap

hunt

hunter

least

hundred

trick

fat

fail

dinner

lost

farmhouse

1. One day a cat and a fox met in the woods.

2. "Good day, Mr. Fox," said the cat. "I hope you are well."

"Very well, I thank you," said the fox.

3. "You have seen much of the world, I suppose," said the cat.

4. "Oh, yes. I know all the country round. I can find my way by night to all the farmhouses. Sometimes I go to a henhouse and catch a fine hen.

5. "Sometimes I hide near the duck-pond. When a fat duck comes near me—snap! quack!—I have her in my mouth; and a very good dinner she makes."

6. "You must be a great hunter," said the cat; "but they say men sometimes hunt you. What do you do when they chase you with their dogs?"

7. "Oh," said the fox, "I can run very fast, and I know many tricks to get out of their way. I am sure the dogs can never catch me. Why, I know at least a hundred tricks. How many do you know?"

8. "I know only one," said the cat. "If that fails, I am a lost cat."

"Poor pussy!" said the fox.

9. Just then they heard the horn of the hunters, and up came the dogs. The fox ran this way and that way. He tried all his tricks, but he was caught and killed at last.

10. The cat ran up a tree, and the dogs could not get her. That was her one trick.

"I see," said she, "that one good trick is better than a hundred poor ones."

One good trick

————

Copy the words at the head of this lesson.

Copy:

18

THE THREE BILLY GOATS GRUFF

billy

troll

trip trap

tramping

Gruff

saucers

gobble

tossed

mountain

nose

stepped

hardly

bridge

arm

along

fallen

Biggest Gruff ran at the troll.

Ⅰ

1. Once upon a time there were three billy goats. Their name was Gruff. There was Little Gruff and Big Gruff and Biggest Gruff.

2. One day they started up a mountain to eat the fine grass and grow fat. On their way they had to cross a bridge.

3. A troll lived under this bridge. He had eyes as big as saucers and a nose as long as your arm.

4. First of all Little Gruff came to cross the bridge.

"Trip trap! trip trap!" went the bridge as he crossed it.

5. "Who is that tripping over my bridge?" roared the angry troll.

6. "It is only I, Little Gruff. I am going up the mountain to make myself fat," said the little billy goat with his little voice.

7. "Now I am coming to gobble you up," said the troll.

8. "Oh, 'no! don't take me. I am too little," said the billy goat. "Wait till Big Gruff comes. He is much bigger.'

"Well, be off with you," said the troll.

Ⅱ

9. A little while after Big Gruff came to cross the bridge. "TRIP TRAP! TRIP TRAP!" went the bridge as he stepped on it.

10. "Who is that stepping on my bridge?" roared the troll.

11. "Oh! it is Big Gruff who is going up the mountain to make himself fat," said the big billy goat with his loud voice.

12. "Now I am coming to gobble you up," roared the troll.

"Oh, no! don't take me. Wait till Biggest Gruff comes along; he is much bigger than I."

13. "Very well; be off with you," said the troll.

Ⅲ

14. At last Biggest Gruff came to cross the bridge.

"TRIP TRAP! TRIP TRAP!" went the bridge as he walked on it.

15. "Who is that tramping on my bridge?" roared the troll.

16. "It is I, Biggest Gruff, going up the mountain to make myself fat," he said with his great voice.

17. "Now I am coming to gobble you up," roared the troll.

18. "Very well; come on and gobble me, if you can," said Biggest Gruff.

19. The troll came from under the bridge. But Biggest Gruff ran at him and caught him on his horns and tossed him over into the river. No one ever saw the troll again.

They could hardly walk home.

20. Then Biggest Gruff went up the mountain with his brothers. They ate the fine grass and got so fat that they could hardly walk home again.

If the fat hasn't fallen off, they are fat still.

————

big

bigger

biggest

————

Use these words in sentences:

bird

dead

crying

minute

sheep

wool

cloth

farmer

————

trip

drink

grass

rip

trap

drank

gruff

rap

19

THE GOOSE AND THE GOLDEN EGGS

wonderful

none

golden

deal

rich

1. A man once had a goose. She looked like any other goose, but she was a wonderful bird. Every day she laid an egg of shining gold.

The man was growing rich.

2. The man was growing rich, but not so fast as he wished. He wanted to have a great deal of gold all at once. Then he would never have to do any more work.

3. "I am sure," he said to himself, "there must be a great many eggs inside my goose. I think she must be all gold inside."

4. So one day he killed her.

But when he looked for the gold, there was none to be seen. And that was the end of his goose and her golden eggs.

20

HOW TO DO IT

merry

healthy

folk

1. Do you want to be happy and gay, little man,

Do you want to be happy and gay?

Then do a kind deed every day, little man,

Then do a kind deed every day.

2. Do you want to be merry and glad, little maid,

Do you want to be merry and glad?

Then speak a bright word to the sad, little maid,

Then speak a bright word to the sad.

3. Do you want to be healthy and wise, little folk,

Do you want to be healthy and wise?

Then early to bed and to rise, little folk,

Yes, early to bed and to rise.

21

THE WAY TO HAVE A GOOD GAME

afternoon

drive

driver

Mrs.

promise

visit

begin

turn

remember

please

George

aunt

They had a pleasant game.

Ⅰ

1. "There is to be no school this afternoon, mother." said George Green. "Frank is coming to see me. We shall have a good game."

2. Cousin Frank came and the boys ran out to play. It took them some time to find a game that both liked. At last George asked his cousin to play horse.

From the painting by C. Burton Barber

The Morning Call

3. Frank liked to play horse, but he wished to be the driver. George wanted to be the driver himself. So there was no horse and they could not play at all.

Ⅱ

4. George's mother had been watching the boys. Now she called them to her, and said, "Well, George, are you having a good game?"

5. "Not very good, mother," he said. "Can't you tell us some new game we shall both like?"

6. "I think I can tell you how to make a good game of the one you have tried."

"How, mother?" asked George.

"Do tell us, aunt," said Frank.

7. "What game have you tried, George?"

"Horse, mother; but we did not play it, for we both wanted to be the driver."

8. "Then we will begin with horse," said his mother. "Now, boys, you must do just what I say. I wish George to remember that he must do all he can to make Frank happy. Frank must remember to do everything to make George happy."

9. Both boys said they would try to do this.

"Very well," said Mrs. Green. "Now go and play horses."

10. "But who will be the horse?" asked George. "I want to be the driver."

"So do I," said Frank.

11. "Remember your promise, boys," said Mrs. Green. The boys thought a while, and then Frank said, "I will be the horse, George."

"No, I will be the horse," said George. "You may drive if you please."

12. "You may take turns," said his mother. "George will be the horse till you have gone six times round the garden walk. Then he may drive and Frank may be the horse."

Ⅲ

13. This pleased the boys, and off they ran at once to play. They had a pleasant game.

14. At last it was time for Frank to go home. Mrs. Green asked the boys if they had found out the way to have a good game.

15. "Yes, mother," said George.

"Yes, aunt," said Frank.

"Well, what is it?"

16. "We must not think all the time of what we wish to do. We must try to make others happy. Then we shall be happy ourselves."

17. "That is it," said Mrs. Green. "I hope you will remember it. And now good-bye, Frank. You must come again soon."

18. Frank said good-bye to his aunt and cousin. He went home much pleased with his visit.

————

branch

crow

fresh

press

breeze

crumb

Frank

pretty

22

A USEFUL ANIMAL

nail

milk

swallow

lie

useful

cud

plow

animal

toe

chew

hoof

really

Mary

Ⅰ

1. "What animal is most useful to us?" asked Mr. White.

2. Some of the children said that the horse is most useful. He pulls the wagon and the plow. He does much work for us, and we like to ride him.

3. "But I think the cow is most useful," said Mary; "she gives us milk to drink. Butter and cheese are made from milk."

4. "Yes," said Henry, "and after the cow is killed, she is useful to us. She is good for food."

5. "That is true," said Mr. White. "As the cow does so much for us, I am sure you will like to know more about her."

Cow's hoof

Ⅱ

6. "If you look at her foot, you will see that the hoof is in two pieces. It is really two hoofs, which are the strong nails of the cow's toes. The hoof of the horse is in one piece.

Horse's hoof

7. "If you watch a cow eat, you will see that she does not bite the grass. She breaks it off and swallows it without chewing it.

8. "When she has had as much as she wants, she lies down. Then the grass comes back to her mouth, a little at a time. She chews it well with her back teeth. Then she swallows it again.

9. "This is called chewing the cud. Is it not a queer way to eat? The cow is not the only animal which does this."

10. "Oh, yes," said Henry. "I think my goat chews the cud, too."

11. "So he does," said Mr. White, "and so do sheep as well as goats."

————

use

useful

wonder

wonderful

————

1. Tell some things that the cow does for us.

2. Tell what the sheep does for us.

3. Name other animals that are useful to us.

23

THE COW

friendly

cream

wander

stray

lowing

apple-tart

pass

shower

wet

blown

1. The friendly cow all red and white,

I love with all my heart.

She gives me cream with all her might,

To eat with apple-tart.

2. She wanders lowing here and there,

And yet she cannot stray,

All in the pleasant open air,

The pleasant light of day;

3. And blown by all the winds that pass

And wet with all the showers,

She walks among the meadow grass

And eats the meadow flowers.

(ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON)

24

A KIND BROTHER

Alfred

smiled

above

sister

busy

learn

ill

care

bar

stalk

doctor

joy

die

earth

weather

Ⅰ

1. Last year, when the leaves were falling from the trees, Alfred and Mary went to visit their aunt. They found her very busy planting in the garden.

2. "Why do you plant the dead roots, Aunt?" asked Alfred.

Alfred watched his aunt planting the roots.

3. "They are not dead, Alfred. They will bear flowers in the spring, if the frost does not kill them. I will give you some for your garden, if you like."

4. "Oh, thank you, aunt," said Alfred, who loved new flowers for his garden. He watched his aunt to know how to plant his roots.

Ⅱ

5. "Would you like some, too, Mary?" asked her kind aunt.

6. "No, thank you," said Mary. She was too young to know how plants and flowers grow.

7. "I want some of these pretty flowers. I will plant them in my garden when I get home."

8. "They will die," said Alfred, "for they have no roots."

9. "I don't want roots," said Mary. Her aunt smiled and gave her the flowers.

10. "Mary will know better next year, Alfred," she said. "Live and learn, you know."

11. Alfred and Mary went home and planted their gardens. Then Mary called her mother to look at hers. It was full of gay flowers; but they had only stalks and no roots.

12. Alfred's garden made no show, but the roots were under the earth, and Alfred could wait.

"Come and look at my garden in spring, mother," he said.

Ⅲ

13. At last the spring came. One bright warm day, Alfred went to see if his plants were coming up. The green leaves were opening on the trees, and the birds were busy making their nests.

14. When Alfred came to his little garden, he found that his plants were peeping above the ground.

15. "How gay my garden will be!" said Alfred, "and there is poor Mary's without a flower."

16. Now Mary had been ill in the winter. She had grown white and thin. The doctor said she must not go out till May, when the weather would be warm.

Ⅳ

17. Alfred was sorry that his sister's garden looked so bare. He thought a while, and then he said to himself, "I will put my plants in Mary's garden."

18. So he took the plants out of the ground with great care. Then he put them in Mary's garden.

Alfred planted the roots.

19. Alfred's garden was soon bare, but he was not sorry. He was happy to think how glad his little sister would be.

20. It was late in May before Mary could go out into the garden. Alfred went with her.

21. He had not told anyone what he had done, but his mother had seen it. She was glad that her boy was so kind to his sister.

22. "Alfred," said Mary, when they came to his garden, "where are your roots that were to turn to flowers?"

23. "Here they are, Mary," said Alfred. "They have all run away from me, and have come to live with you!"

Yes, there they were in her garden.

24. "O Alfred, dear, kind Alfred!" said the little girl. She put her arms round his neck and kissed him. She almost cried for joy. "I never was so happy before."

25. I think Alfred was almost as happy as she.

————

Copy and memorize:

————

Use these words in sentences:

goose

golden

killed

none

horse

driver

played

happy

cow

useful

chewing

hoof

spring

flowers

doctor

roots

————

arm

tart

barn

bark

farm

part

yarn

lark

harm

dart

darn

park

25

THE CAT, THE MONKEY, AND THE CHESTNUTS

monkey

roast

each

chestnut

crack

pain

1. One day a cat and a monkey sat watching some chestnuts put in the fire to roast.

2. "How good they must be!" said the monkey. "I wish we had them. I am sure you can get some out. Your paws are so much like hands."

3. The cat was much pleased at these words. She put out her paw for the chestnuts. She took one out, but burned her paw.

4. "How well you did that!" said the monkey. "I am sure we can get them all."

She burned her paw.

5. So the poor cat pulled out the nuts one by one, burning her paw each time.

6. At last they were all out. Then she turned round, but only in time to see the monkey crack and eat the last of the nuts.

7. So poor pussy had only her burnt paw for her pains.

26

BIRD THOUGHTS

small

straw

blind

fit

neither

pale

brooded

beyond

labor

neighbor

1. I lived first in a little house,

And lived there very well;

I thought the world was small and round,

And made of pale blue shell.

2. I lived next in a little nest,

Nor wanted any other;

I thought the world was made of straw,

And brooded by my mother.

3. One day I fluttered from the nest

To see what I could find.

I said: "The world is made of leaves,

I have been very blind."

4. At last I flew beyond the tree,

Quite fit for grown-up labors.

I don't know how the world is made,

And neither do my neighbors!

27

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

hood

taken

listen

string

cake

cap

picked

latch

stop

gown

buzzed

ear

cottage

wasp

arrow

hug

wolf

music

strawberries

stung

cruel

fill

water cress

hoarse

Ⅰ

1. In a pleasant place there once lived a little girl. She was as pretty and sweet as a rose.

Her mother loved her very much. Her grandmother said the little one was the joy of her heart.

2. Her grandmother made her a little red hood. It was so pretty that the little girl would wear no other head dress. So she was called Little Red Riding Hood.

3. One day her mother baked a cake and made some fresh butter.

"Come, Little Red Riding Hood," she said. "Take this cake and butter to your grandmother. Be sure not to stop on the way."

4. Little Red Riding Hood was a good child. She liked to be of use to her mother and her dear old grandmother. She put the butter and cake in a basket. Then she started to her grandmother's cottage on the other side of the wood.

Ⅱ

5. As she came to the wood, Little Red Riding Hood met a wolf.

"Good morning, Little Red Riding Hood," he said.

6. He was a bad, cruel wolf and he would have liked to eat the little girl then and there. But some men were cutting wood near by, and he thought they might kill him in turn.

7. "Good morning, Mr. Wolf," said Little Red Riding Hood. She did not know how bad he was and was not afraid of him. She did not remember that she was not to stop on the way.

8. "Where are you going so early this bright morning?" asked the wolf.

9. "I am going to my grandmother's," said Little Red Riding Hood, "to take her some cake and butter."

10. "And where does your grandmother live?" asked the wolf.

11. "Down by the mill on the other side of the wood," said the little girl. "Her cottage is under the three big oak trees."

12. "I think I will go to see her, too," said the wolf. "I'll go this way and you go that, and we'll see which of us will get there first."

Ⅲ

13. The wolf knew well that he had taken the best way.

14. He ran through the woods and in a little while came to the grandmother's cottage.

15. He knocked at the door with his paw. No one came.

16. He knocked again. All was still in the cottage. Then he put up his paw and opened the door.

17. There was no one in the cottage. The grandmother had gone out early in the morning. She had left her cap and nightgown on the bed.

18. "Good," said the wolf. "I know what I'll do."

He shut the door and put on the grandmother's cap and night gown and got into the bed.

19. He laughed to himself as he thought what a trick he would play.

Ⅳ

20. All this time Little Red Riding Hood was on her way through the wood.

21. She stopped to listen to the sweet music of the birds; she picked some strawberries for her grandmother, and some flowers that grew by the way.

22. A wasp buzzed about her head and lighted on her flowers.

"Eat as much as you like," she said, "but do not hurt me." He buzzed and buzzed and soon flew away.

23. Then a little bird came and ate some of her strawberries.

"Take all you want, pretty bird," said Little Red Riding Hood. "There will still be left all that grandmother and I shall want." "Peep, peep!" sang the bird as he flew away.

24. Then she came upon an old woman who was looking for water cresses.

"Let me fill your basket," Little Red Riding Hood said.

25. The old woman said, "Thank you, my dear. If you see the Green Huntsman on your way, tell him from me that there is game in the wind."

Ⅴ

26. Little Red Riding Hood looked all about for the Green Huntsman. She had never seen him nor even heard of him before.

The Green Huntsman took out an arrow.

27. At last she came to a pond of water so green that you would have taken it for grass.

28. She had gone that way many times, but she had never seen the pond before. There stood a huntsman dressed in green. He was looking at some birds flying over his head.

29. "Good morning, Mr. Huntsman," said Little Red Riding Hood. "The water cress woman asked me to tell you from her that there is game in the wind."

30. The huntsman put his ear to the ground and listened a while. Then he put the string on his bow and took out an arrow.

Ⅵ

31. At last Little Red Riding Hood came to her grandmother's cottage and knocked at the door.

32. "Who is there?" cried the wolf.

He tried to speak like the grandmother, but his hoarse voice made Little Red Riding Hood start. She said to herself, "Poor grandmother must have a bad cold."

33. "It is I, Little Red Riding Hood," she said. "I have come to see you and to bring you some cake and butter."

34. "Pull the string and the latch will fly up and the door will come open," said the wolf.

35. Little Red Riding Hood did as she was told, and went into the cottage.

36. "Put down the cake and butter, my dear," said the wolf; "then come and sit down beside me."

Little Red Riding Hood went into the cottage.

Ⅶ

37. Little Red Riding Hood put down her basket and went to the bedside.

38. "Why, grandmother," she said, "how hoarse you are!"

"Only a cold, my dear, only a cold," said the wolf.

39. "And, grandmother, what long ears you have!"

"The better to hear you, my dear."

40. "But, grandmother, what great eyes you have!"

"The better to see you, my dear."

41. "But, grandmother, what long arms you have!"

"The better to hug you, my dear."

42. "But, grandmother, what big teeth you have!"

"The better to eat you up!" said the wolf.

43. He was just going to spring upon poor Little Red Riding Hood, when a wasp flew into the room and stung him.

The wolf gave a cry, and a little bird outside said, "Peep, peep!"

44. This told the Green Huntsman it was time to let his arrow fly, and the wolf was killed then and there.

The wolf was killed.

————

good

better

best

28

TWO LITTLE KITTENS

stormy

begun

broom

crept

mat

quarrel

sweeping

swept

quiet

ice

1. Two little kittens, one stormy night,

Began to quarrel, and then to fight.

One had a mouse, the other had none;

And that's the way the fight was begun.

2. "I will have the mouse," said the bigger cat.

"You will have the mouse! We'll see about that."

"I will have that mouse," said the older one.

"You shall not have the mouse," said the little one.

She swept the two kittens out of the room.

3. I told you before 'twas a stormy night

When these two kittens began to fight.

The old woman took her sweeping broom,

And swept the two kittens out of the room.

4. The ground was covered with frost and snow,

And the two little kittens had nowhere to go;

So they laid them down on a mat at the door,

While the old woman finished sweeping the floor.

5. Then they crept in as quiet as mice,

All wet with snow and as cold as ice;

For they thought't would be better that stormy night

To lie down and sleep, than to quarrel and fight.

————

stop

spy

sleep

sweet

sting

spied

sly

swan

start

speak

slip

swim

stair

spade

slow

swing

29

JAMES AND HIS ARMY

stories

waved

charge

screamed

alone

drummer

beaten

hissed

drum

slow

fence

limped

army

fault

whole

Ⅰ

1. James likes stories about fights and the great deeds of soldiers. One day he went out alone to play soldier. He put on his soldier cap and took his gun and sword and a little drum.

The army

2. There was no other boy to play with him, so he had to be the whole army. He was the captain and the drummer-boy and the soldier. These were the army.

3. The captain said "March!" and waved his sword in the air. The drummer beat his drum and the soldier marched. This was hard to do, for the sword and gun and drum got in one another's way. But the army marched to the field near the barn.

4. It went up and down the field, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. Now then it ran. Then the captain would call out to the soldier to keep step.

5. But there was no fault to be found with the drummer. He drummed so loud that he made the hens and sheep run away.

6. Once the soldier went so fast that he fell down and hurt the army's nose on a stone. The captain found fault with him, I can tell you.

Ⅱ

7. At last a great charge was made. The army chased the black pig around the field. It beat the drum and waved the sword and threw stones. This was firing the gun. The pig ran off as fast as he could.

8. Then the army marched back to the garden fence, and the captain said: "Soldiers, we have beaten the whole world and it has run away. I did it with my sword. Now I must be king."

9. Just then the old white goose put her neck through the fence and bit James on the leg. The captain, the drummer, and the whole army screamed, while the goose put out her neck and hissed.

The whole army screamed.

10. Down went the drum and the gun and the sword. The army limped off as fast as it could to the house. You would not have thought then that James was the boy who had just beaten the whole world.

————

story

sky

lady

cry

stories

skies

ladies

cries

————

Copy and memorize:

————

she

small

snip

cream

sheep

smile

snap

seam

shell

smell

snail

scream

30

FEATHERS

float

slowly

heewy

quill

feather

A quill

1. How light a feather is! If you drop one, it falls very slowly to the ground. It may even float about in the air for a while. Birds could not fly if their feathers were heavy.

2. The long wing feathers are called quills. Take one and try to break it. You will see how strong it is. It is very light, too, as it must be for the bird to fly.

3. I am sure you have seen a robin looking for food in the snow, and have wondered if he were not cold.

4. If Mr. Robin could talk, he would tell you that he has a warm coat next his skin. This coat is made of small, soft feathers called down. It keeps him warm in the cold days of winter.

5. Some birds have very gay feathers. But these are not always the birds that sing best. You know the old saying, "Fine feathers do not make fine birds."

6. Many birds are killed every year for their beautiful feathers. Ladies like to wear them on their hats. Is it not sad that the pretty little birds must be killed just for this?

————

1. Tell the names of three birds you have seen.

2. Copy these sentences and put in the missing words:

"The long wing feathers are called＿＿＿＿."

"The small, soft feathers are called＿＿＿＿."

————

————

Use these words in sentences:

poor

monkey

pulled

chestnuts

shell

straw

leaves

world

hood

butter

wolf

cottage

latch

ears

eyes

teeth

sword

soldier

hissed

screamed

31

THE CLUCKING HEN

barley

else

hatched

snug

hello

chick

beneath

dozen

cock-a-doodle-doo

1. "Will you take a walk with me,

My little wife, to-day?

There's barley in the barley field,

And hayseed in the hay."

2. "Thank you," said the clucking hen;

"I've something else to do;

I'm busy sitting on my eggs,

I cannot walk with you."

3. "Cluck, cluck! Cluck, cluck!"

Said the clucking hen;

"My little chicks will soon be hatched,

I'll think about it then."

4. The clucking hen sat on her nest,

She made it in the hay;

And warm and snug beneath her breast,

A dozen white eggs lay.

5. Crack, crack, went all the eggs,

Out dropped the chickens small!

"Cluck!" said the clucking hen,

"Now I have you all."

6. "Come along, my little chicks,

I'll take a walk with you."

"Hello!" said the barn-door cock,

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

(AUNT EFFIE'S RHYMES)

————

all

small

warm

walk

ball

stall

warp

stalk

32

A KIND GIRL

war

lying

bound

helpful

saved

bathed

enough

wounded

hot

broke

Florengce

Nightingale

Ⅰ

1. One day a little girl was out in the fields watching a man with his sheep.

"Why have you left your dog at home?" she asked.

She bathed the leg with hot water.

2. The man said: "My dog can never help me with the sheep again. A cruel boy threw a stone at him and broke one of his legs. I shall kill him to-night to put him out of his pain."

3. The little girl was very sad when she heard this. She did not say anything to the man, but went to his house. There she found the dog lying on the floor.

Ⅱ

4. At first the dog would not let the girl come near him. But she was kind and gentle, and at last he let her look at his leg.

5. She found that it was much hurt, but not broken. She bathed the leg with hot water and bound it up.

6. After a while she saw the man coming home to kill the dog. He loved his dog, but he knew it is better to kill an animal than to let it live in pain.

7. The little girl ran to him and said: "Your dog's leg is not broken. I have bound it up. Do not kill him. I think he will be quite well in a few days."

Ⅲ

8. The next morning she went to see the dog again. This time he came to her at once, for he knew that she was his friend. And again she bathed his leg and bound it up.

9. In a few days he was well enough to go out again into the fields and help take care of the sheep.

10. After that, whenever the dog saw her, he ran to meet her and jumped about to show how glad he was. If a dog could speak, he would have thanked her for being so kind to him.

11. The man said he could never thank her enough. But for her he would have lost the best dog he ever had.

12. This kind and helpful little girl grew to be a kind and helpful woman. She left her home and went far away to a country where a great war was going on.

13. She took care of the sick and wounded soldiers, and saved many lives. Her name was Florence Nightingale.

33

HABITS OF FLOWERS

nodding

heat

morning-glory

lily

protect

slept

dandelion

tulip

short

close

Out flew a bee.

Ⅰ

1. Flowers have habits or ways of doing things, just as people have. Would you like to hear about some of these?

2. There is one habit that almost all flowers have. They turn to the light as if they loved it. If plants are kept in a room, the flowers turn to the window.

3. Some flowers shut up at night as if to go to sleep. They open again in the morning. Tulips do this.

4. One morning a lady was looking at some tulips. As one of them opened, out flew a bee. He had stayed too late the night before, and so had been shut up in the flower.

5. He may have been hard at work all day getting honey. He stopped to rest in the tulip, and was shut in when it closed.

6. He had a fine bed that night. I wonder if he slept any better than he would have slept in the hive!

Ⅱ

7. The pond lily closes at night and opens again in the morning.

8. The golden flowers of the dandelion are shut close in their green coverings every night. They look like buds that have never opened.

9. I must tell you another habit which the dandelion has. When the sun is very warm, it closes just as it does at night. Its green covering protects it from the heat.

10. Some flowers hang down their heads at night. They look as if they were nodding in their sleep. In the morning they look up to the light again.

11. Most flowers last for some days. But there are some that last only a short time. The morning-glory is one of these. Do you know any others?

34

THE BEE AND THE FLOWER

faint

hum

withered

1. The bee buzzed up in the heat.

"I am faint for your honey, my sweet."

The flower said, "Take it, my dear,

For now is the spring of the year,

So come, come!"

"Hum!"

And the bee buzzed down from the heat.

2. And the bee buzzed up in the cold,

When the flower was withered and old.

"Have you still any honey, my dear?"

She said, "It's the fall of the year,

But come, come!"

"Hum!"

And the bee buzzed off in the cold.

(ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

————

come

any

honey

flower

some

many

money

shower

35

THE DOG AND HIS SHADOW

meat

own

greedy

shadow

1. One day a dog found a piece of meat.

"What a fine dinner this will make," he said to himself as he started home.

2. Crossing a bridge, he saw his own shadow in the still water. He thought it was another dog with another piece of meat.

3. "I will have that, too," he thought. So he snapped at the shadow. When he opened his mouth, his meat fell into the water.

4. So by being greedy he lost his dinner.

The meat fell into the water.

36

ONLY A SNAIL

snail

mine

feeler

climb

though

slug

thrushes

because

carry

draw

frightened

tongue

large

curl

enemies

hole

build

wake

Ⅰ

1. "Only a snail," do you say? Well, though I am only a snail I can do some things that I am sure you cannot do.

2. I can carry my house on my back. You would look very queer with your house on your back.

3. I made my own house, too; and I am quite sure you did not make the one in which you live.

4. My house is just large enough for me. When I was very small, it, too, was very small. Then as I grew bigger I made it bigger.

5. All snails do not make houses for themselves. The slug says he is my cousin. He has horns like mine, but he has no house on his back. I suppose he is too lazy to build one.

I carry my house on my back.

Ⅱ

6. I have four horns—two large ones and two small ones. They are my feelers.

7. Where do you think my eyes are? They are at the end of my two large horns. When harm is near, I draw in my horns and curl up in my shell.

8. I have many enemies. Ducks, thrushes, and blackbirds like to eat snails. They have caught many of my friends.

9. When I see a bird, I make haste to get into my house. If a blackbird were to see me, he would pick me up in his claws and drop me on a stone.

10. That would break my house in two and he would eat me. Do you wonder that I am frightened when he comes?

11. In warm countries where my friends grow bigger than I am, people eat them. But I am glad to know you do not care to eat me.

He would drop me on a stone.

Ⅲ

12. Birds are not our only enemies. Men try to kill us because they do not want us to eat the green things in their gardens. I suppose they want us to eat dead leaves, but we like to feed on fresh ones.

13. I climb up on a leaf and bite off little bits with my teeth. I have many more teeth than you. My tongue is covered with rows of them.

14. Do you want to know what I do in winter?

I creep into a quiet place and make a hole in the earth in which to live.

15. Then I draw myself into my house and make a little door to keep out the rain and the snow. I leave just one little hole to let in air.

16. Then I go to sleep and sleep through the winter. When spring comes, I wake up again. I creep out to see what there is in the garden for me to eat.

37

LITTLE DUCKS

whose

maam

age

ought

naughty

drowned

1. "My dears, whatever are you at?

You ought to be at home;

I told you not to wet your feet,

I told you not to roam.

2 "Oh, dear! I'm sure you will be drowned,

I never saw such tricks;

Come home at once and go to bed,

You naughty, naughty chicks!"

3. Now most of them were five days old,

But one, whose age was six —

"Please, ma'am," said he, "I think we're ducks;

I don't believe we're chicks."

(ROBERT MACK)

————

down

pawn

flew

crew

town

lawn

clew

grew

gown

dawn

blew

drew

38

THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE

dashed

tortoise

race

tired

ho

hare

steady

plodded

judge

win

pace

fellow

goal

sight

need

Ⅰ

1. A hare one day made fun of the short legs and slow pace of the tortoise.

2. "I am sorry for anyone who has to creep along as you do," he said. "Why, I can go ten miles while you go one."

"One, two, three, go!"

3. "I may be slow, but I am sure," said the tortoise. "Though you can run so fast, I am willing to race with you."

4. The hare laughed at the thought of such a thing.

5. "It will be no race at all," he said, "but come on. I will show you how fast I can run."

They called the fox to be judge of the race.

6. "You are to start from this mile-stone and run to the next one," said the fox. "Now, one, two, three, go!"

Ⅱ

7. Off dashed the hare and after him plodded the tortoise. The hare went like the wind a little way. Then he looked back. The tortoise was not even in sight. The hare laughed.

8. "To think that a tortoise should try to race with me!" he said. "How warm and tired I am! I need not run so fast. I will get some of that sweet grass for my dinner. Then I will rest a while under this tree. The tortoise will not be here for hours yet."

9. So the hare ate his dinner and then lay down to rest. He fell fast asleep, and when he awoke it was late.

10. He looked around. "Well," he said, "I will go on to the goal now. Friend Tortoise is not yet in sight."

He passed the sleeping hare.

11. But when he got to the mile-stone, he found the tortoise there before him. The plodding fellow had kept on and had passed the sleeping hare.

12. "Oh, ho, my friend!" said the fox. "Slow and steady wins the race."

————

1. Tell in your own words the story of the hare and the tortoise.

2. Write words that rhyme with:

way

plod

need

race

————

Use these words in sentences:

hurt

sheep

bound

broken

sun

sleep

bee

tulip

meat

piece

greedy

shadow

39

BOATS SAIL ON THE RIVERS

across

heaven

sail

road

1. Boats sail on the rivers,

And ships sail on the seas;

But clouds that sail across the sky

Are prettier far than these.

2. There are bridges on the rivers,

As pretty as you please;

But the bow that bridges heaven,

And overtops the trees,

And builds a road from earth to sky,

Is prettier far than these.

(CHRISTINA ROSSETTI)

————

pretty

prettier

prettiest

40

TOO MANY DOLLS

Dora

dream

shoes

touch

given

nothing

life

drew

hospital

real

sign

sharing

nurse

mean

Ⅰ

1. "It was very good of aunt Rose to give me such a pretty doll," said Dora. "But I do wish she had given me something else. I have so many dolls."

2. Her cousin Amy did not speak for a time. Then she said, "Dora, I heard a sad story the other day. Would you like to hear it?"

3. "What was it? Please tell me," said Dora.

4. "It was about a little girl named Kate. She is ill at the hospital and will have to stay in bed for a long time.

"Her mother is a poor woman who has three little children to take care of.

"I had such a beautiful dream."

5. "One morning Kate said to the nurse, 'Oh, I had such a beautiful dream last night! I thought I was sick as I am now. I was so tired, for I had nothing to play with.

6. "'All at once I heard a little noise at my side. I looked around, and there on the bed was a beautiful doll.

7. "'She had real hair, and her eyes could open and shut. She had on a fine dress. She even had little shoes on her feet.

8. "'Oh, I can see her now if I just shut my eyes! So it is almost as good as if I really had her, isn't it?'

9. "The poor child had never had a doll in all her life."

Ⅱ

10. "Poor little Kate!" said Dora. "And I am cross because I have too many dolls. Amy, may I not take one of my dolls to Kate?"

11. "Yes, Dora; I am sure your mother will be glad to have you do that. One of your old dolls will make little Kate very happy."

12. "I think it wouldn't be very kind to give her one of my old ones," said Dora. "I should like to give her a pretty new one. Don't you think this doll looks like the one Kate dreamed about?"

She held up her beautiful new doll.

13. "If you wish, I will go with you to the hospital," said Amy. "We will take the doll to little Kate."

14. Soon the two girls were in the children's hospital. As they drew near Kate's bed, the nurse made a sign for them not to speak. The child was asleep.

15. "Now we can make her dream come true," said Dora.

She crept to Kate's bed and put the doll down. Then she waited for Kate to wake up.

Ⅲ

16. Three or four children in beds near by were watching Dora. Their pale little faces lighted up with smiles.

Kate put out her hand to touch the doll.

17. At last Kate slowly opened her eyes and saw the doll.

18. She lay quite still at first, as if she thought it was only a dream.

After a while she put out her hand to touch the doll to see if it were real. Then with a cry of joy she drew it to her.

19. "Oh, it is a real true doll!" she cried. "It is like the one I saw in my dream, but prettier. Just look at her, nurse! See her curls and her little shoes!

20. "What good times we can all have with her! O nurse, do take her over to little Mary just a minute. Poor Mary can't turn around to see her."

21. Dora had never thought before how much pleasure she could give others by sharing her pretty thing with them.

22. She did not mean to be selfish. Now she was sorry to think how little she had ever done for others.

23. Her first visit to the hospital was not the last, you may be sure. Many of Dora's toys and books were taken there, and brought joy to the poor sick children.

41

THE LOST DOLL

cheek

charmingly

sake

paint

change

terribly

heath

trodden

1. I once had a sweet little doll, dears,

The prettiest doll in the world;

Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,

And her hair was so charmingly curled.

But I lost my poor little doll, dears,

As I played on the heath one day;

And I cried for her more than a week, dears,

But I never could find where she lay.

2. I found my poor little doll, dears,

As I played on the heath one day;

Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,

For her paint is all washed away.

And her arm trodden off by the cows, dears,

And her hair not the least bit curled;

Yet for old sake's sake, she is still, dears,

The prettiest doll in the world.

(CHARLES KINGSLEY)

42

THE SNOW MAN

coal

stand

thaw

stare

rake

ditch

cured

teach

bow-wow

bone

wink

Ⅰ

1. "It is nice and cold," said the snow man. "This wind puts life into one. How that great red thing up there stares at me!"

2. The red thing was the sun, which was just setting. "He shall not make me wink," said the Snow man. "I will stand fast."

3. The snow man had pieces of coal in his head for eyes. His mouth was a piece of an old rake, so he had good strong teeth.

4. The sun went down, and the full moon rose, large and bright. The snow man thought it was the sun rising again.

5. "There he comes back from the other side," he said. "But I have cured him of staring at me. Now he may hang there and shine. I can see better when he is there.

6. "I wish I could go from place to place as people can. I should like to play on the ice as the boys do. But I don't know how to run."

Ⅱ

7. "Bow-wow!" said the old watch dog. "The sun will teach you to run fast enough. I have seen him teach many snow men before. He will soon make you run."

"The sun will teach you to run."

8. "I don't know what you mean, friend," said the snow man. "Will that thing up in the sky teach me to run? I know that he can run, for he ran away when I looked at him. Now he has come back on the other side."

9. "What you see up there is the moon," said the dog. "It was the sun that you saw before. He will come again in the morning. Then he will teach you to run down into the ditch. The weather is going to change; I have felt it in my bones all day."

10. "I don't know just what he means," said the snow man to himself, "but I am sure it is something not at all pleasant. The thing which stared at me and then ran away is not my friend. I am sure of that too."

11. "Bow-wow!" said the dog. Then he turned round three times and lay down to sleep.

12. The weather did change; it began to thaw. The south wind blew, and the sun shone bright and warm. The snow man ran, as the dog said he would. He ran down into the ditch, and that was the last of him.

13. "Bow-wow!" said the watch dog. The children danced about in the sunshine, and no one thought any more of the snow man.

(HANS ANDERSEN, ADAPTED)

43

LITTLE WHITE LILY

cool

smell

whiteness

crowned

bride

lifting

droop

clothing

thirsty

vein

1. Little White Lily

Sat by a stone,

Drooping and waiting

Till the sun shone.

Little White Lily

Sunshine has fed;

Little White Lily

Is lifting her head.

2. Little White Lily

Said, "It is good,—

Little White Lily's

Clothing and food."

Little White Lily

Dressed like a bride,

Shining with whiteness

And crowned beside

3. Little White Lily

Droopeth with pain,

Waiting and waiting

For the wet rain.

Little White Lily

Holdeth her cup;

Rain is fast falling

And filling it up.

4. Little White Lily

Said, "Good again,

When I am thirsty

To have fresh rain.

Now I am stronger,

Now I am cool;

Heat cannot burn me,

My veins are so full."

5. Little White Lily

Smells very sweet;

On her head sunshine,

Rain at her feet.

Thanks to the sunshine

Thanks to the rain!

Little White Lily

Is happy again.

(GEORGE MACDONALD)

————

droops droopeth

holds holdeth

44

WASPS

mud

tool

tiny

thick

striped

gum

vex

sting

paper

insect

1. Here comes a wasp! Is he not pretty? He wears a black coat striped with yellow. He has six legs and four wings. See how thin and beautiful his wings are!

2. As he flies about, he looks very much like a bee. But the wasp does not make honey, as the bee does.

3. If you make a wasp angry, out comes his sting; but he will not hurt you if you do not vex him.

4. The wasp is a busy little fellow. He works hard to make a home for himself. He carries his tools in his mouth. They are two tiny little saws.

5. To make his nest, he cuts off little pieces of wood. He wets them with a kind of gum which he has in his mouth. Then he sticks them together so as to make paper.

Wasps

A paper wasp's nest.

6. Some of this paper is fine and thin, while some is coarse and thick.

7. Some wasps hang their nests in trees; some make their homes in holes in the ground; others build nests of mud.

8. Wasps like to eat sweet things, and they always pick out the ripest and best fruit. They feed on flies, too, and other insects which vex the cattle. So you see even wasps do some good.

————

ripe

riper

ripest

When you add -er and -est to ripe, what letter is dropped?

Add -er and -est to fine; to coarse.

————

lack

lay

roll

ripe

back

pay

toll

tripe

black

play

troll

stripe

45

THE WASP AND THE BEE

plain

table

strike

handsomer

destroy

kindness

Ⅰ

1. One day a wasp met a bee.

"I am glad to see you, friend Bee," he said. "I want you to tell me, if you can, why people like you so much better than they like me.

2. "I am much handsomer than you. You go about all the time in your plain work-day clothing. I always wear a beautiful black and yellow coat.

3. "I am fine enough to be seen at a king's table. But whenever I come near people, they strike at me and try to kill me.

4. "They are always glad to have you make your home with them, and they even build a nice house for you to live in. But whenever they find mine, they destroy it, and kill my little ones. Can you tell me why they treat me in this way?"

Ⅱ

5. "Well," said the bee, "it is true that men are not very kind to you, but what do you do for them? Do you give them honey as I do?"

6. "Do for them!" cried the wasp. "Why should I do anything for them? I catch some of the flies and insects that vex them, but that is because I like insects for food.

7. "I take the best of their ripe fruit. If they try to drive me away, out comes my sting, and I teach them to leave me alone."

8. "Oh ho," said the bee. "No wonder men are cross to you, as you are so cross to them. Men are my friends because I am their friend.

9. "It is always so. If you want people to treat you with kindness, you must be kind to them."

46

THE SONG OF THE BEE

jolly

worker

fragrant

thistie

weed

scent

treasure

weary

toiling

clover

humming

dreary

1. Buzz! buzz! buzz!

This is the song of the bee.

His legs are of yellow;

A jolly, good fellow,

And yet a great worker is he.

2. Buzz! buzz! buzz!

The sweet-smelling clover,

He, humming, hangs over;

The scent of the roses

Makes fragrant his wings:

He never gets lazy;

From thistle and daisy,

And weeds of the meadow,

Some treasure he brings.

3. Buzz! buzz! buzz!

From morning's first light

Till the coming of night,

He's singing and toiling

The summer day through.

Oh! we may get weary,

And think work is dreary;

'Tis harder by far

To have nothing to do.

(MARIAN DOUGLAS)

————

Write the words which rhyme with:

bee

yellow

clover

wings

daisy

night

dreary

do

————

Copy and memorize:

————

face

ice

loud

much

place

nice

cloud

such

47

THE THREE BEARS

middle-sized

keyhole

spoon

search

huge

locked

eaten

pillow

bowl

nobody

thief

bolster

porridge

perhaps

cushion

rumble

breakfast

tasted

straight

thunder

poured

bottom

crushed

shrill

Ⅰ

1. Once upon a time three bears lived together in a house of their own, near a wood. One of them was a Tiny Little Bear; one was a Middle-sized Bear; and one was a Great Huge Bear.

2. Each of the bears had a bowl for his porridge. There was a little bowl for the Tiny Little Bear; and a middle-sized bowl for the Middle-sized Bear; and a great bowl for the Great Huge Bear.

3. And they had each a chair to sit on. There was a little chair for the Tiny Little Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the Middle-sized Bear; and a great chair for the Great Huge Bear.

4. And they had each a bed to sleep in. There was a little bed for the Tiny Little Bear; and a middle-sized bed for the Middle-sized Bear; and a great bed for the Great Huge Bear.

Ⅱ

5. One morning they made the porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their bowls. Then they went to take a walk in the wood while the porridge was cooling.

She looked in at the window.

6. While the bears were out walking, a little girl named Golden-hair came to the house.

7. First she looked in at the window. Then she peeped in at the keyhole. As she did not see anyone in the house, she lifted the latch.

8. The door was not locked. The bears were good bears and did nobody any harm, so they never thought that anybody would harm them.

9. So little Golden-hair opened the door and went in. She was well pleased when she saw the porridge on the table, for she was hungry.

10. If she had stopped to think, she would not have touched it. She would have waited till the bears came home. Then perhaps they would have asked her to breakfast, for they were kind bears.

Ⅲ

11. But little Golden-hair did not wait. First she tasted the porridge of the Great Huge Bear. It was so hot that she could not eat it. Then she tasted the porridge of the Middle-sized Bear, and it was so cold that she could not eat it.

12. Then she tasted the porridge of the Tiny Little Bear; it was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right. So she ate it all.

13. Then little Golden-hair sat down on the chair of the Great Huge Bear, and that was too hard for her. Then she sat down on the chair of the Middle-sized Bear, and that was too soft for her.

14. Then she sat down on the chair of the Tiny Little Bear; that was neither too hard nor too soft, but just right. There she sat till the bottom of the chair came out and down she came upon the floor.

15. Then little Golden-hair went upstairs into the bears' bedroom. There were three beds. First she lay down upon the bed of the Great Huge Bear, and that was too high at the head for her. Next she lay down upon the bed of the Middle-sized Bear, and that was too high at the foot for her.

16. Then she lay down upon the bed of the Tiny Little Bear; that was neither too high at the head nor at the foot, but just right. So she covered herself up and fell fast asleep.

Ⅳ

17. The three bears thought their porridge would be cool enough by this time, and they came home to breakfast. Now little Golden-hair had left the spoon of the Great Huge Bear standing in his porridge.

18. "Somebody has been at my porridge," said the Great Huge Bear in his great huge voice.

19. The Middle-sized Bear looked at his bowl, and there was his spoon, too.

"Somebody has been at my porridge," said the Middle-sized Bear.

20. Then the Tiny Little Bear looked at his bowl. There was the spoon in the bowl, but the porridge was all gone.

21. "Somebody has been at my porridge and has eaten it all up," said the Tiny Little Bear in his tiny little voice.

22. Then the three bears began to look for the thief.

23. Now, little Golden-hair had not left the cushionstraight in the chair of the Great Huge Bear.

24. "Somebody has been sitting in my chair," said the Great Huge Bear in his great huge voice.

25. And little Golden-hair had crushed the soft cushion of the Middle-sized Bear.

"Somebody has been sitting in my chair," said the Middle-sized Bear.

26 "Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sat the bottom of it out," said the Tiny Little Bear in his tiny little voice.

"Somebody has been sitting in my chair."

Ⅴ

27. The three bears were now sure that there was some one in the house. So they went upstairs to search.

28. Now, little Golden-hair had pulled the pillow of the Great Huge Bear out of its place.

29. "Somebody has been lying on my bed," said the Great Huge Bear in his great huge voice.

30. And little Golden-hair had pulled the bolster of the Middle-sized Bear out of its place.

31. "Somebody has been lying on my bed," said the Middle-sized Bear.

"Here she is," said the Tiny Little Bear.

32. When the Tiny Little Bear came to look at his bed, there was the bolster in its place. There, too, was the pillow in its place upon the bolster.

33. But upon the pillow was little Golden-hair's pretty head. That was not in its place, for she had no right to be there.

She jumped out.

34. "Somebody has been lying on my bed, —and here she is," said the Tiny Little Bear in his tiny little voice.

35. Little Golden-hair had heard in her sleep the great voice of the Great Huge Bear. But it was like the roar of wind or the rumble of thunder to her.

36. She had heard the voice of the Middle-sized Bear, too, but it was only as if she had heard some one speak in a dream.

37. But the sharp, shrill voice of the Tiny Little Bear awoke her at once.

38. Up she started. When she saw the three bears close to the bed, she was much frightened. She ran to the window, which was open, and jumped out. Away she ran into the wood, and the three bears never saw her any more.

(ROBERT SOUTHEY-ADAPTED)

————

somebody

anybody

nobody

————

a

e

i

o

way

these

mind

door

wait

key

wild

bowl

great

dream

high

pour

eight

thief

cried

roar

48

MY SHADOW

fool

dew

sleepy-head

arrant

sort

nursie

india-rubber

coward

heel

taller

funniest

proper

shame

shoot

notion

1. I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

2. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

For he sometimes shoots up taller, like an india rubber ball,

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

3. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.

He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see,

I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

4. One morning, very early, before the sun was up,

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy head.

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

(ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON1)

49

THE GARDEN SPIDER

web

squeeze

number

circle

thread

harden

joined

fastened

bodies

line

spoke

darted

bag

stretched

spinning

safe

Ⅰ

1. Alfred likes to watch spiders. He has learned how they make their webs and catch flies. One day he was walking with his cousin Frank. They saw a spider just beginning to make its web, and they stopped to watch it.

2. "Why does a spider make a web?" asked Frank.

3. "So that flies may be caught in it," said Alfred. "The spider wants them for food."

4. "Where do spiders get the thread to make their webs?" asked Frank.

5. "They have little bags at the end of their bodies. These bags are full of something that looks like water, but is thicker. The spiders squeeze it out.

The boys stopped to watch it.

6. "As soon as it comes out into the air, it hardens and makes a little thread. The spiders put many of these threads together to make one strong line."

Ⅱ

7. While the boys were talking, they watched the spider. It was busy making its web.

8. First, it stretched some long threads from bough to bough. These were for the outside of its web.

9. Next, it made a number of other threads which were joined to the outside threads. They met in the middle like the spokes of a wheel.

It went round and round.

10. Then it went round and round the web, spinning all the time. It made a long thread which looked like many circles, one within another.

11. As it went, it fastened this thread to each of the spoke-like threads.

"It looks as if it were making the thread with its legs," said Frank.

12. "It uses its legs to put the thread in place," said Alfred. "Now the web is finished. The spider will hide and wait for a fly. Let us watch it."

Ⅲ

13. Soon a fly came buzzing by and was caught in the web. The spider darted out and began to wrap fine threads around it.

14. These held it fast, so that it could not get away. Then the spider went away and waited for another fly.

15. "Why does it not eat the fly?" asked Frank.

"It is not hungry now," said Alfred.

16. Then Alfred told Frank more about spiders.

"The mother spider is larger than the father," he said. "The mother spider lays eggs in a little bag which she makes for them. She hides it away in a safe place.

17. "This spider which we have just been watching is called the garden spider. It likes to make its web in gardens. It will not harm us, but there are some spiders which would hurt us very much if they should bite us."

————

Use these words in sentences:

river

bridge

rainbow

earth

wasp

busy

paper

pick

bears

cool

porridge

taste

bowl

huge

breakfast

here

————

Copy the names of the days of the week:

How many days are there in a week?

How many months are in a year?

Write the names of the four seasons.

Which one do you like best?

————

squeeze

straight

garden

number

squeak

stretch

harden

spider

50

THE YOUNG ARTIST

cane

Edward

meant

ink

button

artist

move

yesterday

easy

Ⅰ

1. Edward's father is an artist. He paints beautiful pictures. Edward says when he is a man he, too, will be an artist.

Every day Edward works at his pictures.

2. His father tells him that the best way to paint well when he is a man is to begin now while he is a boy. So every day Edward works at his pictures.

3. His pictures of horses have a queer thing about them. They are not like horses. They look more like large birds with four legs.

4. It is not easy to draw well. But Edward tries hard and he loves his work. So his drawings look more and more like the things for which they are meant.

Ⅱ

5. Yesterday he made a large picture. It is of a man with a big cane in his hand, walking by the seaside. There are four buttons on his coat. Near him is a tree, and a ship is not far off.

6. To-day Edward finished a still larger picture. It had in it a windmill, ships, and a man and a woman.

7. It seemed to Edward that he could see the ships move over the water and the sails of the windmill turn.

"It is the best picture I have made."

8. "It is the best picture I have made," he said. "I will ask papa to come and see it."

9. He ran to call his father and left the kitten playing on the floor. While Edward was out of the room, the kitten jumped on the table and upset the ink.

10. When Edward came in with his father, he found his picture covered with ink. He was very sorry, but he said, "I will draw another picture."

11. "Good, Edward!" said his father. "That is the way to become a true artist."

(ANATOLE FRANCE-ADAPTED)

————

Copy and memorize:

51

LITTLE THINGS

sand

ocean

moment

mighty

land

eternity

humble

Eden

1. Little drops of water,

Little grains of sand,

Make the mighty ocean,

And the pleasant land.

2. And the little moments,

Humble though they be,

Make the mighty ages

Of eternity.

3. Little deeds of kindness,

Little words of love,

Make our earth an Eden,

Like the heaven above.

52

HALF CHICK

pretend

dull

indeed

town

Half Chick

polite

bank

pity

worse

mind

waste

dying

became

answer

flow

ready

rude

freely

cook

steeple

kick

trouble

brothpot

church

palace

Ⅰ

1. Once there was a hen which had ten chickens. Nine of them were fine little follows.

2. But the youngest was not like his brothers and sisters. He was only half as large as a chicken should be; so his mother called him Half Chick.

3. She was very sad when she looked at him. She said, "My youngest child can never grow up to be tall and fine looking like his brothers. They will go out and make their way in the world, but this poor little thing will always have to stay at home with me."

4. But Half Chick's mother soon found that he was not willing to stay at home under her wing.

5. He was as unlike his brothers and sisters in his ways as he was in his looks. They were good chickens. When their mother called them, they chirped and ran to her side.

6. But Half Chick would hop far away. When his mother called him home, he would pretend that he could not hear.

Ⅱ

7. As he grew older, he became worse. He was often very rude to his mother and to the other chickens.

8. One day he went up to his mother with the queer little hop and kick which was his way of walking.

9. He cocked his eye at her and said, "Mother, I am tired of this dull life. I am off to the palace to see the king."

10. "To the palace, Half Chick!" said his mother. "Why, my dear, that would be a long way even for me to go. A poor little thing like you would be tired before you went half the way. Stay at home with me. Some day when you are bigger, we will take a nice long walk together."

11. But Half Chick had made up his mind to go, and he would not listen to his mother. So with a hop and a kick away he went.

12. "Be sure that you are kind and polite to everyone you meet," his mother called after him. But he was in such haste to be off that he did not stop to answer.

Ⅲ

13. As he went through a field, he passed a stream. The stream was filled up with weeds and water-plants, so that its water could not flow freely.

14. "O Half Chick," it cried, as Half Chick hopped along its banks, "do come and help me! Please take away these weeds that are so much in my way."

15. "Help you, indeed!" said Half Chick with a toss of his head. "Do you think I have nothing to do but to waste my time with you? Help yourself, and don't trouble me. I am off to the palace to see the king."

And with a hop and a kick on he went.

16. A little later he came to a fire, which some men had left in a wood. It was burning very low and would soon be out.

17. "O Half Chick," cried the fire as he came near, "in a little while I shall die if some one does not help me. Do give me some dry leaves and sticks."

18. "Help you, indeed!" said Half Chick. "I have other things to do. Get dry leaves and sticks for yourself, and don't trouble me. I am off to the palace to see the king." And with a hop and a kick on went Half Chick.

19. The next morning, as he was getting near the palace, he passed a big oak tree. The wind was caught in its branches.

20. "O Half Chick," cried the wind, "do hop up here and help me to get free from these branches. I cannot get away."

21. "Then you ought not to have gone there," said Half Chick. "I can't waste all my morning in helping you. Get yourself free the best way you can, and don't trouble me. I am off to the palace to see the king."

22. With a hop and a kick off went Half Chick faster than ever.

23. The king's palace was now in sight. Half Chick thought he would go to the door and wait there till the king came out.

24. But as he was hopping by one of the back windows, the king's cook saw him.

25. "Here is the very thing I want to make the king's broth," cried the cook. And he caught Half Chick by the leg and threw him into the broth pot.

Ⅴ

26. Half Chick did not like this at all, and he cried, "Water, water! Have pity upon me. Do not wet me like this."

27. "Ah! Half Chick," said the water, "you would not help me when I was a little stream away in the field. Now I cannot help you."

28. Then the fire began to burn. Half Chick hopped from one side of the pot to the other, trying to get away from the heat.

29. "Fire, fire!" he cried. "Do not burn me like this. You don't know how it hurts."

30. "Half Chick," answered the fire, "you would not help me when I was dying in the wood. Now I cannot help you."

31. At last the cook came to see if the broth was ready for the king's dinner.

32. "Look here!" he cried. "This chicken is burnt up. It is not fit to eat." So he threw Half Chick out of the window.

33. The wind caught him and dashed him through the air so fast that he could hardly breathe.

34. "Oh! wind," he cried, "if you take me along so fast you will kill me. Do let me rest a little while."

35. "Ah! Half Chick," said the wind, "when I was caught in the oak tree, you would not help me. Now I cannot help you."

36. And he carried Half Chick over the roofs of the houses till they came to the highest church in town.

37. Then he left him on the top of the steeple. And there stands Half Chick to this day.

(A SPANISH LEGEND)

————

Find in this story a word that means big; one that means small.

What word means the opposite of wet; of short?

Write a sentence telling who asked Half Chick for help.

Make a drawing to show where Half Chick is now.

————

53

WHERE GO THE BOATS?

foam

either

castle

past

forever

valley

ashore

dark

1. Dark brown is the river.

Golden is the sand,

It flows along forever,

With trees on either hand.

2. Green leaves a-floating,

Castles of the foam,

Boats of mine a-boating—

Where will all come home?

3. On goes the river

And out must the mill,

Away down the valley,

Away down the hill.

4. Away down the river,

A hundred miles or more,

Other little children

Shall bring my boats ashore.

(ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON)

————

a-floating

a-boating

54

FROGS

fish

jelly

bunches

croak

jaw

flat

tadpole

front

bead

hind

backwards

pointing

Ⅰ

1. Children who walk in the country in the spring sometimes see frogs' eggs floating on the water in a ditch or pond. The eggs look very much like bunches of beads made of jelly.

2. After a while, tadpoles come from these eggs. Tadpoles are queer little water animals. They have big heads and long, flat tails. They swim about together and look like little fish.

A tadpole

A young frog

3. As the tadpole grows larger, he changes. His legs begin to grow, and his tail becomes shorter and shorter till there is no tail at all. Then he is no longer a tadpole; he has become a young frog.

4. He cannot live in the water any longer, so he crawls out of the pond and makes his home in the wet grass. But he often goes back into the water for a swim.

Ⅱ

5. The frog's hind legs are long and strong. Each of the hind feet has five toes, which are joined by a web like that of a duck's foot. It is by means of these webbed feet that a frog swims.

Catching a fly.

6. A frog feeds on flies, ants, spiders, worms, snails, and such things. He even eats bees and wasps. Their stings do not seem to hurt him at all.

7. A frog has a wide mouth and a long tongue. His tongue is joined to the jaw in front and not at the back as our tongues are.

8. So it lies in the mouth pointing backwards. This is the way it looks when the frog darts it out to catch a fly.

9. All summer a frog feeds on insects, but in winter he cannot get these to eat.

10. What do you think he does then? He finds a hole in the earth and buries himself there.

11. Then, like the snail, he sleeps all winter. In the spring when the sun shines warm and bright, he creeps out of his hole. We hear his "croak, croak," as he hops about the meadows.

————

Write answers to these questions:

1. What is a tadpole?

2. What can you tell about a frog's hind legs?

3. What have you learned in this lesson about a frog's tongue?

4. What do frogs do in winter?

————

Use these words in sentences:

drops

grains

ocean

land

paint

artist

picture

mill

grow

proper

shadow

early

————

toy

coin

look

moon

joy

join

foot

soon

55

PICCOLA

known

alive

instead

lonely

miss

Piccola

leather

gift

guess

stocking

wooden

happiness

Santa Claus

Ⅰ

1. Piccola was a little girl who lived far across the sea. Her father was dead and her mother had to work very hard to buy food.

2. But little Piccola was as happy as the day is long. In summer she ran about in the fields and looked for flowers and berries. In winter when snow was on the ground, she had to stay indoors.

3. She had no brothers nor sisters to play with her, and no toys nor picture books such as you have. But she had never known what it was to have playthings, and she did not miss them.

4. You could never guess what she had for a doll. It was a stick of wood! She made a dress for it and talked to it and petted it.

Piccola

5. "If only you were alive, my baby," she said, "how nice it would be! Still, it is good to have you to talk to these long winter days. Winter would be a bad time if it were not for Christmas. How I wish it were Christmas now! I wonder what I shall find in my shoe!"

Ⅱ

6. Where Piccola lived the children do not hang up their stockings. Instead, they put out their shoes for Santa Claus to fill.

7. And very queer shoes they are. They are not leather shoes like yours. They are made of wood and are hard and heavy.

8. How would you like to wear wooden shoes? Piccola liked it very well, for she had never seen any other kind.

9. As Christmas drew near, she often said to her mother: "I do wonder what I shall find in my shoe!"

10. Her mother looked sad when Piccola said this.

11. "You must not expect anything this year, my dear," she said. "It is a hard winter. You and I must be glad to get bread to eat in times like these."

12. But Piccola was quite sure that Santa Claus would not forget her.

13. At last Christmas came. Piccola put her wooden shoe by the bedside and went to sleep.

14. "Poor child!" said her mother. "How sad she will be when she wakes up and finds nothing in her shoe."

Ⅲ

15. The next morning Piccola was up before it was light.

16. "Oh, Mother, Mother," she cried. "Just see what Santa Claus has brought me! It is a dear little bird."

17. And there was a little swallow! Piccola took it in her hand. It fluttered about, but could not fly. Piccola's mother looked at it and found that one of its wings was hurt.

Piccola took the swallow in her hand.

18. "We will keep it with us and protect it through the cold weather" she said. "It would die out in the snow."

19. "I shall never be lonely now when you are away at work all day," said Piccola.

She set it free.

"When I wished for a little dog, you said that he would eat too much. But we shall not miss the crumbs my Christmas bird will eat."

20. Piccola kept the swallow till spring came, and then she set it free. But it often came to her window for crumbs.

21. No Christmas gift ever brought more happiness than the little swallow in Piccola's shoe.

————

Copy and memorize:

————

able

little

tripping

swallow

table

middle

stepping

pillow

stable

gobble

dropping

yellow

56

A TALK ABOUT REDCOAT

blunt

pack

keen

follow

noble

sledge

pad

master

pride

wolves

led

faithful

1. Come here, Alfred, and I will tell you some things you may not know about that dog of yours.

2. Hear what a noise he makes coming across the floor! Now look at his feet and you will see why.

Look at his feet

3. He has soft pads under his toes, but he cannot draw in his claws as a cat can. She has to creep along to spring on the mice. He can run fast to catch what he wants.

4. Sometimes he chases pussy, but pussy can get away from him.

If he comes too near her in the race, she can put out her sharp claws and climb a tree. He cannot climb, because his claws are short and blunt.

5. There is another way in which pussy has the better of him. He cannot see so well in the dark as she can. She hunts at night, and he hunts in the day.

6. You remember the walk we took last week. We left Redcoat at home, you know, but he joined us when we were far away from home.

7. Can you guess how he found us? It was his keen nose that led him to us. Dogs can follow animals or people for miles without seeing them.

8. You see that Redcoat's nose is cold and wet. That shows he is well. It is only when a dog is sick that his nose is hot and dry.

9. Now let us look at his teeth. They are sharp and pointed. I should not like to have them bite me.

10. Redcoat can move his jaws only up and down. Cows and other animals that eat grass move their jaws sideways, as well as up and down.

Ⅱ

11. Redcoat is a hunting dog. He likes to chase game. Some dogs take care of sheep and cattle. Others protect their masters' homes.

12. In some places there are packs of wild dogs. They hunt together and feed on the animals they kill.

A dog at work

13. If Redcoat lived in some parts of the world, he would have to work. His master would make a little wagon and Redcoat would have to draw it.

14. There are countries in the north where it is too cold for horses to live. In these places dogs draw sledges over the snow and ice.

15. These dogs are very strong and can go far with little food. Their coats are warmer and thicker than your dog's. They look like wolves.

16. Do you know that the wolf and fox say they are Redcoat's cousins? I do not believe that he would take pride in such cousins.

17. Dogs are noble animals. They are faithful and loving, and always remember the people who are kind to them.

57

WHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST?

hid

feel

stole

wove

rob

hung

Alice Neal

wisp

Ⅰ

1. "To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!

Will you listen to me?

Who stole four eggs I laid,

And the nice nest I made?"

2. "Not I," said the cow, "Moo-oo!

Such a thing I'd never do;

I gave you a wisp of hay,

But didn't take your nest away.

Not I," said the cow, "Moo-oo!

Such a thing I'd never do."

3. "Coo, coo! Coo, coo! Coo, coo!

Let me speak a word, too.

Who stole that pretty nest

From little yellow breast?"

4. "Not I," said the sheep, "oh, no!

I wouldn't treat a poor bird so;

I gave the wool the nest to line,

But the nest was none of mine.

Baa, baa!" said the sheep, "oh, no!

I wouldn't treat a poor bird so."

5. "Caw, caw!" cried the crow,

"I should like to know

What thief took away

A bird's nest to-day?"

Ⅱ

6. "Cluck, cluck!" said the hen,

"Don't ask me again;

Why I haven't a chick

That would do such a trick.

We each gave her a feather,

And she wove them together.

Cluck, cluck!" said the hen,

"Don't ask me again!"

7. "I would not rob a bird,"

Said little Mary Green;

"I think I never heard

Of anything so mean."

"'Tis very cruel, too,"

Said little Alice Neal;

"I wonder if he knew

How sad the bird would feel?"

8. A little boy hung down his head,

And went and hid behind the bed;

For he stole that pretty nest

From poor little yellow breast;

And he felt so full of shame,

He didn't like to tell his name.

(LYDIA MARIA CHILD)

————

1. From the poem find who said:

to-whit

coo

moo-oo

to-whee

baa

caw

2. Tell who gave yellow breast something for her nest.

3. Write what Mary Green said.

————

knew

whole

crumb

know

whose

lamb

knock

whom

limb

58

THE SHOEMAKER AND THE ELVES

shoemaker

pair

spared

midnight

surprise

prayers

sold

skipped

already

bench

corner

clothes

closely

price

elves

delight

honest

able

naked

quickly

Ⅰ

1. Long, long ago, there lived in a small town a shoemaker and his wife. The shoemaker was an honest man and he worked very hard. He and his wife were always kind to those who were in want.

2. But times became very hard. Through no fault of his own the shoemaker grew poorer and poorer. At last he had only enough leather left to make one pair of shoes.

3. In the evening he cut out the shoes. He was to make them the next day. Then he said his prayers and went to bed.

4. In the morning he rose early and went to his work-bench. There to his surprise he found the shoes already finished.

5. He did not know what to make of it. He looked closely at them. They were more beautiful than he could have made them.

6. He called his wife and showed them to her. The good woman was as much surprised as he.

7. That morning a man came in to buy some shoes. He was so much pleased with the ones the shoemaker showed him that he bought them for a good price.

Ⅱ

8. The shoemaker was now able to buy leather for two pairs of shoes. Again he cut them out in the evening, He meant to rise early the next morning to finish them.

9. But he was spared the trouble. The next morning there on his work-bench stood the shoes already made.

10. These, too, were soon sold, and the shoemaker bought leather for four pairs more. He cut these out and laid them ready as before. But when he came down in the morning, he found the shoes finished as before.

11. So it went on. He had only to buy the leather and cut out the shoes. He always found them finished the next morning. The good man soon became rich.

12. One evening just before Christmas he said to his wife, "My dear, I should like to find out who the good people are who help us. Let us sit up to-night and watch."

13. His wife thought this a good plan, so they hid themselves in a corner of the workroom.

14. Just at midnight two little naked elves came running into the room. They sat down upon the shoemaker's bench and took up the work already cut out.

15. They worked so well and so fast that in a little while all the shoes were finished. Then they skipped off the bench and ran away.

Ⅲ

16. Next morning the woman said, "The good little elves have been very kind to us. I would like to do something for them. They run about so and have nothing on, and they must be cold.

17. "I'll tell you what we can do: I will make them some clothes, and you can make them some little shoes."

18. This plan pleased the shoemaker very much. So he and his wife set to work at once. You may be sure they spared no pains in making the shoes and the clothes.

The elves showed great delight.

19. At night everything was ready, and the good man and his wife laid the clothes on the work-bench. Then they hid to see what the little elves would do.

20. At midnight the elves came running in. They jumped on the bench, expecting to find the leather cut out for them to make into shoes. But there was nothing to be seen but the beautiful little clothes.

21. At first the elves were surprised, and then they showed great delight. They dressed themselves quickly, dancing about for joy. At last they danced out of the room and they never came back any more.

22. But everything went well with the good shoemaker and his wife, who had been kind to those who helped them. They were never in want again as long as they lived.

(GRIMM)

————

Copy and memorize:

————

catch

bench

large

bridge

hatch

bunch

charge

sledge

latch

inch

barge

grudge

59

A SPRING MORNING

welcome

shake

ring

merrily

swimming

below

God

rejoice

1. Get up, little sister, the morning is bright,

And the birds are all singing to welcome the light;

The buds are all opening—the dew's on the flower;

If you shake but a branch—see! there falls quite a shower.

2. By the side of their mothers—look! under the trees,

How the young lambs are playing about as they please;

And by all the rings on the water, I know

The fishes are merrily swimming below.

3. Get up, for when all things are merry and glad,

Good children should never be lazy and sad;

For God gives us daylight, dear sister, that we

May rejoice like the lark, and may work like the bee.

(LADY FLORA HASTINGS)

60

THE TOWN MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE

sprang

envy

nibbled

safety

feast

fare

scamper

fear

1. A country mouse had a friend that lived in a house in town. One day this friend came to visit her. At dinner the country mouse brought out the best food she had. It was only dry corn and wheat.

2. "Why do you stay here in the field?" said the town mouse. "You live no better than a poor ant. In town I have all kinds of good things. Come to see me, and I will show you what a mouse ought to have."

3. The hungry country mouse was glad to go. The next day they went to town together. Then what a feast they had!

4. "You are right," said the country mouse to her friend. "It is much better to live here than in the country."

The best food she had

5. But as they nibbled at some cheese, the cook opened the door. The mice had to scamper away in fear for their lives.

6. Soon they crept out again. But a huge cat sprang at them and almost caught them before they could get back to their holes.

7. Then the country mouse said, "You have here many fine things to eat, but you are all the time in fear for your life. I have poor fare at home, but at least I live in safety. I will go back there and not envy you your fine fare."

A huge cat sprang at them.

————

bower

toad

grudge

timid

furry

1. The city mouse lives in a house; —

The garden mouse lives in a bower,

He's friendly with the frogs and toads,

And sees the pretty plants in flower.

2. The city mouse eats bread and cheese;—

The garden mouse eats what he can;

We will not grudge him seeds and stalks

Poor little timid furry man!

(CHRISTINA ROSSETTI)

61

JOHN'S NEW HORSE

between

wild

until

space

finger

John

proud

steel

sugar

those

grinding

lip

Ⅰ

1. "May, May, here comes John with his new horse! He must have brought it to show to us."

2. Frank waited until his sister came, and then they ran down to meet John.

3. John was their cousin. He had just got this new horse, and he was very proud of it. Its name was Brownie.

4. May got some sugar. Brownie took it in his soft lips and then ground it to pieces with his teeth.

They saw that the shoe was nailed to the hoof.

5. "O cousin John," said May, "let me get him another piece of sugar. See how he likes it!"

6. "No, May," said John. "Give him some of that fresh grass instead. Much sugar is as bad for his teeth as it is for yours.

7. "Do let us see his teeth," said May. So John opened the horse's mouth to show the children his teeth.

8. "With these front teeth," he said, "a horse bites off the grass. He passes it back in his mouth to the flat grinding teeth. You see there is a little space between the front and back teeth. That is where the bit goes."

May got some sugar.

Ⅱ

9. Just then the horse lifted one of his feet to knock off a fly. Frank saw the shining steel shoe on his hoof and said, "Why do you put those things on his feet?"

10. "To keep his hoofs from wearing out," said John. "Wild horses do not need shoes. They run on the grass, but my horse has to go along the hard roads."

11. "But, John," said Frank, "how do they fasten the shoes to the hoof?"

From the painting Sir Edwin Landseer 　 Engraved by Walter Aikman

Shoeing the Horse

12. John touched the horse's leg, and Brownie at once lifted his foot. Then the children saw that the shoe was nailed to the hoof.

13. "How it must hurt to have that done!" said May.

14. "Oh, no," laughed John; "no more than cutting your finger nails hurts you. The hoof is the horse's toe nail. But now jump in, and we will go for a little drive."

15. The children were very glad to do this, so they jumped in and off they went.

————

1. How many letters are there in the word another?

2. Use these letters to make other words.

————

nose

grass

dash

breeze

noise

dress

crush

freeze

please

cross

fresh

squeeze

62

LADY MOON

rolling

roving

weep

bold

whom

obey

1. Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?

"Over the sea."

Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving?

"All that love me."

2. Are you not tired with rolling, and never

Resting to sleep?

Why look so pale and sad, as forever

Wishing to weep?

3. "Ask me not this, little child, if you love me:

You are too bold:

I must obey my dear Father above me,

And do as I'm told."

4. Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?

"Over the sea."

Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving?

"All that love me."

(LORD HOUGHTON)

63

LITTLE GEORGE WASHINGTON

George

wrote

bridle

vain

Washington

enjoy

rider

plunge

farm

chance

favorite

truth

storehouse

sound

madam

blame

letter

fond

gentlemen

pray

Ⅰ

1. You all know what a great man George Washington was. Perhaps you have Seen pictures of him at the head of his army. But have you ever thought what kind of boy he was?

2. His home was on a farm near a great river. There were fields and meadows around the house, and so many barns and storehouses that it made almost a little town by itself.

From the painting by Gilbert Stuart

George Washington

3. Little George Washington used to play with his brothers, and he did many of the things that country boys do now.

4. He went fishing and swimming in the river, and he learned to shoot and ride.

5. One of George's older brothers was a soldier, and the little boy liked to play that he, too, was a soldier. He and his little friends at school used to march around with cornstalks for guns.

Ⅱ

6. One spring day George's father went into the garden and wrote the name "George Washington" in the soft earth.

7. Then he filled the letters with seeds. The warm spring rains made them grow. In a few days there was the name "George Washington" growing in fresh, green leaves.

"Here is my name."

8. Then Mr. Washington took George into the garden. The little boy ran about, looking at the flowers and plants. At last he saw his name growing there.

9. "O father," he cried, "come and see this! Here is my name growing in this bed. Who made it?"

10. "Why do you think anyone made it?" asked Mr. Washington. "Perhaps it grew by chance."

11. "I am sure it did not," Said George. "I never saw plants grow by chance so as to make one letter, and here is my name. I think you must have done it, father. Did you not?"

12. "Yes, my son," said Mr. Washington, "and I did it to teach you a lesson. Even a little thing like this does not come by chance. Then we may be sure chance did not make this beautiful world for us to live in.

13. "There is water for you when you are thirsty, and food when you are hungry. There are plants and animals to give you clothing. There are beautiful sights for you to see, and sweet sounds for you to hear.

14. "The world is full of things for you to use and to enjoy. Some one has done all this for you. He is wiser and stronger than I. He loves you even more than I do. This is what I want you to learn and remember."

15. "I will not forget it, father," said George, and he did not.

III

16. Mr. Washington died when George was still a small boy. Then Mrs. Washington had to take care of the home and the farm.

17. She was very fond of horses and had a number of them. Among them was a fine young horse which no one had been able to ride or drive. One day George and some of his friends saw this horse in a field.

18. "I know I can ride him," George said. "I am going to do it."

19. The other boys helped George catch the horse and put the bridle on it. Then George sprang upon its back. The young animal kicked and plunged. It tried in vain to throw its rider.

20. At last it gave a great plunge and fell to the ground dead. The boys were very much frightened.

21. "O George, how angry your mother will be!" one of them said. "This is her favorite horse. Do not tell her about it, and she will think that some of the men are to blame."

22. When the boys went in, Mrs. Washington said, "Pray, young gentlemen, have you seen my horses this morning? I hope great care is taken of them. I am told that my favorite has grown to be a fine large horse."

"Your favorite is dead."

23. George said, "Your favorite is dead, madam. I killed him." Then he told the whole story.

24. His mother did not speak for a minute. Then she said, "I am sorry that my favorite horse is dead, but I am glad that my son always speaks the truth."

Ⅳ

25. There are three things you are to remember about Washington as a boy. He always told the truth, he was not afraid of anything, and he obeyed his father and mother.

26. If these things had not been true of him as a boy, he would never have grown up to be a great and good man.

64

AMERICA

author

holy

mortal

liberty

rapture

thee

silence

pilgrim

native

rill

prolong

freedom

thrill

swell

partake

templed

1. My country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,

Land of the Pilgrims' pride,

From every mountain side

Let freedom ring!

2. My native country, thee—

Land of the noble free—

Thy name I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,

Thy woods and templed hills;

My heart with rapture thrills,

Like that above.

3. Let music swell the breeze,

And ring from all the trees

Sweet freedom's song;

Let mortal tongues awake;

Let all that breathe partake;

Let rocks their silence break,

The sound prolong.

4. Our fathers' God, to Thee,

Author of liberty,

To Thee we sing;

Long may our land be bright

With freedom's holy light;

Protect us by Thy might,

Great God, our King!

(SAMUEL F. SMITH)

65

THE MILKMAID

pail

grand

silk

mistress

sell

lucky

milk

maid

1. A milkmaid did her work well; so one day her mistress gave her a pail of milk.

"You may sell this milk," she said, "and buy something for yourself."

Down came the milk.

2. The girl put the pail on her head and started to town. "What a lucky girl I am!" she said to herself. "I will sell this milk and buy some eggs.

3. "I will put the eggs under a hen, and she will hatch a fine brood of chickens. I will feed my chickens till they grow to be fat hens.

4. "I will sell my hens and buy a fine dress. It must be silk, and I think it shall be green. Yes, I will have a green silk dress. How fine I shall look in it!

5. "I shall be too grand to speak to the other maids on the farm. When I go by them, I will not even look at them. I will just toss my head, —like this."

6. She gave her head a toss and down came the milk, and with it all her great hopes.

————

alive

became

fasten

merry

alone

become

often

sorry

66

THE GOLDEN TOUCH

sum

daunghter

crust

shook

Midas

Marygold

groaned

hate

money

stranger

comfort

shuddered

spent

satisfy

unhappy

rid

heap

tomorrow

image

sparkled

Ⅰ

1. Once upon a time there lived a king named Midas.

2. He was very rich. He had money enough to buy everything he could want all his life.

3. You would think he would not care for more. But the more money Midas had, the more he wished to have.

4. There was only one thing he loved as well as his gold. That was his little daughter Marygold.

5. Midas had a dark, strong room under his palace, where he kept his treasures. Here he spent much of his time, looking over them.

6. One day he was in his strong room. Looking up from the heap of gold, he saw a stranger standing near him.

7. How could he have got into the room? Midas had come in alone and had fastened the door after him.

8. The stranger looked about him.

"You are a rich man, friend Midas," he said. "You have much gold, I see."

9. "I should like to have still more," said the king.

"Pray, how much do you want?" asked the stranger.

10. Midas stopped to think. Somehow he felt sure that this stranger could give him what he wished.

11. He thought and thought, but could not at once think of any sum that would satisfy him.

He touched the roses.

Ⅱ

12. At last a bright thought came to him and he said, "I wish that everything I touch could be changed to gold."

The stranger smiled at this, and the whole room seemed to become brighter.

13. "The golden touch!" he cried. "Are you sure this will satisfy you? Will you never be sorry to have it?"

14. "Sorry!" cried Midas. "I should be quite happy."

15. "You shall have your wish," said the stranger. "Tomorrow at sunrise the golden touch shall be yours."

16. The next morning Midas found to his delight that his wish had come true. Everything turned to gold under his touch. Even his clothes became cloth of gold, as he put them on.

17. After he was dressed, he went for a walk in his garden. It delighted him to see the roses change to gold as he touched them.

Ⅲ

18. This morning walk made the king hungry, and he went in to breakfast. He and his little daughter, Marygold, sat down to the table.

19. But the king soon found that he could not eat his breakfast at all. Can you think why?

20. Everything turned to gold as he touched it. Midas had the richest breakfast ever set before a king. But hungry as he was, there was nothing he could eat. A poor man with a crust of bread and a cup of water was better off than the king.

21. Midas groaned. Little Marygold heard him and ran to comfort him.

He kissed her and cried, "My dear, dear little Marygold!"

22. But Marygold made no answer. Her father's touch had changed her to gold. Instead of his dear little girl, there stood before him a golden image.

23. It would be too sad a story to tell you how unhappy Midas was. He would have given all his treasures to have had his dear child back again.

Ⅳ

24. All at once he saw before him the stranger who had come to him in the treasure room.

25. "Well, friend Midas," the stranger said with a smile, "how do you get on with the golden touch?"

26. Midas shook his head. "I am very unhappy," he said.

27. "Very unhappy!" said the stranger. "Why is that? You said the golden touch was the one thing you wanted."

28. "Gold is not everything," said Midas. "A cup of water or a crust of bread is better than gold. I would not have given my little girl for all the gold on earth."

Her father's touch had changed her to gold.

29. "You are wiser than you were, friend Midas," said the stranger. "You see now that there are things in the world better than gold."

"I hate the golden touch!" said Midas.

30. Just then a fly lighted on his nose, but at once it fell to the floor. It, too, had become gold. Midas shuddered.

31. "I will tell you," said the stranger, "how to get rid of the golden touch. Go and bathe in the river which flows through your garden. Pour some of that water over anything which you wish to change to what it was before."

Ⅴ

32. Midas ran to the garden at once, and plunged into the river. Then he took some of the water and dashed it over little Marygold.

Marygold

33. You would have laughed to see the color come back to her face. Before long she was her dear little self again.

34. How happy Midas was! You may be sure he was glad to be rid of the golden touch.

35. But there was one thing which put him in mind of it as long as he lived. The sands of the river in which he had bathed sparkled like gold!

(NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE-ADAPTED)

————

Write a story using these words:

Midas

money

loved

girl

stranger

wished

touched

gold

breakfast

turned

bathe

wiser

————

Copy and memorize:

67

SWEET AND LOW

western

silver

babe

west

1. Sweet and low, sweet and low,

Wind of the western sea,

Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go;

Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me;

While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

2. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest;

Father will come to thee soon.

Rest, rest on mother's breast;

Father will come to thee soon.

Father will come to his babe in the nest;

Silver sails all out of the west,

Under the silver moon;

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep!

(ALFRED, LORD TENNYSONN)

WORDS IN SECOND READER

The following list will be useful for review exercises in enunciation, pronunciation, spelling, and language work.

A

able

aboating

above

across

afloating

afraid

afternoon

age

ago

Alfred

Alice Neal

always

alive

alone

along

already

angry

animal

answer

ant

apple-tart

arm

army

arrant

arrow

artist

ashore

aunt

author

awoke

B

baa

babe

bag

baskwards

bank

barley

bare

basket

bathe

bead

bear

beaten

became

because

before

begin

begun

below

bench

beneath

Bessie

better

between

beyond

biggest

billy

bit

blame

blanket

blind

blown

blunt

bodies

bold

bolster

bone

both

bottom

bound

bower

bowl

bow-wow

box

branch

breakfast

breathe

breeze

bride

bridge

bridle

broken

broke

brood

broom

broth

brought

build

bunch

busy

button

buzz

C

cake

cane

cap

carry

care

castle

caw

chance

change

charge

charmingly

chase

cheek

chestnut

chew

chick

Christmas

church

circle

clean

climb

close

close

closely

cloth

clothing

clothes

clover

coal

coarse

cockadoo

Cock-lock

comfort

content

coo

cook

cool

corner

cottage

cousin

cover

coverlet

coward

crack

cream

crept

croak

crow

crowned

cruel

crumb

crush

crust

cud

cure

curl

cushion

D

dance

dandelion

dark

dart

dash

daughter

dead

deal

delight

destroy

dew

die

dinner

ditch

doctor

done

Dora

door

dozen

Drake-lake

draw

dream

dreary

dress

drew

drive

driver

droop

drown

drum

drummer

Duck-luck

dull

dying

E

each

ear

early

earth

earthy

easy

eaten

echo

Eden

Edward

either

else

elves

end

enemies

enjoy

enough

envy

eternity

even

evening

expect

F

fail

faint

faithful

fallen

fare

farm

farmer

farmhouse

fasten

fat

father

fault

favorite

fear

feast

feather

fed

feed

feel

feeler

fellow

felt

fence

few

fill

fine

finger

finish

fish

fit

flat

float

floor

Florence

flow

flutter

foam

follow

folk

fond

fool

forest

forever

forget

Fox-lox

fragrant

freedom

freely

fresh

friendly

frighten

fro

frolic

front

full

funniest

furry

G

Gander-lander

gentle

gentlemen

gift

given

glass

glory

goal

goat

gobble

God

gold

golden

good-bye

Goose-loose

gown

grand

grandmother

grasshopper

greedy

grind

groan

grudge

Gruff

gum

guess

H

habit

half

handsomer

happen

happiness

hard

harden

hardly

hare

haste

hat

hatch

hate

head

healthy

heap

heat

heath

heaven

heavy

heel

hello

helpful

Hen-len

hid

hill

hind

hiss

ho

hoarse

hold

hole

holy

honest

hood

hoof

hop

hope

hospital

hot

hug

huge

hum

humble

hundred

hung

hunt

hunter

hurrah

I

ice

ill

image

indeed

india-rabber

ink

insect

instead

J

Jack Frost

jaw

jelly

John

join

jolly

joy

judge

K

keen

kept

keyhole

kick

kindness

king

kitten

knew

knock

known

L

labor

laid

lamb

lander

land

large

latch

late

lazy

leaf

learn

least

leather

led

left

lesson

letter

liberty

lie

life

lift

lily

limp

line

lip

listen

lives

lock

lonely

loss

lost

loud

low

lucky

lurkey

lying

M

maam

madam

maid

Mary

Mary gold

master

mat

mean

meant

meat

meet

merrily

merry

Midas

middle

middle-sized

midnight

might

mighty

milk

milkmaid

mind

mine

minute

miss

mistress

moment

money

monkey

mortal

morning glory

most

mountain

mousie

mouth

move

Mrs.

mud

music

N

nail

naked

native

naughty

needle

need

neighbor

neither

news

next

nibble

nice

nicely

Nightingale

noble

nobody

nod

noise

none

nose

nothing

notion

number

nurse

nursie

O

obey

ocean

o'er

often

open

ought

own

P

pace

pack

pad

pail

pain

paint

pair

palace

pale

paper

part

partake

pass

past

pearl

peck

people

perhaps

pet

Piccola

pick

piece

pilgrim

pillow

pine

pity

place

plain

plan

playful

playmate

please

plod

plow

plunge

point

polite

porridge

pot

pour

pray

prayers

present

press

pretend

prettier

price

pride

prolong

promise

proper

protect

proud

Q

quarrel

quickly

quiet

quill

quite

R

race

rake

rapture

ready

real

really

redder

rejoice

remember

rich

rid

rider

right

rill

ring

road

roam

roast

rob

roll

room

rove

row

rubber

rude

rumble

S

sad

safe

safety

sail

sake

same

sand

Santa Claus

satisfy

saucer

save

scamper

scent

scream

search

sell

shadow

shake

shame

share

shell

shoemaker

shoes

shook

shoot

short

should

show

shower

shrill

shudder

shut

silence

sight

sign

silver

silk

sister

skies

skip

sledge

sleepy

slept

slow

slowly

slug

small

smell

smile

snail

snap

snug

softly

sold

song

sorry

sort

sound

space

spare

sparkle

speak

spent

spied

spin

spoke

spoon

sprang

squeak

squeeze

stairs

stalk

stand

stare

steady

steeple

steel

step

sting

stocking

stole

stop

storehouse

stories

stormy

straight

stranger

straw

strawberries

stray

stream

street

stretch

strike

string

stripe

stung

sugar

sum

suppose

surprise

swallow

sweep

swell

swept

T

table

tadpole

taken

taste

taller

teach

teeth

temple

terribly

thaw

thee

themselves

thick

thief

thirsty

thistle

those

though

thread

thrill

through

thrush

thunder

thy

timid

tiny

tire

toad

to-day

toe

toil

told

tomorrow

tongue

tool

tortoise

toss

touch

towhee

towhit

town

tramp

treasure

treat

trick

trip-trap

trodden

troll

trouble

truth

tulip

Turkey-lurkey

turn

U

unhappy

until

upset

useful

V

vain

valley

vein

vex

visit

W

watercress

wait

wake

wander

war

Washington

wasp

waste

wave

wear

weary

weather

web

weed

weep

welcome

west

western

wet

whiteness

whole

whom

whose

wife

wild

willing

win

windmill

window

wink

wiser

wise

wisp

wither

wolf

wolves

wonderful

wood

wooden

wool

worker

worse

wounded

wove

wrap

wrote

Y

yesterday

youngest

A great consideration governing the choice of all selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is to minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

— Harry Pratt Judson

(The 2nd president of the University of Chicago)

出版策划：神鸟文化

责任编辑：伍绍东

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森

为美国学生选编的经典文学读本

This series of literature readers is edited by the president of the University of Chicago Harry Pratt Judson, as to supply almost the only reading of many children, and stimulate their taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classical tales and fables are largely used. Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different part of the United States, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediated, and advanced grades.

We believe that Graded Literature Readers disclose a broader knowledge of literature, better taste and judgment in its selections.

010-62627373

第3册目录

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 THE DOVE AND THE ANT

2 GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING

3 THE BAG OF WINDS

4 THE WIND

5 THE SEA

6 O SAILOR, COME ASHORE

7 THE STORY OF COLUMBUS

8 HANS, THE SHEPHERD BOY

9 THE MOON

10 BIRDS—BILLS

11 WHEN

12 BENJY IN BEASTLAND

13 MARY ALLERTON—THE STORY OF A LITTLE PILGRIM

14 THANKSGIVING DAY

15 A GOOD SHOT

16 BIRDS—FEET

17 THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE

18 THE FOX WHO LOST HIS TAIL

19 HOW LULU GOT LOST

20 SEVEN TIMES ONE

21 THE WOLF AND THE LAMB

22 THE SKYLARK'S SPURS

23 THE FAIRIES

24 BIRDS—TRAVELS

25 SO-SO

26 THREE COMPANIONS

27 ATALANTA'S RACE

28 UNION GIVES STRENGTH

29 SOWING SEEDS

30 A DUTCH LULLABY

31 THE UGLY DUCKLING

32 THE DERVISH AND THE CAMEL

33 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

34 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH

35 BEES

36 THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

37 JACK IN THE PULPIT

38 CAPTAIN SMITH AND POCAHONTAS

39 HERCULES AND THE WAGONER

40 LEAVES

41 THE TREE

42 THE BOY WHO HATED TREES

43 MARCH

44 CIRCE

45 HIAWATHA'S HUNTING

46 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AS A BOY

47 THE DOVE

48 THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THEIR DONKEY

49 ROBERT OF LINCOLN

50 THE FOX AND THE CROW

51 HAWAIIAN CHILDREN

52 WORK

53 LITTLE DAFFYDOWNDILLY

54 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

55 FAREWELL ADVICE

WORDS IN THIRD READER

返回总目录

Harry Pratt Judson (1849 - 1927) was an American educator and historian, born at Jamestown, New York, and educated at Williams College. He taught in the Troy High School in Troy, New York in 1870-1885 and was professor of history and lecturer on pedagogic at the University of Minnesota in 1885-1892. At the University of Chicago he became professor of political science and head dean of the colleges in 1892 and head of the political science department and dean of the faculties of arts, literature, and science in 1894. He served as the acting president of the University of Chicago between 1906 and 1907 and as the president of the University of Chicago from 1907 until 1923.

Judson became a member of the General Education Board in 1906 and of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913. He edited a series of readers for school students, and wrote some great books.

欢迎访问家庭学校微博／博客

http://weibo.com/318999618

http://blog.sina.com.cn/homeschoolnow

GRADED

LITERATURE

READERS

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森主编的经典文学读本

美国学生

文学读本

HARRY PRATT JUDSON

〔美〕哈里·P·贾德森／编

天津人民出版社

INTRODUCTION

The Third Reader marks a further development of the plan on which the first two books of the Series are based. The general character of its subject-matter is the same as that of the Second Reader, but the pupil's increased vocabulary and greater facility in reading make possible a wider choice of literature.

The stories of child life are of a pure and wholesome influence, but in none of them has the pupil's interest in the story been sacrificed by the insertion of an obtrusive moral. The fairy stories will be found stimulating to the imagination, and it is believed that they will lead to an appreciation of what is permanently good in literature. A few of the Greek classic stories are also given. These are well adapted to a child's comprehension and give an early familiarity with themes constantly recurring in literature and art.

In this book, as in the Second Reader, word lists and language and phonetic exercises are provided in abundance. It will be noticed, however, that in the lists of new words at the head of the lessons those of the simplest phonic construction are omitted.

The primary purpose of a reading book is to give pupils the mastery of the printed page, but through oral reading it also becomes a source of valuable training of the vocal organs. Almost every one finds pleasure in listening to good reading. Many feel that the power to give this pleasure comes only as a natural gift, but an analysis of the art shows that with practice any normal child may acquire it. The qualities which are essential to good oral reading may be considered in three groups:

First—An agreeable voice and clear articulation, which, although possessed by many children naturally, may also be cultivated.

Second-Correct inflection and emphasis, with that due regard for hetorical pauses which will appear whenever a child fully understands what he is reading and is sufficiently interested in it to lose his self-consciousness.

Third—Proper pronunciation, which can be acquired only by association or by direct teaching.

Clear articulation implies accurate utterance of each syllable and a distinct termination of one syllable before another is begun.

Frequent drill on pronunciation and articulation before or after the reading lesson will be found profitable in teaching the proper pronunciation of new words and in overcoming faulty habits of speech.

Attention should be called to the omission of unaccented syllables in such words as history (not histry), valuable (not valuble), and to the substitution of unt for ent, id for ed, iss for ess, unce for ence, in for ing, in such words as moment, delighted, goodness, sentence, walking. Pupils should also learn to make such distinctions as appear between u long, as in duty, and u after r, as in rude; between a as in hat, a as in far, and a as in ask.

The above hints are suggestive only. The experienced teacher will devise for herself exercises fitting special cases which arise in her own work. It will be found that the best results are secured when the interest of the class is sustained and when the pupil who is reading aloud is made to feel that it is his personal duty and privilege to arouse and hold this interest by conveying to his fellow pupils, in an acceptable manner, the thought presented on the printed page.

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

Fables

The Dove and the Ant

The Fox who Lost his Tail

The Wolf and the Lamb

Union Gives Strength

Hercules and the Wagoner

The Miller, his Son, and their Donkey

The Fox and the Crow

Fairy Tales

The Skylark's Spurs

The Ugly Duckling

The Sleeping Beauty

Classical Tales

The Bag of Winds

Atalanta's Race

Circe.

Child Stories

Hans, the Shepherd Boy

Benjy in Beastland

A Good Shot

How Lulu Got Lost

So-so

The Dervish and the Camel

The Boy who Hated Trees

Little Daffydowndilly

Nature Study

The Sea

Birds, I — Bills

II — Feet

III — Travels

Sowing Seeds

Bees

Leaves

Literary Biography

Henry Wadsworth Long fellow

Nathaniel Hawthorne

History and Biography

The Story of Columbus

Mary Allerton

Captain Smith and Pocahontas

Benjamin Franklin as a Boy Hawaiian Children

Poems

Good-Night and Good-Morning

The Wind

O Sailor, Come Ashore

The Moon

When

Thanksgiving Day

The Land of Counterpane

Seven Times One

The Fairies

Good-Morning

Three Companions

A Dutch Lullaby

The Village Blacksmith

Jack in the Pulpit

The Tree

March

The Dove

Hiawatha's Hunting

Robert of Lincoln

Work

Farewell Advice

1

THE DOVE AND THE ANT

danger

dove

shore

mark

1. One day an ant fell into a river. As she could not swim, she was in danger of being drowned.

The dove dropped a leaf.

2. But a dove took pity on her, and dropped a leaf into the water near her.

She climbed upon it, and was soon carried safe to shore.

He was about to shoot.

3. The ant did not forget this act of kindness. You shall hear how She in her turn saved the dove's life.

4. A hunter passed the tree where the dove and his mate were building their nest. They were so busy with their work that they did not see him aim at them.

5. But the little ant saw the danger, and, as the hunter was about to shoot, she bit him on the heel.

6. He started aside, and his arrow flew wide of the mark.

____________

A hunter is one who______.

A worker is one who______.

One who reads is a______.

One who writes is a______.

He started aside.

2

GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING

rook

curious

bleat

neighed

oxen

curtsied

Lucy

sewing

1. A fair little girl sat under a tree,

Sewing as long as her eyes could see;

Then smoothed her work and folded it right,

And said, "Dear work, good-night, good-night!"

2. Such a number of rooks came over her head,

A fair little girl sat under a tree.

Crying, "Caw! Caw!" on their way to bed;

She said, as she watched their curious flight,

"Little black things, good-night, good-night!"

3. The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed,

The sheep's "Bleat! Bleat!" came over the road;

All seeming to say, with a quiet delight,

"Good little girl, good-night, good-night!"

4. She did not say to the sun, "Good-night!"

Though she saw him there like a ball of light;

For she knew he had God's time to keep

All over the world, and never could sleep.

5. The tall pink foxglove bowed his head;

The violets curtsied, and went to bed;

And good little Lucy tied up her hair,

And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer.

6. And, while on her pillow she softly lay,

She knew nothing more till again it was day,

And all things said to the beautiful sun,

"Good-morning, good-morning! our work is begun."

(MONCKTON MILNES, LORD HOUGHTON)

_______________

Find words in the poem to tell what each animal does:

The horse______. The ox______. The sheep______. The rook______.

3

THE BAG OF WINDS

Odysseus

east

fought

whiz

'olus

reach

island

agreed

I

1. Years ago, in a far-off country, there lived a great man named Odysseus. He did so many wonderful deeds that this book might be filled with stories about him. I will tell you one of them now. Some day you will read others.

Odysseus

2. Odysseus fought bravely in a long war. When the war was over, he took his men in his ship and started home.

3. But one thing after another kept him back, and he was ten years on the way. In this time he went to many strange lands and saw many queer things and people.

4. At one time he came to the island where olus, the king of the winds, lived. olus kept all the winds shut up, and only let them out, one at a time, when he wished a wind to blow.

5. He ruled the north wind with its snow and ice, and the south wind with its flowers; the east wind, which brings rain for the plants, and the west wind, which blows the leaves from the trees.

6. King olus was glad to see Odysseus and to hear about his great deeds.

7. When Odysseus sailed away in his ship, the king gave him a queer present. It was a great bag tied with a silver string.

8. You could never guess what was in it, so I shall have to tell you. All the winds but one were shut up in this bag. That one was the east wind, which would take the ship home.

9. "Do not open the bag while you are on the ship," said the king. "If you do, the winds will rush out and drive you far away over the seas. It will be a long time before you reach your home."

II

10. You may be sure that Odysseus took great care of the bag. He told his men not to touch it.

11. The men would look at it and wonder what was in it. They thought it must hold a great treasure.

12. The east wind blew for nine days and nights. The ship dashed through the waves on its way home.

13. All this time Odysseus did not dare sleep, for fear something might happen to the ship. At last he grew so tired that he fell asleep.

14. Then one of the men said: "Let us peep into the bag and see what it holds. Odysseus will never know that we have looked."

The other men agreed, so they untied the silver string.

15. Whiz! Out rushed the winds with a roar. They dashed great waves over the ship, and swept some of the bad sailors into the sea.

Out rushed the winds with a roar.

16. You know that one wind can do much harm. Think what a storm there was when all the winds at once blew as hard as they could!

17. Odysseus started to his feet. He saw at once what the men had done. He could not put the winds back into the bag. It was all he could do to keep the ship from being dashed to pieces.

18. The storm lasted many days. The winds blew the ship far away over the seas, and many years passed before Odysseus reached his home.

______

danger

fair

fare

ant

manger

hair

hare

past

stranger

pair

pare

passed

4

THE WIND

1. Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you;

But when the leaves hang trembling,

The wind is passing through.

2. Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I;

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.

(CHRISTINA ROSSETTI)

5

THE SEA

fortunate

salt

creature

coral

cotton

calm

fierce

polyp

I

1. Have you ever seen the sea on a calm summer day? How beautiful it is! The blue water dances in the sunshine. It is pleasant to watch the boats with their white sails, and to see the great ships going to and fro.

Lading a ship

2. Some of these ships sail over the sea to far-off lands. They take wheat, cotton, and other things to the people there. They bring back tea, cloth, and many other things for us. The sea is like a great road from one land to another.

3. But the great sea road is not always a pleasant one for sailors. There are days when the wind blows and the waves are high. Sometimes strong ships are dashed to pieces in storm.

4. Then some of the poor sailors may be drowned. But some, more fortunate than these, get into little boats, and float about until they are picked up by passing ships. Sometimes they float about many days without food or water.

5. You may think it queer for them to want water when the great sea is all around them. But the sea water is salt, and men cannot live if they have only sea water to drink. When you are at the seaside, taste the water and see how salt it is.

A shipwreck

II

6. We cannot drink the salt water, but many animals and plants live in the sea. Some of these are so beautiful that men go down under the water to get them.

7. In some parts of the world the sea water is warm all the year round. Here, in the deep, calm water, wonderful little animals called coral polyps have their home.

8. Many of these little creatures are very beautiful. They make the pretty red coral which you have seen. They also make coral islands on which many people live. Is it not wonderful that these small creatures can build great islands? It takes many, many polyps long years to form an island.

9. But of all sea creatures fish are the ones you know best. The fish of the sea are larger than those of the streams. Some of these sea fish are very fierce, but most of them do no harm and are of use to us. They are good for food.

10. Many birds have their homes on the seashore. They live on the fish which they catch. One of these birds will float in the air over the waves. All at once it will drop into the water, and come up with a fish.

11. Many of these fishing birds have strong wings, and fly far out over the water. They may be seen sailing through the air hundreds of miles from the land.

____________

1. Write separately the two words which form the word seaside.

2. Copy this sentence and supply the missing word:

Coral animals are called____________.

3. Copy the following sentence, changing the word small to another word having the same meaning:

Small animals form coral islands.

____________

calm

small

dashed

drowned

palm

salt

rushed

crowned

____________

pluck

feeble

6

O SAILOR, COME ASHORE

1. O sailor, come ashore,

What have you brought for me?

Red coral, white coral,

Coral from the sea.

2. I did not dig it from the ground,

Nor pluck it from a tree;

Feeble insects made it

In the stormy sea.

(CHRISTINA ROSSETTI)

7

THE STORY OF COLUMBUS

wool comber

fourteen

voyage

machine

pirate

darkness

Christopher

famous

discover

Columbus

thieves

Indian

Italy　　　　　Europe　　　　America　　　　monster

I

1. Long ago, in a city of sunny Italy, there lived a wool comber. Do you know what a wool comber does?

2. When the wool is cut from the sheep's back, it is not fit to be woven into cloth at once. It must first be cleaned and combed out straight. This is what a wool comber did in days gone by. Now machines do the work which men once did by hand.

3. This wool comber was a poor man. He had to work hard to take care of his wife and children. He had five children—four boys and one little girl.

4. His oldest boy was named Christopher Columbus, and it is about him that this story is written.

5. Christopher went to school and learned the things which in those times it was thought a boy should know.

He also worked with his father, but he did not want to be a wool comber. He wanted to be a sailor.

6. The city in which Columbus lived was close by the sea. Christopher loved to play on the shore, and to go about among the ships which sailed to far-off lands.

7. Almost every boy in the city had a father or brother or cousin who was a sailor. Little Christopher often saw these men. He loved to hear them tell about the places they had visited and the things they had seen. No wonder that he, too, wanted to be a sailor.

II

8. When Christopher Columbus was fourteen years old, he went to sea.

9. At that time, there were thieves on the sea as well as on the land. These sea thieves were called pirates. They went about in fast-sailing ships, and chased other ships and took away their treasures. Sometimes there would be fierce fights, and often men were killed.

10. We are told that young Columbus was in one of these sea fights with pirates. The ship he was on caught fire. Columbus jumped into the water, and by swimming and floating on a piece of wood reached the shore safely.

Columbus reached the shore safely.

11. Columbus went far and wide on the sea. He said that wherever man had sailed before him, there he sailed. If he had not done more than that, you and I would never have heard of him.

12. He became famous because he went where no man had sailed before him. Before I tell you what Columbus did, you shall hear what a strange thing the people of that time believed.

III

13. To-day the smallest child among you knows that this earth of ours is round, but about four hundred years ago children did not know this.

14. Even men and women believed that the world was flat. They thought that if a man went on and on, he would come to the end of the earth and fall off.

15. They called the great ocean to the west of Europe the Sea of Darkness. They believed that if a man sailed out on it he would never come back again. He would come to clouds of darkness and seas of fire; great monsters would swallow his ship.

16. A few wise men did not believe these stories. They said that the earth was round, and that, if a man sailed straight west, he would at last come back to the place from which he had started.

Yet none of these wise men ever sailed west to find out if this were true.

17. Christopher Columbus heard what the wise men had said. The more he thought about their words, and the longer he watched the sea and the sky, the more he believed that they were right. At last he made up his mind to go and find out.

18. In those days, spices, silks, and gems were brought from far-off India to Italy and other countries of Europe.

19. To reach India, ships sailed to the east for weeks and weeks. When they were filled with the treasures for which they had gone, they turned about and sailed back to Italy. This was a long and costly voyage.

One of the ships

20. Now Columbus said that if the earth was round, as he believed it was, he could reach India in a shorter time by sailing to the west. Then, when his ships were filled with the treasures of India, he would start home, still sailing westward. In this way he would prove that the earth is round.

21. But to do all this, Columbus needed ships and money, and he had neither. He went to many rich and learned men, and asked their help. They only laughed at him.

22. Years passed; still Columbus found no one to help him, but he would not give up. At last he went to Spain, and the good queen gave him three little ships and sent some men to sail with him.

23. With these he started across the sea to discover the new way to India.

IV

24. Columbus and his men little thought how long it would be before they saw land again. Two, three, four weeks went by, and still no land was in sight.

25. The men thought of the old stories about the Sea of Darkness. They feared that they would never reach their homes again. They wished to turn back, but Columbus would not do that.

26. One night clouds covered the sky. The wind blew hard, the waves rose, and there was a great storm. It lasted three days and three nights. Then the sun shone and the sea grew calm, but still no land was in sight.

27. One day a bird came flying by. The men were glad to see it, for they knew it must have come from shore. Land could not be far away.

28. Soon other signs of land were seen. Weeds floated on the waves. Many birds were seen on the wing. Yet day after day went by and the sailors could see no land.

29. They grew angry because Columbus would not turn back. Some of them wished to kill him. Those were sad days and nights for the brave sailor.

V

30. One night Columbus was watching, as he often did. He stood on the high deck of the ship and looked over the waters. Far away a light seemed to rise and fall on the sea.

31. The next morning the longed-for land was in sight. How glad the men were to see it, and how happy Columbus was!

32. They took the small boats and rowed to the shore. There they fell on their faces and kissed the ground, and thanked God who had brought them to land.

They fell on their faces and thanked God.

33. Strange men came to the shore to see the sailors. These men had red skins and long, straight, black hair.

Columbus thought the land he had reached was India. So he called these men Indians, and that is what we call them to this day.

34. We know now that Columbus had done more than he thought. Instead of reaching the Old World by sailing west, he had come to a New World. He had discovered America!

____________

dove

wool

soon

woven

loved

rook

shoot

often

covered

stood

school

oxen

8

HANS, THE SHEPHERD BOY

Germany

guide

several

kindly

shepherd

trust

affection

servant

robber

earn

faithfully

praise

village

serve

honsty

prince

I

1. A long time ago there lived in Germany a little shepherd boy named Hans. One day he was watching his sheep in a meadow near a great wood, when a hunter came up to him from the forest.

2. "How far is it to the nearest village, my boy?" asked the hunter.

"It is six miles, sir," Hans answered. "But the road is only a sheep track, and it is very easy to miss it."

3. The hunter looked grave, and said: "My boy, I have been lost in this wood. I am tired and hungry. Leave your sheep here and show me the way, and I will pay you well."

4. Many boys would have gone at once; but Hans said: "I cannot leave the sheep, sir, They would stray into the wood and be eaten by wolves or taken by robbers."

5. "Well, what of that?" replied the hunter. "They are not your sheep. The loss of one or two would not be much to your master, and I will give you more than you could earn in a whole year."

6. "Sir, I cannot go," said Hans. "My master pays me to take care of his sheep, and I cannot leave them until my day's work is done. Besides, if any of the sheep were lost, I should be as much to blame as if I had taken them."

Hans and the prince

7. "Well, then," said the hunter, "will you trust your sheep with me, while you go to the village and get me some food and a guide? I will take care of them for you."

8. The boy shook his head.

"The sheep do not know your voice, and——" Then he stopped speaking.

"And what?" asked the hunter. "Can't you trust me? Do I look like a thief?"

9. "No," said Hans; "but you have tried to make me break my word to my master, and how do I know that you would keep your word?"

10. The hunter laughed. "You are right, my boy," said he. "I wish I could trust my servants as your master can trust you. Well, show me the sheep path of which you spoke, and I will try to follow it without a guide."

II

11. As the man was speaking, several hunters rode up. They gave a cry of joy when they saw their master.

"Oh, sir!" cried one of them, "we feared you were lost or killed."

12. Then, to his great surprise, Hans learned that the hunter was the prince who owned all the country round about. The poor boy was afraid that the great man would be angry with him; but the prince smiled kindly, and spoke in praise of his honesty.

13. A few days after, one of the prince's servants came to take Hans to the palace.

"My good boy," said the prince to him, "I think you are a boy whom I can trust, and I want you to serve me."

14. So Hans became a servant of the prince. He worked faithfully; and though he never became rich or great or famous, he lived a contented life, happy in the trust and affection of his kind master.

____________

master

servant

coral

guide

monster

giant

several

guess

sister

distant

animal

guard

9

THE MOON

harbor

quay

squalling

cuddle

1. The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;

She shines on thieves on the garden wall,

On streets and fields and harbor quays,

And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

2. The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,

The howling dog by the door of the house,

The bat that lies in bed at noon,

All love to be out by the light of the moon.

3. But all of the things that belong to the day

Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;

And flowers and children close their eyes

Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.

(ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON)

10

BIRDS—BILLS

ragged

woodpecker

prey

snipe

dirty

sparrow

hooked

dif'fer ent

parrot

notice

eagle

strainer

I

1. Have you ever thought how many uses a bird makes of its bill?

In the first place, the bill is its mouth. The bird uses the hard edges and sharp point as you use your lips and teeth.

2. A bird does not like to have its feathers ragged or dirty. It cleans and smooths and oils them every day, using its bill as brush and comb.

A hawk's bill

3. A bird also uses its bill in place of hands, to pick things up and to carry them about. You may notice how a bird flies about with bits of straw and grass in its bill when building its nest.

4. The bills of birds are always suited to their food and habits. The duck could not get on at all with a curved bill like the hawk's, and the woodpecker would find it hard to do his work with the sparrow's short bill.

5. Sparrows and many other birds which eat seeds and berries have short bills.

6. The hawk, eagle, and other flesh-eating birds also have short bills, but not like the sparrow's. They are much stronger, as they are used for tearing prey to pieces. The upper part is curved like a hook, and is bent down over the lower part.

7. Parrots, too, have hooked bills, which they use in climbing. Sometimes they sleep hanging from a tree by their strong bills.

A sparrow's bill

A parrot's bill

II

8. Have you ever noticed what big mouths swallows have? Most insect-eating birds snap up the insects in their bills, but swallows dart through the air with their mouths open like traps to catch flies and other insects.

9. The woodpecker drills holes in dead trees to get the worms and insects he likes to eat. The two parts of his bill fit together, making a good drill.

10. The woodpecker works away until he comes to an insect; then he opens his bill, and shoots his long, sharp tongue like an arrow into the insect.

A swallow's bill

A woodpecker's bill

A snipe's bill

11. Snipe and some other water birds feed on the worms in the mud at the bottom of streams. These birds need long, sharp bills.

A duck's bill

12. Other water birds get food in a different way. Some ducks eat insects and plants which live in the water. Their bills are long, but broad and fiat. At each side there is a kind of strainer, which holds back the food, but lets the mud and water pass through.

____________

1. Draw a picture of the swallow's bill; of the parrot's bill; of the snipe's bill.

2. Name some birds you have seen and tell what kinds of bills they have.

____________

girl

earn

work

burn

bird

learn

world

turn

dirt

heard

worm

curve

11

WHEN

tease

politics

donkey

France

nursery

woolen

1. When cherries grow on apple trees,

And kittens wear lace caps,

And boys their sisters never tease,

And bears wear woolen wraps;

When all the nursery dolls and toys

Begin to dance and play,

Then little girls and little boys

May lie in bed all day.

2. When donkeys learn to sing and dance,

When pigs talk politics,

When London is a town in France,

When two and two make six,

When drops of rain are real pearls,

When coal is clear and white,

Then little boys and little girls

May sit up late at night.

(G. CLIFTON BINGHAM)

12

BENJY IN BEASTLAND

Benjy

punish

whether

course

taught

prick

elephant

leader

willow

prairie

pocket

grief

I

1. Benjy was a naughty boy who was cruel to animals. He liked to hurt them and to see them in pain. It is hard to believe that this could be true of any one, yet it was true of Benjy.

2. Benjy had no brothers, but he had two little sisters younger than he. They were dear, merry little things. Many boys would have found it pleasant to play with them, but Benjy did not.

Nox

One of his sisters said: "Benjy does not care for us because we are only girls. So we have taken Nox for our playmate."

3. Nox was a big, black dog. He liked to play with the little girls, but he liked best of all to swim about in the river near their home.

4. It was his delight to go into the water and bring out everything which he thought ought not to be there. He put all these things under an old willow tree by the side of the river.

5. I must tell you that Benjy did not like Nox. This bad boy had tied stones around the necks of cats and dogs, and dropped them into the river. Nox had brought them out and put them under the willow tree, and so Benjy had been found out and punished.

II

6 There was another dog at Benjy's home. This was a little brown dog named Mr. Rough. He was used to blows. His eyes had been almost scratched out by cats, and his bark sounded as if he had a bad cold.

7. If Benjy liked any dog, it was Mr. Rough. Yet he treated him worse than he did Nox. Mr. Rough was small, and Nox was too big to be ill-used.

8. But one day Benjy did play a trick on Nox. The big dog was asleep. Benjy crept near, so as to prick his lip with a fine needle. This hurt poor Nox sadly, and he jumped up with a start. Benjy laughed and ran away.

9. Then Benjy went out and began to throw stones at a little dog. At last one of the stones killed the dog, and the bad boy threw it into the river.

10. That night Benjy could not sleep. He thought about the little dog, and wished he had not thrown it into the river. That was not because he was sorry he had killed it, but he felt sure that Nox would bring it out. Then he would be punished.

11. Nox would be sure to be out early in the morning to get things from the river. Benjy did not always wake up early, so he thought it would be best to go out that night, and get the dog out of the water and hide it. So he got up and went down to the river.

12. He looked up through the branches of the willow tree. The moon was shining down at him. It seemed very large and very near. Benjy thought if he were in the top of the tree he could touch it with his hand.

13. Then he thought of a story book in which he had read that all animals went to the moon when they died.

"I wonder if the dog I killed is up there," said Benjy.

As Benjy climbed, the moon grew larger.

14. The Man in the Moon looked down, and, much to Benjy's surprise, said: "This is Beastland. Won't you come up and see it? But perhaps you can't climb."

"Yes, I can," said Benjy, and he climbed into the tree.

15. He went from one branch to another. The moon grew larger and larger as he climbed, but when he was on the topmost branch, he could see nothing but a white light all around him.

16. "Walk in," said the Man in the Moon. "Put out your feet and don't be frightened."

So Benjy put his feet down and dropped. He thought he was falling into the river. But all at once he found himself in Beastland.

III

17. It was a very queer place. There were many animals there, and they were all kind and polite to Benjy.

18. A great elephant took Benjy on his back for a ride. The wasp showed him her nest. The ants took him to see their great earth cities. The prairie-dogs showed him the houses they had made for themselves. A spider wanted to teach him to make a web.

19. "When you are ready to begin," the spider said, "find a place where you can tie your first line. Of course you have a ball of thread inside you."

20. "I can't say that I have," said Benjy, "but I have some string in my pocket."

"That's all right," said the spider. "I call it thread; you call it string. Whether it's in your pocket or body is all the same."

21. As this lesson was going on, a little bird flew in and told all the animals who and what Benjy was.

22. Dear me! What a change that made. The beasts were no longer friendly and kind to him. They called him "boy." In Beastland "boy" is as bad a name as "beast" is with us.

IV

23. The animals took Benjy to the lion, the king of beasts, and asked what should be done with him.

The lion said: "First let us hear what Benjy has to say for himself."

So the beasts placed themselves in a circle around Benjy.

24. "What has this boy done?" asked the lion.

"He stones dogs! He hunts and kills cats!" cried all the animals.

25. "No; Mr. Rough kills the cats," said Benjy, who was beginning to be frightened.

"Send for Mr. Rough," said the lion.

Soon Mr. Rough trotted into the circle, with his short tail standing straight up.

26. "Mr. Rough," the lion said, "Benjy says it is you and not he who kills the cats."

"Bow-wow-wow!" cried Mr. Rough. "Am I to blame? Bow-wow! Who taught me to do it? That bad boy there. Bow-wow!"

27. Benjy was not only cruel, but he had taught the poor little dog to be cruel. The beasts were angry when they heard this, and they made up their minds to punish Benjy.

28. "Gentle beasts, birds, and fishes," said the lion, "you know how this boy has treated us. He must be punished. Do not let us be unkind to him as he has been to us. But he is not good enough to stay with us. Let us tie a tin can to him and chase him from Beastland. Mr. Rough shall be our leader."

Benjy was chased out of Beastland.

V

29. This was done at once. The lion gave a great roar as a sign for the chase to begin. Benjy was chased out of Beastland with the tin can fastened to him, and with the dog at his heels. When he got to the edge of the moon, he jumped off, and Mr. Rough jumped after him.

30. Down, down they went till they fell into the river. Mr. Rough swam ashore, but Benjy could not swim.

31. As he sank in the water, he thought of the many unkind things he had done. He thought of the dogs and cats he had drowned, and of how cruel he had been to Nox. Then he came to the top of the water, and saw the big dog standing on the bank above him.

32. He thought: "Now Nox has come to hurt me because I hurt him."

As he sank again, a black nose came close to his face. The soft mouth he had hurt took hold of Benjy. Then the good dog carried him to the shore, and laid him under the willow tree by the side of two dead dogs, a kitten, and an old hat.

33. Benjy's father found him there and took him home. He was sick a long time. When he grew better, he told about his visit to Beastland. His friends did not believe him. They said he had fallen into the river while asleep, and had dreamed about Beastland.

Mr. Rough jumped into Benjy's arms.

34. His little sisters were very kind while he was in bed. Benjy learned to like to play with them. He learned to love their pets, and he grew much kinder and gentler.

35. But a sad thing happened which at last made his heart quite soft. While he was sick, Mr. Rough was kept out of the room. This made the little dog sad, for he loved his master, though Benjy had often been unkind to him.

36. One day, when Benjy was getting better, he asked to see Mr. Rough. The door opened, and the little dog dashed in. When Benjy heard him coming, he sat up and held out his arms. Mr. Rough jumped into them, and then fell dead at his feet. Yes, he died of joy at seeing his master.

37. Benjy was very sorry, and his grief almost made him ill again. But in his grief for his faithful little friend, he felt that he could never again be cruel to any animal.

(JULIANA HORATIA EWING)

13

MARY ALLERTON—THE STORY OF A LITTLE PILGRIM

England

prison

Virginia

harvest

Holland

canal

Mayflower

chief

worship

English

bleak

flax

family

dike

Thanksgiving

sermon

I

A shooting match between the Pilgrims and the Indians

1. Nearly three hundred years ago a little girl came to this country from the other side of the ocean. Her name was Mary Allerton, and her father was one of the Pilgrims. The Pilgrims were people who had left their homes in England to seek a place where they might worship God in their own way.

2. Mary's father was a tailor. He had plenty of work and a pleasant home in London. He was a good man, but he did not like to go to the king's church.

3. Now the king had said that every one who went to any other church than his should be sent to prison. Do you think this was right? In our free country a man may go to any church he pleases.

4. Mary's father learned that in Holland, a country not far away, he could worship as he pleased. So he left London with his family, and crossed in a ship to Holland. This was the first time Mary had ever been on the sea.

5. In Holland Mary saw many strange things. She saw the windmills which pump the water and grind the grain for the people. She saw the canals which take the place of roads, and the great walls, called dikes, which keep the sea from overflowing the low, level lands.

II

6. Although Mary's father could worship as he pleased in the new home, he soon felt it would be best not to stay there.

7. Mary often heard him and his friends talk about Virginia, a land across the sea. They said they could live there under the rule of the King of England, and yet be free to worship God as they pleased.

8. At last they made up their minds to go to Virginia. So they bought a little ship called the Mayflower, and sailed away across the ocean.

9. At first Mary and the other children liked to watch the waves and to see the big fish playing about in the water. But as the days passed by, they grew very tired of being shut up in the ship. Then, too, they had several storms on the way, which frightened the children very much.

10. At last, after many weeks, Mary heard a sailor cry, "Land!" There indeed was land, but it was not Virginia. The ship had sailed too far north, and had reached the coast of what we call New England. The shore looked cold and bleak, but the people had been on the sea so long that they were glad to leave the ship.

11. How bare everything looked! There were no houses, no people; only great forests, and the gray sky stretching far, far away.

12. The Pilgrims had to live in the ship until they could build houses. On Christmas Day the work began; there was no Merry Christmas for them. Mary had no gifts, for her father and mother did not believe in keeping Christmas.

13. That was a long, sad winter for the Pilgrims. They did not have enough to eat, and many of them were ill. Before the spring came, half of the little band died of cold and hunger.

III

14. In the spring some friendly Indians helped them and showed them how to plant corn. The next year the Pilgrims had a great harvest. They had given thanks at every meal; but now they had a great Thanksgiving feast, and invited their Indian friends to share it.

15. The Pilgrim mothers made bread, cake, and pies. The Pilgrim fathers went fishing and hunting, and brought back fish, turkeys, and deer.

16. Then the Indians came, dressed in their best beads and feathers. That was a strange sight for the children. They enjoyed it, although they were a little afraid of the painted chiefs.

A strange sight for the children

17. When the feast was over, Mary had to help her mother wash the dishes. Then she watched the shooting matches between the Indians with their bows and arrows, and the Pilgrims with their guns.

18. The Pilgrims prayed and sang as well as feasted. Thus they kept the first Thanksgiving. Now we keep Thanksgiving Day every year.

IV

19. Mary's father was one of the chief men among the Pilgrims, but they were all poor and had to work hard.

20. Mary lived in a rough log house which had only one room. The cracks between the logs were filled with mud. In the window was oiled paper instead of glass, and the floor was of sand. All the cooking was done at one great fireplace, in which the pots and kettles hung.

21. Mary and the other girls were taught to spin flax and wool into thread. Their mothers wove the thread into cloth. The girls had to do many other kinds of work. The boys went hunting and fishing with their fathers, and helped in the fields.

Spinning flax

22. Mary had to go to church twice on Sunday and hear long sermons before and after dinner. If she grew sleepy and nodded, she was tapped on the head by a man with a long staff. It was this man's duty to keep people awake.

23. Mary lived to be a very old woman. She was the last to die of those who came over in the Mayflower.

____________

1. Write three sentences about Mary Allerton's Thanksgiving.

2. Write three sentences about your own Thanksgiving Day.

____________

dressed

fastened

village

arrow

crossed

opened

voyage

sparrow

kissed

happened

courage

narrow

14

THANKSGIVING DAY

drifted

dapple-gray

pudding

extremely

sleigh

pumpkin

1. Over the river and through the wood,

To grandfather's house we go;

The horse knows the way

To carry the sleigh

Through the white and drifted snow.

2. Over the river and through the wood—

Oh, how the wind does blow!

It stings the toes

And bites the nose,

As over the ground we go.

3. Over the river and through the wood,

To have a first-rate play;

Hear the bells ring,

"Ting-a-ling-ding!"

Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

4. Over the river and through the wood,

Trot fast, my dapple-gray!

Spring over the ground,

Like a hunting hound!

For this is Thanksgiving Day.

5. Over the river and through the wood,

And straight through the barn-yard gate.

We seem to go

Extremely slow—

It is so hard to wait!

6. Over the river and through the wood—

Now grandmother's cap I spy!

Hurrah for the fun!

Is the pudding done?

Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

(LYDIA MARIA CHILD)

15

A GOOD SHOT

nestling

loudly

dawn

excepting

marksman

allow

dragged

tumble

I

1. Once there was a boy who was a good marksman with a stone or a bow and arrow or an air-gun. So he went about all day, aiming at every animal he came near.

2. Even at his meals he would think about good shots at the clock or the cat or anything else he chanced to see.

3. Near his home there lived a little bird which had a pretty nest and five young birds.

To feed so many mouths kept her hard at work. From dawn to dark she flew here and there, over fields and woods and roads, getting worms and flies and seeds, such as she knew were good for her young nestlings.

4. It was wonderful how much food those five small creatures could eat. What she brought each day would have filled that nest full up to the top, yet they ate all the food, and asked for more.

5. Though it was such hard work, she was glad to do it. She went on day after day, always flying off with a gay chirp, and coming back soon with a bit of some kind of food. She did not allow her little ones to want—not even the smallest and weakest of them. He could not ask so loudly as the others, yet she always fed him first.

II

6. One day she picked up a worm, and stopped a minute on a wall before flying to her nest. The boy marksman saw her, and of course aimed at her. He hit her in the side.

The boy marksman aimed at her.

7. She was very much hurt, yet she fluttered and limped and dragged herself, in great pain, to the foot of the tree where her nest was. But she could not fly up to the nest, for her wing was broken.

8. She chirped a little, and the young ones heard her, and, as they were hungry, they chirped back loudly. She could not go up to them, however, nor even tell them why she did not go.

9. She tried once more to rise. Only one of her wings would move, and that just turned her over on one side.

Do you think the boy would have laughed if he had seen her tumble over?

10. All the rest of that day the little mother lay there. When she chirped her children answered, and when they chirped she answered. But her voice grew fainter and weaker. Late in the day the young ones could not hear it any more, but she could still hear them.

11. Some time in the night the mother bird died. During all the next day the little birds slept — when hunger allowed them—and waked, and then called out until they were so tired that they fell asleep again.

The next night was very cold, and they missed their mother's warm breast. Before dawn they all died, one after the other.

12. The boy marksman had killed six birds at one shot — the mother and five young ones.

If you know him, please read this little story to him. Do you think he will like to hear it?

(JOSEPH KIRKLAND)

____________

This world is not so bad a world

As some would like to make it;

Though whether good or whether bad

Depends on how we take it.

16

BIRDS—FEET

seize

differ

slender

tuck

perch

paddle

ostrich

twig

1. Birds' feet differ as much as their bills do. If you know a bird's habits, you can tell a great deal about the kind of bill and feet it has.

A hawk carrying off a chicken

2. The hawk has a sharp bill to tear his prey. He has, also, sharp claws with which to seize and carry it off, and his legs are very strong so that he can strike a hard blow. Often he kills a small bird by striking it on the head. Then he carries it off to his nest in his claws.

A hawk's foot

3. The hen, too, has strong legs and claws, but they are not made to catch prey. They are used to scratch for food.

4. The ostrich has very stout legs and claws. Its blows can kill even a man.

A hen's foot

How different from these strong claws are the slender feet of our song birds!

5. Do you know how the sparrow and other little birds sleep? They tuck one foot in their feathers and fold the claws of the other around a twig. You would think they would become tired and fall from their perch, but they do not.

A sparrow's foot

6. When the woodpecker drills in the hard wood, he needs to stand firm. If he did not have firm hold, he would fall as soon as he began to drill. His claws are made so that he can hold on.

A duck's foot

A woodpecker

7. Birds that swim have webbed feet. Their toes are joined together by a skin, making paddles. By means of these, they row themselves along in the water.

8. Watch birds and see what you can learn for yourself about their bills and feet, and from these about their habits.

____________

Write sentences about each of these birds hawk, ostrich, woodpecker, sparrow.

17

THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE

dale

counterpane

leaden

abed

fleet

uniform

giant

drill

1. When I was sick and lay abed,

I had two pillows at my head,

And all my toys beside me lay

To keep me happy all the day.

All my toys beside me lay.

2. And sometimes for an hour or so

I watched my leaden soldiers go,

With different uniforms and drills,

Among the bedclothes, through the hills;

3. And sometimes sent my ships in fleets

All up and down among the sheets;

Or brought my trees and houses out,

And planted cities all about.

4. I was the giant, great and still,

That sits upon the pillow-hill,

And sees before him, dale and plain,

The pleasant land of counterpane.

(ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON)

18

THE FOX WHO LOST HIS TAIL

escape

presently

bushy

busily

laughter

plight

1. A fox caught in a trap got away with the loss of his tail. At first he was very glad to escape at all, but before he reached home he began to think how his friends would laugh at his sad plight.

2. Presently a happy thought came to him. So he trotted home, and, without being noticed by any one, placed himself with his back against a tree.

"Let us cut them off."

3. Then he called the other foxes and said: "My friends, why do we all carry about with us these long, bushy tails? They are quite useless and also very heavy. Let us cut them off."

4. His hearers were at first much struck with this. But a little fox, who had been running busily about, cried out suddenly: "Oh, he has lost his own tail! That is why he wants us to cut off ours."

5. Then some one pushed the poor fox away from the tree and every one saw his unhappy plight. Amid the laughter of all he was chased off into the woods.

____________

useful

careful

hopeful

thoughtful

useless

careless

hopeless

thoughtless

19

HOW LULU GOT LOST

delicate

figure

hastened

katydid

sunbonnet

sofa

glanced

witch

vanished

uneasy

shivered

hidden

I

1. Lulu was a little black-eyed girl, with a slight, dancing figure, a delicate face, and a blue and white sunbonnet.

Lulu

She must have been about three years old when she got lost.

2. As we were all at the tea table —Minnie, the doll, head downward, squeezed into the high chair with Lulu, and the sunbonnet tossed upon the sofa—the little girl's papa said: "I must drive to the village after tea; couldn't I take Lulu with me?"

3. "Oh, no!" I answered. "It is too late. She must go to bed in half an hour."

Lulu opened her eyes wide, but said nothing. Presently she finished her bread and butter, slipped down from her chair, took Minnie and the sunbonnet, and vanished.

4. In half an hour I said to her nurse: "Louise, you had better go and find Lulu. It is time she was undressed."

5. Louise went out; and I heard her in the yard calling, "Lulu! Lulu!" But no sweet childish voice replied. I could trace Louise by the sound, from swing to garden, from garden to corn-house, from corn-house to barn. Then, growing uneasy, I went out.

6. "What is it, Louise? Can't you find Lulu?"

"No, ma'am," she answered; "I can't find her anywhere."

I rushed to the kitchen.

"Mary, have you seen anything of Lulu?"

II

7. By that time Louise and I had become frightened. Our nearest neighbor was nearly half a mile off, and the child was not in the habit of going to the creek alone.

8. "Louise," I said, "do you go up the road to Mr. Van Arm's. I'll go down to the creek."

9. We started as soon as possible. How I hurried down the lane, looking behind every bush, and calling, "Lulu! Lulu!" at every step.

10. She was not to be found. There were no traces of her at the creek; no little footprints in the sand, no sign of doll nor of sunbonnet. I glanced once, and only once, down into the clear water. I could not look there for my darling—not yet.

11. It was after sundown, and I hastened back to the house. The whip-poor-wills were wailing in the woods. The shrill scream of the katydids sounded from the nearer trees. I shivered in the night air. But where was Lulu? Oh, if her father were only here!

12. As if in answer to my wish, he drove into the yard at that very moment. I flew to his side and told him all there was to tell. "Don't be frightened, dear," he said. "The darling can't be far off."

13. But half an hour later, when there was just a faint streak of daylight in the west, he took my hand in his and led me into the house. "You can be of no use here," he said. "Go in and stay with Willie. He needs you."

There stood Miss Lulu.

14. Louise came in with some warm milk for little Willie. Her cheeks were wet.

"They've gone to the creek again," she said.

15. That was why I had been coaxed into the house, then. My head sank into my hands and for the first time that night I wept.

III

16. But just at that moment the door flew open, and there stood Miss Lulu—her hair in a tumbled state, a look of sleepy wonder in her great, dark eyes, Minnie held in one hand and the sunbonnet tucked under her arm. I laughed and cried in the same breath.

17. "O Lulu! my child! We thought you were lost, were drowned. Where were you?"

"I don't know. Asleep, I guess," she said, rubbing her eyes in an absent sort of way.

18. "But your hair is full of straws and your dress is such a tumble! Where has Lulu been? Tell mamma!" I added, clasping my treasure closely to my heart, while I covered the little face with kisses. "Where have you been ever since tea?"

Fast asleep

"In papa's wagon, under the seat!"

19. The child had climbed into a great wagon that stood in one corner of the yard as soon as she left the tea table. Feeling tired, she had crept under the seat, with Minnie in her arms, and had fallen fast asleep. We had passed the wagon a dozen times, but she was hidden, and no one thought of looking there.

20. "What did you get into the wagon for?" I asked. "You'll hurt yourself sometime climbing into all sorts of places."

21. "Lulu and Minnie going to ride," she said, patting my cheek softly. "Mamma said, 'Too late to go to the village with papa.' So we take a little ride in the big wagon."

The little witch! But that is the way Lulu got lost.

(JULIA C. R. DORR)

____________

1. Select five hard words from this story and use them in sentences.

2. Copy ten words of two syllables.

____________

happy

easy

able

kind

unhappy

uneasy

unable

unkind

20

SEVEN TIMES ONE

wrong

birthday

linnet

dusty

marshmary

velvet

1. There's no dew left on the daisies and clover,

There's no rain left in the heaven;

I've said my "seven times" over and over,

Seven times one are seven.

2. I am old, so old I can write a letter;

My birthday lessons are done;

The lambs play always, they know no better—

They are only one times one.

3. O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing

And shining so round and low;

You were bright, ah bright! but your light is failing, —

You are nothing now but a bow.

4. You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven,

That God has hidden your face?

I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven,

And shine again in your place.

5. O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow;

You've powdered your legs with gold!

O brave marshmary buds, rich and yellow,

Give me your money to hold!

6. And show me your nest with the young ones in it,—

I will not steal it away;

I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet,—

I am seven times one to-day!

(JEAN INGELOW)

21

THE WOLF AND THE LAMB

muddy

impertinent

excuse

1. A wolf saw a lamb drinking at a brook and tried to pick a quarrel.

He called out: "How dare you muddy the water that I am drinking?"

2. "It is not I who make the water muddy, sir," replied the lamb; "for, if you will notice, you are above me, and the water runs from you to me."

3. "Is that the case?" asked the wolf, "Well, you are an impertinent fellow. You are the lamb who called me names a year ago."

"It will do you no good to make excuses."

4. "Dear sir, that could not be," replied the poor little lamb, "for a year ago I was not born."

5. "If it was not you, it was your father or some of your family, and that is the same thing. It will do you no good to make excuses, for I shall eat you in spite of them all."

6. And so he did.

22

THE SKYLARK'S SPURS

skylark

question

spotted

ashamed

good-tempered

exactly

quarrelsome

single

hedge

appearance

delightful

clever

moping

pleasure

shocked

I

1. Out in the meadow grass sat a fine young skylark looking very unhappy.

"What is the matter with you, cousin?" asked the meadow fairy.

2. "I am so unhappy!" replied the lark. "I want to build a nest, and I have no mate."

3. "Why don't you look for a mate, then?" said the meadow fairy, laughing at him. "Fly up and sing a beautiful song, and perhaps some pretty lark will hear you. Then, if you tell her that you will help her build a nest and will sing to her all day long, perhaps she will be your mate."

4. "Oh, I don't like to fly up," said the lark; "if I do, my feet will be seen, and no other bird has feet like mine. My claws are enough to frighten any one, they are so long."

5. "Let me see them," said the meadow fairy.

So the lark lifted up one of his feet, which he had kept hidden in the long grass.

The lark lifted one of his feet.

6. "It looks very fierce," said the fairy. "Your hind claw is at least an inch long and all your toes have very sharp points. Are you sure you never use them to fight with?"

7. "Never!" said the lark. "But these claws grow longer and longer. I am so ashamed of their being seen that I often lie in the grass instead of going up to sing as I would like to do."

8. "I think, if I were you, I would pull them off," said the fairy.

"That is not so easy to do," said the lark. "You cannot think how fast they stick on."

9. "Well, I am sorry for you," said the fairy. "But I fear you must be a quarrelsome bird, or you would not have such long spurs."

"That is just what I am always afraid that people will say," said the poor lark.

10. "Appearances are against you," answered the fairy. "I cannot help you. Good-morning."

So the fairy went off and the poor lark sat moping in the grass.

II

11. By and by a grasshopper came chirping up to the lark and tried to comfort him.

"I have known you for some time," said the grasshopper, "and I have never seen you fight. I will tell every one that you are a good-tempered bird and that you are looking for a mate."

12. The lark thanked the grasshopper warmly.

"At the same time," said the insect, "I should be glad if you could tell me the use of those claws. The question might be asked me, and I should not know what to answer."

13. "Grasshopper," replied the lark, "I do not know what they are for; —that is the truth!"

"Well," said the kind grasshopper, "perhaps time will show." So he went away.

III

14. The lark was delighted with the grasshopper's promise to speak well of him. He flew up into the air, and the higher he went the sweeter and louder he sang.

A pretty brown lark heard his song and cried: "I never heard so beautiful a song in my life, —never!"

15. "It was sung by my friend the skylark," said the grasshopper, who happened to be near her. "He is a very good-tempered bird and he wants a mate."

"Hush!" said the pretty brown lark. "I want to hear that wonderful song."

16. Just then the skylark, far up in the heavens, burst forth again in song. He sang so well that every creature in the field sat still to listen. The little brown lark held her breath for fear of losing a single note.

17. "Well done, my friend!" cried the grasshopper, when the lark came down. Then he told him how greatly the song had pleased the little brown lark and took him to see her.

18. The skylark thought that he had never seen such a pretty bird before. He asked her to overlook his spurs and be his mate.

19. The brown lark said: "I do not mind your spurs very much. Indeed, I should not like it if you had short claws like other birds. I cannot say why, as they seem to be of no use to you."

20. This was very good news for the skylark, and he sang such delightful songs that he very soon won her for his mate.

They built a cunning little nest in the grass. The lark was so happy that he almost forgot to be sorry about his long spurs.

IV

21. After several days the fairy came back and met the grasshopper.

"How is your friend the lark, who found such a pretty brown mate the other day?" asked the fairy.

22. "Suppose you come and see the eggs in their nest," said the grasshopper; "three pretty eggs spotted with brown. I am sure the lark will show them to you with pleasure.'

23. Off they went together. What was their surprise to find the poor little brown lark sitting on her nest with drooping head and trembling limbs.

24 "Ah, my pretty eggs!" she said. "I am so unhappy about them. I have just heard the farmer say that to-morrow he will begin to cut this grass."

25. "That is very sad," said the grasshopper. "What a pity that you laid your eggs on the ground!"

26. "Larks always do," said the poor little brown bird. "Oh, my pretty eggs! I shall never hear my little nestlings chirp."

Neither the grasshopper nor the fairy could do anything to help her.

V

27. At last her mate dropped down from the white cloud where he had been singing. When he saw her drooping, he asked in a great fright what the matter was.

28. When they told him, he was at first very much shocked. But presently he lifted one of his feet and then the other, and looked at his long spurs.

29. "If I had only laid my eggs on the other side of the hedge," said the poor mother, "I could have reared my birds before harvest time."

30. "My dear," answered her mate, "don't be unhappy." So saying, he hopped up to the eggs, and laying one foot upon the prettiest he clasped it with his long spur. Strange to say, it fitted exactly.

31. "Oh, my clever mate!" cried the poor little mother, "do you think you can carry them away for me?"

"To be sure I can," said the lark, hopping on with the egg in his right foot.

32. He hopped gently on to the hedge. When he had got through the hedge, he laid the egg down in a nice little hollow place and went back for the others.

"Hurrah!" cried the grasshopper. "Larkspurs forever!"

33. When the happy lark had carried the last of the eggs to a safe place, he sprang up into the sky singing and rejoicing.

He clasped an egg with his long spur.

Now he was quite happy, because he had learned that his long spurs were of some use. Without them he could never have saved the eggs which he and his mate loved so dearly.

(JEAN INGELOW)

____________

1. Copy these words and write under each a word having opposite meaning:

young, unhappy, ugly, long, sharp, sorry.

2. Use these words in sentences:

a fine young skylark; very sharp points; pretty brown lark; cunning little nest; very much shocked; a safe place.

____________

dances

treasure

pirate

very

glances

pleasure

delicate

every

chances

measure

fortunate

nursery

23

THE FAIRIES

airy

rushy

jacket

wee

trooping

crispy

craggy

nigh

1. Up the airy mountain,

Down the rushy glen,

We daren't go a-hunting

For fear of little men;

Wee folk, good folk,

Trooping all together;

Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather!

2. Down along the rocky shore

Some make their home:

They live on crispy pancakes

Of yellow tide-foam;

Some in the reeds

Of the black mountain lake,

With frogs for their watchdogs,

All night awake.

3. High on the hilltop

The old king sits;

He is now so old and gray

He's nigh lost his wits.

4. By the craggy hillside,

Through the mosses bare,

They have planted thorn trees

For pleasure here and there.

Is any man so daring

As dig one up in spite?

He shall find their sharpest thorns

In his bed at night.

5. Up the airy mountain,

Down the rushy glen,

We daren't go a-hunting

For fear of little men;

Wee folk, good folk,

Trooping all together;

Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather!

(WILLIAM ALLINGHAM)

24

BIRDS—TRAVELS

quail

visitor

journey

bobolink

twitter

orchard

tiresome

oriole

warbler

distance

Brazil

regular

I

1. Very few of our birds stay with us the year round. Some come to us in the winter from the cold north.

2. Others come from the south to spend the summer with us. Among these summer visitors are the warblers, thrushes, and many others of our sweetest song birds.

3. How do they know the way? Suppose you were told to find your way to a place hundreds of miles away. Do you think you could do it?

4. Yet birds travel over mountains, forests, lakes, and even across the ocean, and do not stray from the path. They find their way back in the spring to the same orchard and the very trees where they nested the summer before.

5. It is wonderful how quickly birds travel the long distance from their summer home to their winter one. Some birds have been known to fly hundreds of miles in a day.

6. But many birds travel much more slowly. The quail, with their short wings and heavy bodies, find a long journey very tiresome. They stop to rest, and at the end of their journey they are often so tired that they can be caught with the hand.

7. Sometimes in storms flocks of birds lose their way, and many of them are dashed against lighthouse windows.

Birds flying against a lighthouse window

II

8. Why do birds undertake these long journeys twice a year?

Ah, that we cannot tell you. Cold weather and lack of food drive them from us in autumn, but we cannot tell why they leave the sunny south to come back to us in the spring. We know only that many of them like to make their nests and rear their young in the north.

9. The oriole, with the handsome black and orange coat, may have just come from Central America. His cousin the bobolink, flitting about so gayly in the orchard near by, has perhaps been spending the winter in Brazil. Would you not like to have these birds tell you what they have seen and heard in their travels?

10. All summer they are quite contented to stay with us. But when the autumn grows chill, they become restless and make ready to leave us.

11. Some birds which have lived alone, now flock together and twitter and circle about in the air. They hold great gatherings. For two or three days they may be seen wheeling about in flocks as if to try their wings.

12. Then they are off to their winter homes in the south. They fly high in the air, sometimes a mile above the earth, and keep an order as regular as the march of an army.

A flight of wild geese

13. We are sorry to see them go, but we know that when winter is over they will come back to us.

____________

tire

tiresome

quarrel

quarrelsome

toil

toilsome

meddle

meddlesome

25

SO-SO

widow

managed

sixty

oblige

hearth

special

gloomy

intended

reason

patient

second

future

knit

cupboard

object

disgrace

I

1. "Be sure, my child," said the widow to her little daughter, "that you always do just as you are told."

"Very well, mother."

2. "Or, at any rate, do what will do just as well," said the small house dog, as he lay blinking at the fire.

3. He was no special kind of dog, but he was very smooth to stroke and had a nice way of blinking his eyes.

4. There was no reason whatever for giving him a bad name. The widow had thought of several good ones, such as Faithful and Trusty and Keeper, but none of them seemed to suit him. So he was called So-so; and a very nice, soft name it is.

5. The widow was only a poor woman, though she managed by hard work to get many little comforts for herself and her child.

6. One day, as she was going out, she called her little daughter and said: "I am going out for two hours. Shut the house door and bolt the big wooden bar, and be sure that you do not open it for any reason whatever till I return. If strangers come, So-so may bark, which he can do as well as a bigger dog. Then they will go away.

7. "With this summer's savings I have bought a thick winter cloak for you and one for myself. If I get the work I am going after to-day, I shall buy enough wool to knit warm stockings for us both. So be patient till I return, and then we will have the plum-cake that is in the cupboard for tea."

8. "Thank you, mother."

"Good-bye, my child. Be sure and do just as I have told you," said the widow.

"Very well, mother."

II

9. Little Joan laid down her doll and shut the house door and fastened the big bolt. The kitchen looked gloomy when she had done it.

10. "I wish mother had taken us all three with her. She could have locked the house and put the key in her big pocket, as she has done before," said little Joan.

Little Joan fastened the big bolt.

11. "Yes, it would have done just as well," So-so answered, as he stretched himself on the hearth.

12. By and by Joan grew tired of hush-a-bying the doll. She took the three-legged stool and sat down in front of the clock to watch the hands. After a while she drew a deep sigh.

13. "There are sixty seconds in every single minute, So-so," said she.

"So I have heard," said So-so. He was snuffing about, looking for something to eat.

"And sixty whole minutes in every hour, So-so."

14. "You don't say so!" growled So-so. He had not found even a crumb, though he snuffed in every corner of the kitchen, till he stood snuffing under the house door. "The air smells fresh," he said.

15. "It's a beautiful day, I know," said little Joan. "I wish mother had allowed us to sit on the doorstep. We could have taken care of the house."

"Just as well," said So-so.

16. Little Joan came to smell the air at the keyhole, and, as So-so had said, it smelt very fresh. Besides, one could see from the window how fine the evening was.

17. "It's not exactly what mother told us to do," said Joan, "but I do believe——"

"It would do just as well," said So-so.

III

18. By and by little Joan unfastened the door, and she and the doll and So-so went out and sat on the doorstep.

19. "This does just as well, and better," said little Joan, "for, if any one comes, we can see him coming up the field path."

"Just so," said So-so, blinking in the sunshine.

20. Suddenly Joan jumped up. "Oh," cried she, "there's a bird, a big bird. Dear So-so, can you see him? I can't because of the sun. What a queer noise he makes. Crake! Crake!

21. "Oh, I can see him now. He is not flying, he is running, and he has gone into the field. I do wish I were there. I would catch him and put him in a cage."

22. "I'll catch him," said So-so; and he put up his tail and started off.

An old woman came up to the door.

23. "No, no!" cried Joan. "You are not to go. You must stay and take care of the house, and bark if any one comes."

24. "You could scream, and that would do just as well," replied So-so, with his tail still up.

"No, it wouldn't," cried little Joan.

"Yes, it would," said So-so.

IV

25. While they were talking, an old woman came up to the door; she had a brown face, and black hair, and a very old red cloak. "Good-evening, my little dear," said she. "Are you all at home this fine evening?"

26. "Only three of us," said Joan. "I and my doll and So-so. Mother has gone to the town about some work. We are taking care of the house, but So-so wants to go after the bird we saw running into the field."

27. "Was it a pretty bird, my little dear?" asked the old woman.

"It was a very strange one," said Joan. "I should like to go after it myself, but we can't leave the house."

28. "Dear, dear! Is there no neighbor who would sit on the doorstep for you and keep the house? Then you could slip down to the field after the strange bird," said the old woman.

29. "I'm afraid not," said little Joan. "Old Martha, our neighbor, is sick. Of course, if she had been able to mind the house instead of us, it would have done just as well."

30. "I have some distance to go this evening," said the old woman, "but I do not object to a few minutes' rest. I will sit on the doorstep to oblige you, while you run down to the field."

Off she ran to the field.

31. "But can you bark if any one comes?" asked little Joan. "For if you can't, So-so must stay with you."

"I can call you and the dog if I see any one coming, and that will do just as well," said the old woman.

32. "So it will," replied Joan; and off she ran to the field, with So-so before her barking and springing about.

V

33. They did not catch the bird, though they stayed longer than they had intended. "I dare say mother has come home," said Joan, as they went up the field path. "I hope she will not think we ought to have stayed in the house."

34. "It was taken care of," said So-so, "and that must do just as well."

When they reached the house, the widow had not come home.

35. But the old woman had gone, and she had taken with her the warm winter cloaks and the plum-cake from the top shelf.

No more was ever heard of any of them.

36. "For the future, my child," said the widow, when she came home, "I hope you will always do just as you are told; whatever So-so may say."

"I will, mother," said little Joan. And she did. But the house dog sat and blinked. He was in disgrace.

37. I do not feel quite sure about So-so. Wild dogs often mend their ways and the good sometimes fall; but when any one begins by being only so-so, he is very apt to be so-so to the end.

38. But this one was very soft and nice, and he got no cake that tea-time. On the whole. we will hope that he lived to be a good dog ever after.

(JULIANA HORATIA EWING)

____________

Write these words in pairs so that those opposite in meaning may come together:

sleep, ask, go, sell, love, cry, come, open,

hate, wake, answer, buy, shut, laugh.

26

THREE COMPANIONS

companion

courage

kneel

cloudy

1. We go on our walk together——

Baby and dog and I——

Three little merry companions,

'Neath any sort of sky:

Blue as our baby's eyes are,

Gray like our old dog's tail;

Be it windy or cloudy or stormy,

Our courage will never fail.

2. Baby's a little lady;

Dog is a gentleman brave;

If he had two legs as you have,

He'd kneel to her like a slave;

As it is, he loves and protects her,

As dog and gentleman can.

I'd rather be a kind doggie,

I think, than a cruel man.

(DINAH MULOCK-CRAIK)

____________

wind

cloud

storm

rain

windy

cloudy

stormy

rainy

27

ATALANTA'S RACE

Hippomenes

Greece

swiftness

maiden

Atalanta

youth

shoulder

instant

determined

grace

glitter

declared

1. Long, long ago there lived in the beautiful land of Greece a maiden named Atalanta. She was so swift of foot that no youth in all Greece could pass her in a foot race.

2. Her grace and beauty were so great that many wished to marry her. But she declared that she would marry him only who could outstrip her in a race.

3. Many youths had tried their speed with her, but all had failed to overtake her. At last, at one of these races, Hippomenes, a fleet runner, was one of the judges. Seeing Atalanta's beauty, he determined to race with her.

4. He knew that it would be hard for him to win by mere swiftness of foot. So he took in his hand three beautiful golden apples.

5. Then the race began. Atalanta, sure of winning, at first let Hippomenes run ahead.

6. This was only for a moment. Hippomenes soon felt her breath close on his shoulder, and let one of the golden apples fall to the ground. She looked down and saw it glitter on the grass. She seized it quickly and then on she ran.

Atalanta stooped to grasp the apple.

7. A second apple rolled before her. Atalanta stooped to pick it up. Then, seeing Hippomenes close behind, she dashed on with added speed towards the goal.

8. The third golden apple flashed through the air and rolled at her feet. The goal was just at hand. Hippomenes was still behind, and she dared stoop only for an instant to grasp the apple.

9. But in that instant, like an arrow, Hippomenes darted past her and touched the goal. The race was won.

____________

Rewrite these sentences, putting other words having the same meaning in place of those in italics:

1. Hippomenes was a fleet runner.

2. The race was started.

3. Atalanta saw the apple glitter on the grass.

4. Hippomenes darted past her.

28

UNION GIVES STRENGTH

union

strength

easily

1. An old man had seven sons who were always quarreling with one another. This gave the father great pain.

2. One day he called his sons to him and showed them seven sticks tied together. He handed the bundle to each son in turn, and said: "Break it."

3. Each tried to do so, but with all his strength was unable even to bend it.

4. "Now untie it," said the father, "and each of you take a stick."

5. Then he called out: "Now, break them," and each one easily broke his stick.

6. Then the old man said: "My sons, like these sticks, you will be strong while you hold together, but weak while each is for himself."

____________

Union gives strength.

____________

Be not swift to take offense;

Anger is a foe to sense.

29

SOWING SEEDS

anxious

sown

advertise

bristle

silky

wages

bargain

bramble

I

I. Robert and Jane were walking one day with their mother along a country road.

"Thistles are like bad habits."

They saw a man cutting down the tall thistles along the roadside.

"Look, mother!" cried Robert, "why is that man cutting down the thistles?"

2. When they came up to the man, their mother said: "My little boy is very anxious to know why you are cutting down these thistles. He cannot see the use of it when they are not growing in the fields."

3. "Well, you see, thistles are like bad habits," said the man. "They not only grow, but they spread, just as bad habits do."

A thistle

Dandelion seeds

4. "Thistle seeds have wings, and when they are ripe, they float away on the wind. So the only way to keep from having a crop of thistles in the fields next year is to cut these down before the seeds come.

5. "If you keep your eyes open you will see other plants, such as the dandelion, whose seeds have white, silky wings to carry them along. On a fine autumn day you will often meet such seeds on their journey." They thanked the man for what he had told them, and passed on.

II

6. Soon afterwards Jane went up to the hedge to look over it into the field. Her dress got dotted all over with little things which stuck so fast that she had trouble in pulling them off.

7. "What are these, mother?" she asked.

"Seeds again," replied her mother. "These have little bristles sticking out with a hook at the end.

"The sheep and cattle rub against them as you have just done. These hooks catch in their wool and hair. The ripe seeds are pulled off and carried away to some other place.

8. "Several plants have hooked seeds or burs, and thus get the help of animals in carrying their seeds to fresh ground. These plants get the animals to do their work without pay, but other plants pay for the help they get."

"Why, mother, what are you saying? How can plants get work done and pay for it?" asked Robert, laughing.

9. "Not only so," said his mother with a smile, "but they advertise for workers. I am thinking now of such plants as wild cherries, brambles, and the like. Can you tell me how their seeds are sown?"

10. "I should think they don't get sown at all; they are eaten up by the birds," said Robert.

"You are partly right and partly wrong. The fruit is eaten; but the seed has a very hard shell which the bird cannot break, so he drops it somewhere on the ground."

11. "And the bird gets the soft part as its wages for carrying away the stone," said Jane.

"That seems to be the bargain between them," answered her mother.

III

12. "But what about advertising, mother?" asked Robert.

"When the cherry stones are ready for sowing," answered his mother, "the cherry-tree hangs out red flags——"

"Oh, I see what you mean now," cried Robert. "You mean that whenever the cherries are ripe, they turn red."

13. "Yes," said his sister; "and whenever the birds see them red, they know they are ripe. Is that the reason why ripe fruit is so bright in color?"

14. "Well, we cannot easily tell the 'reason why' about anything. You can see that the tree which has red flags will draw more birds to spread its seeds than other trees will," replied her mother. "But here we are at the farm now."

15. And as the brother and sister wandered through the orchard, they found that the "red flags" were useful to boys and girls as well as to birds in guiding them to the ripe fruit.

____________

figure

famous

thistle

lasted

reached

future

curious

bristle

darted

preached

creature

anxious

whistle

trotted

perched

30

A DUTCH LULLABY

herring

misty

ruffled

trundle

1. Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe,

Sailed on a river of misty light,

Into a sea of dew.

2. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?"

The old moon asked the three.

"We have come to fish for the herring fish

That live in this beautiful sea:

Nets of silver and gold have we,"

Said Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

3. The old moon laughed, and sang a song,

As they rocked in t he wooden shoe;

And the wind that sped them all night long

Ruffled the waves of dew.

4. The little stars were the herring fish

That lived in the beautiful sea;

"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,

But never a-feared are we."

So cried the stars to the fishermen three—Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

5. Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,

And Nod is a little head;

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies

Is the wee one's trundle bed.

6. So shut your eyes, while mother sings

Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things

As you rock on the misty sea

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three—

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

(EUGENE FIELD)

31

THE UGLY DUCKLING

stork

surrounded

honor

peered

duckling

poultry

burdock

prettily

terror

upright

aloud

freshness

waddled

immediately

despised

I

1. It was summer, and very beautiful in the country. The wheat was yellow, the oats were green, the hay was stacked up in the meadows, and the stork marched about on his long red legs.

2. In a sunny place stood an old country-house, surrounded by deep canals. From the walls down to the water's edge there grew large burdock leaves, so high that little children could stand upright under the tallest.

3. In this cool and quiet spot a duck sat on her nest waiting for her young ones to hatch. She was beginning to get tired of sitting, when at last the eggs cracked one after another, "Peep, peep!" All the eggs were alive, and one little head after another peered forth.

4. "Quack, quack!" said the duck, and all got up as well as they could. "Are you all out now?" asked the mother duck, getting up herself. "No, not all; the largest egg is still here. How long will this last? Oh! I am so tired of it!" And then she sat down again.

5. "Well, and how are you getting on?" asked an old duck who had come to pay her a visit.

"That is a turkey's egg."

"This one egg keeps me so long," said the mother; "it will not break; but you should see the others. They are the prettiest little ducklings I have ever seen."

6. "Let me see the egg that will not break," said the old duck; "you may be sure it is a turkey's egg. I hatched some turkey's eggs once myself, and I had such trouble with the young ones! They were afraid of the water, and I could not get them to go in.

7. "But let me see the egg—ah, yes! to be sure, that is a turkey's egg. Leave it, and teach the other little ones to swim."

8. "I will sit on it a little longer," said the mother. "I have been sitting so long already."

"Do as you please," said the old duck, and away she waddled.

II

9. The great egg burst at last. "Peep, peep!" said the little one, and out it tumbled. Oh! how large and ugly it was! The mother duck looked at it.

10. "How big and straight it is!" said she. "None of the others is at all like it. Can it be a young turkey cock? Well, we shall soon find out. It must go into the water, if I have to push it in myself."

11. The next day there was delightful weather. The sun shone warm when the mother duck with all her family went down to the water. "Quack, quack!" cried she, and one duckling after another jumped in.

The water closed over their heads, but they all came up again, and swam together finely. All were there, even the ugly gray one.

12. "No, it is not a turkey," said the old duck. "Only see how prettily it moves its legs! How straight it holds itself! It is my own child. It is really very pretty when one looks more closely at it. Quack! quack! Now come with me, my children; I will take you into the duck yard. Keep close to me, or some one may step on you."

13. So they came into the duck yard. Oh, what a noise there was! The ducks were quarreling about a fish head, which in the end was eaten by the cat.

14. "See, my children, such is the way of the world," said the mother duck, wiping her bill. She, too, was fond of fish. "Now use your legs," said she; "keep together, and bow to the old duck you see over there. Look, she has a red rag on her leg! That is very fine, and is the greatest honor a duck can have. Now bow your necks and say 'Quack.'"

15. And they did as they were told. But the other ducks who were in the yard looked at them, and said aloud: "Only see! Now we have another brood. There are enough of us already; and oh, how ugly that one is!" And immediately one of the ducks flew at him and bit him on the neck.

16. "Let him alone," said the mother; "he is doing no one any harm."

17. "Those are fine children that our good mother has," said the old duck with the red rag on her leg. "All are pretty except one, and that one has not turned out well; I almost wish he could be hatched over again."

18. "That cannot be," said the mother. "He is not handsome, but he is a very good child, and swims even better than the others. I think he will grow like them in time, and will look smaller."

19. "The other ducks are very pretty," said the old duck. "Pray make yourselves at home, and, if you find a fish head, you may bring it to me."

So they made themselves at home.

20. But the poor ugly duckling was bitten, pecked, and teased by both ducks and hens.

"He is so large and ugly!" said they all.

III

21. So passed the first day, and afterwards things grew worse. The poor duckling was laughed at by all. Even his brothers and sisters were unkind. The ducks bit him, the hens pecked him, and the girl who fed the poultry kicked him.

22. At last he could stand it no longer, so he ran to the other side of the hedge and frightened all the little birds in the bushes. "That is because I am so ugly," thought the duckling, shutting his eyes—but he ran on.

The poor duckling was laughed at by all.

23. At last he came to a place where the wild geese lived. There he lay for two whole days. On the third day there came two young wild geese.

"Hark ye," said they, "you are so ugly that we like you. Will you come with us and fly away to the south?"

24. Bang! bang! went a gun all at once, and both the wild geese were stretched dead among the reeds. The water became red with blood. Bang! went another gun. Whole flocks of wild geese flew up in terror from among the reeds.

A great dog ran up.

25. There was a grand hunting party. The dogs splashed about in the mud—how frightened the poor duck was! In his terror he turned his head, thinking to hide it under his wing.

26. In a moment a great dog ran up, with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He looked at the poor ugly duckling an instant, and, splash, splash! was gone—gone without hurting him.

27. "Well, let me be thankful," said the duckling; "I am so ugly that even the dog will not bite me." And now he lay still, though the shooting kept up.

28. The noise did not cease till late in the day. The poor little thing waited many hours before he dared move. Then he ran away as fast as he could over fields and meadows.

IV

29. In the evening he reached a little hut. The door was broken, so he crept into the room.

30. Here lived an old woman with her tomcat and her hen. The cat, whom she called her little son, knew how to put up his back and pur. He could even give out sparks when stroked the wrong way. The hen laid very good eggs, and the old woman loved her as her own child.

31. The next morning they all saw the duckling. The cat began to pur and the hen to cackle.

"What is the matter?" asked the old woman, looking round.

32. Her eyes were not good; so she thought the young duckling was a fat duck which had lost its way. "This is a fine catch," said she; "now I shall have duck's eggs."

33. So the duckling was kept for three weeks, but no eggs came.

"Can you pur? Can you give out sparks?"

"Can you lay eggs?" asked the hen.

"No."

"Well, then, hold your tongue."

34. And the cat said, "Can you put up your back? Can you pur? Can you give out sparks?"

"No."

"Well, then, you should keep still."

35. So the duckling sat alone in the corner and was very unhappy. Before long he began to think of the fresh air and sunshine, so he ran away again and jumped into the water. He swam on the surface of the water, he plunged beneath, but all animals passed him by because he was so ugly.

V

36. And the autumn came, the leaves turned yellow and brown, the air was very cold, the clouds were heavy with snow.

37. One evening, just as the sun was setting, a flock of large, beautiful birds came flying by. The duckling had never seen anything so beautiful before. Their feathers were white as snow, and they had long slender necks. They were swans.

38. Presently they gave a queer cry and spread out their beautiful wings. Then they flew away to warmer countries, across the open sea. They flew so high, so very high!

39. The ugly duckling turned round and round in the water like a mill wheel. He strained his neck to look after them, and gave such a loud and strange cry that it almost frightened himself.

40. He did not know what the birds were called, nor where they were flying; but he loved them as he had never before loved anything. He did not envy them; he would have been quite happy if the ducks in the duck yard had only let him stay there.

41. And soon winter came. The weather was so cold, so cold. The duckling had to swim round and round in the water to keep it from freezing.

42. But it would be too sad to tell all the trouble the poor duckling had during the hard winter. He was lying in a meadow among the reeds, when the sun began to shine warm once more. The lark sang. The beautiful spring had returned.

43. And once more he shook his wings. They were stronger than before, and bore him forwards quickly. Before he was well aware of it, he was in a large garden by the river. Oh! everything was so lovely, so full of the freshness of the spring!

44. Out of the reeds came three swans. They showed their feathers so proudly, and swam so lightly and so gracefully! The duckling knew the beautiful birds, and was filled with a strange sadness.

45. "I will fly to them," said he. "They will kill me because I, ugly as I am, have dared come near them. But it is better to be killed by them than to be bitten by the ducks, pecked by the hens, and to have so much to suffer during the winter!"

46. He flew into the water, and swam towards the beautiful creatures. They saw him and shot forward to meet him.

"There is a new swan!" cried the children.

"Only kill me!" said the poor duckling, and he bowed his head low, expecting death; but what did he see in the water? He saw beneath him his own form, no longer that of a big, ugly, gray bird—it was that of a swan.

47. It does not matter that one has been born in a duck yard if one has been hatched from a swan's egg.

48. Some little children were running about in the garden. They threw bread into the water, and the youngest cried, "There is a new one!" The others also cried out, "Yes, there is a new swan come!" and they clapped their hands and danced around.

49. They ran to their father and mother. Bread and cake were thrown into the water, and every one said, "The new one is the best, so young and so beautiful!" and the old swans bowed before him.

50. The young swan felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing. He hardly knew what to do; he was so happy, but still not proud, for a good heart is never proud.

51. He remembered how he had been teased and laughed at. Now he heard every one say that he was the most beautiful of all beautiful birds.

52. He shook his feathers, stretched his slender neck, and in his joy said: "How little did I dream of so much happiness when I was the ugly, despised duckling!"

(HANS ANDERSEN)

32

THE DERVISH AND THE CAMEL

desert

suspected

jewel

grazed

dervish

company

cadi

infer

camel

merchant

tuft

inferred

I

1. A dervish, or holy man of the East, was traveling alone in the desert, when he met a company of merchants.

"Holy man," said one, "we have lost a camel."

2. "Was he not blind in his right eye and lame in his left foreleg?" asked the dervish.

"He was," said the merchants.

3. "Had he not lost a front tooth?" asked the dervish.

"He had," said they.

4. "Was he not loaded with wheat on one side?"

"He was," said the merchants.

"And with honey on the other?"

5. "He was! he was!" said they, surprised.

"Then," said the dervish, "I have not seen your camel."

6. The merchants were now very angry.

They told the dervish that he must know the camel well. They suspected that he had taken the jewels and money which were a part of the camel's load.

7. They, therefore, seized him, and carried him to the nearest town and brought him before the cadi, or judge.

II

8. The cadi heard the story of the merchants, and agreed with them in thinking that the dervish knew more about the camel than he cared to tell.

9. "How did you know the camel was blind in one eye?" he asked.

"I inferred that the animal was blind in one eye because it had eaten the grass on only one side of the path," replied the dervish.

10. "How did you know it was lame in the left leg?" asked the cadi.

"I inferred that it was lame in the left foreleg because I saw that the print of that foot was fainter than those of the others."

11. "How did you know the animal had lost a tooth?" asked the cadi.

"I inferred that it had lost a tooth," replied the dervish, "because wherever it had grazed a small tuft of grass was left untouched in the center of its bite."

12. "But how could you tell with what it was loaded?" cried the merchants. "Tell us that."

13. "The busy ants on the one side, and the flies on the other, showed me that the camel was loaded with wheat and honey. And, more than this," he said, "I infer that it has only strayed, as there were no footprints either before or behind it. Go and look for your camel."

14. "Go," said the cadi: "look for your camel."

The merchants did so, and found the beast near the spot from which it had strayed.

"Go," said the cadi: "look for your camel."

____________

Write sentences telling the color of each of these things:

grass

salt

wheat

honey

33

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

poet

Henry Wadsworth

Cambridge

college

Longfellow

sheltered

boyhood

Evange line

Hiawatha

1. I am sure some of you can tell me who this is. Yes, it is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the poet. Has he not a kindly face?

2. Longfellow's boyhood was spent in the old town of Portland, Maine, where he was born. If you were to go there to-day, you could see the very house in which he lived, for it is still standing.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

3. Henry was a healthy, happy boy, as fond of fun as any of you, but he was fond of study too. He loved to read good books full of beautiful thoughts.

4. He had beautiful thoughts of his own, too, and he began early to write them out. He put those thoughts into words which sound like music when they are read. That is why we call him a poet.

5. When Longfellow was about fourteen years old, he went to Bowdoin College. Afterwards he became a teacher in this college, and then he taught at Harvard College in the beautiful city of Cambridge, Massachusetts. After he became a teacher in Harvard College, Longfellow lived in Cambridge in a famous old house which had once sheltered General Washington.

6. Longfellow wrote many poems by which he will long be remembered. Among these are "The Village Blacksmith" and "The Wreck of the Hesperus." If you have never heard them, ask your teacher to read them to you. The best known of his longer poems are "Hiawatha" and "Evangeline." When you are older, you will enjoy reading them.

7. Longfellow had three little daughters and two little sons, whom he loved dearly. They liked nothing better than to go into their father's study and play with him. They would climb on his chair and beg for the stories he knew so well how to tell.

Here is one of Longfellow's poems which is much loved by children. You do not have to wait until you are older to enjoy reading this.

____________

Copy these sentences and fill in the blanks from memory:

Longfellow was born in............,............

When he was............years old, he went to............College.

Afterwards he taught in............College.

Later he taught in............College.

Longfellow was a............as well as a teacher.

He wrote............and............

He had............daughters and............sons.

____________

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And departing leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time.

(LONGFELLOW)

34

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH

brawny

choir

attempted

sexton

fortune

forge

sinewy

repose

smithy

wrought

bellows

anvil

1. 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.

2. 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.

3. 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.

4. 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.

5. 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.

6. 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.

7. Toiling, —rejoicing, —sorrowing,

Onward through life he goes;

Each morning sees some task begin,

Each evening sees it close;

Something attempted, something done,

Has earned a night's repose.

8. 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 WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW)

____________

1. Find in the first stanza of this poem three words which mean very strong.

2. Find four words in the poem which tell names of things a blacksmith needs for his work.

3. Select ten words which tell quality.

4. Use these ten words in a description of the blacksmith.

35

BEES

juice

thousand

grub

bodyguard

pollen

respect

drone

attended

kingdom

subject

twelve

defend

I

1. Look at a bee. You see its body is made up of three parts. It looks as if it were cut almost through in two places. That is why it is called an insect, for the word "insect" means "cut into." All insects have bodies like this and have six legs.

2. The bee has two pairs of wings, and when she flies the wings on each side are locked together by little hooks.

3. How does the bee get honey? It is by means of her long underlip. She pushes it far down into a blossom and gets out the sweet juice, which she puts into her honey bag.

A beehive

Bee storing honey

4. She goes from flower to flower until this bag is quite full, and then she flies home to the hive. Some of the honey is used for food: some is stored in little cells covered with wax, and put away like pots of jam for the winter.

5. But honey is not all that the bees get from flowers. They fill little baskets on their legs with a yellow dust called pollen. The pollen mixed with honey is used as food for the young bees. It is called "bee bread."

A queen

6. Each beehive is a little kingdom, the home of thousands of bees. At the head is the queen, whose subjects treat her with great respect. She is the mother bee.

7. Most of her subjects are workers who are very busy. They keep the hive clean, and take care of the queen and the little baby bees. They build six-sided cells of wax, and gather honey and lay up stores for winter.

A worker

II

8. The other members of the kingdom are drones. There are only a few hundred of them, great lazy fellows who do little except eat and sleep.

A drone

9. The workers bear with the drones while there is plenty of honey, but in the autumn they drive the idle ones from the hive or sting them to death. The drones cannot defend themselves. They have no stings, as the queen and workers have.

10. The young bees are hatched from eggs in the form of worms or grubs; the workers feed them with the bee bread made of honey and pollen. For several days the little grubs do nothing but eat. Then each makes a web for itself and goes to sleep. When it awakes, it is no longer a grub but a bee.

11. The queen bee is fed with the best of food. She seldom leaves the hive except to lead workers to a new home. As she goes about the hive, she is attended by a bodyguard of ten or twelve bees.

12. There is only one queen bee in each hive.

When a young queen comes from a cell, the old one would like to sting her to death. But the other bees will not allow this, so the old queen, with many of the workers, leaves the hive and finds a new home.

____________

1. Use these words in sentences:

bee, busy, sweet, yellow, six-sided, lazy.

2. Look at the pictures and tell how the queen, the worker, and the drone differ from one another.

3. Draw a picture of a bee.

____________

How doth the little busy bee

Improve each shining hour,

And gather honey all the day

From every opening flower!

How skilfully she builds her cell!

How neat she spreads the wax!

And labors hard to store it well

With the sweet food she makes.

(ISAAC WATTS)

36

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

rubies

diamond

spindle

rescue

common

curtain

dwarf

supper

threat

enchanted

direction

happily

princess

spiteful

I

1. Long, long ago there lived a king and a queen who were very sad because they had no children. But their sadness at last passed away, for a little daughter was born to them. In his joy the king laughed like any common man.

2. He gave a grand feast and asked all his friends to come to it. He also invited seven fairies, who were all that he could find in the kingdom.

Before each of the fairies was placed a beautiful gold plate, and a knife, fork, and spoon of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies.

3. After all the guests were seated at the table, in walked an old fairy who had not been invited. For fifty years she had not been out of a certain castle, and the king thought that she was either dead or enchanted.

4. The king had a place set for her: but he could not give her a gold plate, for he had had only seven made for the seven fairies. The old fairy thought herself slighted by this and muttered some threats between her teeth.

5. One of the young fairies who sat near, overheard these threats. Fearing some ill fortune for the little princess, she went, as soon as she rose from the table, and hid behind a curtain. She wished to speak last, and undo, if she could, any ill which the old fairy might try to bring to pass.

6. Then the fairies began to offer gifts to the little princess. One gave her beauty, another wealth, another a sweet temper, and so on. Six of them had given their presents, and it came to the turn of the old fairy who had come in last.

7. With a shake of the head she said: "When the princess is fifteen years old, she shall prick her finger with a spindle and shall die of the wound." And without speaking one word more, she turned and left the hall.

8. All the guests were much grieved at this terrible gift, and many of them began to weep.

But at this moment the young fairy who had hid behind a curtain came out and said: "Be comforted, O King and Queen. Believe me, your daughter shall not die in this way.

9. "It is true that I have not power to undo entirely what my elder has done. The princess shall indeed prick her hand with a spindle; but instead of dying she shall only fall into a deep sleep which shall last a hundred years. At the end of that time a king's son shall come and awake her."

10. On hearing this, the king at once gave an order that all the spinning wheels in the kingdom should be burned. He said that no one, on pain of death, should have a spindle in the house.

II

11. As the little princess grew up, all the promises of the good fairies were fulfilled. She was so beautiful, sweet-tempered, and wise that every one loved her.

There sat an old woman with a spindle.

12. Now it happened that on her fifteenth birthday the king and queen were away from home. So the princess amused herself by wandering up and down the palace.

13. At last she came to an old tower. She climbed up the winding stair and reached a little door. A rusty key was in the lock, and the princess turned it.

14. The door sprang open, and there in a little room sat an old woman with a spindle, busily spinning flax. Now either she had not heard of the king's command against spindles, or else it was the wicked fairy who had taken the shape of an old woman.

15. "Good day, old dame," said the princess. "What are you doing there?"

"I am spinning, dearie," said the old woman, nodding her head.

16. "Ha!" said the princess, "that is very amusing. Let me see if I can spin. What is the thing that turns round so merrily?" and she took the spindle in her hand.

But she had no sooner touched the spindle than the word of the spiteful fairy was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger.

17. That very moment she fell upon the floor and lay in a deep sleep. The old woman cried out for help, and people came running from every direction. Some threw water upon her face; some struck the palms of her hands; but all they could do did not wake her.

All they could do did not wake her.

18. When this happened, the good fairy was in a far-off country. But she was quickly told of it by a little dwarf who wore seven league boots. He ran to her with the news, and she started at once in her fairy chariot. She did not wish the princess to be all alone in the old palace when she should awake a hundred years later. So she touched with her magic wand everything and every one in the palace, and they all fell asleep.

The dwarf ran with the news.

19. Round the castle a vast number of trees and bushes and briars began to grow. They became so thick that neither man nor beast could pass through. From without, nothing could be seen but the very top of the towers.

They all fell asleep.

III

20. A hundred years were gone and past, when one day a prince came hunting in the forest. Catching sight of the towers above the trees, he asked the forest people what castle it was.

21. Some said that it was a fairy castle, and some said that it was a place where witches lived. Others told him that it was the home of a great giant.

22. But at last an old woodman said: "Sir, when I was a boy, my grandfather told me that there was in that castle a princess the most beautiful ever seen. She must sleep there a hundred years, and will be wakened by a king's son whom she is awaiting."

23. When the prince heard this, he determined to make his way to the castle. In vain did the woodman tell him that already many princes had lost their lives in the attempt. The thorns held fast like strong hands, and the young men caught by them were not able to get away.

24. The prince only cried out that he would either rescue the sleeping princess or die like the others. Without delay he pressed on towards the wood.

He determined to make his way to the castle.

25. Strangely enough, the trees, great and small, the bushes, and the briars made way for him to pass through, and then closed fast behind him. On went the prince all alone. By and by he came to the castle, where all was still as death.

He crossed a court.

26. In the courtyard he saw the horses and the spotted hounds lying asleep; on the roof sat the doves, with their heads under their wings. He crossed a court paved with marble and came to the guards, leaning with bent heads against the wall, all snoring as loud as they could.

27. After that he went along halls, through rooms full of gentlemen and ladies, all asleep, some standing, others sitting. At last the prince came to the tower, and went up the winding stair and into the little room where the princess was asleep.

A guard fast asleep

28. There she lay, so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes away. He stooped down and kissed her. And now the enchantment was at an end.

29. The princess awoke and, looking at him kindly, said: "Is it you, my prince? I have waited for you a long time."

30. At the same moment all the palace awoke. The guards paced stiffly up and down. The gay laughter of lords and ladies rang through the halls. Outside, the dogs barked, the horses neighed, the doves upon the roof took their heads from under their wings and flew into the open country.

31. Then the prince and the princess went into the great Hall of Looking Glasses, where they held their wedding supper. And in due time the prince became king and the princess queen, and they lived happily all their days.

____________

1. Use these words in sentences:

of pure gold; terrible gift; deep sleep; old tower; seven-league boots; a hundred years; a king's son; sleeping princess; wedding supper.

2. Make sentences telling what you have read about in this story that is—

spiteful, rusty, spotted, narrow, sweet-tempered, thick, charming, golden.

____________

The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

(STEVENSON)

37

JACK IN THE PULPIT

anemone

squirrel

discuss

innocent

gauze

bonnet

geranium

frail

pulpit

1. Jack in the pulpit

Preaches to-day,

Under the green trees

Just over the way.

Squirrel and song-sparrow,

High on their perch,

Hear the sweet lily-bells

Ringing to church.

Jack in the pulpit

Come hear what his reverence

Rises to say

In his low, painted pulpit

This calm Sabbath day.

2. Meek-faced anemones,

Drooping and sad;

Great yellow violets,

Smiling out glad;

Buttercups' faces,

Beaming and bright;

Clovers with bonnets,

Some red and some white

Daisies, their white fingers

Half-clasped in prayer;

Dandelions, proud of

The gold of their hair;

Innocents, children

Guileless and frail,

Meek little faces

Upturned and pale;

Wildwood geraniums,

All in their best,

Languidly leaning,

In purple gauze dressed—

All are assembled

This sweet Sabbath day

To hear what the priest

In his pulpit will say.

3. So much for the preacher:

The sermon comes next,—

Shall we tell how he preached it

And where was his text?

Alas! like too many

Grown-up folks who play

At worship in churches

Man-builded to-day,—

We heard not the preacher

Expound or discuss;

But we looked at the people,

And they looked at us.

We all saw their dresses—

Their colors and shapes;

The trim of their bonnets,

The cut of their capes;

We heard the wind-organ,

The bee and the bird,

But of Jack in the pulpit

We heard not a word!

(CLARA SMITH)

____________

1. "Guileless" means free from deceit.

2. "Expound" means explain.

3. Copy the names of all the flowers mentioned in "Jack in the Pulpit."

4. Do you know any other wild flowers?

38

CAPTAIN SMITH AND POCAHONTAS

adopt

adventure

prison er

savage

resist

Jamestown

Powha tan

northern

attack

settler

Pocahontas

coast

I

1. This is a story about a man whose life and adventures were as interesting as any story book. This man was Captain John Smith, and he was born in England over three hundred years ago. You will like to know something about him, because he was one of the first Englishmen who came to live in this country.

2. After many adventures on sea and land, Captain John Smith set out with some men who were going to make their homes in Virginia. They crossed the ocean and settled at a place which they called Jamestown, after the king of England.

An Indian attack

3. At first these settlers had a hard time. They were not used to working in the fields; and Smith, who was one of their chief men, found it hard to make them cut down trees and plant corn. They were often in need of food and always in danger of attacks from Indians.

4. One day Captain Smith started with an Indian guide to see the country and to look for food. He was going along the forest path, when suddenly an arrow whizzed through the air and the Indian war cry rang in his ears.

5. The woods seemed to be filled with savages. Captain Smith saw that it would be useless to resist them. So he let them drag him off to their chief, Powhatan.

6. Captain Smith was kept prisoner for some time. Then it was decided that he should be killed. The war clubs of the savages were already raised over his head, when a little girl ran forward, threw her arms about his neck, and begged them not to kill him. This was Pocahontas, the daughter of Powhatan.

The woods seemed to be filled with savages.

7. They tried to drag her away, but she begged so hard for the white man's life that at last her prayer was granted and Smith's life was spared.

8. Powhatan became so fond of his white prisoner that he wished to adopt him as his son. Soon the Indians allowed Captain Smith to go back to his friends in Jamestown.

II

9. This was not the only time that Pocahontas gave aid to the English. She often brought them food when they were in need.

She warned the white men.

10. Once, when the Indians were again at war with the settlers, she came at night and warned the white men that there was to be an attack. When the savages came, they found the settlers ready to defend themselves.

11. Captain John Smith stayed in Virginia for a number of years, leading the settlers in the Indian fights and guiding them in their work. Then he returned to England, and wrote books telling about his adventures.

12. Some years later he sailed again for America. This time he visited the northern coast, and gave the name of New England to that part of our country. He died in England at the age of fifty-two.

13. Pocahontas, the Indian girl who had saved his life, married John Rolfe, a young Englishman. With him she visited England, where she was treated as a young princess. And to-day there are boys and girls in Virginia who can say that Pocahontas, the Indian princess, was their great-great-grandmother.

____________

Copy these sentences, filling in the blanks:

Captain John Smith was born in_________over_________years ago.

He came with colonists to_________

They sailed up the_________River and settled at_________

They were often attacked by_________

Once Captain Smith was taken prisoner, and his life was saved by_________

Captain Smith went back to_________

He sailed again to America and visited the____________coast, to which he gave the name of_________

Pocahontas married_________

39

HERCULES AND THE WAGONER

wagoner

Hercules

effort

urge

1. As a wagoner was driving a heavy cart along a bad road, the wheels stuck fast in the mud and the horses could not pull it out.

2. The man did not make the least effort to help himself. He dropped on his knees and began calling for Hercules to come and help him out of his troubles.

3. "Lazy fellow!" said Hercules, "get up and urge on your horses. Put your shoulder to the wheel. Heaven helps only those who help themselves."

affection

suspect

voice

throat

direction

respect

rejoice

thread

40

LEAVES

birch

doubled

midrib

pitcher

maple

compound

simple

moisture

unfold

variety

umbrella

harmless

notched

narrow

supply

important

I

1. Take any common leaf into your hand and look at it. Take the leaf of the strawberry, for instance. See how prettily it is notched! Hold it up to the light and see the lines that run from the middle to the edges. Then look at the fine network between these lines. How delicate and beautiful it all is!

2. Beautiful and interesting as leaves are, few people notice them. If I were to show you leaves which you see every day, I am afraid you could not tell from what kind of tree each leaf came. Could you?

A strawberry leaf

3. Gather leaves of different kinds, and see if your schoolmates can tell their names. Take the star-shaped leaf of the maple, the birch leaf with its nicely notched edges, the bright, firm leaf of the oak, and the wrinkled leaf of the elm. Put a willow leaf beside a peach leaf, which is very much like it.

4. Leaves come from buds just as flowers do. If you gather some leaf buds in the spring and cut them across with a sharp knife, you can see how the leaves are folded together inside.

Some are doubled together like a folded sheet of paper; some are rolled round and round; others are folded as a fan is.

5. In the warm spring days these buds grow larger and larger. After a while they unfold and the green leaves are spread out.

II

6. As you look at a leaf, you see that it is made up of two parts: the stalk, and a broader part which is thin and fiat. The broad part is called the blade. As you see, the stalk runs through the middle of the leaf to the tip. It forms what is called the midrib.

7. A number of branches, called veins, run off from the midrib. These are like the ribs of an umbrella. Without them the leaf could not stand straight and firm. The wind would blow it about like a rag tied to a stick.

8. You will find some leaves made up of a number of small ones, all fixed on one stalk. These are called compound leaves. Simple leaves have only one leaf on each leaf stalk.

9. There is great variety in the shape of leaves. Some are long and narrow, like blades of grass; some are round, some egg-shaped, and some heart-shaped. Some have plain and some wavy edges, while others have edges like the teeth of a saw.

III

10. There are some very queer leaves. One of these is the pitcher plant. Its midrib bends at the end of the leaf so as to form a little pitcher with a lid. The lid is generally shut so that rain cannot get in, yet the pitcher always has water in it. How does it come there?

11. The watery part of the sap is poured from many little mouths on the inside of the pitcher, which is thus kept filled with water.

The American pitcher plant

12. The leaf of the Venus's fly trap, which grows in North Carolina, is a real trap for flies and other insects. When the leaf is spread out wide open, it looks harmless enough.

13. But let an insect alight on the leaf, and he is made a prisoner at once. The two parts of the leaf close, and the points on the edge are locked together so as to form bars to the prison. The poor insect cannot get away, and soon dies.

Venus's fly trap

14. You may never see these queer leaves, but you will find other curious and interesting ones near your home if you look for them.

A fern

I am sure you know the fern leaf. Do you know where the flowers of the fern grow? See if you can find out.

15. Keep your eyes open as you walk in the fields and woods, and you will see there is no end to the variety of leaves. And among them all you cannot find one that is not beautiful when you look closely at it.

16. Leaves are not only beautiful and interesting—they are useful, too. They give us pleasant shade and they supply the air with moisture. But their chief use is to keep trees and plants alive and to make them grow.

17. Leaves are to plants what lungs are to animals. The air that goes to our lungs helps keep us alive and make us grow. Like ourselves, plants must breathe as well as feed in order to live and grow. So you see the leaf is a very important part of the plant.

(WORTHINGTON HOOKER)

____________

1. Name something that is—

green, notched, narrow, star-shaped, egg-shaped, wrinkled.

2. Find in your reader five words that tell color; five words that describe the size or form of an object.

3. Make sentences describing a leaf, using these words:

color, shape, stalk, blade, midrib, leaf bud.

4. Draw pictures of three kinds of leaves you have seen.

____________

He liveth long who liveth well,

All else is life but flung away;

He liveth longest who can tell

Of true things truly done each day.

41

THE TREE

swumg

quivering

rootlet

laden

leaflet

1. The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown;

"Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.

"No, leave them alone

Till the blossoms have grown,"

Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.

2. The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung;

"Shall I take them away?" said the Wind, as he swung.

"No, leave them alone

Till the berries have grown,"

Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.

3. The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow;

Said the girl: "May I gather thy berries now?"

"Yes, all thou canst see:

Take them; all are for thee,"

Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.

(BJORNST JERNE BJORNSON)

____________

root

rootlet

summer

midsummer

stream

streamlet

winter

midwinter

42

THE BOY WHO HATED TREES

sulky

procession

knives

ircus

rustling

excited

wrapper

geography

poplar

bicycle

whistle

beckoned

walnut

carefully

hatchet

Arbor Day

I

1. "Good-night, Dick. Remember now to wake up with the robins, so that you may be ready to help me set out our new trees."

"Good-night," answered Dick in a sulky tone, for Dick was cross.

2. "Trees, trees, trees!" he mumbled to himself as he began to undress. "I'm so sick of hearing about trees. Miss Morrell has talked 'trees' for a week at school, and now father has bought some old twigs to set out to-morrow, and I want to go fishing.

3. "I wish I lived in a land where there are no trees. We could get along well enough without them." And with this thought he jumped into bed.

4. Dick had been asleep perhaps an hour or more, when he heard the queerest rustling noise and then a voice called out: "Here he is—the boy who hates trees!"

5. There was the strangest procession coming toward him. It was made up of trees of all kinds. The Pine and the Elm came first; the Maple and the Oak followed: the Maple's leaves were flushed scarlet, she was so excited. The Willow was weeping, and the Poplar was trembling all over.

6. Next came all the fruit trees, led by the Cherry, while the Walnut, the White Birch, and the Palm were behind.

7. What did it all mean? Dick was frightened for a moment. It seemed as if every tree of which he had ever heard was there, and he wondered how the room could hold them all.

II

8. When they had all grown quiet, the Pine said: "Dear brothers and sisters, here is a boy who hates trees; he cannot see that we are of any use. It is more than I can stand, and I have called this meeting to see what can be done about it. Has any one anything to say?"

9. The Cherry looked very sour. "I cannot see that boys are of any use," she said. "Many years ago, when cherry trees were scarce in this country, a boy named George cut down my great-grandfather just to try his new hatchet."

10. "And boys know so little," said the White Birch; "they are always hacking me with knives and taking off my coat, no matter how cold the weather is.

"Give me of your bark O Birch Tree!"

11. "I loved a boy once, but it was many years ago. He was a little Indian boy. He loved trees. I remember how he stood beside me one warm day and said:

"'Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!

For the summer time is coming,

And the sun is warm in heaven,

And you need no white skin wrapper.'

"Then he took off my bark so carefully that he did not hurt me a bit. But he is not living now. This boy is not like him."

12. "I don't like boys either," spoke up the Apple. "One day a boy climbed up into my branches and broke off one of my limbs. He was a very silly boy, for he wanted green apples. Had my fruit been ripe, I would have tossed one down to him. How happy we should be if it were not for boys!"

13. The Maple was very angry. "This boy said we were of no use, but it was only this morning that I heard him tease his grandmother for a cake of my sugar."

"He ate it as though he liked it, too," said the Palm. "I saw him; he was fanning himself with one of my leaves."

14. The Willow wiped her eyes. "Boys, boys, boys!" she said. "I'm so sick of boys! This same boy made a whistle out of one of my children this very night when he went for the cows."

15. Then a queer tree in the corner spoke in a thick voice. "We are of no use, are we If it were not for me, where would he get the tires for his bicycle? There are his rubber boots, too. Why, he uses me every day about something. But I've thought of a plan."

16. The trees crowded around him, talking together very excitedly.

"But how shall we do it?" Dick heard them say.

"Oh," said the Elm, "the wind will help us; it is our friend."

III

17. Before Dick could cry out, he found himself being carried away by the wind.

"Where am I going?" he called.

18. "To the land of no trees," they answered; and they bowed and smiled. Even the Willow held up her head long enough to call, "Good-by! good-by!" and then home and trees were left far behind.

19. How fast the wind traveled! On and on they rushed, until suddenly the wind dropped him and went whistling away.

20. Dick felt really frightened when he found himself all alone.

"Oh, I'm so hot!" he exclaimed. "I wonder where I am."

Certainly he had never before been in such a place.

21. There were no trees nor green grass anywhere in sight. As far as he could see, there was only sand white sand—that was so hot and scorching.

22. "It seems to me I've seen pictures in my geography like this," he said to himself. "It must be a desert. Oh, I was never so hot before. I can't stay here. What shall I do?"

23. All at once he noticed a tiny speck far away in the distance. Now it looked larger. He brushed away something that looked very much like a tear, though he told himself that it was only because he was so warm.

24. Yes, that speck surely moved, and was coming nearer. What if it were a bear!

"There is no tree to climb and I couldn't run—I am so tired and it is so hot."

25. Nearer and nearer it came, moving slowly. Dick watched it with a beating heart. At last he saw that it was not a single animal, but a great many in line.

26. "Oh, they are camels!" he cried. "Yes, I know they are. Once at a circus I saw some that looked just like them, but what queer-looking men are on them!"

IV

27. They were now very near him, and one of the men beckoned with his hand and said something.

"I can't understand him," said Dick to himself, "but I suppose he means he'll give me a ride."

28. The man helped him up and they journeyed on. After a time Dick grew very tired.

"The camel joggles me so," he said, "and I am so thirsty I shall die. If they would only stop a minute!"

29. What was the matter? What were they saying? Each man was bowing himself towards the ground, waving his hands.

"I don't see what they are making all that fuss about. I can't see anything, the sun hurts my eyes so." And Dick covered his eyes with his hand.

30. Suddenly there was a shout, and the camels stood still. Dick lifted his head. Could he believe his eyes? Right before him was a little spot of green grass, a spring of cool water, and one of those things he hated —a tree.

"Dear tree!" he cried.

31. Hate a tree? He thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. He fairly tumbled off the camel in his haste to reach it. The tears ran down his face as he threw his arms around its trunk.

"Dear tree!" he cried.

32. "Dick, Dick, are you going to help me plant the new trees?" called his father.

Opening his eyes, Dick found himself in his own little room, both hands clasping his pillow.

33. Dick was soon dressed and downstairs, and so anxious was he to plant trees that he could hardly eat his breakfast.

34. A week later Miss Morrell said to one of the other teachers: "I think the trees we planted on Arbor Day will grow if good care has anything to do with it. Dick Hawkins seems to have taken charge of them all."

(ALLCED BECKWITH)

____________

excited

excitedly

excitement

unexcited

____________

1. Copy the names of all the trees mentioned.

2. Write a sentence about each.

3. Tell five ways not mentioned in this story in which trees are useful to us.

43

MARCH

Defeated

plowboy

retreated

anon

1. The cock is crowing,

The stream is flowing,

The small birds twitter,

The lake doth glitter,

The green field sleeps in the sun;

The oldest and youngest

Are at work with the strongest;

The cattle are grazing,

Their heads never raising;

There are forty feeding like one!

2. Like an army defeated

The snow hath retreated,

And now doth fare ill

On the top of the bare hill;

The plowboy is whooping—anon—anon;

There's joy in the mountains,

There's life in the fountains;

Small clouds are sailing,

Blue sky prevailing;

The rain is over and gone!

(WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

44

CIRCE

enchantress

herd

Circe

Misfortune

divided

noisy

greedily

victim

mercy

I

1. Listen to a story which has been for ages a delight to children and to grown people. It is about Odysseus, the great Greek hero.

After being away for many years in a great war, he was on his way to his island home.

2. As Odysseus and his men were driven about on unknown seas, they came to a beautiful wooded island. This was the home of Circe, a mighty enchantress.

3. The Greeks did not know this. But they had had so many strange adventures that at first they were afraid to land for fear of fresh misfortune.

At the end of two days their food was all gone. So Odysseus armed himself with sword and spear, and went ashore.

4. From a high hill he looked over the whole island. He saw at a distance a stately marble palace in the midst of a thick wood, and determined to go there. First, however, he returned to the ship. On his way back he killed a tall stag, which gave food to his hungry men.

5. The next morning the Greeks met to decide what they should do. The hero told what he had seen, and then divided his men into two parties. Odysseus and his party stayed near the shore, while the others went forward to the palace.

6. As they marched through the woods, wolves and lions came toward them. Instead of attacking the strangers, they made every sign of welcome.

7. Cheered by this, the Greeks approached the palace. From within they heard a sweet voice chanting old songs. This was Circe herself. She sang thus to draw her victims to her.

8. Charmed by her songs, all the Greeks except their leader went forward. The gates of the palace opened wide to let them in. Circe, the beautiful enchantress, rose as they entered and made them welcome.

9. A rich feast was soon spread for the hungry wanderers. Then, seated at the table, the tired Greeks ate greedily, with no thought for anything but the food set before them. At last they could eat no more, and they leaned back and looked about them.

10. Then at once, rising from her seat, the enchantress waved a wand over them. Lo! instead of the noisy men who had just been feasting, there was a herd of grunting pigs running over the marble floor.

Circe now drove them with cruel blows into sties, and threw down some acorns for them to eat.

11. Meanwhile their leader, who had been too wise to enter the palace, waited for their return. As they did not come, at last he went back and told his story to Odysseus.

II

12. The hero at once set out to learn what had become of his men. As he drew near the palace, he met a youth who told him what had happened.

Circe

13. "By your own power you cannot free your friends," he said. "You will only share their fate. But take this flower, and it will protect you against the arts of Circe. When she tries her charms, draw your sword and make her promise to free your men."

14. Odysseus took the flower and went on to the palace. The gates opened wide for him, as for the others.

Circe watched with delight the coming of this stranger. She led him to the table and set before him the richest food. Odysseus ate without fear till he was satisfied.

15. Then Circe waved her wand and would have changed him, too, into a beast. But, to her surprise, he remained a man. Now Odysseus drew his sword, Circe was filled with fear and fell at his feet to beg mercy.

16. "Surely," she cried, "you must be the wise Odysseus. I was told that I would have no power against him. Put up your sword and let us be friends."

17. But Odysseus would not do so until he had made her promise to change his men back to their former shape and not harm them again. This she gladly promised to do.

Then she led Odysseus to the sties, where his former followers came grunting about his feet. With a wave of her wand she changed them back to men.

18. After this, Odysseus and all his followers went to the palace of Circe, and there rested from their toils and wanderings.

____________

leader

wanderer

follower

1. Tell who leads; who wanders; who follows; who hunts; who teaches; who writes; who paints; who farms; who robs; who dances; who bakes.

2. Arrange the answers in sentences; as, The leader leads.

____________

If all were rain and never sun,

No bow could span the hill;

If all were sun and never rain,

There'd be no rainbow still.

(CHRISTINA ROSSETTI)

45

HIAWATHA'S HUNTING

Iagoo

language

Soangetaha

wary

boaster

Nokomis

Mahngotaysee

banquet

nostril

reindeer

Adjidaumo

coughed

roebuck

exulted

marvelous

antler

Then the little Hiawatha

Learned of every bird its language,

Learned their names and all their secrets,

How they built their nests in summer,

Where they hid themselves in winter,

Talked with them whene'er he met them,

Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens."

Of all beasts he learned the language,

Learned their names and all their secrets,

How the beavers built their lodges,

Where the squirrels hid their acorns,

How the reindeer ran so swiftly,

Why the rabbit was so timid,

Talked with them whene'er he met them,

Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."

Then Iagoo, the great boaster,

He the marvelous story-teller,

He the traveler and the talker,

He the friend of old Nokomis

Made a bow for Hiawatha:

From a branch of ash he made it,

From an oak bough made the arrows,

Tipped with flint and winged with feathers

And the cord he made of deerskin.

Then he said to Hiawatha:

"Go, my son, into the forest,

Where the red deer herd together,

Kill for us a famous roebuck,

Kill for us a deer with antlers!"

Forth into the forest straightway

All alone walked Hiawatha

Proudly, with his bow and arrows;

And the birds sang round him, o'er him,

"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!"

Sang the robin, the Opechee,

Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa,

"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!"

Up the oak tree, close beside him,

Sprang the squirrel, Adjidaumo,

In and out among the branches,

Coughed and chattered from the oak tree,

Laughed and said between his laughing,

"Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!"

And the rabbit from his pathway

Leaped aside, and at a distance

Sat erect upon his haunches,

Half in fear and half in frolic,

Saying to the little hunter,

"Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!"

But he heeded not, nor heard them,

For his thoughts were with the red deer;

On their tracks his eyes were fastened,

Leading downward to the river,

To the ford across the river,

And as one in slumber walked he.

Hidden in the alder bushes,

There he waited till the deer came,

Till he saw two antlers lifted,

Saw two eyes look from the thicket,

Then, upon one knee uprising, Hiawatha aimed an arrow.

Saw two nostrils point to windward,

And a deer came down the pathway,

Flecked with leafy light and shadow.

And his heart within him fluttered,

Trembled like the leaves above him,

Like the birch leaf palpitated,

As the deer came down the pathway.

Then, upon one knee uprising,

Hiawatha aimed an arrow;

Scarce a twig moved with his motion,

Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled,

But the wary roebuck started,

Stamped with all his hoofs together,

Listened with one foot uplifted,

Leaped as if to meet the arrow;

Ah! the singing, fatal arrow,

Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him!

Dead he lay there in the forest,

By the ford across the river;

Beat his timid heart no longer,

But the heart of Hiawatha

Throbbed and shouted and exulted,

As he bore the red deer homeward,

And Iagoo and Nokomis

Hailed his coming with applauses.

From the red deer's hide Nokomis

Made a cloak for Hiawatha,

From the red deer's flesh Nokomis

Made a banquet in his honor.

All the village came and feasted,

All the guests praised Hiawatha,

Called him Strong-heart, Soan-ge-taha!

Called him Loon-heart, Mahn-go-taysee!

(HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW)

____________

1. Write in separate sentences what Hiawatha learned about the birds and beasts.

2. Write the names of the things which he saw as he went through the forest.

3. Ask your teacher to read you the story of Hiawatha's childhood.

4. Read again the story about Longfellow, the poet who wrote "Hiawatha."

46

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AS A BOY

Benjamin

Boston

propose

Franklin

penny

stolen

comrade

wharf

whipping

uncomfortable

convenient

evil

I

1. Nearly two hundred years ago a boy used to be seen in the streets of Boston who was known to his playmates as Ben Franklin.

He was a bright boy at his books and even a brighter one when at play with his comrades. There was something about him which always seemed to make him the leader among the boys.

2. I might tell you a number of stories about him. Perhaps you have already heard the famous story of Ben and his whistle.

One day his mother gave him some pennies, and he gave them all to another boy for a whistle which was not worth more than penny. He soon became tired of his toy, and was sorry he had spent all his money for it.

3. But Ben had grown a great boy since those days and was much wiser. I am going to tell you something he did when he was about ten years old.

4. Ben and the Other boys were very fond of fishing. The place where they fished was a mill pond on the outskirts of the town. The edge of the water where the boys had to stand while they fished was deep in mud.

5. "This is very uncomfortable," said Ben Franklin one day to his comrades.

"So it is," said one of them. "What a pity it is we have no better place to stand."

6. If it had not been for Ben, nothing more would have been done or said about the matter. But it was not his way to let things go if there was any way of bettering them.

7. "Boys," cried he, "I have thought of a plan." The other boys were ready to listen at once. They felt sure that Ben's plan would be a good one.

8. They all remembered how he had sailed across the mill pond by lying flat on his back in the water and holding on to his kite string. If Ben could do that, he could do almost anything.

"What is your plan, Ben? What is it?" cried they all.

II

9. It so happened that the boys were standing where a new house was to be built. A great many large stones which were to be used in building lay about. Ben jumped upon one of these and began to speak.

10. "Now I propose," said he, "that we build a wharf to help us in our fishing. You see these stones. The workmen intend to use them for building a house. But that will make them of use to only one man.

It was harder work than they anticipated.

11. "My plan is to carry these same stones to the edge of the water and build a wharf with them. That will help us in our fishing and will also be convenient for boats passing up and down the stream. Thus the stones will be of use to many instead of one. What say you, boys? Shall we build the wharf?"

12. "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted all the boys. "Let's begin."

None of them stopped to think that they had no right to build their wharf with stones belonging to another person. They all agreed to be on hand that evening to carry out their great plan.

13. At the time set, the boys came to the place and began to move the stones toward the water. This was much harder work than they had expected. But Ben Franklin thought of ways to make the work easier, and he kept them all in good spirits by his jokes and laughter.

14. After an hour or two of hard work, the stones had all been moved to the water side. Then Benjamin was the one to show how they should be put together in the best way. At last the great work was finished.

15. "Now, boys," cried Ben, "let's give three cheers and go home to bed. To-morrow we can catch fish without so much trouble."

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted his comrades.

Then all went home to sleep after their hard labors.

III

16. In the morning the workmen came to go on with the building of the house. But on reaching the spot they looked in vain for the heap of stones. What could have become of them?

17. "Why, Sam," said one to another, "this is very queer. Do you suppose the stones flew away last night?"

"More likely they have been stolen," replied Sam.

18. "Who would think of stealing a heap of stones?" cried a third.

Meanwhile the head workman had noticed the prints of little feet making a beaten path to the water side. Now he saw what had become of the stones.

19. It was not long before the boys' fathers knew what they had done. You may be sure that the boys were sorry then. As for Ben, he was more afraid of what his father would say than he was of the worst whipping.

20. "Benjamin," said his father, "how could you take those stones which did not belong to you? What could have made you do it?"

From the portrait by Duplessis

Benjamin Franklin

21. "Why, father," replied Ben, hanging his head, "I thought that the stones would be useful to more people as a wharf than as a house. Only one man could enjoy the house, but all the boys and the people going up and down the stream in boats would enjoy the wharf."

22. "My son," said Mr. Franklin, "you did very wrong in taking what did not belong to you. Never think for a moment that good will come of doing wrong. Remember that nothing but evil will ever come out of evil deeds."

"I will never forget it again," said Benjamin, bowing his head.

23. So here we finish our story. One of these days you will know what a great man Benjamin Franklin became.

In all his later life he was famous for the same things that made him a leader among the boys, but he never forgot the lesson he had learned from his father.

(NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

____________

Copy the following sentences, changing the italicized words to other words having the same meaning:

He soon became tired of his toy.

At last the great work was finished.

The head workman had noticed the prints of little feet.

Never think for a moment that good will come of doing wrong.

47

THE DOVE

silken

peas

I had a dove, and the sweet dove died;

And I have thought it died of grieving;

Oh, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied

With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving;

Sweet little red feet! why should you die—

Why would you leave me, sweet bird! why?

You lived alone in the forest tree,

Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me?

I kissed you oft and gave you white peas;

Why not live sweetly as in the green trees?

(JOHN KEATS)

48

THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THEIR DONKEY

dismount

trudge

rascal

group

struggle

1. A miller and his son were driving their donkey to a fair to sell him. They had not gone far when they came up to a group of women around a well.

The donkey

2. "Look there!" cried one of them; "did you ever see such stupid fellows? They trudge along on foot when they might ride."

3. The old man heard this and made his son get on the donkey's back, and he walked along by his side.

4. Presently they met a group of old men.

"There!" said one of them, "this proves what I was saying. No respect is shown old age in these days. Do you see that idle lad riding while his old father has to walk? Get down, you young rascal, and let the old man rest his weary limbs."

5. Upon this the old man made his son dismount, and got up himself. Soon they met some women and children.

6. "Why, you lazy old fellow!" cried several of them at once; "are you not ashamed to ride and make that poor little lad walk? He can hardly keep up with you."

The good-natured miller at once took up his son behind him. They had now almost reached the town.

"You lazy old fellow!" cried the women.

7. "Pray, my friend," said a man, "is that donkey your own?"

"Yes," said the old man.

"One would not have thought so from the way you load him," said the other. "Why, you two are better able to carry the poor beast than he you."

8. So the miller and his son got off the donkey, and tied his legs together and hung him on a pole. They took him on their shoulders and marched off over a bridge to the town.

9. This funny sight brought the people in crowds to laugh at it. The donkey, not liking the noise nor the strange things that were done to him, began to struggle to set himself free. At last he broke the cords, and fell into the river and was drowned.

They marched off with the donkey.

10. Upon this the old man, angry and ashamed, made the best of his way home again. By trying to please everybody he had pleased nobody, and had lost his donkey into the bargain.

____________

1. Write in your own words the story of the miller, his son, and their donkey.

2. What lesson ought the miller to have learned from the loss of his donkey?

49

ROBERT OF LINCOLN

crest

bestirs

Quaker

mead

gayly

Lincoln

1. Merrily swinging on brier and weed,

Near to the nest of his little dame,

Over the mountainside or mead,

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:

"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Snug and safe is this nest of ours,

Hidden among the summer flowers,

Chee, chee, chee!"

2. Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,

Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat;

White are his shoulders, and white his crest,

Hear him call in his merry note,

"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Look what a nice new coat is mine;

Sure, there was never a bird so fine.

Chee, chee, chee!"

3. Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,

Passing at home a patient life,

Broods in the grass while her husband sings:

"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Brood, kind creature; you need not fear

Thieves and robbers while I am here.

Chee, chee, chee!"

4. Six white eggs on a bed of hay,

Flecked with purple, a pretty sight,

There, as the mother sits all day,

Robert is singing with all his might:

"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Nice good wife that never goes out,

Keeping house while I frolic about.

Chee, chee, chee!"

5. Soon as the little ones chip the shell,

Six wide mouths are open for food;

Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,

Gathering seeds for the hungry brood.

"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

This new life is likely to be

Hard for a gay young fellow like me.

Chee, chee, chee!"

6. Summer wanes; the children are grown;

Fun and frolic no more he knows,

Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone;

Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:

"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

When you can pipe that merry old strain,

Robert of Lincoln, come back again.

Chee, chee, chee!"

(WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT)

50

THE FOX AND THE CROW

complexion

equal

rightly

1. A crow, having stolen a piece of cheese, held it firmly in her beak and perched in a tree. A fox, who was very hungry, took the following means to get the cheese for himself.

2. "How handsome is the crow!" he exclaimed. "How beautiful is her shape and how fair her complexion! Oh, if her voice were only equal to her beauty, she might rightly be called the queen of birds!"

The crow

3. This he said in a soft voice. The crow, anxious to show that her voice was equal to her other charms, set up a loud caw, and dropped the cheese.

4. The fox caught it as it fell. "My good crow," said he, "your voice is all right, but your wit is wanting."

____________

Beware of flatterers.

51

HAWAIIAN CHILDREN

Connecticut

Hawaii

board

convenience

taro

surfbathing

Hawaiian

poi

petted

potatoes

gallop

patchwork

I

1. To the boy or girl who has always lived on the island of Hawaii, the world must seem rather small. The island is only about as large as Connecticut, while the nearest mainland is thousands of miles away.

2. Yet the people care little how large or how small their island is. They love it dearly; for it is their home, and a beautiful one it is.

3. In many ways the Hawaiian children are the happiest in the world. This is not because more is done to make them enjoy themselves. It is because they make the best of everything and are contented with what they have.

4. Hawaiian children are pretty, in spite of their dark, shiny skin. They have beautiful brown eyes, curly hair, and merry mouths. Their teeth are white and even.

The country is so warm that the children wear little clothing or none at all. This is a great convenience for swimming or playing in the water, as it saves the trouble of dressing and undressing again half a dozen times a day.

5. Many beautiful flowers are found on the island of Hawaii, and the people are very fond of them. Men wear them in their hats. Women and girls wear them in their hair, changing them as soon as they become the least bit withered. They fasten long chains of blossoms or ferns about the waist, or hang them from one shoulder. These chains look very pretty over the bright-colored dresses, making the peoplc look as if they were always dressed for a picnic or holiday feast.

6. Every house is surrounded by a garden full of flowers of many kinds. The houses are covered with trailing vines, so that, together with the gardens, they are like fairy bowers.

Hawaiian children

7. What do the little Hawaiians like to eat? They eat sweet potatoes and the native fruits, but their favorite dish is poi. Poi is made of the roots of a plant called taro, which is a kind of lily. At dinner time a large dish of poi is placed on the floor, and all the members of the family sit about it, dipping their fingers into the dish.

8. The Hawaiians are fond of fish also. They eat these raw, taking bites from the head end first. Seaweed, also, is used for food.

II

9. The great amusements of the Hawaiians are swimming, boating, and riding horseback. They often ride in companies of from fifteen to twenty, always at a gallop, so that it looks as if they were racing.

10. The Hawaiians are used to being in and on the water from babyhood. Surf-bathing is a favorite sport. The boys go into the water with smoothly polished boards, from six to nine feet long. Carrying these boards under their arms, the boys wade or swim out into the breakers. Then they dive, and are not seen again till their black heads come up far from shore.

11. When they meet a very high wave, they leap to its top, lying face downwards on the boards. As the waves roll in, the boys look as if they were sliding down hill. They are carried toward the shore as fast as a railroad train runs on land. When it would seem as if they must be dashed to pieces, they either wade quietly ashore or, sliding off their boards, dive under the surf and go out to sea again.

12. Surf-boating is another sport. The surfboat is long, deep, and narrow. It starts in on a huge wave, which carries it all the way to the shore if the boat is well managed; if not, it sometimes swings around, or turns bottom upward. This does not frighten the Hawaiians, however; for, if their boat is upset, they simply swim ashore.

13. The children have few playthings, but they are fond of pets. Almost every child has a dog or a cat, which is petted, sung, and talked to, as dolls are by the little girls in this country.

14. All the children are sent to school eight months a year. They walk if they must, but, if it is possible, they swim. They learn to read and write, having just the same studies as the boys and girls in our schools.

15. As for learning to work, there is not very much to be done. The girls learn to cook their few simple dishes. They make their own dresses and piece patchwork quilts. The boys do what little gardening there is to be done, and learn how to raise and prepare the taro root from which poi is made.

____________

1. Write these words in pairs; as, withered, fresh:

withered, dark, pretty, shallow, narrow, fair, low, smooth, high, cold, broad, fresh, ugly, deep, warm, rough.

2. Make sentences telling what each of the following does; as, The river flows.

3. Then change each sentence so as to make it mean more than one; as, Rivers flow.

____________

river

flag

vine

flower

wave

child

waves

blooms

rolls

trails

learns

flows

52

WORK

precious

torrent

fashion

cobweb

pursuing

lullaby

deferred

legend

demurred

fledgeling

grist

bidden

1. Sweet wind, fair wind, where have you been?

"I've been sweeping the cobwebs out of the sky;

I've been grinding a grist in the mill hard by;

I've been laughing at work, while others sigh;

Let those laugh who win!"

2. Sweet rain, soft rain, what are you doing?

"I'm urging the corn to fill out its cells;

I'm helping the lily to fashion its bells;

I'm swelling the torrent and brimming the wells;

Is that worth pursuing?"

3. Redbreast, redbreast, what have you done?

"I've been watching the nest where my fledgelings lie;

I've sung them to sleep with a lullaby;

By and by I shall teach them to fly,

Up and away, every one!"

4. Honeybee, honeybee, where are you going?

"To fill my basket with precious pelf;

To toil for my neighbor as well as myself;

To find out the sweetest flower that grows,

Be it a thistle or be it a rose—

A secret worth the knowing!"

5. Wind and rain fulfilling His word!

Tell me was ever a legend heard

Where the wind, commanded to blow, deferred;

Or the rain that was bidden to fall, demurred?

(MARY N. PRESCOTT)

53

LITTLE DAFFYDOWNDILLY

agreeable

account

highway

severe

employer

miserable

Daffydowndilly

sweat

magician

hesitated

farther

toilsome

confessed

fiddler

approval

I

1. Daffydowndilly was so called because he was like a flower, and loved to do only what was agreeable, and took no delight in labor of any kind.

2. But while Daffydowndilly was yet a little boy, his mother sent him away from home and put him under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best said that this Mr. Toil was a very good man and had done more good, both to children and grown people, than anybody else in the world.

3. Yet Mr. Toil had a severe and ugly face, especially for such little boys or big men as were idle. His voice, too, was harsh. All his ways seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffydowndilly.

4. The whole day long the old schoolmaster sat at his desk overlooking the children, or stalked about the schoolroom with a birch rod in his hand. Unless a lad chose to attend to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet moment.

5. "This will never do for me," said Daffydowndilly to himself when he had been at school about a week. "I'll run away and try to find my dear mother. At any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as this old Mr. Toil!"

Mr. Toil in the schoolroom

II

6. So, the very next morning, off startedpoor Daffydowndilly. He had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a man who was trudging along the road.

7. "Good-morning, my fine lad," said the stranger, and his voice seemed hard and severe, but yet had a sort of kindness in it; "whence do you come so early and Whither are you going?"

8. Little Daffydowndilly had never been known to tell a lie in all his life. Nor did he tell one now. He hesitated a moment or two, but at last confessed that he had run away from school on account of his great dislike for Mr. Toil.

9. "Oh, very well, my little friend!" answered the stranger. "Then we will go together. I, too, have had a good deal to do with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where he was never heard of."

10. Our friend Daffydowndilly would have been better pleased with some one of his own age, with whom he might have gathered flowers along the roadside, or have chased butterflies, or have done other things to make the journey pleasant. But he agreed to go with the stranger, and they walked on together.

11. They had not gone far, when the road passed by a field where some haymakers were at work. Daffydowndilly was delighted with the sweet smell of the hay. He thought how much pleasanter it must be to make hay in the sunshine, under the blue sky, than to be shut up in a schoolroom with old Mr. Toil; but while he was stopping to peep over the stone wall, he started back and caught hold of his companion's hand.

12. "Quick, quick!" cried he. "Let us run away, or he will catch us!"

"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.

"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffydowndilly. "Don't you see him among the haymakers?"

13. And Daffydowndilly pointed to an old man, who seemed to be the employer of the men at work there. He was busily at work in his shirt-sleeves. The drops of sweat stood upon his brow; but he gave himself not a moment's rest, and kept crying out to the haymakers to make hay while the sun shone. Now, strange to say, this old farmer looked just like old Mr. Toil.

14. "Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil the schoolmaster, but a brother of his. People say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't trouble you unless you become a laborer on the farm."

Yet little Daffydowndilly was very glad when they were out of sight of the old farmer, who looked so much like Mr. Toil.

III

15. Then they went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and fife. Daffydowndilly begged his companion to hurry forward, that they might not miss seeing the soldiers.

16. So they made what haste they could, and soon met a company of soldiers, gayly dressed, with muskets on their shoulders. In front marched two drummers and two fifers, making such lively music that little Daffydowndilly would gladly have followed them to the end of the world. And if he were only a soldier, then, he said to himself, old Mr. Toil would never dare look him in the face.

17. "Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.

Little Daffydowndilly started, in great dismay. This voice which had spoken to the soldiers sounded just like that which he had heard every day in Mr. Toil's schoolroom, out of Mr. Toil's own mouth.

"Forward, march!" shouted a gruff voice.

18. Turning his eyes to the captain of the company, what should he see but the very image of old Mr. Toil himself, in a fine uniform, with a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his hand. In spite of all this, he looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in the schoolroom.

19. "This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffydowndilly in a trembling voice. "Let us run away."

"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil the schoolmaster, but a brother of his who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a very severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."

20. "Well, well," said little Daffydowndilly; "but, if you please, sir, I don't want to see the soldiers any more."

So the child and the stranger went on.

IV

21. By and by they came to a house by the roadside, where a number of people were making merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls were dancing to the sound of a fiddle. It was the pleasantest sight that Daffydowndilly had yet met with.

22. "Oh, let us stop here," cried he to his companion; "for Mr. Toil will never dare show his face where there is a fiddler, and where people are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here!"

23. But these last words died away upon Daffydowndilly's tongue. Happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he see again but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow instead of a birch rod. Daffydowndilly even fancied that he nodded and winked at him, and made signs for him to join in the dance.

Mr. Pleasure

24. "Oh, dear me!" whispered he, turning pale; "it seems as if there was nobody but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing on a fiddle?"

25. "This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but another brother of his, who is a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself Mr. Pleasure. But his real name is Toil, and those who have known him best think him still more disagreeable than his brother.'

"Let us go a little farther," said Daffydowndilly. "I don't like the looks of this fiddler at all."

26. Well, thus the stranger and little Daffydowndilly went wandering along the highway, and in shady lanes and through pleasant villages.

27. Wherever they went, there was the image of old Mr. Toil. He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a house, he sat in the parlor. If they peeped into the kitchen, he was there. He made himself at home in every cottage, and stole, in one shape or another, into the finest houses Everywhere there was sure to be one of the old schoolmaster's many hard-working brothers.

V

28. Little Daffydowndilly was almost tired to death, when he saw some people lying in a shady place by the side of the road. The poor child begged his companion that they might sit down there and take some rest.

29. "Old Mr. Toil will never come here," said he, "for he hates to see people taking their ease."

But, even while he spoke, Daffydowndilly's eyes fell upon a person who seemed the laziest of all those lazy people who had lain down to sleep in the shade. Who should it be again but the very image on Mr. Toil!

30 "There is a large family of these Toils," said the stranger. "This is another of the old schoolmaster's brothers, who has very idle habits and goes by the name of Mr. Do Nothing. He pretends to lead an easy life, but is really the most miserable fellow in the family."

31. "Oh, take me back! take me back!" cried poor little Daffydowndilly, bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all over the world, I may just as well go back to the schoolhouse!"

32. "There it is—there is the schoolhouse," said the stranger; for though he and little Daffydowndilly had taken a great many steps, they had traveled in a circle instead of a straight line. "Come, we will go back to school together."

33. There was something in his companion's voice that little Daffydowndilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had not remembered it sooner. Locking up into his face, there again was the likeness of old Mr. Toil. The poor child had been in company with Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to run away from him.

34. Some people, who have heard little Daffydowndilly's story, believe that old Mr. Toil was a magician and that he could change himself into any shape.

Be this as it may, little Daffydowndilly had learned a good lesson, and from that time forward he worked at his task, because he knew that work is no more toilsome than sport or idleness.

35. And when he knew Mr. Toil better, he began to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable, and that his smile of approval made his face almost as pleasant as even that of Daffydowndilly's mother.

(NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

54

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

Nathaniel Hawthorne

pastime

comfortably

published

1. You have read the story of Daffydowndilly. Now I will tell you something about the man who wrote it.

Nathaniel Hawthorne

2. His name was Nathaniel Hawthorne. He was born on Fourth of July nearly a hundred years ago in Salem, Massachusetts.

3. Little Nathaniel was fond of all outdoor sports, and I am afraid he did not care at first for school or study. But one day in playing ball he was hurt. He was lame for a long while, so that he could not play with the other boys. It was then that he took to reading as a pastime.

4. When he was seventeen years old, he entered college. He was in the class with the poet Longfellow, and two or three other men who afterwards became famous.

5. After he left college he went back to his home in Salem, and began to write. People did not care for his books at first, and it was not always easy for him to make money enough to live comfortably.

6. But after a time he became better known, and now many people think that he is the greatest of all our American writers.

7. Mr. Hawthorne, like Mr. Longfellow, loved children, and he wrote several books for them. One of these, called "The Wonder Book," was written for his own children. It is made up of old Greek fairy stories, and after it was published many children wrote to Mr. Hawthorne asking him for another story book. That is how he came to write "Tanglewood Tales" and other books for them.

____________

Copy these sentences and fill in the blanks from memory:

1.________ _________wrote the story of Daffydowndilly,

2. Hawthorne was born in_________ _________

3. His birthday was on the_________ _________ _________

4. He wrote_________ _________ _________for his children.

5. The children begged him to write another book for them and he wrote_________ _________.

55

FAREWELL ADVICE

1. Farewell, dear child, I have no song to give thee.

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;

But ere we part one lesson I would leave thee,

For every day.

2. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever.

Do noble things, not dream them all day long;

And so make life, death, and that vast forever,

One grand, sweet song.

(CHARLES KINGSLEY)

WORDS IN THIRD READER

This list of the more difficult words in this reader will be useful for review exercises in enunciation, pronunciation, spelling, and language work.

A

abed

account

Adjidau

adopt

adventure

advertise

Æolus

affection

agree

agreeable

airy

allow

aloud

America

anvil

anemone

anon

antler

anxious

appearance

approval

Arbor Day

ashamed

Atalanta

attack

attempt

attend

B

banquet

bargain

beckon

bellows

Benjamin

Benjy

bestir

bicycle

bidden

birch

birthday

bleak

bleat

board

boaster

bobolink

bodyguard

bonnet

Boston

boyhood

bramble

brawny

Brazil

bristle

burdock

busily

bushy

C

cadi

calm

Cambridge

camel

canal

carefully

chief

choir

Christopher

Circe

circus

clever

cloudy

coast

cobweb

college

Columbus

comfortably

common

companion

company

complexion

compound

comrade

confess

Connecticut

convenience

convenient

coral

cotton

cough

counterpane

courage

course

craggy

creature

crest

crispy

cuddle

cupboard

curious

curtain

curtsied

cut

D

Daffy

dale

danger

dapple-gray

darkness

dawn

declare

defeated

defend

deferred

delicate

delightful

demurred

dervish

desert

despised

determine

diamond

differ

different

dike

direction

dirty

discover

discuss

disgrace

dismount

distance

divide

donkey

doubled

dove

downdilly

dragged

drifted

drill

drone

duckling

dusty

dwarf

E

eagle

earn

easily

east

effort

elephant

employer

enchanted

enchantress

England

English

equal

escape

Europe

Evangeline

evil

exactly

excepting

excited

excuse

extremely

exulted

F

faithfully

family

famous

farther

fashion

feeble

fellow

fiddler

fierce

figure

flax

fledgeling

fleet

fortunate

fortune

forge

fought

fourteen

frail

France

Franklin

freshness

future

G

gallop

gauze

gayly

geography

Germany

geranium

giant

glance

glitter

gloomy

good-tempered

grace

graze

Greece

greedily

grief

grist

group

grub

guide

H

happily

harbor

harvest

harmless

hasten

hataro

hatchet

Hawaii

Hawaiian

hearth

hedge

Henry

Hercules

herring

herd

hesitate

Hiawatha

hidden

highway

Hippomenes

Holland

honesty

honor

hook

Iagoo

immediately

impertinent

important

Indian

infer

inferred

innocent

instant

intend

island

Italy

J

jacket

Jamestown

jewel

journey

juice

K

katydid

kindly

kingdom

kneel

knit

knives

L

laden

language

laughter

leaden

leader

leaflet

legend

Lincoln

linnet

Long

loudly

Lucy

lullaby

M

machine

magician

Mahngo

maiden

manage

maple

mark

marksman

marshmary

marvelous

Mayflower

mead

merchant

mercy

midrib

miserable

misfortune

misty

moisture

monster

mope

muddy

N

narrow

Nathaniel

neigh

nestling

nigh

noisy

Nokomis

northern

nostril

notch

notice

nursery

O

object

oblige

odysseus

orchard

oriole

ostrich

oxen

P

paddle

pane

parrot

pastime

patchwork

patient

peas

peer

penny

perch

petted

pirate

pitcher

pleasure

plight

plowboy

pluck

Pocahontas

pocket

poet

poi

politics

pollen

polyp

poplar

potatoes

poultry

Powhatan

prairie

praise

precious

presently

prettily

prey

prick

princess

prince

prison

prisoner

Procession

propose

publish

pudding

pulpit

pumpkin

punish

pursue

Q

quail

Quaker

quarrelsome

quay

question

quiver

R

ragged

rascal

reason

reach

regular

reindeer

repose

rescue

resist

respect

retreated

rightly

robber

roebuck

rook

rootlet

rubies

ruffled

rustling

rushy

S

salt

savage

second

seize

sermon

servant

serve

settler

several

severe

sew

sexton

shelter

shepherd

shiver

shocked

shore

shoulder

silken

silky

simple

sinewy

single

sixty

skylark

sleigh

slender

smithy

snipe

sofa

Soangetaha

some

sown

special

spindle

spiteful

spot'ted

squall

squirrel

stolen

stork

strainer

strength

struggle

subject

sulky

sunbonnet

supper

supply

surfbathing

surround

suspect

sweat

swiftness

swung

T

taught

tease

Thanksgiving

thieves

thousand

threat

tiresome

toilsome

torrent

troop

trudge

trundle

trust

tuck

tuft

tumble

twelve

twig

twitter

U

umbrella

uncomfort

union

uniform

uneasy

unfold

upright

urge

V

vanish

variety

velvet

victim

village

Virginia

visitor

voyage

W

waddle

wages

Wadsworth

wagoner

walnut

warbler

wary

wee

wharf

whether

whipping

whistle

whiz

widow

willow

witch

woodpecker

woolcomber

woolen

worship

wrapper

wrong

wrought

Y

youth

A great consideration governing the choice of all selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is to minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

— Harry Pratt Judson

(The 2nd president of the University of Chicago)

出版策划：神鸟文化

责任编辑：伍绍东

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森

为美国学生选编的经典文学读本

This series of literature readers is edited by the president of the University of Chicago Harry Pratt Judson, as to supply almost the only reading of many children, and stimulate their taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classical tales and fables are largely used. Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different part of the United States, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediated, and advanced grades.

We believe that Graded Literature Readers disclose a broader knowledge of literature, better taste and judgment in its selections.

010-62627373

第4册目录

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN (THE BROTHERS GRIMM)

2 SEPTEMBER (HELEN HUNT JACKSON)

3 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

4 TRAVEL (ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON)

5 TRAVELERS' WONDERS (DR. JOHN AIKIN)

6 ANTS

7 THE FOUR SUNBEAMS

8 SIFTING BOYS

9 THE FOUNTAIN (JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL)

10 LEWIS CARROLL

11 WHAT ALICE SAID TO THE KITTEN (LEWIS CARROLL)

12 THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

13 THE SNOW-IMAGE (NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

14 LITTLE BY LITTLE

15 THE HOUSE I LIVE IN

16 JEFFERSON'S TEN RULES

17 THE PET LAMB (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

18 THE STORY OF FLORINDA (ABBY MORTON DIAZ)

19 THE EAGLE (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

20 PSALM XXIII

21 TILLY'S CHRISTMAS (LOUISA M. ALCOTT)

22 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE (WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE)

23 OUR FIRST NAVAL HERO

24 HIAWATHA'S SAILING (HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW)

25 SHUN DELAY

26 THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER (LEWIS CARROLL)

27 THE STORY OF PRINCE AHMED AND THE FAIRY PERIBANOU (FROM "THE ARABIAN NIGHTS")

28 THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE (WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT)

29 SIR ISAAC NEWTON (NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

30 LUCY (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

31 TO A SKYLARK (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

32 TOM GOES DOWN TO THE SEA (CHARLES KINGSLEY)

33 PSALM XXIV

34 A GOOD SAMARITAN (GEORGE MACDONALD)

35 THE SPARTAN THREE HUNDRED

36 THE FAIRY LIFE (WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE)

37 CHARLES DICKENS

38 LITTLE CHARLEY (CHARLES DICKENS)

39 TRAY (ROBERT BROWNING)

40 THE GOLDEN FLEECE (NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

41 THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER (FRANCIS SCOTT KEY)

42 MY NATIVE LAND (SIR WALTER SCOTT)

43 HUNTING THE GRIZZLY (THEODORE ROOSEVELT)

返回总目录

Harry Pratt Judson (1849 - 1927) was an American educator and historian, born at Jamestown, New York, and educated at Williams College. He taught in the Troy High School in Troy, New York in 1870-1885 and was professor of history and lecturer on pedagogic at the University of Minnesota in 1885-1892. At the University of Chicago he became professor of political science and head dean of the colleges in 1892 and head of the political science department and dean of the faculties of arts, literature, and science in 1894. He served as the acting president of the University of Chicago between 1906 and 1907 and as the president of the University of Chicago from 1907 until 1923.

Judson became a member of the General Education Board in 1906 and of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913. He edited a series of readers for school students, and wrote some great books.

欢迎访问家庭学校微博／博客

http://weibo.com/318999618

http://blog.sina.com.cn/homeschoolnow

GRADED

LITERATURE

READERS

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森主编的经典文学读本

美国学生

文学读本

HARRY PRATT JUDSON

〔美〕哈里·P·贾德森／编

天津人民出版社

INTRODUCTION

In the Fourth and Fifth Readers the selections are longer, the language more advanced, and the literature of a more mature and less imaginative character than in the earlier books.

The teacher should now place increased emphasis on the literary side of the reading, pointing out beauties of language and thought, and endeavoring to create an interest in the books from which the selections are taken. Pupils will be glad to know something about the lives of the authors whose works they are reading, and will welcome the biographical notes given at the head of the selections, and the longer biographical sketches throughout the book. These can be made the basis of further biographical study at the discretion of the teacher.

Exercises and word lists at the end of the selections contain all necessary explanations of the text, and also furnish suggestive material for language work. For convenience, the more difficult words, with definitions and complete diacritical markings, are grouped together in the vocabulary at the end of the book.

A basal series of readers can do little more than broadly outline a course in reading, relying on the teacher to carry it forward. If a public library is within reach, the children should be encouraged to use it; if not, the school should exert every effort to accumulate a library of standard works to which the pupils may have ready access.

The primary purpose of a reading book is to give pupils the mastery of the printed page, but through oral reading it also becomes a source of valuable training of the vocal organs. Almost every one finds pleasure in listening to good reading. Many feel that the power to give this pleasure comes only as a natural gift, but an analysis of the art shows that with practice any normal child may acquire it. The qualities which are essential to good oral reading may be considered in three groups:

First—An agreeable voice and clear articulation, which, although possessed by many children naturally, may also be cultivated.

Second—Correct inflection and emphasis, with that due regard for rhetorical pauses which will appear whenever a child fully understands what he is reading and is sufficiently interested in it to lose his self-consciousness.

Third—Proper pronunciation, which can be acquired only by association or by direct teaching.

Clear articulation implies accurate utterance of each syllable and a distinct termination of one syllable before another is begun.

Frequent drill on pronunciation and articulation before or after the reading lesson will be found profitable in teaching the proper pronunciation of new words and in overcoming faulty habits of speech.

Attention should be called to the omission of unaccented syllables in such words as history (not histry), valuable (not valuble), and to the substitution of unt for ent, id for ed, iss for ess, unce for ence, in for ing, in such words as moment, delighted, goodness, sentence, walking. Pupils should also learn to make such distinctions as appear between u long, as in duty, and u after r, as in rude; between a as in hat, a as in far, and a as in ask.

The above hints are suggestive only. The experienced teacher will devise for herself exercises fitting special cases which arise in her own work. It will be found that the best results are secured when the interest of the class is sustained and when the pupil who is reading aloud is made to feel that it is his personal duty and privilege to arouse and hold this interest by conveying to his fellow pupils, in an acceptable manner, the thought presented on the printed page.

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

Stories

Travelers' Wonders

Sifting Boys

What Alice Said to the Kitten

The Story of Florinda

Tilly's Christmas

Shun Delay

Little Charley

Classic and Fairy Tales

The Straw, the Coal, and the Bean

The Snow Image

Prince Ahmed

Tom Goes down to the Sea

The Golden Fleece

Literary Biography

Robert Louis Stevenson

Lewis Carroll

Charles Dickens

History, Biography, and Adventure

Our First Naval Hero

Sir Isaac Newton

The Spartan Three Hundred

Hunting the Grizzly

Nature Study

Ants

The House I Live In

Poems

September

Travel

The Four Sunbeams

The Fountain

The Kitten and the Falling Leaves

Little by Little

The Pet Lamb

The Eagle

Under the Greenwood Tree

Hiawatha's Sailing

The Walrus and the Carpenter

The Planting of the Apple Tree

Lucy

To a Skylark

A Good Samaritan

The Fairy Life

Tray

The Star-Spangled Banner

My Native Land

Miscellaneous

Jefferson's Ten Rules

Psalm xxiii

Psalm xxiv

1

THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN

BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM

Jakob Grimm (1785-1863) and Wilhelm Grimm (1786-1859): German authors. The Brothers Grimm, as they are familiarly called, wrote many learned scientific books, but they are best known to children by their collection of German fairy and folk stories.

1. In a village lived a poor old woman, who had gathered some beans and wanted to cook them. So she made a fire on her hearth, and that it might burn more quickly, she lighted it with a handful of straw.

2. When she was emptying the beans into the pan, one dropped without her observing① it and lay on the ground beside a straw. Soon afterwards a burning coal from the fire leaped down to the two.

3. Then the straw said: "Dear friends, whence do you come here?"

The coal replied: "I fortunately sprang out of the fire. If I had not escaped by main force my death would have been certain. I should have been burned to ashes."

4. The bean said: "I, too, have escaped with a whole skin. But if the old woman had got me into the pan, I, like my comrades, should have been made into broth without any mercy."

"And would a better fate have fallen to my lot?" said the straw. "The old woman has destroyed all my brethren② in fire and smoke; she seized sixty of them at once and took their lives. I luckily slipped through her fingers."

5. "But what are we to do now?" asked the coal.

"I think," answered the bean, "that as we have so fortunately escaped death, we should keep together like good companions. Lest a new mischance③ should overtake us here, let us go away to a foreign country."

6. This plan pleased the two others, and they set out on their way together. Soon, however, they came to a little brook, and, as there was no bridge, they did not know how they were to get over.

At last the straw said: "I will lay myself across, and then you can walk over on me as on a bridge."

7. The straw, therefore, stretched herself from one bank to the other, and the coal, who was of an impetuous④ nature, tripped forward quite boldly on the newly built bridge. But when she reached the middle and heard the water rushing beneath her, she was, after all, frightened, and stood still.

8. The straw then began to burn, broke in two pieces, and fell into the stream. The coal slipped after her, hissed when she sank into the water, and breathed her last.

The bean, who had prudently stayed behind on the shore, could not help laughing at these events, and laughed so heartily that she burst.

9. It would have been all over with her also, if, by good fortune, a tailor who was traveling in search of work had not sat down to rest by the brook. Pitying the poor bean, he pulled out his needle and thread and sewed her together. She thanked him prettily, but, as the tailor used black thread, beans since then have a black seam.

注释

① observing, seeing; noticing.

② Brethren, brothers.

③ Mischance, misfortune; ill luck.

④ Impetuous, hasty.

2

SEPTEMBER

BY HELEN HUNT JACKSON

Helen Fiske Hunt Jackson (1831-1885): An American poet and prose author of much merit, whose writings appeared under the pen name of "H. H." Among her books are "Bits of Travel," "A Century of Dishonor," and "Ramona."

1. The golden-rod is yellow;

The corn is turning brown;

The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bending down.

2. The gentian's bluest fringes

Are curling in the sun;

In dusky pods the milkweed

Its hidden silk has spun.

3. The sedges① flaunt② their harvest

In every meadow-nook③;

And asters by the brookside

Make asters in the brook.

4. From dewy lanes at morning

The grapes' sweet odors rise;

At noon the roads all flutter

With yellow butterflies.

5. By all these lovely tokens④

September days are here,

With summer's best of weather,

And autumn's best of cheer.

________

1. Which of the flowers named in this poem have you seen?

2. At your home do these flowers bloom in September, or earlier, or later?

3. Can you name any other tokens of the coming of September?

____________

注释

① Sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.

② Flaunt, wave; spread out.

③ Nook, corner.

④ Tokens, signs.

3

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

1. The famous Scotch author, Robert Louis Stevenson, was born in Edinburgh, November 13, 1850. He was a delicate child with a sweet temper and a happy, unselfish disposition, who bore the burden of ill health bravely in childhood as in later life. In "The Land of Counterpane," a poem which you may remember, he tells some of the ways in which he amused himself during the idle days in bed.

Robert Louis Stevenson

2. When he was well enough to be up, he invented games for himself and took keen delight in the world of out-door life.

3. His education was carried on in a somewhat irregular fashion. He attended schools in Edinburgh, and studied with private tutors at places to which his parents had gone for the benefit of his health or of their own. He thus became an excellent linguist①, and gained wide knowledge of foreign② life and manners. He early showed a taste for literature, beginning as a boy the careful choice of language which made him a master of English prose.

4. Stevenson's father had planned to have him follow the family profession③ of engineering. With this in view he was sent to Edinburgh University in the autumn of 1868. Later he gave up engineering and attended law classes; but law, like engineering, was put aside to enable him to fulfil his strong desire for a literary life.

5. His first stories and essays, published in various magazines, met with favorable notice. In 1878 he published his first book, "An Inland Voyage," the account of a canoe④ trip with a friend.

6. The mists and east winds of his native Scotland proved too harsh for his delicate lungs, and year after year he found it necessary to spend more and more time away from his Edinburgh home. On one of these journeys in quest⑤ of health, he came to America, and in "Across the Plains" he describes his journey in an emigrant⑥ train from New York to San Francisco. It was on this visit to California that he met Mrs. Osbourne, who became his wife in 1880.

7. "Treasure Island," a stirring tale of adventure, was published in 1883. It was followed by two other boys' stories, "The Black Arrow" and "Kidnapped."

8. In 1887 Stevenson and his wife again visited America. They hired a yacht⑦ and spent two years sailing among the islands of the South Seas, finally visiting Apia in Samoa. Samoa pleased Stevenson, and as the climate suited him, he decided to make his home there. At Vailima, his Samoan home, he spent four happy years with his wife and his mother. Then his health failed, and he died suddenly, December 3, 1894. He was buried, as he had desired, on the summit of a mountain near his home.

9. Besides many novels and volumes of essays, Stevenson was the author of four volumes of poetry. The best known of these is "A Child's Garden of Verses," a book of delightful child poems from which the poem "Travel" is taken.

注释

① Linguist, a person skilled in languages.

② Foreign, belonging to other countries.

③ Profession, employment; the business which one follows.

④ Canoe, a small, light boat.

⑤ Quest, search.

⑥ Emigrants, emigrants are people who have left one country to settle in another.

⑦ Yacht, a light seagoing vessel used for parties of pleasure, racing, etc.

4

TRAVEL

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

I should like to rise and go

Where the golden apples grow;—

Where below another sky

Parrot islands anchored lie,

And, watched by cockatoos and goats,

Lonely Crusoe's① building boats;—

Where in sunshine reaching out

Eastern cities, miles about,

Are with mosque② and minaret③

Among sandy gardens set,

And the rich goods from near and far

Hang for sale in the bazaar④;—

Where the Great Wall⑤ round China goes,

And on one side the desert blows,

And with bell and voice and drum,

Cities on the other hum;—

Where are forests hot as fire,

Wide as England, tall as a spire,

Full of apes and cocoanuts

And the negro hunters' huts;—

Where the knotty crocodile

Lies and blinks in the Nile,

And the red flamingo flies

Hunting fish before his eyes;—

Where in jungles⑥ near and far,

Man-devouring tigers are,

Lying close and giving ear⑦

Lest the hunt be drawing near,

Or a comer-by be seen

Swinging in a palanquin⑧;—

Where among the desert sands

Some deserted city stands,

All its children, sweep⑨ and prince,

Grown to manhood ages since,

Not a foot in street or house,

Not a stir of child or mouse,

And when kindly falls the night,

In all the town no spark of light.

There I'll come when I'm a man,

With a camel caravan⑩;

Light a fire in the gloom

Of some dusty dining-room;

See the pictures on the walls,

Heroes, fights, and festivals⑪;

And in a corner find the toys

Of the old Egyptian boys.

注释

① Crusoes, men like Robinson Crusoe, the hero of the story of that name. He was a shipwrecked sailor who lived many years on an uninhabited island.

② Mosque, a church in some Eastern countries.

③ Minaret, the tall, slender tower of a mosque.

④ Bazaar, in the East a shop where goods are kept for sale.

⑤ The Great Wall, a wall fourteen hundred miles long, built many hundreds of years ago. for the defence of the Chinese Empire.

⑥ Jungles, thickets of trees and vines found in hot countries.

⑦ Giving ear, listening.

⑧ Palanquin, an enclosed carriage, used in China and India, which is borne on the shoulders of men by means of two poles.

⑨ Sweep, a boy who cleans chimneys by sweeping them.

⑩ Caravan, a company of travelers through a desert.

⑪ Festivals, an enclosed carriage, used in China and India , which is borne on the shoulders of men by means of two poles.

5

TRAVELERS' WONDERS

BY DR. JOHN AIKIN

Dr. John Aikin (1747-1822): The author of many scientific and literary works. This selection is from "Evenings at Home," a volume of stories for children written by Dr. Aikin and his sister, Mrs. Barbauld. A hundred years ago, there were few books written especially for young people, except grammars, histories, and other text-books, and this volume of instructive stories was very popular.

"Ah, ah, papa!" cried Elizabeth, "I have found you out."

1. One winter evening Captain Compass was sitting by the fireside with his children around him.

"Oh, papa," said little Jack, "do tell a story about what you have seen in your voyages. We have been reading some wonderful tales of adventure. As you have sailed round and round the world, you must have seen many strange things."

2. "That I have, my son," said Captain Compass, "and, if it will interest you, I will tell you some of the curious things I have seen.

3. "Once about this time of the year I was in a country where it was very cold. To keep warm, the people had garments made from an animal's outer covering which they stripped off his back while he was yet alive. They also wore skins of beasts, these skins being made smooth and soft in some way.

4. "Their homes were made of stones, of earth hardened in the fire, or of the stalks of a large plant which grew in that country. In the walls were holes to let in the light; but to keep out the rain and the cold air these holes were covered with a sort of transparent① stone, made of melted sand.

5. "They kept their homes warm by means of a queer kind of rock which they had discovered in the earth. This rock, when broken, burned and gave out great heat."

6. "Dear me!" said Jack, "what wonderful rock! I suppose it was somewhat like flints that give out sparks when we knock them together."

"I don't think the flints would burn," said the Captain; "besides, this was of a darker color.

7. "The food, too, of these people was strange. They ate the flesh of certain animals, roots of plants, and cakes made of powdered seeds. They often put on these cakes a greasy matter which was the product of a large animal.

"They ate, also, the leaves and other parts of a number of plants, some quite raw, others prepared in different ways by the aid of fire.

8. "For drink they liked water in which certain dry leaves had been steeped. I was told that these leaves came from a great distance.

"What astonished me most was the use of a drink so hot that it seemed like liquid fire. I once got a mouthful of it by mistake, taking it for water, and it almost took away my breath. Indeed, people are often killed by it; yet many of them are so foolish that they will give for it anything they have.

9. "In warmer weather these people wore cloth made from a sort of vegetable wool growing in pods upon bushes. Sometimes they covered themselves with a fine glossy② stuff, which I was told was made out of the webs of worms. Think of the great number of worms required③ to make so large a quantity of stuff as I saw used!

"The women especially wore very queer things. Like most Indian nations, they wore feathers in their headdress.

10. "I was also much surprised to see that they brought up in their houses an animal of the tiger kind, with sharp teeth and claws. In spite of its natural fierceness this animal was played with and caressed by timid women and children."

11. "I am sure I would not play with it," said Jack.

"Why, you might get an ugly scratch if you did," said the Captain. "The speech of these people seems very harsh to a stranger, yet they talk to one another with great ease and quickness.

12. "One of their oddest customs is the way that the men have of greeting the women. Let the weather be what it will, they uncover their heads. If they wish to seem very respectful, they stay uncovered for some time."

13. "Why, that is like pulling off our hats," said Jack.

"Ah, ah, papa!" cried Elizabeth, "I have found you out. All this while you have been telling us about our own country and what is done at home."

14. "But," said Jack, "we don't burn rock, nor eat grease and powdered seeds, nor wear skins and worms' webs, nor play with tigers."

15. "What is coal but rock?" asked the Captain, "and is not butter grease; and corn, seeds; and leather, skins; and silk, the web of a kind of worm? And may we not as well call a cat an animal of the tiger kind, as a tiger an animal of the cat kind?

16. "If you remember what I have said, you will find with your sister's help that all the other wonderful things I have told you about are ones we know quite well.

"I meant to show you that to a stranger our common things might seem very wonderful. I also wanted to show you that every day we call a great many things by their names without ever thinking about their nature; so it is really only their names and not the things themselves that we know."

________

We wear clothes made from sheep's________.

Our shoes are made of the skin of beasts, made smooth and soft; this is called________.

Some houses are built of________, which are made of earth hardened in the fire.

________are holes to let in light and air.

In these holes is put________, which is made of melted sand.

________is a rock which burns.

We eat__________, ________, and________, which are the flesh of animals.

We eat cakes made of the powdered seeds of________and ________.

We also use for food________, ________, and ________, which are the roots of plants.

The leaves of________are cooked and eaten.

________grows in pods upon bushes, and is used for making clothes.

________is a glossy fabric made out of the webs of worms.

注释

① Transparent, that can be seen through.

② Glossy, smooth and shining.

③ Required, needed.

6

ANTS

1. How often you have seen ants running about the lawn, but have you ever stopped to watch them and to study their habits? Let me tell you some facts which have been learned about them. I am sure they will give you a new interest in these wise little creatures.

2. It may seem to you that ants run to and fro in an aimless way; but this is not the case, for they have work to do, and they are doing it with all their might. They cannot see far before them, and it is by means of their feelers, or perhaps by scent, that they find their way.

3. You must remember that small weeds are to them like huge trees, so we must look upon them as travelers following a track through great forests. You will see, too, that ants stop from time to time to rest and to clean off the particles of earth which cling to them.

4. Ants, like bees, do not enjoy living alone. In their homes, which we call ant-hills, many thousands of them live together. These homes are like great cities; indeed, such places as London and New York are the only human cities which compare with them in size. There is never any disorder in these great homes, although each ant is free to build, fight, hunt, or go where it pleases.

5. If the top of an ant-hill be taken off, there will be found nurseries, chambers, halls, and kitchens—all snug and waterproof.

6. In some countries ants build their houses above ground and tunnel out great cellars under them. But most of the ants we know make their homes in the earth, where they can keep warmer than in nests above ground.

An ant and its cow

7. Some ants tunnel out a home in the ground and make a little hillock① of earth around the top. At night they close the entrances with leaves, bits of straw, and tiny twigs. If you watch their nests in the morning you see the busy little ants open their doors and hurry out.

8. Some hunt insects for food; some gather honey from flowers; others milk their cows. These cows are plant lice, which yield a sweet juice of which ants are very fond. So ants keep herds of these little insects. They keep also beetles and other insects as pets, or for use.

An ant's nest

9. While some of the ants are getting food, those at home are busy clearing out the galleries and doing other work. The well-fed ants return to the nests and share their food with the workers. One of the ant laws is that each must help others for the good of all.

10. Deep down in the bottom of the nest lives the queen ant, the mother of the family, who is very much larger than the others. She does not take care of her little ones. This is done by ant nurses, who pick up the tiny eggs and care for them. In the morning the eggs are carried up to the higher chambers, which are warmed by the sun. In the evening they are taken back to the lower rooms away from the chill air.

11. The eggs hatch into grubs, which look like little grains of rice. These are the ant-babies. The careful nurses feed them, keep them warm and clean, and carry them from one room to another, for babies, you know, must be kept comfortable. Think how busy the nurses must be with hundreds and thousands of babies to care for!

12. Some ants keep slaves. Regular bands of soldiers go out and bring home the grubs of another kind of ant. When these grow up they help their masters work. Sometimes the masters depend so much on their slaves that they will not build nests, care for their young, nor even feed themselves. They become so helpless that they die if their slaves are taken from them.

13. Sometimes two ants will fight together until both are killed. Sometimes armies of ants fight together fiercely until one or the other party comes off victor.

14. In cold countries ants sleep through the winter deep down in their lower rooms. In warmer countries they lay up stores in summer for the chilly days when it would be hard for them to find food in the meadows and fields.

15. In Texas there are ants which clear spaces ten or twelve feet around their nests, only leaving the needle grass or "ant rice," which they use for food.

16. Among other interesting species② of ants are the leaf-cutting ant, found in Central America, and the honey ant of Mexico.

Leaf-cutting ants

________

1. Write sentences telling five things you have learned about ants from this story.

2. Can you tell anything not mentioned above which you have learned in observing ants?

注释

① Hillock, a small mound.

② Species, kinds.

7

THE FOUR SUNBEAMS

1. Four little sunbeams came earthward one day,

All shining and dancing along on their way,

Resolved that their course should be blest.

"Let us try," they all whispered, "some kindness to do,

Not seek our own happiness all the day through,

Then meet in the eve at the west."

2. One sunbeam ran in at a low cottage door,

And played "hide and seek" with a child on the floor,

Till baby laughed loud in his glee①,

And chased in delight his strange playmate so bright,

The little hands grasping in vain for the light

That ever before them would flee②.

3. One crept to the couch where an invalid③ lay,

And brought him a dream of the sweet summer day,

Its bird-song and beauty and bloom;

Till pain was forgotten and weary unrest,

And in fancy he roamed④ through the scenes he loved best,

Far away from the dim, darkened room.

4. One stole to the heart of a flower that was sad,

And loved and caressed her until she was glad,

And lifted her white face again;

For love brings content to the lowliest lot,

And finds something sweet in the dreariest⑤ spot,

And lightens all labor and pain.

5. And one, where a little blind girl sat alone,

Not sharing the mirth of her playfellows, shone

On hands that were folded and pale,

And kissed the poor eyes that had never known sight,

That never would gaze on the beautiful light,

Till angels had lifted the veil.

6. At last, when the shadows of evening were falling,

And the sun, their great father, his children was calling,

Four sunbeams passed into the west.

All said: "We have found that, in seeking the pleasure

Of others, we fill to the full our own measure."

Then softly they sank to their rest.

注释

① Glee, joy; mirth.

② Flee, run away.

③ Invalid, one who is weak from illness.

④ Roamed, wandered; went from place to place.

⑤ Dreariest, most comfortless and sorrowful.

8

SIFTING BOYS

1. Not long ago I was looking over one of the great saw-mills on the Mississippi River, in company with the manager of the mill. As we came to one room, he said: "I want you to notice the boys in this room, and I will tell you about them afterwards."

2. There were some half-dozen boys at work on saws, with different machines—some broadening the points of the teeth, some sharpening them, some deepening the notches between them. There was one lad who stood leaning up against a bench, not trying to do anything.

3. After we had passed out of the room, the manager said: "That room is my sieve. The fine boys go through that sieve to higher places and higher pay. The coarse boys remain in the sieve and are thrown out as of no use for this mill."

4. Then he explained what he meant. "If a boy wants to work in the mill, I give him the job of keeping the men in all parts of the mill supplied with drinking-water. That is the lowest position and draws the lowest pay. I say to that boy: 'When you have nothing else to do, go into this room, and then I shall know where to find you when I want you.'

5. "But there is a much more important reason why I send him into this room. In a business like this our men are constantly changing. A good deal of the work, as you will see by watching the machines and those who manage them, requires much attention and skill. I must, therefore, look out for the best men to put into the highest positions.

6. "Now, I put the water-boy into this room, where there are several kinds of work being done. There are pieces of broken saws lying about, and some of the tools that are used in sharpening and mending them.

7. "I watch that boy. If he begins handling the broken saws, looking them over, trying them, practicing on them with the tools there, watching the other boys at their machines, asking questions about how the work is done, and always making use of his spare time in one way or another, why, that boy is very soon promoted①.

Boys in the sieve

8. "He is first put to work on some of the machines in this room, and afterwards on those that require greater skill, and is pushed ahead as rapidly as there are openings for him. He soon goes to a better position and better pay, and I get a new water-boy. He has gone through the sieve.

9. "But there is another kind of boy. When he has time to spare, he spends it in doing nothing. He leans up against the benches, crosses one leg over the other, whistles, stares out of the window, no doubt wishing he was outside, and watches the clock to see how soon he can get away. If he talks with the other boys, it is not to ask questions about their work, but to waste their time with some nonsense or other.

10. "I often do all I can to help such a boy. I push the tools under his very nose. I ask him questions about them. I talk with him about his plans for the future. I do all that I can to awaken some kind of life in him. If the boy has any energy② in him, well and good; if he has not, he is simply useless. I don't want such a boy in this mill even as a water-boy."

________

There is no one else who has the power to be so much your friend or so much your enemy as yourself.

____________

Duty

So nigh is grandeur to our dust,

So near is God to man,

When Duty whispers low, "Thou must,"

The youth replies, "I can."

—EMERSON

注释

① Promoted, advanced; raised in rank.

② Energy, force and resolution; power for work.

9

THE FOUNTAIN

BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

James Russell Lowell (1819-1891): An American author. Among his best known poems are "The Vision of Sir Launfal," "A Fable for Critics," and "The Biglow Papers." "My Study Windows" and "Among My Books" are the best of his prose works. He was Minister to Spain and afterwards to Great Britain, and the volume "Democracy" contains some of his most brilliant addresses.

James Russell Lowell

1. Into the sunshine,

Full of the light,

Leaping and flashing

From morn till night;

2. Into the moonlight,

Whiter than snow,

Waving so flower-like

When the winds blow;

3. Into the starlight,

Rushing in spray①,

Happy at midnight,

Happy by day;

4. Ever in motion,

Blithesome② and cheery,

Still climbing heavenward,

Never aweary③;

5. Glad of all weathers,

Still seeming best,

Upward or downward

Motion thy rest;

6. Full of a nature

Nothing can tame,

Changed every moment,

Ever the same;

7. Ceaseless aspiring④,

Ceaseless content,

Darkness or sunshine

Thy element;

8. Glorious fountain!

Let my heart be

Fresh, changeful, constant,

Upward, like thee!

________

Select ten words which tell what the fountain does.

注释

① Spray, water falling in very small drops.

② Blithesome, gay; cheerful.

③ Aweary, tired.

④ Aspiring, rising upward.

10

LEWIS CARROLL

1. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, an English author, better known by his pen name, Lewis Carroll, was born January 27, 1832. His father was a clergyman, and the home of Charles's boyhood was in the country, some distance from the little village of Daresbury. The neighborhood was so secluded① that even the passing of a cart was an interesting event, but we may fancy that the home itself was not a quiet one, since there were in it eleven boys and girls.

2. Charles was a bright, merry boy who invented games for the entertainment② of his brothers and sisters, and made pets of snails, toads, and other queer animals. As a boy he seems to have lived in the "Wonderland" which later he described for other children. He enjoyed climbing trees, also, and other boyish sports.

3. When Charles was eleven years old the family moved to a Yorkshire village, and a year later he was sent from home to school. Fond as he was of play, he was fond of study, too, and his schoolmaster found him a "gentle, intelligent, well-conducted boy." After three years at Rugby, the most famous of the English preparatory schools, Charles Dodgson went to Oxford University. At Christ Church, Oxford, as student, tutor, and lecturer, the remainder of his life was spent. The routine③ of his days was very simple and regular. He spent the mornings in his lecture room, the afternoons in the country or on the river, and the evenings with his books, either reading or preparing for the next day's work.

4. He was very fond of children and was a great favorite with them, inventing puzzles, games, and stories for their amusement. One July afternoon in 1862, he took three little girls on a boating excursion, and on the way he entertained them with a wonderful story about the adventures of a little girl named Alice. At the entreaty of his child friends, Mr. Dodgson afterwards wrote out this story. It was published with the title, "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," under the pen name of Lewis Carroll. It became at once a child-classic, being widely read in England and America, and translated into French, German, Italian, and other languages.

5. Mr. Dodgson wrote several other popular books for children, the best known of which are "Through the Looking-glass," a continuation of Alice's adventures; "Sylvie and Bruno;" and "The Hunting of the Snark." Besides these stories, he wrote several learned works on mathematics. It was hard for people to realize that Charles Dodgson, the mathematician, and Lewis Carroll, the author of the charming fairy tales, were one and the same person.

6. After a short illness, Mr. Dodgson died January 14, 1898. "The world will think of Lewis Carroll as one who opened out a new vein in literature— a new and delightful vein—which added at once mirth and refinement to life."

注释

① Secluded, apart from others; lonely.

② Entertainment, amusement.

③ Routine, regular course of action.

11

WHAT ALICE SAID TO THE KITTEN

BY LEWIS CARROLL

Ⅰ

1. One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it; it was the black kitten's fault entirely. For the white kitten had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of an hour, and bearing it pretty well, considering; so you see that it couldn't have had any hand in the mischief.

2. The way Dinah washed her children's faces was this: First, she held the poor thing down by its ear with one paw, and then with the other paw she rubbed its face all over the wrong way, beginning at the nose. Just now, as I said, she was hard at work on the white kitten, which was lying quite still and trying to purr—no doubt feeling that it was all meant for its good.

3. But the black kitten had been finished with earlier in the afternoon, and so, while Alice was sitting curled up in a corner of the great armchair, half talking to herself and half asleep, the kitten had been having a grand game of romps with the ball of worsted Alice had been trying to wind up, and had been rolling it up and down till it had all come undone again. There it was, spread over the hearthrug, all knots and tangles, with the kitten running after its own tail in the middle.

4. "Oh, you wicked, wicked little thing!" cried Alice, catching up the kitten and giving it a little kiss to make it understand that it was in disgrace. "Really, Dinah ought to have taught you better manners! You ought, Dinah; you know you ought!" she added, looking reproachfully① at the old cat and speaking in as cross a voice as she could manage. Then she scrambled back into the armchair, taking the kitten and the worsted with her, and began winding up the ball again.

Friends now, Pussy

5. But she didn't get on very fast, as she was talking all the time, sometimes to the kitten, and sometimes to herself. Kitty sat very demurely② on her knee, pretending to watch the progress of the winding, and now and then putting out one paw and gently touching the ball, as if it would be glad to help if it might.

6. "Do you know what tomorrow is, Kitty?" Alice began. "You'd have guessed if you'd been up in the window with me—only Dinah was making you tidy, so you couldn't. I was watching the boys getting in sticks for the bonfire—and it wants plenty of sticks, Kitty! Only it got so cold and it snowed so they had to leave off. Never mind, Kitty; we'll go and see the bonfire tomorrow."

7. Here Alice wound two or three turns of the worsted round the kitten's neck, just to see how it would look. This led to a scramble, in which the ball rolled down upon the floor and yards and yards of it got unwound again.

Ⅱ

8. "Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty," Alice went on as soon as they were comfortably settled again, "when I saw all the mischief you had been doing, I was very near opening the window and putting you out into the snow! And you'd have deserved it, you little mischievous③ darling! What have you got to say for yourself?

9. "Now, don't interrupt me!" she went on, holding up one finger; "I'm going to tell you all your faults. Number one: You squeaked twice while Dinah was washing your face this morning. Now, you can't deny it, Kitty; I heard you! What's that you say?"—pretending that the kitten was speaking—"Her paw went into your eye? Well, that's your fault for keeping your eyes open. If you'd shut them tight up it wouldn't have happened.

10. "Now, don't make any more excuses, but listen. Number two: You pulled Snowdrop away by the tail just as I had put down the saucer of milk before her! What! you were thirsty, were you? How do you know she wasn't thirsty, too? Now for number three: You unwound every bit of the worsted while I wasn't looking.

11. "That's three faults, Kitty, and you've not been punished for any of them yet. You know I am saving up all your punishments for Wednesday week. Suppose they had saved up all my punishments," she went on, talking more to herself than to the kitten, "what would they do at the end of a year? I should be sent to prison, I suppose, when the day came.

12. "Or—let me see—suppose each punishment was to be going without a dinner? Then, when the miserable day came, I should have to go without fifty dinners at once. Well, I shouldn't mind that much. I'd far rather go without them than eat them.

13. "Do you hear the snow against the window panes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if someone was kissing the window all over outside. I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields that it kisses them so gently. And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'

14. "And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves all in green and dance about whenever the wind blows—oh, that's very pretty!" cried Alice, dropping the ball of worsted to clap her hands. "And I do so wish it were true."

________

Round, square, broad, yellow, silver, sweet,

gold, narrow, sour, brown, crooked, stony.

1. Place together the words which show (1) form; (2) taste; (3) color; (4) material.

2. Use each of the words in a sentence telling something which always has the quality named: as, a ball is round.

注释

① Reproachfully, chidingly.

② Demurely, soberly.

③ Mischievous, doing harm in play.

12

THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): An English poet. He found poetry in the simplest scenes and incidents of everyday life, and helped others to see the beauty of nature, to reverence God, and to sympathize with even the lowliest of their fellow-men. "Intimations of Immortality," "Laodamia," "The Excursion," and "The Prelude" are among the best of his longer poems.

William Wordsworth

That way look, my infant, lo!

What a pretty baby show!

See the kitten on the wall,

Sporting with the leaves that fall,

Withered leaves—one, two, and three—

From the lofty elder tree!

Through the calm and frosty air

Of this morning bright and fair,

Eddying① round and round they sink

Softly, slowly: one might think,

From the motions that are made,

Sporting with the leaves that fall

Every little leaf conveyed②

Sylph③ or fairy hither tending,

To this lower world descending,

Each invisible and mute,

In his wavering parachute④.

But the kitten, how she starts,

Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!

First at one, and then its fellow,

Just as light and just as yellow;

There are many now—now one—

Now they stop and there are none:

What intenseness of desire

In her upward eye of fire!

With a tiger-leap, half-way

Now she meets the coming prey,

Lets it go as fast, and then

Has it in her power again:

Now she works with three or four,

Like an Indian conjurer⑤;

Quick as he in feats⑥ of art,

Far beyond in joy of heart.

注释

① Eddying, moving in a circle.

② Conveyed, carried.

③ Sylph, a fairy.

④ Parachute, a sort of umbrella by means of which descent is made from a balloon.

⑤ Conjurer, magician.

⑥ Feats, tricks.

13

THE SNOW-IMAGE

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864): An American novelist. His best works are "The Scarlet Letter," "The House of the Seven Gables," and "The Marble Faun." Hawthorne wrote also several delightful books for children; among these are "Grandfather's Chair," a collection of stories from New England history, "Biographical Stories," "The Wonder Book," and "Tanglewood Tales"—the two latter being volumes of stories from Greek mythology.

Ⅰ

1. One afternoon of a cold winter's day, when the sun shone forth with chilly brightness, after a long storm, two children asked leave of their mother to run out and play in the new-fallen snow.

2. The elder child was a little girl, whom, because she was of a tender and modest disposition, and was thought to be very beautiful, her parents and other people, who were familiar with her, used to call Violet.

Forth sallied the two children.

3. But her brother was known by the title of Peony, on account of the ruddiness① of his broad and round little phiz②, which made everybody think of sunshine and great scarlet flowers.

"Yes, Violet—yes, my little Peony," said their kind mother; "you may go out and play in the new snow."

4. Forth sallied③ the two children, with a hop-skip-and-jump that carried them at once into the very heart of a huge snowdrift, whence Violet emerged④ like a snow bunting, while little Peony floundered out with his round face in full bloom.

5. Then what a merry time had they! To look at them frolicking in the wintry garden, you would have thought that the dark and pitiless storm had been sent for no other purpose but to provide a new plaything for Violet and Peony; and that they themselves had been created, as the snowbirds were, to take delight only in the tempest and in the white mantle which it spread over the earth.

6. At last, when they had frosted one another all over with handfuls of snow, Violet, after laughing heartily at little Peony's figure, was struck with a new idea.

"You look exactly like a snow-image, Peony," said she, "if your cheeks were not so red. And that puts me in mind! Let us make an image out of snow—an image of a little girl—and it shall be our sister and shall run about and play with us all winter long. Won't it be nice?"

7. "Oh, yes!" cried Peony, as plainly as he could speak, for he was but a little boy. "That will be nice! And mamma shall see it!"

"Yes," answered Violet; "mamma shall see the new little girl. But she must not make her come into the warm parlor, for, you know, our little snow-sister will not love the warmth."

8. And forthwith the children began this great business of making a snow-image that should run about; while their mother, who was sitting at the window and overheard some of their talk, could not help smiling at the gravity with which they set about it. They really seemed to imagine that there would be no difficulty whatever in creating a live little girl out of the snow.

9. Indeed, it was an exceedingly pleasant sight— those bright little souls at their tasks! Moreover, it was really wonderful to observe how knowingly and skillfully they managed the matter. Violet assumed the chief direction and told Peony what to do, while, with her own delicate fingers, she shaped out all the nicer parts of the snow-figure.

10. It seemed, in fact, not so much to be made by the children, as to grow up under their hands, while they were playing and prattling about it. Their mother was quite surprised at this; and the longer she looked, the more and more surprised she grew.

Ⅱ

11. Now, for a few moments, there was a busy and earnest but indistinct hum of the two children's voices, as Violet and Peony wrought⑤ together with one happy consent. Violet still seemed to be the guiding spirit; while Peony acted rather as a laborer and brought her the snow from far and near. And yet the little urchin⑥ evidently had a proper understanding of the matter.

12. "Peony, Peony!" cried Violet; for her brother was at the other side of the garden. "Bring me those light wreaths of snow that have rested on the lower branches of the pear tree. You can clamber on the snowdrift, Peony, and reach them easily. I must have them to make some ringlets for our snow-sister's head!"

13. "Here they are, Violet!" answered the little boy. "Take care you do not break them. Well done! Well done! How pretty!"

"Does she not look sweet?" said Violet, with a very satisfied tone; "and now we must have some little shining bits of ice to make the brightness of her eyes. She is not finished yet. Mamma will see how very beautiful she is; but papa will say, 'Tush! nonsense!—come in out of the cold!'"

14. "Let us call mamma to look out," said Peony; and then he shouted, "Mamma! mamma!! mamma!!! Look out and see what a nice 'ittle girl we are making!"

15. "What a nice playmate she will be for us all winter long!" said Violet. "I hope papa will not be afraid of her giving us a cold! Shan't you love her dearly, Peony?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Peony. "And I will hug her and she shall sit down close by me and drink some of my warm milk."

Violet and Peony wrought together.

16. "Oh, no, Peony!" answered Violet, with grave wisdom. "That will not do at all. Warm milk will not be wholesome for our little snow-sister. Little snow-people, like her, eat nothing but icicles. No, no, Peony; we must not give her anything warm to drink!"

17. There was a minute or two of silence; for Peony, whose short legs were never weary, had gone again to the other side of the garden. All of a sudden, Violet cried out, loudly and joyfully:

18. "Look here, Peony! Come quickly! A light has been shining on her cheek out of that rose-colored cloud! And the color does not go away! Is not that beautiful?"

"Yes, it is beau-ti-ful," answered Peony, pronouncing the three syllables with deliberate⑦ accuracy⑧. "O Violet, only look at her hair! It is all like gold!"

19. "Oh, certainly," said Violet, as if it were very much a matter of course. "That color, you know, comes from the golden clouds that we see up there in the sky. She is almost finished now. But her lips must be made very red—redder than her cheeks. Perhaps, Peony, it will make them red if we both kiss them!"

"Kiss me!" cried Peony.

20. Accordingly, the mother heard two smart little smacks, as if both her children were kissing the snow-image on its frozen mouth. But as this did not seem to make the lips quite red enough, Violet next proposed that the snow-child should be invited to kiss Peony's scarlet cheek.

21. "Come, 'ittle snow-sister, kiss me!" cried Peony.

"There! she has kissed you," added Violet, "and now her lips are very red. And she blushed a little, too!"

"Oh, what a cold kiss!" cried Peony.

22. Just then there came a breeze of the pure west wind sweeping through the garden and rattling the parlor windows. It sounded so wintry cold that the mother was about to tap on the window pane with her thimbled finger to summon the two children in, when they both cried out to her with one voice:

23. "Mamma! mamma! We have finished our little snow-sister, and she is running about the garden with us!"

24. "What imaginative⑨ little beings my children are!" thought the mother, putting the last few stitches into Peony's frock. "And it is strange, too, that they make me almost as much a child as they themselves are! I can hardly help believing now that the snow-image has really come to life!"

"Dear mamma!" cried Violet, "pray look out and see what a sweet playmate we have!"

Ⅲ

25. The mother, being thus entreated, could no longer delay to look forth from the window. The sun was now gone out of the sky, leaving, however, a rich inheritance⑩ of his brightness among those purple and golden clouds which make the sunsets of winter so magnificent.

26. But there was not the slightest gleam or dazzle, either on the window or on the snow; so that the good lady could look all over the garden and see everything and everybody in it. And what do you think she saw there? Violet and Peony, of course, her own two darling children.

27. Ah, but whom or what did she see besides? Why, if you will believe me, there was a small figure of a girl, dressed all in white, with rose-tinged cheeks and ringlets of golden hue, playing about the garden with the two children!

28. A stranger though she was, the child seemed to be on as familiar terms with Violet and Peony, and they with her, as if all the three had been playmates during the whole of their little lives. The mother thought to herself that it must certainly be the daughter of one of the neighbors, and that, seeing Violet and Peony in the garden, the child had run across the street to play with them.

29. So this kind lady went to the door, intending to invite the little runaway into her comfortable parlor; for, now that the sunshine was withdrawn, the atmosphere⑪ out of doors was already growing very cold.

30. But, after opening the house door, she stood an instant on the threshold, hesitating whether she ought to ask the child to come in, or whether she should even speak to her. Indeed, she almost doubted whether it were a real child after all, or only a light wreath of the new-fallen snow, blown hither and thither⑫ about the garden by the intensely cold west wind.

31. There was certainly something very singular in the aspect⑬ of the little stranger. Among all the children of the neighborhood the lady could remember no such face, with its pure white and delicate rose-color, and the golden ringlets tossing about the forehead and cheeks.

32. And as for her dress, which was entirely of white, and fluttering in the breeze, it was such as no reasonable woman would put upon a little girl when sending her out to play in the depth of winter. It made this kind and careful mother shiver only to look at those small feet, with nothing in the world on them except a very thin pair of white slippers.

33. Nevertheless, airily as she was clad, the child seemed to feel not the slightest inconvenience from the cold, but danced so lightly over the snow that the tips of her toes left hardly a print in its surface; while Violet could but just keep pace with her, and Peony's short legs compelled⑭ him to lag⑮ behind.

34. All this while, the mother stood on the threshold, wondering how a little girl could look so much like a flying snowdrift, or how a snowdrift could look so very like a little girl.

She called Violet and whispered to her.

"Violet, my darling, what is this child's name?" asked she. "Does she live near us?"

35. "Why, dearest mamma," answered Violet, laughing to think that her mother did not comprehend⑯ so very plain an affair, "this is our little snow-sister whom we have just been making!"

"Yes, dear mamma," cried Peony, running to his mother and looking up simply into her face. "This is our snow-image! Is it not a nice 'ittle child?"

36. "Violet," said her mother, greatly perplexed, "tell me the truth without any jest. Who is this little girl?"

"My darling mamma," answered Violet, looking seriously into her mother's face, surprised that she should need any further explanation, "I have told you truly who she is. It is our little snow-image which Peony and I have been making. Peony will tell you so, as well as I."

37. "Yes, mamma," asseverated⑰ Peony, with much gravity in his crimson little phiz; "this is 'ittle snow-child. Is not she a nice one? But, mamma, her hand is, oh, so very cold!"

Ⅳ

38. While mamma still hesitated what to think and what to do, the street gate was thrown open and the father of Violet and Peony appeared, wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack⑱, with a fur cap drawn down over his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands.

39. Mr. Lindsey was a middle-aged man, with a weary and yet a happy look in his wind-flushed and frost-pinched face, as if he had been busy all the day long and was glad to get back to his quiet home. His eyes brightened at the sight of his wife and children, although he could not help uttering a word or two of surprise at finding the whole family in the open air on so bleak a day, and after sunset, too.

40. He soon perceived the little white stranger, sporting to and fro in the garden like a dancing snow-wreath, and the flock of snowbirds fluttering about her head.

"Pray, what little girl may that be?" inquired this very sensible man. "Surely her mother must be crazy to let her go out in such bitter weather as it has been to-day, with only that flimsy⑲ white gown and those thin slippers!"

41. "My dear husband," said his wife, "I know no more about the little thing than you do. Some neighbor's child, I suppose. Our Violet and Peony," she added, laughing at herself for repeating so absurd a story, "insist that she is nothing but a snow-image which they have been busy about in the garden almost all the afternoon."

42. As she said this, the mother glanced her eyes toward the spot where the children's snow-image had been made. What was her surprise on perceiving that there was not the slightest trace of so much labor!—no image at all!—no piled-up heap of snow!—nothing whatever save the prints of little footsteps around a vacant space!

43. "This is very strange!" said she.

"What is strange, dear mother?" asked Violet. "Dear father, do not you see how it is? This is our snow-image, which Peony and I have made because we wanted another playmate. Did not we, Peony?"

"Yes, papa," said crimson Peony. "This be our 'ittle snow-sister. Is she not beau-ti-ful? But she gave me such a cold kiss!"

44. "Poh, nonsense, children!" cried their good, honest father, who had an exceedingly commonsensible way of looking at matters. "Do not tell me of making live figures out of snow. Come, wife; this little stranger must not stay out in the bleak air a moment longer. We will bring her into the parlor; and you shall give her a supper of warm bread and milk, and make her as comfortable as you can."

45. So saying, this honest and very kind-hearted man was going toward the little white damsel, with the best intentions in the world. But Violet and Peony, each seizing their father by the hand, earnestly besought him not to make her come in.

46. "Nonsense, children, nonsense, nonsense!" cried the father, half-vexed, half-laughing. "Run into the house, this moment! It is too late to play any longer now. I must take care of this little girl immediately, or she will catch her death-a-cold!"

And so, with a most benevolent⑳ smile, this very well-meaning gentleman took the snow-child by the hand and led her toward the house.

He took the snow-child by the hand.

47. She followed him, droopingly and reluctant㉑, for all the glow and sparkle were gone out of her figure; and whereas just before she had resembled a bright, frosty, star-gemmed evening, with a crimson gleam on the cold horizon, she now looked as dull and languid as a thaw.

48. As kind Mr. Lindsey led her up the steps of the door, Violet and Peony looked into his face, their eyes full of tears, which froze before they could run down their cheeks, and entreated him not to bring their snow-image into the house.

49. "Not bring her in!" exclaimed the kindhearted man. "Why, you are crazy, my little Violet—quite crazy, my small Peony! She is so cold already that her hand has almost frozen mine, in spite of my thick gloves. Would you have her freeze to death?"

Ⅴ

50. His wife, as he came up the steps, had been taking another long, earnest gaze at the little white stranger. She hardly knew whether it was a dream or no; but she could not help fancying that she saw the delicate print of Violet's fingers on the child's neck. It looked just as if, while Violet was shaping out the image, she had given it a gentle pat with her hand, and had neglected to smooth the impression quite away.

51. "After all, husband," said the mother, "after all, she does look strangely like a snow-image! I do believe she is made of snow!"

A puff of the west wind blew against the snow-child, and again she sparkled like a star.

52. "Snow!" repeated good Mr. Lindsey, drawing the reluctant guest over his hospitable threshold. "No wonder she looks like snow. She is half frozen, poor little thing! But a good fire will put everything to rights."

53. The common-sensible man placed the snow-child on the hearthrug, right in front of the hissing and fuming stove.

"Now she will be comfortable!" cried Mr. Lindsey, rubbing his hands and looking about him, with the pleasantest smile you ever saw. "Make yourself at home, my child."

54. Sad, sad and drooping looked the little white maiden as she stood on the hearthrug, with the hot blast of the stove striking through her like a pestilence㉒. Once she threw a glance toward the window, and caught a glimpse, through its red curtains, of the snow-covered roofs and the stars glimmering frostily and all the delicious intensity of the cold night. The bleak wind rattled the window panes as if it were summoning her to come forth. But there stood the snow-child, drooping, before the hot stove!

55. But the common-sensible man saw nothing amiss.

"Come, wife," said he, "let her have a pair of thick stockings and a woolen shawl or blanket directly; and tell Dora to give her some warm supper as soon as the milk boils. You, Violet and Peony, amuse your little friend. She is out of spirits, you see, at finding herself in a strange place. For my part, I will go around among the neighbors and find out where she belongs."

56. The mother, meanwhile, had gone in search of the shawl and stockings. Without heeding the remonstrances㉓ of his two children, who still kept murmuring that their little snow-sister did not love the warmth, good Mr. Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlor door carefully behind him.

57. Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from the house, and had barely reached the street-gate when he was recalled by the screams of Violet and Peony and the rapping of a thimbled finger against the parlor window.

58. "Husband! husband!" cried his wife, showing her horror-stricken face through the window panes. "There is no need of going for the child's parents!"

"We told you so, father!" screamed Violet and Peony, as he reentered the parlor. "You would bring her in; and now our poor—dear—beau-ti-ful little snow-sister is thawed!"

59. And their own sweet little faces were already dissolved in tears; so that their father, seeing what strange things occasionally happen in this everyday world, felt not a little anxious lest his children might be going to thaw, too. In the utmost perplexity, he demanded an explanation of his wife.

60. She could only reply that, being summoned to the parlor by the cries of Violet and Peony, she found no trace of the little white maiden, unless it were the remains of a heap of snow which, while she was gazing at it, melted quite away upon the hearthrug.

"And there you see all that is left of it!" added she, pointing to a pool of water in front of the stove.

61. "Yes, father," said Violet, looking reproachfully at him through her tears, "there is all that is left of our dear little snow-sister!"

"Naughty father!" cried Peony, stamping his foot, and—I shudder to say—shaking his little fist at the common-sensible man. "We told you how it would be. What for did you bring her in?"

62. And the stove, through the isinglass of its door, seemed to glare㉔ at good Mr. Lindsey, like a red-eyed demon triumphing in the mischief which it had done!

________

Little, happy, rich, kind, strange, diligent, polite, strong, lifeless, lazy.

1. Name words having similar meaning: as, little, small.

2. Name words having opposite meaning: as, little, large.

注释

① Ruddiness, redness.

② Phiz, face.

③ Sallied, ran out.

④ Emerged, came out.

⑤ Wrought, worked.

⑥ Urchin, a little boy.

⑦ Deliberate, slow and careful.

⑧ Accuracy, correctness.

⑨ Imaginative, full of fancies.

⑩ Inheritance, possession.

⑪ Atmosphere, air.

⑫ Thither, to this place.

⑬ Aspect, appearance; look.

⑭ Compelled, forced; obliged.

⑮ Lag, go slowly.

⑯ Comprehend, understand.

⑰ Asseverated, said earnestly.

⑱ Pilot-cloth sack, a coat made of coarse dark blue cloth, such as pilots wear.

⑲ Flimsy, thin.

⑳ Benevolent, kind.

㉑ Reluctant, unwilling.

㉒ Pestilence, the plague; a deadly disease.

㉓ Remonstrances, objections.

㉔ Glare, stare; look fiercely.

14

LITTLE BY LITTLE

1. Low on the ground an acorn lies—

Little by little it mounts to the skies,

Shadow and shelter for wandering herds,

Home for a hundred singing birds.

Little by little the great rocks grew,

Long, long ago, when the world was new;

Slowly and silently, stately and free,

Cities of coral under the sea

Little by little are builded, while so

The new years come and the old years go.

2. Little by little all tasks are done;

So are the crowns of the faithful won,

So is heaven in our hearts begun.

With work and with weeping, with laughter and play,

Little by little the longest day

And the longest life are passing away—

Passing without return, while so

The new years come and the old years go.

15

THE HOUSE I LIVE IN

Ⅰ

1. This wonderful body of mine is the house in which I live. This house has five gates, through which messages from the outside world can get to me. There is Eye Gate, Ear Gate, Nose Gate, Taste Gate, and Touch Gate. All my knowledge of the things around me comes in through these five gates.

2. This house of mine has, in its lower story, a kitchen called the stomach. Here the food is cooked, or "digested," as we say, and prepared for being mixed with the blood. In the story above there is a great pump, the heart, which sends the blood through the house to keep it warm and in good repair.

Then, in the top story, or the head, is the room where the master or mistress of the house lives.

3. We should learn all we can about this house and what to do to keep it in good order. We should find out what is bad for it and what is good, that we may avoid the one and seek the other. Thus we may hope to grow up strong and healthy men and women. Good health will cheer us and make all our work easy and pleasant.

4. The first lesson on health that I have to learn is this: I must keep my body clean. Much of the dirt that gathers on the body comes, not from the outside, but from the inside of the body. The skin is full of little pores. These pores are the mouths of tiny pipes, or tubes, millions of which are found in the skin.

5. You can see them in this picture, which shows a little bit of the skin, cut through from the inside to the outside and very much enlarged.

A section of skin

It is through these tubes that the body rids itself of many waste substances which would prove very harmful if retained. When their outlets become choked up with dirt, nothing can pass through them. You see, therefore, how necessary it is to keep the skin clean if we wish to have good health.

6. Once upon a time a great man was coming to visit a certain town. The people went out to meet him, clad in gay and curious dresses so as to do honor to their noble visitor. One little boy was covered all over with thin leaves of gold, so that he might look like a golden boy.

7. No doubt he looked very pretty, but he became ill and died before the gilding could be removed. All the pores of his skin were closed up by the gold, and it soon caused his death.

8. In Holland there is a village which is said to be the cleanest in the world. The houses, inside and outside, the streets, and everything about the place, are kept neat as a pin. Women wearing clumsy wooden shoes may be seen scrubbing the houses and pavements.

The cleanest village in the world

9. We should be like these Dutch people and keep our wonderful house, the body, clean. It is only by frequently washing the whole body that we can keep in good health.

Water and soap are all that are needed to keep the skin clean and ready for its work, and every one can get these.

Ⅱ

10. The second health lesson I have to learn is this: I must breathe fresh air. If a man cannot get air to breathe, he will die. But that is not all: impure air is bad for him.

11. Why do we need to breathe at all?

Because the air contains a gas called oxygen, and a constant supply of this gas must be taken into the blood, or else we cannot remain in good health. When we breathe, the air passes down into the lungs and there meets with the blood.

12. And as the oxygen gas passes inwards, another gas, which has to be got rid of, passes outwards and is breathed out into the air. Thus the air we breathe out is different from the air we breathe in. It has lost the gas which is necessary for our life and health, and it contains a gas which is hurtful to us.

13. If I live in a room that does not get fresh air, the air in it will soon become close and bad, because every time I breathe I take some of the oxygen out of it and put injurious gas in its place.

14. If a small animal, such as a bird or a rabbit, is put under a glass bell so that no air can get in, it uses up all the oxygen. In a few minutes it becomes faint; it is unable to stand up, and unless it gets fresh air it will soon die.

15. You may have heard the story of the Black Hole of Calcutta. One hundred and forty-six English prisoners were shut up in a small cell. They could not get enough fresh air to breathe, and in the morning one hundred and twenty-three of them were found dead.

Ⅲ

16. The third health lesson I have to learn is this: I must take plenty of exercise. To make the body strong we must use it. The parts that are most used become the strongest, and those used least will be the weakest.

17. The arms of the blacksmith are very strong because he uses them so much. The boy who works and plays in the open air grows strong and healthy, but the boy who sits indoors and does not take exercise often grows up to be a weak and unhealthy man. It is best to take our exercise in the open air and the sunlight.

The king and the dervish

18. Games like baseball are good for boys. There are also plenty of pleasant outdoor games for girls. When no game can be played, a brisk walk in the open air is quite as good. Brisk walking is one of the easiest and best of exercises for both boys and girls.

19. But there are some things we should avoid when taking exercise. We should not work or play too long without resting. We should not try to do things that are beyond our strength. When exercise is too violent, it does harm rather than good.

20. An eastern king, who had become pale and ill, asked a wise dervish what medicine he should take.

The dervish, knowing that it was exercise alone which the idle king needed, said: "I will bring you to-morrow a remedy which will cure your disease."

21. The next day the dervish appeared before the king.

"Here," said he, "is a ball which holds the medicine that will cure you. Take it into your garden every day and knock it about till you perspire freely. This will make the medicine take effect."

The king did as the dervish told him, and the exercise in the fresh air soon made him well.

________

Ball, door, sun, cold, church, odor, milk, bitterness, bell, town, nose, honesty, rose, industry, gold, red, heat, leather, mud, joy.

1. Tell which of these words name things that you can (1) see, (2) hear, (3) touch, (4) taste, (5) smell.

2. Which name things of which you can only think?

16

JEFFERSON'S TEN RULES

Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826): An American statesman. He wrote the Declaration of Independence and was one of the able men at the head of the government of the United States in its early days. Jefferson was the originator of what is called the Democratic idea of government.

Never put off until to-morrow what you can do to-day.

Never trouble another for what you can do yourself.

Never spend your money before you have earned it.

Never buy what you don't want because it is cheap.

Pride costs more than hunger, thirst, and cold.

We seldom repent of having eaten too little.

Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly.

How much pain the evils have cost us that have never happened.

Take things always by the smooth handle.

When angry, count ten before you speak; if very angry, count a hundred.

________

Recollect that trifles make perfection, and that perfection is no trifle.

17

THE PET LAMB

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

1. The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;

I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"

And looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied①

A snow-white mountain lamb, with a maiden at its side.

2. Nor sheep nor kine② were near; the lamb was all alone,

And by a slender cord was tethered③ to a stone;

With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,

While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal.

3. The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took,

Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook:

"Drink, pretty creature, drink!" she said in such a tone

That I almost received her heart into my own.

4. 'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare!

I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair.

Now with her empty can the maiden turned away;

But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps did she stay.

5. Right towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady place

I unobserved could see the workings of her face;

If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring④,

Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing:

6. "What ails thee, young one? what? Why pull so at thy cord?

Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board?

Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be;

Rest, little young one, rest; What is't that aileth thee?

7. "What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart?

Thy limbs are they not strong? and beautiful thou art!

This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers⑤;

And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears.

8. "If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woolen chain;

This beech is standing by, its covert⑥ thou canst gain;

For rain and mountain storms!—the like thou need'st not fear,

The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here.

9. "Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day

When my father found thee first in places far away;

Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none,

And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.

10. "He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home:

A blessed day for thee!—then whither wouldst thou roam?

A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean⑦

Upon the mountain-tops, no kinder could have been.

11. "Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can

Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran;

And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew,

I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.

12. "Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now,

Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plow.

My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold

Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold.

13. "It will not, will not rest!— Poor creature, can it be

That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee?

Things that I know not of belike⑧ to thee are dear,

And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.

14. "Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair!

I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there;

The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play,

When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.

15. "Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky;

Night and day thou art safe,—our cottage is hard by.

Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain?

Sleep—and at break of day I will come to thee again!"

注释

① Espied, saw.

② Kine, cows.

③ Tethered, fastened by a rope for feeding within certain limits.

④ "If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring", if she could write verse.

⑤ Peers, equals.

⑥ Covert, shelter.

⑦ "The dam that did thee yean", The mother that reared thee.

⑧ Belike, perhaps.

18

THE STORY OF FLORINDA

BY ABBY MORTON DIAZ

Mrs. Abby Morton Diaz (1821-): An American author who married a Cuban gentleman. She has written many popular books for the young: among these are "The William Henry Letters," "William Henry and his Friends," "Polly Cologne," and "The Cat's Arabian Nights."

Ⅰ

1. Nathaniel Bowen came over from England with his family in the bark "Jasper" more than two hundred years ago. The country was covered with woods then. Indians, buffaloes, deer, wolves, and foxes had it pretty much to themselves.

2. Mr. Bowen built a one-roomed hut in a clearing in the woods. Its walls and ceiling were made of logs; there were square holes for windows, with wooden shutters inside. One of the windows had four small panes of glass brought from England; the others were covered with oiled paper. At one end of the room was a large stone chimney; at the other a ladder ran up into the loft above. The hut was furnished with a bed, a great chest, a spinning wheel, a bench or two, and a few chairs.

3. There was one house besides Mr. Bowen's in the valley, and only one, and that belonged to a man named Moore. It stood nearly an eighth of a mile off.

Four miles off, at the Point, there were some dozen or twenty houses, a store, and a mill. There was no road to the Point; there was only a blind pathway through the woods. Those woods reached hundreds and hundreds of miles.

4. When Mr. Bowen had lived in this country a little more than a year, his wife died, leaving three children—Philip, not quite eleven years old; Nathaniel, six; and Polly, three. To take care of these children and to keep his house, he hired a young girl named Florinda Le Shore, who had come over from England as a servant in some family. This Florinda was born in France, but she had spent the greater part of her life in England. She was only fifteen years old—rather young to take the care of a family.

5. Florinda went to Mr. Bowen's house some time in November. On the 29th of December, as Mr. Bowen and Mr. Moore were saddling their horses to go to the store for provisions, word came that they must set out immediately for a place about fifteen miles off, called Dermott's Crossing, to consult with other settlers as to what should be done to defend themselves against the Indians; for there were reports that in some neighborhoods the Indians were doing mischief.

6. So the two men turned their horses' heads in the direction of Dermott's Crossing. It was woods most of the way, but they knew the general direction of the bridle path and thought they should make good time and be back by noon of the next day.

7. Florinda baked corn meal into thin cakes, and put the cakes and some slices of bacon into the saddlebags along with corn for the horse. The men were to return by way of the store and bring provisions.

8. Two days and two nights passed, and they had neither come nor sent any message. By that time there was not much left to eat in either house.

Florinda and the children slept both nights at Mrs. Moore's. Mr. Bowen had said it would be better for them to sleep there.

9. He did not fear any actual danger (the Indians in this neighborhood had never been troublesome at all); still, in case anything should happen, Mrs. Moore's house was much the safer of the two. It was built of heavy timbers, and its doors were of oak, studded with spikes.

10. The Indians never attacked a strong house like that, especially if it were guarded by a white man with firearms.

Mrs. Moore's brother was living with her—a young man named David Palmer, who could not walk then on account of having frozen his feet.

Ⅱ

11. On the second morning Philip begged Florinda to let him take his hand sled and go to the store and get some meal and some bacon for themselves and Mrs. Moore. Florinda felt loath① to let him go. It was a long distance; there was snow in the woods and no track.

12. But Philip said that he wasn't afraid: the oldest boy ought to take care of the family.

And at last Florinda said he might go. Indeed, there seemed no other way; for, unless he did, they might all starve, especially if there should come on a heavy snowstorm.

She set him letters to copy.

13. Mrs. Moore had him start from her house, because she wanted to be sure he was well wrapped up. He left home in good spirits about nine o'clock in the morning on the thirty-first day of December, promising to be back before evening.

14. Florinda spent the day in spinning and in other work for the family. As soon as it began to grow dark, she barred the door and shut all the window shutters but one. She left that open so that Philip might see the firelight shining through.

The children began to cry because Philip was out all alone in the dark woods, and Florinda did everything she could to occupy their minds.

15. Nathaniel told afterward of her rolling up the cradle quilt into a baby for little Polly and pinning an apron on it; and of her setting him letters to copy on the bellows with chalk. He said she tied a strip of cloth round his head to keep the hair out of his eyes when he bent over to make the letters. He remembered her stopping her wheel very often to listen for Philip.

16. At last little Polly fell asleep and was placed on the bed. Nathaniel laid his head on Florinda's lap and dropped asleep there, and slept till she got up to put more wood on. It was then nearly twelve o'clock. He woke in a fright, and crying. He had been dreaming about wolves.

17. After a while Nathaniel climbed up and looked through a knot-hole in the door and told Florinda he saw a fire in the woods.

Florinda said she thought not, that maybe it was the moon rising; and kept on with her spinning.

18. By and by he looked again, and said he did see a fire and some Indians sitting down by it.

Florinda left her wheel then and looked through, and said yes, it was so.

19. She kept watch afterward and saw them put out the fire and go away into the woods toward the Point. She told Nathaniel of this, and then held him in her arms and sang songs, low, in a language he could not understand. By this time the night was far spent.

20. At the side of the hut, near the fireplace, there had been in the summer a hole or tunnel dug through to the outside under the logs. It was begun by a tame rabbit that belonged to Nathaniel. The rabbit burrowed out and got away.

21. The children at play dug the hole deeper and wider, and it came quite handy in getting in firewood. This passage was about four feet deep. They called it the back doorway. When winter came on, it was filled up with sand and moss.

22. Florinda thought it well to be prepared for anything which might happen; and, therefore, she spent the latter part of that night in taking the filling from the back doorway. The outer part was frozen hard and had to be thawed with hot water.

When this was done, she took the workbag out of her clothes box and put into it Mr. Bowen's papers and the teaspoons.

23. She said a great deal to Nathaniel about taking care of little Polly; told him that if any bad Indians came to the door, he must catch hold of her hand and run just as quickly as he could through the back doorway to Mrs. Moore's.

24. While she was talking to Nathaniel in the way. I have said, they heard a step outside. It was then a little after daybreak.

someone tapped at the door, and a strange voice said: "A friend; open, quick!"

25. She opened the door and found a white man standing there. This white man told her that unfriendly Indians were prowling② about to rob, to kill, and to burn dwelling houses, and that several were known to be in that very neighborhood. The man was a messenger sent to warn people. He could not stop a moment.

Ⅲ

26. As soon as the man had gone, Florinda double-barred the door, raked ashes over the fire, put on her things and the children's things, and got ready to go with them over to Mrs. Moore's. She made up several bundles, gave one to each of the children, and took one herself.

27. But, before starting, she opened the shutter a crack and looked out; and there she saw two Indians coming toward the door. She flung down her bundle, snatched the children's away from them, hung the workbag round Nathaniel's neck, whispering to him: "Run, run! you'll have time; I'll keep them out till you get away!" all the while pulling at the clothes chest.

28. He heard the Indians yell, and saw Florinda brace herself against the door with her feet on the chest.

"Run, run!" she kept saying. "Take care of little Polly! don't let go of little Polly!"

29. Nathaniel ran with little Polly; and on the way they met the young man, David Palmer, creeping along with his gun. He had got the news and had come to tell Florinda to hurry away. Just at that moment he heard the yells of the Indians and the sound of their clubs beating in the door.

30. He threw the gun down and went on just as fast as a man could in such a condition, and presently saw two Indians start from the house and run into the woods. He listened a moment and heard dogs barking; then crept round the corner of the house. The door had been cut away.

31. Florinda lay across the chest, dead, as he thought; and, indeed, she was almost gone. They had beaten her on the head with a hatchet or a club. One blow more, and Florinda would never have breathed again.

David Palmer did everything he could do to make her show some signs of life; and was so intent upon this that he paid no attention to the barking of the dogs, and did not notice that it was growing louder and coming nearer every moment.

32. Happening to glance toward the door, he saw a man on horseback, riding very slowly toward the house, leading another horse with his right hand, and with his left drawing something heavy on a sled. The man on horseback was Mr. Moore. He was leading Mr. Bowen's horse with his right hand, and with the other he was dragging Mr. Bowen on Philip's hand sled.

33. Coming home from Dermott's Crossing, Mr. Bowen was taken sick and had to travel at a very slow pace. When they had almost reached home, they found Philip's sled among the bushes.

34. Philip himself had left the sled there. The day that he went to the Point, he had to wait for corn to be ground, which made him late in starting home. He heard a good many reports concerning the Indians, and thought that, instead of keeping in his own tracks, it would be safer to take a roundabout course back.

35. By doing this, he lost his way and wandered in the woods till almost twelve o'clock at night, when he came out upon a cleared place where there were several log huts. The people in one of these let him come in and sleep on the floor, and they gave him a good meal of meat and potatoes. He set out again between four and five in the morning, guided by a row of stars that those people pointed out to him.

36. A little after daybreak, being then about a quarter of a mile from home, in a hilly place, he thought he would leave his sled, as the load was so hard to draw, and run ahead and tell the folks about the Indians. So he pushed it under some bushes; and then, to mark the spot, he took one of his shoe strings and tied one of his mittens high up on the limb of a tree.

Indians watching the two children.

37. Just as he came to the brook, he heard some strange sounds, and climbed up into a hemlock tree, which overhung the brook, to hide and to look about. He lay along a branch listening, and presently saw Nathaniel, with the workbag around his neck, hurrying toward the brook, leading little Polly.

38. Philip was just going to call out, when he caught sight of three Indians standing behind some trees on the other side watching the two children. Little Polly was afraid to step on the ice. Philip moved a little to see better, and by doing this lost sight of them a moment; and, when he looked again, they were both gone.

39. He heard a crackling in the bushes and caught sight of little Polly's blanket flying through the woods, and knew then that those Indians had carried off Nathaniel and little Polly. Without stopping to consider, he jumped down and followed on, thinking, as he afterward said, to find out where they went and tell his father.

Ⅳ

40. Philip, by one way or another, kept on the trail of those Indians the whole day. Once it was by finding the stick that little Polly dropped; once it was by coming across a butcher knife the Indians had stolen from some house: and he had wit enough to break a limb or gash a tree now and then, so as to find his way back; also to take the bearings of the hills. When the Indians halted to rest, he had a chance to rest, too.

41. At last they stopped for the night in a sheltered valley where there were two or three wigwams③. He watched them go into one of these, and then he could not think what to do next. The night was setting in bitter cold. The shoe he took the string from had come off in his running, and that foot was nearly frozen, and would have been quite if he had not tied some moss to the bottom of it with his pocket handkerchief. The hand that had no mitten was frozen. He had eaten nothing but a few boxberry plums and boxberry leaves.

42. It was too late to think of finding his way home that night. He lay down on the snow; and, as the Indians lifted the mats to pass in and out, he could see fires burning and smell meats cooking.

43. Then he began to feel sleepy, and after that knew nothing more till he woke inside a wigwam, and found two Indian women rubbing him with snow. They afterward gave him plenty to eat.

He did not see Nathaniel and little Polly; they were in another wigwam.

44. There were two Indians squatting on the floor, one of them quite old. Pretty soon another came in; and Philip knew he was one of those that carried off the children, because he had Florinda's workbag hanging around his neck. He thought, no doubt, from seeing it on Nathaniel's neck, that there was the place to wear it.

45. Philip suffered dreadful pain in his foot and hand, but shut his mouth tight for fear he might groan. He said afterward, when questioned about this part of his story, that he was not going to let them hear a white boy groan.

46. Now, the older one of those two squaws④ in the wigwam felt inclined to save Philip. So next morning, before light, when the Indians all had gone off hunting, she sent the other squaw out on some errand, and then told Philip, in broken English and by signs, that he must run away that very morning. She bound up his foot; she gave him a moccasin⑤ to wear on it; she gave him a bag of pounded corn and a few strips of meat.

47. Philip had found out that the Indians supposed him to be a captive⑥ escaped from another party; and he thought it would be better not to mention Nathaniel and little Polly, but to get home as quickly as he could and tell people where they were.

She gave him a bag of corn.

48. When the young squaw came in, the old one set her at work parching corn, with her back to the door; then made signs to Philip, and he crept out and ran. After running a few rods, he came unexpectedly upon a wigwam. There was a noise of someone pounding corn inside; and when that stopped he stopped, and when that went on he went on, and so crept by.

49. As soon as it began to grow light, he kept along without much trouble, partly by means of the signs on the trees. As he got farther on, there being fewer of these signs (because they had come so swiftly that part of the way), he took the wrong course—very luckily, as it proved; for by doing so he fell in with two men on horseback, and one of these carried him home.

50. Philip described the place where the children were, and that very night a party was sent out which captured the Indians and brought back Nathaniel and little Polly.

注释

① Loath, unwilling.

② Prowling, going stealthily or slyly.

③ Wigwams, Indian houses made of poles covered with mats or bark.

④ Squaws, Indian women.

⑤ Moccasin, an Indian shoe made of deerskin, the sole and the upper part being in one piece.

⑥ Captive, a prisoner taken in war.

19

THE EAGLE

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892): An English poet. "The Brook," "Locksley Hall," and "The Charge of the Light Brigade" are, perhaps, the most popular of his short poems, and "In Memoriam," "The Idylls of the King," and "The Princess" are the best of his long poems.

1. He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

Like a thunderbolt he falls.

2. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

He watches from his mountain walls;

And like a thunderbolt he falls.

20

PSALM XXIII

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presen of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

21

TILLY'S CHRISTMAS

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT

Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888): One of the most popular of American writers of juvenile literature. She was the author of twenty-eight volumes, including, among others, "Little Women," "Little Men," "The Old-Fashioned Girl," and "Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag," from which the present story is taken.

Ⅰ

1. "I'm so glad to-morrow is Christmas, because I'm going to have lots of presents."

"So am I glad, though I don't expect any presents but a pair of mittens."

"And so am I; but I shan't have any presents at all."

2. As the three little girls trudged home from school they said these things, and as Tilly spoke both the others looked at her with pity and some surprise, for she spoke cheerfully, and they wondered how she could be happy when she was so poor.

3. "Don't you wish you could find a purse full of money right here in the path?" said Kate, the child who was going to have "lots of presents."

"Oh, don't I, if I could keep it honestly!" and Tilly's eyes shone at the very thought.

4. "What would you buy?" asked Bessy, rubbing her cold hands, and longing for her mittens.

"I'd buy a pair of large, warm blankets, a load of wood, a shawl for mother, and a pair of shoes for me; and, if there were enough left, I'd give Bessy a new hat, and then she needn't wear Ben's old felt one," answered Tilly.

5. The girls laughed at that; but Bessy pulled the funny hat over her ears, and said she was much obliged, but she'd rather have candy.

6. "Let's look, and maybe we can find a purse. People are always going about with money at Christmas time, and someone may lose it here," said Kate.

So, as they went along the snowy road, they looked about them, half in earnest, half in fun. Suddenly Tilly sprang forward, exclaiming—

"I see it! I've found it!"

7. The others followed, but all stopped disappointed, for it wasn't a purse; it was only a little bird. It lay upon the snow with its wings spread and feebly fluttering, as if too weak to fly. Its little feet were benumbed① with cold; its once bright eyes were dull with pain, and instead of a blithe song, it could only utter a faint chirp now and then, as if crying for help.

8. "Nothing but a stupid old robin; how provoking!" cried Kate, sitting down to rest.

"I shan't touch it. I found one once, and took care of it, and the ungrateful thing flew away the minute it was well," said Bessy, creeping under Kate's shawl and putting her hands under her chin to warm them.

9. "Poor little birdie! How pitiful he looks, and how glad he must be to see someone coming to help him! I'll take him up gently and carry him home to mother. Don't be frightened, dear, I'm your friend;" and Tilly knelt down in the snow, stretching her hand to the bird with the tenderest pity in her face.

10. Kate and Bessy laughed.

"Don't stop for that thing; it's getting late and cold; let's go on and look for the purse," they said, moving away.

"You wouldn't leave it to die," cried Tilly. "I'd rather have the bird than the money, so I shan't look any more. The purse wouldn't be mine, and I should only be tempted to keep it; but this poor thing will thank and love me, and I'm so glad I came in time."

11. Gently lifting the bird, Tilly felt its tiny, cold claws cling to her hand, and saw its dim eyes brighten as it nestled down with a grateful chirp.

"Now I have a Christmas present, after all," she said, smiling, as they walked on. "I always wanted a bird, and this one will be such a pretty pet for me."

12. "He'll fly away the first chance he gets, and die anyhow; so you'd better not waste your time over him," said Bessy.

"He can't pay you for taking care of him, and my mother says it isn't worth while to help folks that can't help us," added Kate.

13. "My mother says, 'Do as you'd be done by;' and I'm sure I'd like any one to help me if I was dying of cold and hunger. 'Love your neighbor as yourself,' is another of her sayings. This bird is my little neighbor, and I'll love him and care for him, as I often wish our rich neighbor would love and care for us," answered Tilly, breathing her warm breath over the benumbed bird, who looked up at her with confiding② eyes, quick to feel and know a friend.

14. "What a funny girl you are," said Kate; "caring for that silly bird, and talking about loving your neighbor in that sober way. Mr. King doesn't care a bit for you, and never will, though he knows how poor you are; so I don't think your plan amounts to much."

15. "I believe it, though; and shall do my part, anyway. Good night. I hope you'll have a merry Christmas, and lots of pretty things," answered Tilly, as they parted.

Ⅱ

16. Her eyes were full, and she felt so poor as she went on alone toward the little, old house where she lived. It would have been so pleasant to know that she was going to have some of the pretty things all children love to find in their full stockings on Christmas morning. And pleasanter still to have been able to give her mother something nice. So many comforts were needed, and there was no hope of getting them; for they could barely get food and fire.

17. "Never mind, birdie; we'll make the best of what we have and be merry in spite of everything. You shall have a happy Christmas, anyway; and I know God won't forget us, if every one else does."

She stopped a minute to wipe her eyes and lean her cheek against the bird's soft breast, finding great comfort in the little creature, though it could only love her, nothing more.

18. "See, mother, what a nice present I've found," she cried, going in with a cheery face that was like sunshine in a dark room.

"I'm glad of that, dearie; for I haven't been able to get my little girl anything but a rosy apple. Poor bird! Give it some of your warm bread and milk."

19. "Why, mother, what a big bowlful! I'm afraid you gave me all the milk," said Tilly, smiling over the nice, steaming supper that stood ready for her.

"I've had plenty, dear. Sit down and dry your wet feet, and put the bird in my basket on this warm flannel."

20. Tilly peeped into the closet and saw nothing there but dry bread.

"Mother's given me all the milk, and is going without her tea because she knows I'm hungry. Now I'll surprise her, and she shall have a good supper, too. She is going to split wood, and I'll fix it while she's gone."

21. So Tilly put down the old teapot, carefully poured out a part of the milk, and from her pocket produced a great, plummy③ bun that one of the school children had given her and she had saved for her mother. A slice of the dry bread was nicely toasted, and the bit of butter set by for her put on it. When her mother came in, there was the table drawn up in a warm place, a hot cup of tea ready, and Tilly and birdie waiting for her.

22. Such a poor little supper, and yet such a happy one; for love, charity④, and contentment were guests there, and that Christmas eve was a blither one than that up at the great house, where lights shone, fires blazed, a great tree glittered, and music sounded, as the children danced and played.

23. "We must go to bed early, for we've only wood enough to last over to-morrow. I shall be paid for my work the day after, and then we can get some," said Tilly's mother, as they sat by the fire.

24. "If my bird was only a fairy bird, and would give us three wishes, how nice it would be! Poor dear, he can't give me anything; but it's no matter," answered Tilly, looking at the robin, which lay in the basket with his head under his wing, a mere little feathery bunch.

25. "He can give you one thing, Tilly—the pleasure of doing good. That is one of the sweetest things in life; and the poor can enjoy it as well as the rich."

26. As her mother spoke, with her tired hand softly stroking her little daughter's hair, Tilly suddenly started and pointed to the window, saying in a frightened whisper:

"I saw a face—a man's face, looking in! It's gone now; but I truly saw it."

27. "Some traveler attracted by the light, perhaps. I'll go and see." And Tilly's mother went to the door.

No one was there. The wind blew cold, the stars shone, the snow lay white on field and wood, and the Christmas moon was glittering in the sky.

28. "What sort of face was it?" asked Tilly's mother, coming back.

"A pleasant sort of face, I think; but I was so startled I don't quite know what it was like. I wish we had a curtain there," said Tilly.

29. "I like to have our light shine out in the evening, for the road is dark and lonely just here, and the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant to people's eyes as they go by. We can do so little for our neighbors, I am glad to cheer the way for them. Now put these poor old shoes to dry, and go to bed, dearie; I'll come soon."

30. Tilly went, taking her bird with her to sleep in his basket near by, lest he should be lonely in the night.

Soon the little house was dark and still, and no one saw the Christmas spirits at their work that night.

31. When Tilly opened the door next morning, she gave a loud cry, clapped her hands, and then stood still, quite speechless with Wonder and delight. There, before the door, lay a great pile of wood all ready to burn, a big bundle, and a basket, with a lovely nosegay of winter roses, holly, and evergreen tied to the handle.

32. "Oh, mother! did the fairies do it?" cried Tilly, pale with her happiness, as she seized the basket, while her mother took in the bundle.

33. "Yes, dear, the best and dearest fairy in the world, called 'Charity.' She walks abroad at Christmas time, does beautiful deeds like this, and does not stay to be thanked," answered her mother with full eyes, as she undid the parcel.

34. There they were—the warm, thick blankets, the comfortable shawl, the new shoes, and, best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy. The basket was full of good things to eat, and on the flowers lay a paper saying:

"For the little girl who loves her neighbor as herself."

35. "Mother, I really think my bird is a fairy bird, and all these splendid things come from him," said Tilly, laughing and crying with joy.

36. It really did seem so, for, as she spoke, the robin flew to the table, hopped to the nosegay, and, perching among the roses, began to chirp with all his little might. The sun streamed in on flowers, bird, and happy child, and no one saw a shadow glide away from the window; no one ever knew that Mr. King had seen and heard the little girls the night before, or dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned a lesson from the poor neighbor.

37. And Tilly's bird was a fairy bird; for by her love and tenderness to the helpless thing she brought good gifts to herself, happiness to the unknown giver of them, and a faithful little friend who did not fly away, but stayed with her till the snow was gone, making summer for her in the winter time.

________

Honor and shame from no condition rise.

Act well your part; there all the honor lies.

—POPE

注释

① Benumbed, deprived of feeling, as by cold.

② Confiding, trusting.

③ Plummy, full of plums.

④ Charity, kindness to the poor.

22

UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): An English dramatic poet. His name is the greatest in English literature, and one of the greatest in the world's literature. The plays usually considered his best are "Hamlet," "King Lear," "Othello," "Macbeth," "Julius Cæsar," "The Merchant of Venice," and "The Tempest." "Under the Greenwood Tree" is the song of the banished lords in "As You Like It."

1. Under the greenwood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,

And turn his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither!

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

2. Who doth ambition shun,

And loves to live i' the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleased with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither!

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

23

OUR FIRST NAVAL HERO

1. Much has been said about the gallant① deeds of the brave sailors who won the victories of Manila and Santiago in the War with Spain.

The great steel war ships of to-day are very different from the small wooden vessels with which the naval battles of the Revolution were fought.

2. But we had brave sailors in those early days, also, as you can learn from the following stories of our first great naval hero. This hero's name was John Paul Jones.

3. At the beginning of the Revolution, Jones offered his services to Congress, and was given a position in the navy. He showed such skill and courage that he was soon put in command of a ship.

When a ship was being fitted out for him, he asked for a good one. "For," said he, "I intend to go in harm's way."

4. Paul Jones was the first to raise the stars and stripes on the seas, and he soon made his flag feared by the enemies of his country.

5. Not long after he raised his flag, he went to Whitehaven, on the coast of England. There hundreds of English vessels lay at anchor. At midnight, Jones, with two small boats, rowed noiselessly into the harbor. Leaving the others to set fire to the English ships, he hastened forward, with only one man, to take the fort which defended the harbor.

6. He spiked② every gun and then hurried back to his men. What was his rage to find that they had not set fire to the ships as he had ordered.

Jones rowed to his own vessel.

7. By this time day was beginning to break, and the people of the town were gathering at the water-side. But Paul Jones was unwilling to see his plan fail entirely. All alone he entered a large ship, and set tire to it with his own hands.

8. As the flames rose high, the people rushed forward to put them out. But Paul Jones, pistol in hand, threatened to shoot down the first man who should approach. When the ship was fairly on fire, he rowed to his own vessel, and sailed out of the harbor.

9. Through the help of Franklin, Jones obtained command of a vessel which he called the "Poor Richard." As it and three other small American ships were sailing along the English coast, they saw a fleet of merchant vessels accompanied by two large war ships.

10. Jones at once gave chase. The merchant vessels scattered like wild pigeons, and ran for shore, but the two war ships advanced to fight.

Paul Jones, in his old, half worn-out ship, fearlessly approached the Serapis, a new vessel with an excellent crew. Both vessels opened fire, and two of Jones's guns burst at once.

11. Soon the vessels drew close together, and Jones gave orders to board the Serapis. His men were driven back, and Captain Pearson of the Serapis called to know if he had yielded.

"I have not yet begun to fight," replied Jones.

12. The ships parted, and the size and strength of the enemy told against the Poor Richard, so Jones determined to try again to board③ the Serapis. As the two vessels came close to each other, Jones ordered them to be fastened together.

Jones himself helped work the guns.

13. Captain Pearson did not like this close fighting, for it took away all the advantage his better ship and heavier guns had given him. Paul Jones's guns now touched those of the Serapis. As the gunners loaded, they had to thrust their ramrods into the enemy's ports. Never before had an English commander met such a foe or fought such a battle.

14. With his heaviest guns useless, and part of his deck blown up, Jones still kept up the unequal fight. He himself helped work the guns. In this hour of need one of the American vessels, the Alliance, commanded by a Frenchman, came up, and instead of attacking the Serapis, fired on the Poor Richard.

15. Just then the gunners and carpenter ran up, saying that the ship was sinking. Captain Pearson called again to know if the ship had yielded. Paul Jones replied that if he could do no better he would go down with his colors flying.

16. In the confusion the English prisoners had been set free. One of them, who passed through the fire to his own ship, told Captain Pearson that the Poor Richard was sinking; if he could hold out but a few minutes longer she must go down.

17. Imagine the condition of Paul Jones at this moment! Every gun was silenced, except the one at which he himself stood; his ship was gradually settling beneath him, a hundred prisoners swarmed on his decks, and the Alliance was firing on his ship. Still he would not yield. He ordered the prisoners to the pumps, declaring that if they would not work they should sink with him.

18. The condition of the Serapis was little better than that of the Poor Richard. Both vessels looked like wrecks, and both were on fire. The Serapis was at last forced to surrender. Nothing but Paul Jones's courage and his resolve never to give up had saved him from defeat.

19. The captain of the Alliance had intended to destroy Jones's ship, and then take the English vessel and claim the honor of the victory. He was disgraced for his conduct, and Jones was honored, as he deserved to be.

20. Captain Pearson was made a knight④ for the courage with which he defended his ship.

When Jones heard this, he said: "Well, he deserved it; and if I have the good fortune to fall in with him again, I will make him a lord."

________

In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves

For a bright manhood, there's no such word as fail.

—BULWER

The Fighting Temeraire Tugged to her Last Berth

A warship of a hundred years ago

注释

① Gallant, brave.

② Spiked, made the guns useless by stopping the vent or touchhole with a nail or spike.

③ Board, to go on deck of.

④ Knight, a man who receives a rank which entitles him to be called Sir, as "Sir Walter Scott."

24

HIAWATHA'S SAILING

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882): One of the most popular of American poets. "Evangeline" and "Hiawatha" are the best known of his longer poems. Among his shorter poems are many household favorites, such as "The Village Blacksmith," "Excelsior," and "The Psalm of Life." Longfellow was also the author of two prose volumes, "Outre Mer" and "Hyperion," descriptive of his European travels.

"Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!

Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!

Growing by the rushing river,

Tall and stately in the valley!

I a light canoe will build me,

Build a swift Cheemaun① for sailing,

That shall float upon the river,

Like a yellow leaf in autumn,

Like a yellow water lily!

"Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!

Lay aside your white skin wrapper,

For the summer time is coming,

And the sun is warm in heaven,

And you need no white skin wrapper!"

Thus aloud cried Hiawatha

In the solitary② forest,

By the rushing Taquamenaw③,

When the birds were singing gaily,

In the Moon of Leaves④ were singing,

And the Sun, from sleep awaking,

Started up and said, "Behold me!

Geezis⑤, the great Sun, behold me!"

And the tree with all its branches

Rustled in the breeze of morning,

Saying, with a sigh of patience,

"Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"

With his knife the tree he girdled;

Just beneath its lowest branches,

Just above the roots, he cut it,

Till the sap came oozing outward;

Down the trunk, from top to bottom,

Sheer⑥ he cleft the bark asunder⑦,

With a wooden wedge he raised it,

Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.

"Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!

Of your strong and pliant⑧ branches,

My canoe to make more steady,

Make more strong and firm beneath me!"

Through the summit of the Cedar

Went a sound, a cry of horror,

Went a murmur of resistance;

But it whispered, bending downward,

"Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"

Down he hewed the boughs of cedar,

Shaped them straightway⑨ to a framework,

Like two bows he formed and shaped them,

Like two bended bows together.

"Give me of your roots, O Tamarack⑩!

Of your fibrous⑪ roots, O Larch Tree!

My canoe to bind together,

So to bind the ends together

That the water may not enter,

That the river may not wet me!"

And the Larch with all its fibers,

Shivered in the air of morning,

Touched his forehead with its tassels,

Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,

"Take them all, O Hiawatha!"

From the earth he tore the fibers,

Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree,

Closely sewed the bark together,

Bound it closely to the framework.

"Give me of your balm⑫, O Fir Tree!

Of your balsam⑬ and your resin⑭,

So to close the seams together

That the water may not enter,

That the river may not wet me!"

And the Fir Tree, tall and somber⑮,

Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,

His thoughts as paddles served him.

Rattled like a shore with pebbles,

Answered wailing, answered weeping,

"Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"

And he took the tears of balsam,

Took the resin of the Fir Tree,

Smeared therewith each seam and fissure⑯,

Made each crevice safe from water.

"Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!

All your quills, O Kagh⑰, the Hedgehog!

I will make a necklace of them,

Make a girdle for my beauty,

And two stars to deck her bosom!"

From a hollow tree the Hedgehog

With his sleepy eyes looked at him,

Shot his shining quills, like arrows,

Saying, with a drowsy⑱ murmur,

Through the tangle of his whiskers,

"Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"

From the ground the quills he gathered,

All the little shining arrows,

Stained them red and blue and yellow,

With the juice of roots and berries;

Into his canoe he wrought them,

Round its waist a shining girdle,

Round its bows a gleaming necklace,

On its breast two stars resplendent⑲.

Thus the Birch Canoe was builded,

In the valley, by the river,

In the bosom of the forest;

And the forest's life was in it,

All its mystery⑳ and its magic,

All the lightness of the birch tree,

All the toughness of the cedar,

All the larch's supple㉑ sinews;

And it floated on the river

Like a yellow leaf in autumn,

Like a yellow water lily.

Paddles none had Hiawatha,

Paddles none he had or needed,

For his thoughts as paddles served him,

And his wishes served to guide him;

Swift or slow at will he glided,

Veered㉒ to right or left at pleasure.

注释

① Cheemaun, a birch canoe.

② Solitary, lonely.

③ Taquamenaw, a river of northern Michigan which flows into Lake Superior.

④ Moon of Leaves, May.

⑤ Geezis, the sun.

⑥ Sheer, straight up and down.

⑦ Asunder, apart; in two.

⑧ Pliant, bending easily without breaking.

⑨ Straightway, at once.

⑩ Tamarack, the American larch.

⑪ Fibrous, composed of fibers or threads; tough.

⑫ Balm balsam resin, gummy substances which flow from the fir tree.

⑬ Balm balsam resin, gummy substances which flow from the fir tree.

⑭ Balm balsam resin, gummy substances which flow from the fir tree.

⑮ Somber, dark; gloomy.

⑯ Fissure, a narrow opening.

⑰ Kagh, the hedgehog.

⑱ Drowsy, sleepy.

⑲ Resplendent, very bright; shining.

⑳ Mystery, something kept secret.

㉑ Supple, easily bent.

㉒ Veered, turned; changed direction.

25

SHUN DELAY

Ⅰ

1. One day an old farmer went into the nearest market town with some of the produce① of his farm. When he had attended to all his business, he stabled his horse at the inn and went to see the great lawyer who lived in one of the grandest houses in the town.

2. He rang the bell and sent in word that he wished to see the lawyer on important business.

On being shown into the room, he said: "Now, sir, I have come to get your advice."

"What is the matter?"

"Yes," answered the lawyer; "what is the matter?"

"That is for you to find out," said the old man. "I have come to you to get advice, not to give it."

3. The lawyer had never before met so queer a client②. No one was in the habit of speaking so bluntly to him. He was rather amused than angry, and made up his mind to find out what the old man really wanted with him.

So he asked: "Have you a complaint to make against any one?"

"No," said the farmer; "I live at peace with all my neighbors."

4. "Perhaps you wish to recover a debt?"

"No!" shouted the old man; "I owe no man; and, if any one owes me anything, he gets time to pay it. There are honest people in the part I come from."

5. The lawyer asked several other questions, but without being able to discover why his strange client had called upon him. At length he said that he was unable to give him any advice, as he did not seem to be in any difficulty or trouble.

6. "Difficulty or trouble!" said the old man; "that's exactly what I am in. I come to ask you for advice—you, the greatest lawyer in the country —and you can do nothing to help me. That's difficulty and trouble enough, I think.

7. "Many of my friends and neighbors have been to see lawyers from time to time, and taken their advice about the conduct of their affairs. They say they have done well ever since. So when I came to market to-day, I made up my mind to come to you and get advice; but, as you have none to give me, I must go to some other man who understands my case."

8. "You need not do that," said the lawyer. "Now that you have explained, I understand your case thoroughly. Your neighbors have been receiving legal③ advice, and you do not wish to be considered less important than they."

9. "That's it," shouted the man, delighted that he was understood at last.

The lawyer gravely took a sheet of paper and a pen. Then he asked the man his name.

10. "John Brown," was the answer.

"Occupation?"

"What's that?" he asked, in amazement④.

"What do you do for a living?"

"Oh! is that what occupation means?" he said. "I'm a farmer."

11. The great lawyer wrote it all down, and added something which the farmer could not make out. Then, folding the paper, he gave it to the old man, who paid his fee⑤, and went out delighted that he was now every bit as clever as his neighbors.

Ⅱ

12. When he arrived home, he found a number of his work people at his door, talking to his wife.

"Ah, here comes John," she cried; "he will tell us what to do."

13. Then she explained to her husband that the hay was all cut and ready for carrying in, and the men wanted to know whether they should stop for the night, or work till the fields were clear. The weather had been fine for many days, and the sky had a settled appearance, so that there seemed no need of haste for fear of rain.

14. The farmer thought a moment without coming to any decision⑥. Suddenly he remembered the lawyer's advice which he had in his pocket.

He found a number of his work people.

"This will decide it in a minute," he cried, as he unfolded the paper. "I have here an opinion from one of our famous lawyers, and we will follow whatever advice he gives. Read it," he said to his wife. "You are a better scholar than I."

15. His wife took the paper and read aloud:

John Brown, farmer. Do not put off till tomorrow what you can do to-day."

"A famous opinion," cried the farmer with delight. "Away to the fields, lads, and get the hay in."

16. The men went back and worked with a will. In the moonlight they kept busy loading the carts, till, at length, all the fields were cleared. As the last load was driven in, a few drops of rain began to fall, but there was no sign of a storm.

His wife read aloud.

17. During the night, however, a tempest of wind and rain burst over the valley, and when the farmer got up in the morning, several of his fields were flooded. We can well imagine how thankful he was that he had not put off his work till to-morrow. Had he done so, he would have found, as so many have found, that to-morrow is too late.

18. "A famous piece of advice that was," he remarked, as he walked back to the house. "'Do not put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day.' If everybody acted on that plan, what a world of misery and disappointment would be saved. I will always do so for the future."

19. The farmer kept his word, and he found, as you will also find if you try it, that his work was lighter, and that the world went more smoothly than it had ever done before.

________

1. Select from this story five words which express action.

2. Write all the forms of these words: as see, saw, seen.

________

One of the illusions is that the present hour is not the decisive hour. Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.

—EMERSON

注释

① Produce, that which is brought forth from the ground.

② Client, One who asks advice of a lawyer.

③ Legal, relating to law; governed by the rules of law.

④ Amazement, surprise.

⑤ Fee, charge.

⑥ Decision, fixed purpose.

26

THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER

BY LEWIS CARROLL

1. The sun was shining on the sea,

Shining with all his might;

He did his very best to make

The billows① smooth and bright—

And this was odd, because it was

The middle of the night.

2. The moon was shining sulkily②,

Because she thought the sun

Had got no business to be there

After the day was done:

"It's very rude of him," she said,

"To come and spoil the fun!"

3. The sea was wet as wet could be,

The sands were dry as dry.

You could not see a cloud, because

No cloud was in the sky:

No birds were flying overhead—

There were no birds to fly.

4. The Walrus and the Carpenter

Were walking close at hand;

They wept like anything to see

Such quantities of sand:

"If this were only cleared away,"

They said, "it would be grand!"

5. "If seven maids with seven mops

Swept it for half a year,

Do you suppose," the Walrus said,

"That they could get it clear?"

"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,

And shed a bitter tear.

6. "O Oysters, come and walk with us!"

The Walrus did beseech③.

"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,

Along the briny④ beach:

We can not do with more than four,

To give a hand to each."

7. The eldest Oyster looked at him,

But never a word he said:

The eldest Oyster winked his eye,

And shook his heavy head,—

Meaning to say he did not choose

To leave the Oyster-bed.

8. But four young Oysters hurried up,

All eager for the treat:

Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,

Their shoes were clean and neat—

And this was odd, because, you know,

They hadn't any feet.

9. Four other Oysters followed them,

And yet another four;

And thick and fast they came at last,

And more, and more, and more,—

All hopping through the frothy⑤ waves,

And scrambling to the shore.

10. The Walrus and the Carpenter

Walked on a mile or so,

And then they rested on a rock

Conveniently low:

And all the little Oysters stood

And waited in a row.

11. "The time has come," the Walrus said,

"To talk of many things:

Of shoes—and ships—and sealing wax—

Of cabbages—and kings—

And why the sea is boiling hot—

And whether pigs have wings."

12. "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,

"Before we have our chat;

For some of us are out of breath,

And all of us are fat!"

"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.

They thanked him much for that.

13. "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,

"Is what we chiefly need:

Pepper and vinegar besides

Are very good indeed:

Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,

We can begin to feed."

14. "But not on us!" the Oysters cried,

Turning a little blue.

"After such kindness that would be

A dismal⑥ thing to do!"

"The night is fine," the Walrus said;

"Do you admire the view?

15. "It was so kind of you to come!

And you are very nice!"

The Carpenter said nothing but,

"Cut us another slice:

I wish you were not quite so deaf—

I've had to ask you twice!"

16. "It seems a shame," the Walrus said,

"To play them such a trick,

After we've brought them out so far,

And made them trot so quick!"

The Carpenter said nothing but,

"The butter's spread too thick!"

17. "I weep for you," the Walrus said:

"I deeply sympathize⑦."

With sobs and tears he sorted out

Those of the largest size,

Holding his pocket handkerchief

Before his streaming eyes.

18. "O Oysters," said the Carpenter,

"You've had a pleasant run!

Shall we be trotting home again?"

But answer came there none—

And this was scarcely odd, because

They'd eaten every one.

注释

① Billows: great waves of the sea.

② Sulkily: peevishly; angrily.

③ Beseech: beg; ask earnestly.

④ Briny: salty.

⑤ Frothy: full of bubbles.

⑥ Dismal, sad.

⑦ Sympathize, pity.

27

THE STORY OF PRINCE AHMED

AND THE FAIRY PERIBANOU

FROM "THE ARABIAN NIGHTS"

The exact origin of these famous Eastern tales is uncertain. They were first made known to English readers about two hundred years ago, and they have ever since maintained a foremost place in the affections of children.

Ⅰ

1. There was a sultan① who had three sons and a niece. The eldest of the princes was called Houssain; and the second, Ali; and the youngest, Ahmed; and the princess, his niece, Nouronnihar.

2. The Princess Nouronnihar was the orphan daughter of the sultan's younger brother. The sultan brought his niece up in his palace with the three princes, proposing to marry her, when she arrived at a proper age, to some neighboring prince. But when he perceived that the three princes, his sons, all loved her, he was very much concerned. As he was not able to decide among them, he sent all three to travel in distant countries, promising his niece in marriage to the one who should bring him as a gift the greatest curiosity.

3. The princes accordingly set out disguised② as merchants. They went the first day's journey together, and, as they parted, they agreed to travel for a year and to meet again at a certain inn. The first that came should wait for the rest; so that, as they had all three taken leave together of the sultan, they might all return together. By break of day they mounted their horses and set forth.

They mounted their horses and set forth.

4. Prince Houssain, the eldest brother, went to the kingdom of Bisnagar. Here, by good fortune, he found a wonderful carpet. It was ordinary in appearance, but had this singular property: whoever seated himself on it was at once transported③ to any place he might wish.

5. Prince Ali, the second brother, joined a caravan and journeyed to the capital of the kingdom of Persia. There he procured from a merchant an ivory tube which would reveal to any one looking through it whatever he wished to see.

6. Prince Ahmed took the road to Samarkand. He also bought what he considered the greatest possible curiosity. This was an artificial apple, the smell of which would cure a person of the most deadly disease.

7. At the appointed time the princes met at the inn. They showed one another their treasures, and immediately saw through the tube that the princess was dying. They then sat down on the carpet, wished themselves with her, and were there in a moment.

8. As soon as Prince Ahmed was in Nouronnihar's chamber, he rose from the carpet, and going to the bedside put the apple under her nose. The princess immediately opened her eyes, and turned her head from one side to another, looking at the persons who stood about her; then she rose up in bed and asked to be dressed, just as if she had waked out of a sound sleep.

9. The princes then went to throw themselves at the feet of the sultan, their father, and to pay their respects to him. But when they came before him, they found he had been informed of their arrival and by what means the princess had been cured. The sultan received them with the greatest joy.

10. After the usual ceremonies④ and compliments, the princes presented their curiosities: Prince Houssain his carpet, Prince Ali his ivory tube, and Prince Ahmed his artificial apple; and after each had commended⑤ his present, they begged the sultan to declare to which of them he would give the Princess Nouronnihar for a wife, according to his promise.

11. The sultan, having heard all that the princes could say about their gifts, remained some time silent. At last he said: "I would declare for one of you, my children, with a great deal of pleasure if I could do it with justice. But the gift of no one of you alone would have been sufficient to cure the princess; Ahmed's apple would have been of no use if Ali's tube had not first revealed her illness, and Houssain's carpet transported you to her side. Therefore, as neither carpet, tube, nor apple can be preferred one before the other, I cannot grant the princess to any one of you.

12. "I must use other means to make my choice. Get each of you a bow and arrow, and go to the great plain where they exercise the horses. I will give the princess to him who shoots the farthest."

13. The three princes had nothing to say against the decision of the sultan. Each provided himself with a bow and arrow, and went to the plain, followed by a great crowd of people.

14. Prince Houssain, as the eldest, took his bow and arrow, and shot first; Prince Ali shot next, and much beyond him; and Prince Ahmed last of all, but nobody could see where his arrow fell; and, in spite of all the care that was used by himself and everybody else in searching, it was not to be found far or near.

15. Though it was believed that Prince Ahmed shot the farthest, and that he, therefore, deserved the Princess Nouronnihar, it was necessary that his arrow should be found, to make the matter certain. So the sultan judged in favor of Prince Ali, and the wedding took place soon after.

Prince Ahmed shot last of all.

Ⅱ

16. Prince Houssain would not honor the feast with his presence. In short, such was his grief that he left the court and became a hermit⑥.

17. Prince Ahmed, too, did not go to the wedding; but he did not renounce⑦ the world, as Houssain had done. As he could not imagine what had become of his arrow, he stole away from his attendants to search for it. He went to the place where the other arrows had been found, going straight forward from there and looking carefully on both sides of him.

18. He went on till he came to some steep, craggy rocks, which were situated in a barren country about four leagues⑧ distant from where he set out. When Prince Ahmed came near these rocks, he perceived an arrow, which he picked up, and was much astonished to find that it was his.

19. "Certainly," said he to himself, "neither I nor any man living could shoot an arrow so far!" and finding it laid flat, not sticking into the ground, he judged that it had rebounded against the rock.

20. As these rocks were full of caves, the prince entered one, and, looking about, saw an iron door which seemed to have no lock. Thrusting against it, it opened, and revealed an easy descent, down which he walked. At first he thought he was going into a dark, gloomy place, but presently light succeeded; and, entering into a large, open place, he perceived a magnificent palace about fifty or sixty paces distant.

21. At the same time a lady of majestic port⑨ and air advanced as far as the porch, attended by a large troop of finely dressed and beautiful ladies.

The lady addressed him and said: "Come nearer, Prince Ahmed; you are welcome."

22. It was no small surprise to the prince to hear himself named in a place of which he had never heard, though it was so near his father's capital; and he could not understand how he should be known to a lady who was a stranger to him.

23. He returned the lady's compliment by throwing himself at her feet, saying: "Madam, I return you a thousand thanks for your welcome. But may I dare ask how you know me? And how you, who live so near me, should be so great a stranger to me?"

"Prince," said the lady, "let us go into the hall; there I will gratify your request."

24. The lady led Prince Ahmed into the hall, and, when they were seated on a sofa, she said: "You are surprised, you say, that I should know you and not be known to you; but you will be no longer surprised when I inform you who I am. I am the daughter of one of the most powerful genies⑩, and my name is Peribanou. I was present when you drew your arrow, and it was I who made it strike against the rocks near which you found it. It lies in your power to make use of the favorable opportunity which presents itself to make you happy."

25. As the fairy Peribanou looked tenderly upon Prince Ahmed, with a modest blush on her cheeks, it was no hard matter for the prince to understand what happiness she meant. He considered that the Princess Nouronnihar could never be his, and that the fairy Peribanou excelled her infinitely⑪ in beauty, agreeableness, wit, and, as much as he could conjecture⑫ by the magnificence of the palace, in immense riches.

26. He blessed the moment that he thought of seeking after his arrow a second time, and replied: "Madam, should I all my life have the happiness of being your slave, I should think myself the most fortunate of men. Don't refuse to admit into your court a prince who is entirely devoted to you."

27. "Prince," answered the fairy, "will you not pledge your faith to me, as I give mine to you?"

"Yes, madam," replied the prince, in great joy; "I give you my heart without the least reserve."

"Then," answered the fairy, "you are my husband and I am your wife. Come, now, and I will show you my palace."

28. The fairy Peribanou then carried him through all the apartments, where he saw diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and all sorts of fine jewels. The prince owned that he could not have imagined that there was in the world anything that could equal it.

The wedding feast was held the next day; or, rather, the days following were a continual feast.

Ⅲ

29. At the end of six months Prince Ahmed, who always loved and honored his father; the sultan, longed to know how he was. He told the fairy of this desire, and asked if it were her pleasure that he should go to see his father.

30. "Prince," said she, "go when you please. But first let me give you some advice: I think it will be best for you not to tell the sultan, your father, about me nor about our marriage. Beg him to be satisfied in knowing that you are happy, and inform him that the only end of your visit is to let him know that you are well and happy."

31. She appointed twenty gentlemen, well mounted and equipped⑬, to attend him. When all was ready, Prince Ahmed took his leave of the fairy, embraced her, and renewed his promise to return soon.

32. As it was not a great way to his father's capital, Prince Ahmed soon arrived there. The people, glad to see him again, received him with shouts of joy.

The prince told the story of his adventures, but without speaking of the fairy, and ended: "The only favor I ask of your majesty is to give me leave to come often and pay you my respects."

33. "Son," answered the sultan, "I cannot refuse your request; but I should much rather you would resolve to stay with me. At least tell me where I may send to you if you should fail to come, or if I should think your presence necessary."

"Sir," replied Prince Ahmed, "what your majesty asks of me is part of a mystery. I beg of you to give me leave to remain silent on this subject."

34. The sultan pressed Prince Ahmed no more, but said to him: "Son, I penetrate⑭ no farther into your secrets, but can tell you that whenever you come you will always be welcome."

Prince Ahmed stayed but three days at his father's court, and on the fourth day returned to the fairy Peribanou, who did not expect him so soon.

35. A month after Prince Ahmed's return from paying a visit to his father, he went again, with the same attendance as before, but much finer, and was received by the sultan with the same joy and satisfaction. For several months he continued his visits, and each time with a richer and finer attendance than before.

36. At last some viziers⑮, the sultan's favorites, who judged of Prince Ahmed's wealth and power by his magnificent appearance, said that it was to be feared Prince Ahmed might try to win the people's favor and to dethrone his father.

The sultan was far from thinking that Prince Ahmed could be capable of such a design, and said: "You are mistaken; my son loves me, and I am certain of his tenderness and fidelity⑯."

37. But the favorites went on abusing Prince Ahmed, till the sultan said: "I cannot believe my son Ahmed is so wicked as you would persuade me he is; however, I am obliged to you for your good advice."

38. The talk of his favorites had so alarmed the sultan that he resolved to have Prince Ahmed watched, unknown to his grand vizier. So he sent for a female magician and said: "Go immediately and follow my son; watch him so as to find out where he retires, and bring me word."

39. The magician left the sultan, and, knowing the place where Prince Ahmed found his arrow, went immediately thither and hid herself near the rocks so that nobody could see her.

The next morning Prince Ahmed set out by daybreak, according to his custom. The magician, seeing him coming, followed him with her eyes till suddenly she lost sight of him and his attendants.

40. As the rocks were very steep and craggy, the magician judged that the prince had gone either into some cave or into an abode of genies or fairies. Thereupon she came out of the place where she was hid and looked carefully about on all sides, but could perceive no opening. The iron gate which Prince Ahmed had discovered was to be seen and opened only by those whom the fairy Peribanou favored.

41. As Prince Ahmed never failed to visit the sultan's court once a month, the magician, about the time of his next visit, went to the foot of the rock where she had lost sight of the prince and his attendants, and waited there.

Ⅳ

42. The next morning Prince Ahmed went out, as usual, at the iron gate, with his attendants, and passed by the magician, whom he did not know to be such. Seeing her lying with her head against the rock and complaining as if she were in great pain, he pitied her, and his attendants carried her back through the iron gate into the court of the fairy's palace.

43. The fairy Peribanou came at once to see why the prince had returned so soon. Not giving her time to ask him the reason, the prince said: "Princess, I desire you to care for this poor woman."

44. The fairy Peribanou ordered two of her attendants to carry the woman into the palace.

While they obeyed the fairy's commands, she went to Prince Ahmed and whispered: "Prince, this woman is not so sick as she pretends to be; and I am very much mistaken if she is not an impostor⑰, who will be the cause of great trouble to you. But be persuaded that I will deliver you out of all the snares that may be laid for you. Go and pursue your journey."

45. These words of the fairy's did not in the least frighten Prince Ahmed. "My princess," said he, "as I do not remember ever to have done or intended anybody an injury, I cannot believe anybody can have a thought of doing me one; but, if any one has, I shall not for that reason forbear⑱ doing good whenever I have an opportunity." Then he went on to his father's palace.

46. In the meantime the two women carried the magician into a very fine apartment, richly furnished. They made a bed for her, the sheets of which were of the finest linen, and the coverlet cloth-of-gold.

47. When they had put her into bed—for she pretended that her fever was so violent that she could not help herself in the least—one of the women went out and brought a dish full of a certain liquor, which she presented to the magician.

"Drink this liquor," said she; "it is the water of the Fountain of Lions, and a sovereign⑲ cure for all fevers. You will feel the effect of it in less than an hour's time."

48. The two women came in an hour later and found the magician up and dressed. "O admirable medicine!" she said. "It has cured me even sooner than you told me it would, and I shall be able to continue my journey."

According to the fairy's orders, the two women then conducted the magician through several magnificent apartments into a large hall most richly furnished.

49. Peribanou sat in this hall on a throne of gold enriched with diamonds, rubies, and pearls of an extraordinary size, and attended on each hand by a great number of beautiful fairies, all richly clothed.

50. At the sight of so much splendor, the magician was so amazed that she could not speak.

However, Peribanou said to her: "Good woman, I am glad to see that you are able to pursue your journey. I will not detain you."

51. The magician went back and related to the sultan all that had happened, and how Prince Ahmed since his marriage with the fairy was richer than all the kings in the world, and how there was danger that he would come and take the throne from his father.

52. Now the favorites advised that the prince should be killed, but the magician advised differently: "Make him give you all kinds of wonderful things, by the fairy's help, till she tires of him and sends him away. As, for example, might you not ask him to procure a tent which can be carried in a man's hand, and which will be so large as to shelter your whole army against bad weather?"

53. When the magician had finished her speech, the sultan asked his favorites if they had anything better to propose; and finding them all silent, he determined to follow the magician's advice.

Ⅴ

54. Next day the sultan did as the magician had advised him, and asked for the great tent.

Prince Ahmed replied: "Though it is with the greatest reluctance, I will not fail to ask of my wife the favor your majesty desires, but I will not promise you to obtain it, and, if I should not have the honor to come again to pay you my respects, that will be the sign that I have not had success. But, beforehand, I desire you to forgive me and to consider that you yourself have reduced me to this extremity."

55. "Son," replied the sultan of the Indies, "I should be very sorry if what I ask of you should deprive me of the pleasure of seeing you again. Your wife would show that her love for you was very slight if she, with the power of a fairy, should refuse so small a request as this."

The prince went back, and was very sad for fear of offending the fairy. She kept pressing him to tell her what was the matter.

56. At last he said: "Madam, you may have observed that hitherto I have been content with your love and have never asked you any other favor. Consider, then, I conjure⑳ you, that it is not I, but the sultan, my father, who begs of you a tent which is large enough to shelter him, his court, and his army from the violence of the weather, and which a man may carry in his hand. But remember it is the sultan, my father, who asks this favor."

57. "Prince," replied the fairy, smiling, "I am sorry that so small a matter should disturb you."

Then the fairy sent for her treasurer, to whom she said: "Nourgihan, bring me the largest tent in my treasury."

58. Nourgihan returned presently with the tent— which she could not only hold in her hand, but in the palm of her hand when she shut her fingers—and presented it to her mistress, who gave it to Prince Ahmed.

59. When Prince Ahmed saw the tent which the fairy called the largest in her treasury, he thought that she jested with him. Peribanou, perceiving this, said: "Nourgihan, go and set the tent up so that the prince may judge whether it be large enough for the sultan, his father."

60. The treasurer immediately carried it a great way off; and when she had set it up, one end reached to the palace, and the prince found it large enough to shelter two greater armies than that of the sultan.

He said to Peribanou: "I ask my princess a thousand pardons for my incredulity㉑. After what I have seen, I believe there is nothing impossible to you?"

61. The treasurer took down the tent and brought it to the prince, who took it, and the next day mounted his horse and went with his attendants to his father's court.

The sultan, who was persuaded that there could not be such a tent as he had asked for, was greatly surprised when he saw it.

62. But he was not yet satisfied, and he requested his son to bring him some water from the Fountain of Lions, which was a sovereign remedy for all sorts of fevers. By the aid of the fairy Peribanou, Prince Ahmed found this fountain, passed safely through all the perils of the way, and returned to the sultan with the water he had required.

63. The sultan showed outwardly all the signs of great joy, but secretly became more jealous, and by the advice of the magician he said to Prince Ahmed: "Son, I have one thing more to ask of you, after which I shall expect nothing more from your obedience nor from your interest with your wife. This request is to bring me a man not above a foot and a half high, whose beard is thirty feet long, who carries upon his shoulders a bar of iron of five hundredweight, which he uses as a quarterstaff㉒."

64. Prince Ahmed, who did not believe that there was such a man in the world as his father described, would gladly have excused himself; but the sultan persisted in his demand, and told him the fairy could do more incredible things.

Ⅵ

65. The next day the prince returned to his dear Peribanou, to whom he told his father's new demand, which, he said, he looked upon to be a thing more impossible than the other two. "For," added he, "I cannot imagine there can be such a man in the world. How can my father suppose that I should be able to find a man so small and at the same time so well armed? What arms can I make use of to reduce him to my will?"

66. "Don't be frightened, prince," replied the fairy; "you ran a risk in getting the water of the Fountain of Lions for your father, but there is no danger in finding this man, who is my brother Schaibar. Far from being like me, he is of so violent a nature that nothing can prevent his resenting a slight offence; yet, on the other hand, he is so good as to oblige any one in whatever is desired. He is exactly as the sultan, your father, has described him.

67. "I'll send for him, and you shall judge of the truth of what I tell you; but prepare yourself not to be frightened at his extraordinary appearance."

"What! my queen," replied Prince Ahmed; "do you say Schaibar is your brother? Let him be never so ugly and deformed, I shall be so far from being frightened at the sight of him that, as our brother, I shall honor and love him."

There arose a thick cloud of smoke.

68. The fairy ordered a gold chafing dish to be set with a fire in it in the porch of her palace, and taking a perfume, she threw it into the fire, out of which there arose a thick cloud of smoke.

69. Some moments after, the fairy said to Prince Ahmed: "See, here comes my brother." The prince immediately perceived Schaibar coming gravely, with his heavy bar on his shoulder; his long beard, which he held up before him; and a pair of thick moustachios㉓, which he tucked behind his ears and which almost covered his face. His eyes were very small and deep-set in his head, and he wore a high cap; besides all this, he was very much humpbacked.

70. Schaibar, as he came forward, looked at the prince earnestly enough to chill the blood in his veins, and asked Peribanou who he was. To which she replied: "He is my husband, brother. His name is Ahmed; he is the son of the sultan of the Indies. The reason why I did not invite you to my wedding was that I was unwilling to divert㉔ you from an expedition in which you were engaged, and from which I heard with pleasure that you returned victorious, and so I took the liberty to call for you."

71. At these words, Schaibar, looking on Prince Ahmed favorably, said: "Is there anything, sister, wherein I can serve him? That he is your husband is enough to engage me to do for him whatever he desires."

"The sultan, his father," replied Peribanou, "has a curiosity to see you, and I desire that the prince may be your guide to the sultan's court."

72. Schaibar and Prince Ahmed set out for the sultan's court. When they arrived at the gates of the capital, the people no sooner saw Schaibar than they ran and hid themselves; so that Schaibar and Prince Ahmed, as they went along, found the streets all deserted till they came to the palace. There the porters, instead of keeping the gates, ran away, too, so that the prince and Schaibar advanced to the council hall, where the sultan was seated on his throne, giving audience.

73. Schaibar went boldly up to the throne, without waiting to be presented by Prince Ahmed, and addressed the sultan in these words: "Thou hast asked for me; see, here I am. What wouldst thou have with me?"

74. The sultan, instead of answering him, clapped his hands before his eyes to avoid the sight of so terrible an object; at which rude reception Schaibar was so much provoked, after he had taken the trouble to come so far, that he instantly lifted up his iron bar and killed the sultan before Prince Ahmed could intercede㉕.

75. All that the prince could do was to prevent his killing the grand vizier by saying that this officer had always given the sultan good advice.

After this Schaibar said: "This is not yet enough; I will treat all the people in the same way if they do not immediately acknowledge Prince

Ahmed, my brother-in-law, for their sultan and the sultan of the Indies."

76. Then all that were there present made the air echo again with the repeated shouts of "Long life to Sultan Ahmed!" and immediately he was proclaimed through the whole town. Schaibar had him installed㉖ on the throne, and after he had caused all to swear fidelity to Ahmed, he brought Peribanou with all the pomp and grandeur imaginable, and had her crowned sultaness of the Indies.

注释

① Sultan, an Eastern king.

② Disguised, dressed for the purpose of concealment.

③ Transported, carried.

④ Ceremonies, forms of politeness.

⑤ Commended, praised.

⑥ Hermit, a man who lives apart from other people.

⑦ Renounce, give up.

⑧ Leagues, a league is a measure of distance of from two to four miles.

⑨ Port, manner of carrying oneself.

⑩ Genies, spirits; powerful fairies.

⑪ Infinitely, beyond measure; greatly.

⑫ Conjecture, guess.

⑬ Equipped, dressed; fitted out.

⑭ Penetrate, pierce into.

⑮ Viziers, in Eastern countries, officers of high rank.

⑯ Fidelity, faithfulness.

⑰ Impostor, a cheat; one who imposes upon others.

⑱ Forbear, keep from.

⑲ Sovereign, effectual.

⑳ Conjure, beg earnestly.

㉑ Incredulity, unbelief.

㉒ Quarterstaff, a long, stout staff used as a weapon.

㉓ Moustachios, mustache.

㉔ Divert, turn aside.

㉕ Intercede, speak in his behalf.

㉖ Installed, placed in office.

28

THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878): An American poet and journalist. His most famous poem is "Thanatopsis," written when he was only eighteen. Among his other poems are "To a Waterfowl," "The Death of the Flowers," and "To a Fringed Gentian."

William Cullen Bryant

1. Come, let us plant the apple tree.

Cleave① the tough greensward② 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.

2. 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 lea③,

A shadow for the noontide hour,

A shelter from the summer shower,

When we plant the apple tree.

3. 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.

4. 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 come, with cries of glee,

And seek them where the fragrant grass

Betrays their bed to those who pass,

At the foot of the apple tree.

5. 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 grape of Cintra'④s vine,

And golden orange of the line⑤,

The fruit of the apple tree?.

6. 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 sojourners⑥ beyond the sea

Shall think of childhood's careless day,

And long, long hours of summer play

In the shade of the apple tree.

"Who planted this old apple tree?"

7. Each year shall give this apple tree

A broader flush of roseate⑦ bloom,

A deeper maze⑧ of verdurous⑨ gloom,

And loosen, when the frost clouds lower⑩,

The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower.

The years shall come and pass, but we

Shall hear no longer, where we lie,

The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh,

In the boughs of the apple tree.

8. And time shall waste this apple tree.

Oh, when its aged branches throw

Thin shadows on the ground below,

Shall fraud⑪ and force and iron will

Oppress the weak and helpless still?

What shall the tasks of mercy be,

Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears

Of those who live when length of years

Is wasting this little apple tree?

9. "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 quaint⑫ old rhymes

On planting the apple tree."

________

NESTS

Make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts! None of us yet know, for none of us have been taught in early youth, what fairy palaces we may build of beautiful thoughts, proof against all adversity; bright fancies, satisfied memories, noble histories, faithful sayings, treasure-houses of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot disturb, nor pain make gloomy, nor poverty take away from us; houses built without hands, for our souls to live in.

—RUSKIN

注释

① Cleave, cut; part.

② Greensward, turf green with grass.

③ Lea, meadow; field.

④ Cintra, a town in Portugal.

⑤ The line, the Equator.

⑥ Sojourners, those who dwell for a time.

⑦ Roseate, rosy.

⑧ Maze, a tangle; a network.

⑨ Verdurous, green.

⑩ Lower, seem dark and gloomy.

⑪ Fraud, deceit; cheat.

⑫ Quaint, odd; curious.

A great consideration governing the choice of all selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is to minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

—Harry Pratt Judson

(The 2nd president of the University of Chicago)

出版策划：神鸟文化

责任编辑：伍绍东

29

SIR ISAAC NEWTON

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

Ⅰ

1. On Christmas Day, in the year 1642, Isaac Newton was born at the small village of Woolsthorpe, in England. Little did his mother think, when she beheld her new-born babe, that he was to explain many matters which had been a mystery ever since the creation of the world.

Sir Isaac Newton

2. Isaac's father being dead, Mrs. Newton was married again to a clergyman and went to live at North Witham. Her son was left to the care of his good old grandmother, who was very kind to him and sent him to school.

3. In his early years Isaac did not appear to be a very bright scholar, but was chiefly remarkable for his ingenuity①. He had a set of little tools and saws of various sizes, manufactured② by himself. With the aid of these Isaac made many curious articles, at which he worked with so much skill that he seemed to have been born with a saw or chisel in hand.

4. The neighbors looked with admiration at the things which Isaac manufactured. And his old grandmother; I suppose, was never weary of talking about him.

"He'll make a capital workman one of these days," she would probably say. "No fear but what Isaac will do well in the world and be a rich man before he dies."

5. It is amusing to conjecture what were the expectations of his grandmother and the neighbors about Isaac's future life. Some of them, perhaps, fancied that he would make beautiful furniture. Others probably thought that little Isaac would be an architect③, and would build splendid houses, and churches with the tallest steeples that had ever been seen in England.

6. Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac's grandmother to apprentice him to a clock-maker; for, besides his mechanical④ skill, the boy seemed to have a taste for mathematics, which would be very useful to him in that profession.

7. And then, in due time, Isaac would set up for himself, and would manufacture curious clocks like those that contain sets of dancing figures which come from the dial-plate when the hour is struck; or like those where a ship sails across the face of the clock and is seen tossing up and down on the waves as often as the pendulum vibrates⑤.

8. Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that Isaac would devote himself to the manufacture of clocks, since he had already made one of a kind which nobody had ever heard of before. It was set a-going, not by wheels and weights like other clocks, but by the dropping of water.

9. This was an object of great wonderment to all the people round about; and it must be confessed that there are few boys, or men either, who could contrive to tell what o'clock it is by means of a bowl of water.

10. Besides the water clock, Isaac made a sundial. Thus his grandmother was never at a loss to know the hour; for the water clock would tell it in the shade and the dial in the sunshine. The sundial is said to be still at Woolsthorpe, on the corner of the house where Isaac dwelt.

11. If so, it must have marked the passage of every sunny hour that has passed since Isaac Newton was a boy. It marked all the famous moments of his life; it marked the hour of his death; and still the sunshine creeps slowly over it, as regularly as when Isaac first set it up.

12. Yet we must not say that the sundial has lasted longer than its maker; for Isaac Newton will exist long after the dial—yes, and long after the sun itself—shall have crumbled to decay.

Ⅱ

13. Isaac possessed a wonderful power of gaining knowledge by the simplest means. For instance, what method do you suppose he took to find out the strength of the wind? You will never guess how the boy could compel that unseen, inconstant, and ungovernable wonder, the wind, to tell him the measure of its strength.

14. Yet nothing can be more simple. He jumped against the wind; and by the length of his jump he could calculate the force of a gentle breeze or a tempest.—Thus, even in his boyish sports he was continually searching out the secrets of philosophy⑥.

15. Not far from his grandmother's house there was a windmill which worked on a new plan. Isaac was in the habit of going thither frequently, and would spend whole hours in examining its various parts. While the mill was at rest he pried⑦ into its machinery.

16. When its broad sails were set in motion by the wind, he watched the process by which the millstones were made to turn and crush the grain that was put into the hopper⑧. After gaining a thorough knowledge of its construction⑨, he was observed to be unusually busy with his tools.

The windmill

17. It was not long before his grandmother and all the neighborhood knew what Isaac had been about. He had constructed a model of the windmill. Though not so large, I suppose, as one of the box traps which boys set to catch squirrels, yet every part of the mill and its machinery was complete.

18. Its little sails were neatly made of linen, and whirled round very swiftly when the mill was placed in a draught of air. Even a puff of wind from Isaac's mouth or from a pair of bellows was sufficient to set the sails in motion. And, what was most curious, if a handful of grains of wheat was put into the little hopper, they would soon be converted⑩ into snow-white flour.

19. Isaac's playmates were enchanted with his new windmill. They thought that nothing so pretty and so wonderful had ever been seen in the whole world.

"But, Isaac," said one of them, "you have forgotten one thing that belongs to a mill."

20. "What is that?" asked Isaac; for he supposed that, from the roof of the mill to its foundation, he had forgotten nothing.

"Why, where is the miller?" said his friend.

"That is true; I must look out for one," said Isaac; and he set himself to consider how the deficiency⑪ should be supplied.

21. He might easily have made a little figure like a man; but then it would not have been able to move about and perform the duties of a miller. It so happened, however, that a mouse had just been caught in the trap; and, as no other miller could be found, Mr. Mouse was appointed to that important office.

22. The new miller made a very respectable appearance in his dark gray coat. To be sure, he had not a very good character for honesty, and was suspected of sometimes stealing a portion of the grain which was given him to grind. But perhaps some two-legged millers are quite as dishonest as this small quadruped⑫.

23. As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had far more important matters in his mind than the manufacture of toys like the little windmill. All day long, if left to himself, he was either absorbed in thought or engaged in some book of mathematics or natural philosophy.

24. At night, I think it probable, he looked up with reverential⑬ curiosity to the stars and wondered whether they were worlds like our own, and how great was their distance from the earth, and what was the power that kept them in their courses. Perhaps, even so early in life, Isaac Newton felt that he should be able some day to answer all these questions.

25. When Isaac was fourteen years old, his mother's second husband being now dead she wished her son to leave school and assist her in managing the farm at Woolsthorpe. For a year or two, therefore, he tried to turn his attention to farming. But his mind was so bent on becoming a scholar that his mother sent him back to school, and afterwards to the University of Cambridge.

Ⅲ

26. I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac Newton's boyhood. My story would be far too long were I to mention all the splendid discoveries which he made after he came to be a man.

He was the first that found out the nature of light; for, before his day, nobody could tell what the sunshine was composed of.

27. You remember, I suppose, the story of an apple's falling on his head and thus leading him to discover the force of gravitation⑭, which keeps the heavenly bodies in their courses. When he had once got hold of this idea, he never permitted his mind to rest until he had searched out all the laws by which the planets are guided through the sky.

28. This he did as thoroughly as if he had gone up among the stars and tracked them in their orbits⑮. The boy had found out the mechanism of a windmill; the man explained to his fellow men the mechanism⑯ of the universe.

29. While making these researches he was accustomed to spend night after night in a lofty tower, gazing at the heavenly bodies through a telescope. His mind was lifted far above the things of this world. He may be said, indeed, to have spent the greater part of his life in worlds that lie thousands and millions of miles away; for where the thoughts and the heart are, there is our true life.

There stood little Diamond, the author of all the mischief.

30. Did you never hear the story of Newton and his little dog, Diamond? One day, when he was fifty years old, and had been hard at work more than twenty years studying the theory of light, he went out of his chamber, leaving his little dog asleep before the fire.

31. On the table lay a heap of manuscript papers containing all the discoveries which Newton had made during those twenty years. When his master was gone, up rose little Diamond, jumped upon the table, and overthrew the lighted candle. The papers immediately caught fire.

32. Just as the destruction was completed, Newton opened the chamber door and perceived that the labors of twenty years were reduced to a heap of ashes. There stood little Diamond, the author of all the mischief. Almost any other man would have sentenced the dog to immediate death. But Newton patted him on the head, with his usual kindness, although grief was at his heart.

33. "O Diamond, Diamond," exclaimed he, "thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done!"

This incident affected his health and spirits for some time afterwards; but, from his conduct towards the little dog, you may judge what was the sweetness of his temper.

34. Newton lived to be a very old man, and acquired great fame. He was made a member of Parliament and was knighted by the king. But he cared little for earthly fame and honors, and felt no pride in the vastness of his knowledge. All that he had learned only made him feel how little he knew in comparison to what remained to be known.

35. "I seem to myself like a child," he observed, "playing on the sea-shore and picking up here and there a curious shell or a pretty pebble, while the boundless ocean of truth lies undiscovered before me."

36. At last, in 1727, when he was fourscore⑰ and five years old, Sir Isaac Newton died—or, rather, he ceased to live on earth. We may be permitted to believe that he is still searching out the infinite wisdom and goodness of the Creator as earnestly, and with even more success, than while his spirit animated a mortal body.

He has left a fame behind him which will be as lasting as if his name were written in letters of light formed by the stars upon the midnight sky.

__________

Who is here?

It is I. It is he. It is she. It is we. It is they.

Who was here?

It was I. It was he. It was she. It was we. It was they.

Answer the following questions, using the right words:

Who is there? Who is coming? Who is reading the book? Who brought the flowers?

__________

It is not what we earn, but what we save, that makes us rich. It is not what we eat, but what we digest, that makes us strong. It is not what we read, but what we understand, that makes us wise. It is not what we intend, but what we do, that makes us useful.

注释

① Ingenuity, skill; inventiveness.

② Manufactured, made.

③ Architect, a person skilled in the art of building.

④ Mechanical, relating to tools and machinery.

⑤ Vibrates, moves to and fro.

⑥ Philosophy, the science or knowledge of things, their causes and effects.

⑦ Pried, looked closely.

⑧ Hopper, a box through which grain passes into a mill.

⑨ Construction, manner of building; arrangement.

⑩ Converted, changed.

⑪ Deficiency, want.

⑫ Quadruped, an animal having four feet.

⑬ Reverential, respectful; humble.

⑭ Gravitation, the law of nature by which all bodies are drawn towards one another.

⑮ Orbits, paths round the sun.

⑯ Mechanism, Arrangement of the parts of anything.

⑰ Fourscore, eighty.

30

LUCY

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

1. She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise,

And very few to love;

2. A violet by a mossy stone,

Half hidden from the eye;

Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky!

3. She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

The Song of the Lark

31

TO A SKYLARK

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Ethereal① minstrel②! pilgrim of the sky!

Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?

Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye

Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?

Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,

Those quivering wings composed, that music still!

注释

① Ethereal: heavenly.

② Minstrel: poet; singer.

32

TOM GOES DOWN TO THE SEA

BY CHARLES KINGSLEY

Charles Kingsley (1819-1875): An English clergyman, who was the author of several popular novels. He wrote two books for children which have become child classics—"The Heroes," a collection of Greek fairy tales, and "The Water-Babies."

This selection is from "The Water-Babies," which is a story about the strange and beautiful changes which go on in the water. Tom was a little chimney sweep whom the fairies changed into a water-baby. He had been a poor, neglected little boy, who was mischievous and unkind because he knew no better. At first he was a mischievous, unkind water-baby, and the water-creatures found no pleasure in playing with him, so that for a while he was very lonely. But, as he learned to be more kind and loving, he won friends. Here is the story of his journey in search of other water-babies, whom at last he found in the great sea.

Ⅰ

1. And then, on the evening of a very hot day, Tom, the water-baby, saw a sight.

He had been very stupid all day, and so had the trout, for they would not move an inch to take a fly, though there were thousands on the water, but lay dozing at the bottom, under the shade of the stones; and Tom lay dozing, too, and was glad to cuddle their smooth, cool sides, for the water was quite warm and unpleasant.

2. But toward evening it grew suddenly dark, and Tom looked up and saw a blanket of black clouds lying right across the valley above his head, resting on the crags right and left. He felt not quite frightened, but very still, for everything was still. There was not a whisper of wind nor a chirp of a bird to be heard; and next a few great drops of rain fell plop into the water, and one hit Tom on the nose and made him pop his head down quickly enough.

3. And then the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed, and leaped across Vendale and back again, from cloud to cloud and cliff to cliff, till the very rocks in the stream seemed to shake, and Tom looked up at it through the water and thought it the finest thing he ever saw in his life.

4. But out of the water he dared not put his head; for the rain came down by bucketfuls, and the hail hammered like shot on the stream and churned it into foam; and soon the stream rose, and rushed down, higher and higher, and fouler and fouler, full of beetles and sticks and straws and worms and this, that, and the other.

5. Tom could hardly stand against the stream, and hid behind a rock. But the trout did not; for out they rushed from among the stones, and began gobbling the beetles and leeches in the most greedy and quarrelsome way.

6. And now, by the flashes of lightning, Tom saw a new sight—all the bottom of the stream alive with great eels, turning and twisting along, all down stream and away. They had been hiding for weeks past in the cracks of the rocks and in burrows① in the mud, and Tom had hardly ever seen them, except now and then at night; but now they were all out, and went hurrying past him so fiercely and wildly that he was quite frightened.

7. And, as they hurried past, he could hear them say to each other: "We must run, we must run. What a jolly thunder storm! Down to the sea, down to the sea!"

And then the otter came by with all her brood, saying: "Come along, children; we will breakfast on salmon to-morrow. Down to the sea, down to the sea!"

8. "Down to the sea?" said Tom. "Everything is going to the sea, and I will go, too. Good-bye, trout." But the trout were so busy gobbling worms that they never turned to answer him; so that Tom was spared the pain of bidding them farewell.

9. And now, down the rushing stream, guided by the bright flashes of the storm; past tall birch-fringed rocks, which shone out one moment as clear as day, and the next were dark as night; past dark hovers② under swirling③ banks; on through narrow strids④ and roaring cataracts⑤, where Tom was deafened and blinded for a moment by the rushing waters; along deep reaches, where the white water lilies tossed and flapped beneath the wind and hail; past sleeping villages; under dark bridge arches, and away and away to the sea.

10. And Tom could not stop and did not care to stop; he would see the great world below, and the salmon, and the breakers, and the wide, wide sea.

Ⅱ

11. And when the day came, Tom found himself out in the salmon river. And after a while he came to a place where the river spread out into broad, still, shallow reaches so wide that little Tom, as he put his head out of the water, could hardly see across.

12. And there he stopped. He got a little frightened. "This must be the sea," he thought. "What a wide place it is! If I go on into it, I shall surely lose my way or some strange thing will bite me. I will stop here and look out for the otter or the eels, or someone to tell me where I shall go."

13. So he went back a little way and crept into a crack of the rock, just where the river opened out into the wide shallows, and watched for someone to tell him his way; but the otter and the eels were gone on miles and miles down the stream.

14. There he waited, and slept, too, for he was quite tired with his night's journey; and when he woke, the stream was clearing to a beautiful amber hue, though it was still very high.

Past the ships which rode at anchor in the stream.

15. Tom went on down, and, as he went, all the vale looked sad. The red and yellow leaves showered down into the river; the flies and beetles were all dead and gone; the chill autumn fog lay low upon the hills, and sometimes spread itself so thickly on the river that he could not see his way.

16. But he felt his way instead, following the flow of the stream day after day, past great bridges, past boats and barges⑥, past the great town with its wharves and mills and tall smoking chimneys, and ships which rode at anchor in the stream; and now and then he ran against their hawsers⑦ and wondered what they were, and peeped out and saw the sailors lounging on board, and ducked under again, for he was terribly afraid of being caught by man and turned into a chimney sweep once more.

17. Poor little fellow! It was a dreary journey for him; and more than once he longed to be back in Vendale, playing with the trout in the bright summer sun. But it could not be. What has been once can never come over again. And people can be little babies, even water-babies, only once in their lives.

18. Besides, people who make up their minds to go and see the world, as Tom did, must needs find it a weary journey. Lucky for them if they do not lose heart and stop half way, instead of going on bravely to the end, as Tom did.

19. But Tom was always a brave, determined little English bulldog, who never knew when he was beaten; and on and on he held, till he saw a long way off the red buoy⑧ through the fog. And then he found, to his surprise, the stream turned round and running up inland.

20. It was the tide, of course; but Tom knew nothing of the tide. He only knew that in a minute more the water, which had been fresh, turned salt all around him. And then there came a change over him. He felt strong and light and fresh, and gave, he did not know why, three skips out of the water, a yard high, and head over heels, just as the salmon do when they first touch the noble, rich salt water, which, as some wise men tell us, is the mother of all living things.

21. He did not care now for the tide being against him. The red buoy was in sight, dancing in the open sea; and to the buoy he would go, and to it he went. He passed great shoals of bass and mullet⑨, leaping and rushing in after the shrimps, but he never heeded them nor they him; and once he passed a great, black, shining seal who was coming in after the mullet.

22. The seal put his head and shoulders out of water and stared at him. And Tom, instead of being frightened, said: "How d'ye do, sir? What a beautiful place the sea is!"

23. And the old seal, instead of trying to bite him, looked at him with his soft, sleepy, winking eyes and said: "Good tide to you, my little man; are you looking for your brothers and sisters? I passed them all at play outside."

24. "Oh, then," said Tom, "I shall have playfellows at last!" And he swam on to the buoy and got upon it—for he was quite out of breath—and sat there and looked round for water-babies; but there were none to be seen.

Ⅲ

25 The sea breeze came in freshly with the tide and blew the fog away, and the little waves danced for joy around the buoy, and the old buoy danced with them. The shadows of the clouds ran races over the bright, blue bay, and yet never caught each other up; and the breakers plunged merrily upon the wide white sands and jumped up over the rocks to see what the green fields inside were like, and tumbled down and broke themselves all to pieces and never minded it a bit, but mended themselves and jumped up again.

26. And the terns⑩ hovered over Tom like huge, white dragon-flies with black heads; and the gulls⑪ laughed like girls at play; and the sea-pies⑫, with their red bills and legs, flew to and fro from shore to shore and whistled sweet and wild. And Tom looked and looked and listened; and he would have been very happy if he could only have seen the water-babies.

27. Then, when the tide turned, he left the buoy and swam round and round in search of them; but in vain. Sometimes he thought he heard them laughing; but it was only the laughter of the ripples. And sometimes he thought he saw them at the bottom; but it was only white and pink shells.

28. And once he was sure he had found one, for he saw two bright eyes peeping out of the sand. So he dived down and began scraping the sand away, and cried: "Don't hide; I do want someone to play with so much!"

And out jumped a great turbot, with his ugly eyes and mouth all awry⑬, and flopped away along the bottom, knocking poor Tom over. And he sat down at the bottom of the sea and cried salt tears from sheer disappointment.

29. To have come all this way and faced so many dangers, and yet to find no water-babies! How hard! Well, it did seem hard; but people, even little babies, cannot have all they want without waiting for it, and working for it, too, my little man, as you will find out some day.

Ⅳ

30. And Tom sat upon the buoy long days, long weeks, looking out to the sea and wondering when the water-babies would come back; and yet they never came.

31. Then he began to ask all the strange things which came in and out of the sea if they had seen any; and some said "Yes," and some said nothing at all. He asked the bass and the pollock⑭; but they were so greedy after the shrimps that they did not care to answer him a word.

32. Then there came in a whole fleet of purple sea snails, floating along, each on a sponge full of foam, and Tom said: "Where do you come from, you pretty creatures? and have you seen the water-babies?"

33. And the sea snails answered: "Whence we come, we know not; and whither we are going, who can tell? We float out our life in the mid-ocean, with the warm sunshine above our heads and the warm Gulf Stream below; and that is enough for us. Yes, perhaps we have seen the water-babies. We have seen many strange things as we sailed along."

And they floated away, the happy, stupid things, and all went ashore upon the sands.

34. Then there came in a great, lazy sunfish, as big as a fat pig cut in half; and he seemed to have been cut in half, too, and squeezed in a clothespress till he was flat; but to all his big body and big fins he had only a little rabbit's mouth, no bigger than Tom's; and when Tom questioned him he answered him in a little, squeaky, feeble voice:

35. "I'm sure I don't know; I've lost my way. I meant to go to the Chesapeake, and I'm afraid I've got wrong somehow. Dear me! it was all by following that pleasant warm water⑮. I'm sure I've lost my way."

And when Tom asked him again, he could only answer: "I've lost my way. Don't talk to me; I want to think."

36. Then there came up a shoal⑯ of porpoises⑰, rolling as they went—papas and mammas and little children—and all quite smooth and shiny, because the fairies French polish them every morning; and they sighed so softly as they came by that Tom took courage to speak to them; but all they answered was, "Hush, hush, hush!" for that was all they had learned to say.

37. And then Tom left the buoy and used to go along the sands and round the rocks, and come out in the night and cry and call for the water-babies; but he never heard a voice call in return. And at last, with his fretting and crying, he grew lean and thin.

Tom and the lobster

38. But one day among the rocks he found a playfellow. It was not a water-baby, alas! but it was a lobster; and a very distinguished lobster he was, for he had live barnacles⑱ on his claws, which is a great mark of distinction in lobsterdom.

39. Tom had never seen a lobster before, and he was mightily taken with this one, for he thought him the most curious, odd, ridiculous creature he had ever seen; and there he was not far wrong, for all the ingenious men and all the scientific men and all the fanciful men in the world could never invent, if all their wits were boiled into one, anything so curious and so ridiculous as a lobster.

40. He had one claw knobbed and the other jagged; and Tom delighted in watching him hold on to the seaweed with his knobbed claw, while he cut up salads with his jagged one, and then put them into his mouth after smelling at them like a monkey.

41. Tom asked him about water-babies. Yes, he said, he had seen them often. But he did not think much of them. They were meddlesome little creatures that went about helping fish and shells which got into scrapes. Well, for his part he would be ashamed to be helped by little, soft creatures that had not even a shell on their backs. He had lived quite long enough in the world to take care of himself.

42. He was a conceited fellow, the old lobster, and not very civil to Tom. But he was so funny and Tom so lonely that he could not quarrel with him; and they used to sit in holes in the rocks and chat for hours.

________

We trout lead a happy life. We swim about in the brooks. We shine like silver as we dart to and fro in the clear, cool water. We play in the shallow water; we hide in the deep pools. On warm days we lie in the shadow of the rocks.

Change the sentences so that only one trout shall speak: as, I lead a happy life.

________

Do not think of your faults, still less of others' faults; in every person who comes near you, look for what is good and strong; honor that; rejoice in it; and, as you can, try to imitate it; and your faults will drop off like dead leaves when their time comes.

—RUSKIN

Brittany Sheep

注释

① Burrows, holes in the ground made for homes by certain animals.

② Hovers, covers; shelters.

③ Swirling, whirling.

④ Strids, passages between steep rocks or banks, so narrow that they look as if they might be crossed at a stride.

⑤ Cataracts, great falls of water over steep places.

⑥ Barges, roomy boats to carry goods or passengers.

⑦ Hawsers, large ropes.

⑧ Buoy, a floating object chained in place to mark a channel or to show the position of something under the water, as a rock.

⑨ Mullet, kinds of fish.

⑩ Terns, long-winged sea-birds.

⑪ Gulls, long-winged sea-birds.

⑫ Sea-pies, shore birds, sometimes called oyster catchers.

⑬ Awry, twisted toward one side.

⑭ Pollock, a sea-fish something like the cod.

⑮ Pleasant warm water, the Gulf Stream. What can you tell about it?

⑯ Shoal, a great number; a crowd—said especially of fish.

⑰ Porpoises, sea animals.

⑱ Barnacles, small shell fish which fasten themselves on rocks, timbers, other animals, etc.

33

PSALM XXIV

The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.

For He hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods.

Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in His holy place?

He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.

He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation.

This is the generation of them that seek Him, that seek Thy face, O Jacob. Selah.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is this King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, He is the King of glory. Selah.

34

A GOOD SAMARITAN

BY GEORGE MACDONALD

George Macdonald (1824-): A Scottish poet and novelist. Among his novels are "Robert Falconer," "Malcolm," "David Elginbrod," and "Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood." Macdonald wrote several books for children, of which the best known are "At the Back of the North Wind" and "The Princess and the Goblin."

1. The thousand streets of London gray

Repel① all country sights;

But bar not winds upon their way,

Nor quench the scent of new-mown hay

In depth of summer nights.

2. And here and there an open spot,

Still bare to light and dark,

With grass receives the wanderer hot;

There trees are growing, houses not—

They call the place a park.

3. Soft creatures with ungentle② guides,

God's sheep from hill and plain,

Flow thitherward in fitful③ tides,

There weary lie on woolly sides,

Or crop the grass amain④.

4. In Regent's Park one cloudless day

An over- driven sheep,

Arrived from long and dusty way,

Throbbing with thirst and hotness lay,

A panting woolly heap.

5. But help is nearer than we know

For ills of every name:

Ragged enough to scare the crow,

But with a heart to pity woe,

A quick-eyed urchin came.

6. Little he knew of field or fold,

Yet knew what ailed; his cap

Was ready cup for water cold;

Though rumpled, stained, and very old,

Its rents were small—good-hap!

7. Shaping the rim and crown he went

Till crown from rim was deep.

The water gushed from pore and rent;

Before he came one-half was spent—

The other saved the sheep.

注释

① Repel, drive away.

② Ungentle, not gentle; rough.

③ Fitful, changeable.

④ Amain, busily.

35

THE SPARTAN THREE HUNDRED

Ⅰ

1. About five hundred years before the birth of Christ, almost all the nations of Asia were under the rule of Xerxes, the king of Persia, whom the Greeks called the Great King. Xerxes had conquered tribe after tribe and nation after nation, until the greater part of the known world acknowledged his rule.

2. But the little free states along the eastern Mediterranean still remained unconquered, and against these states of Greece Xerxes was leading all the power of his mighty empire.

Ten years before, at the battle of Marathon, a small Greek army had defeated the Persian hosts, and Xerxes was resolved to avenge this humiliation①.

3. At the battle of which I am going to tell you, the overwhelming numbers of the Persians did indeed win the victory, but the honor and glory of the day rest with the little band of Greek heroes who fought to the death for the freedom of their country.

4. The Persian army in advancing on Greece were obliged to march through a narrow pass, with the sea on one side and a steep precipice on the other. This pass was called Thermopylæ, and it was here that the Greeks resolved to make a stand. They did not know till they had marched to Thermopylæ that behind the pass there was a mountain path by which soldiers might climb round and over the mountain and fall upon their rear.

5. The Greek army encamped in the pass, between the narrow, northern gateway by which the enemy must enter, and a gateway to the south. They were protected in front by an old wall which they repaired.

This man rode up close to the Greek camp.

6. The Greek general was Leonidas, a Spartan king. He had with him three hundred Spartans and a few thousand soldiers from other cities of Greece. The Persians outnumbered them a hundred to one. This small force was only the advance guard of the Greek army. But Leonidas thought that with it he could at least hold the pass till his countrymen could join him.

7. When Xerxes came near Thermopylæ, he sent a horseman forward to spy out the position of the Greeks who dared oppose him. This man rode up close to the Greek camp and saw the Spartans amusing themselves, running and wrestling, and combing out their long hair.

8. They took no notice of him, and he rode back to tell the king how few they were and how unconcerned. Xerxes sent for a Greek who was in his camp and asked what these things meant.

9. The Greek replied: "O king, I have told you before of these men, and you have laughed at me.

They have come to fight with you for this pass. It is the Spartan custom to dress the hair with great care before a battle. Be assured② that if you conquer the Spartans no other nation in the world will dare stand against you, O king. For you are now to engage with the noblest city and kingdom of all among the Greeks, and the most valiant③ men."

10. Xerxes did not believe what the Greek said. He waited four days to give the little band time to retreat. Then, as it still held its ground, in a rage he bade his warriors take the Greeks alive and bring them into his presence. Accordingly, the attack was made, but the Persians could not break a way into the Spartan ranks. Fighting in the narrow space at the mouth of the pass, they were unable to avail themselves of their numbers.

11. In wave after wave all day long they dashed themselves against the Greeks, and left their dead lying at the mouth of the pass. Thereby it was made clear to everyone, and not least to the great king himself, that men were many, but heroes few.

Ⅱ

12. The next day the king ordered his own bodyguard, called the Ten Thousand Immortals, to attack the holders of the pass. The Immortals were the picked soldiers of the whole army, but they fared no better than the others. Three times the king sprang from his throne in dismay as he saw his soldiers driven back with great loss. And on the third day the Persians fought with no better success.

13. While the king was in doubt what to do, a treacherous Greek came and told him about the path over the mountains. Xerxes at once sent soldiers along that path to attack the Greeks from the rear.

14. When the guards who had been stationed on the mountain brought news of the coming of the Persians, the Greeks were not agreed as to what they should do. Some wanted to retreat and abandon④ a position which it was now impossible to hold.

15. Leonidas bade⑤ them depart; but for him and his countrymen it was not honorable to turn their backs on any foe. For the manner of the Spartans was this: to die rather than yield. However sorely⑥ beset or overwhelmed by numbers, they never left the ground alive and unvictorious.

"They have come to fight with you for this pass."

16. Leonidas had two kinsmen in the camp whom he tried to save by giving them messages and letters to Sparta. But one answered that he had come to fight, not to carry letters; and the other said that his deeds would tell all that Sparta wished to know. Another Spartan, when told that the enemy's archers were so numerous that their arrows darkened the sun, replied: "So much the better; we shall fight in the shade."

17. Some of the Greeks retired⑦, but a few resolved to stay with the brave Spartans. And now the Greeks under Leonidas did not wait to be attacked in front and rear, but marched out into the wide part of the pass and assailed⑧ the Persians. The Persian officers drove their soldiers forward with whips. The poor wretches were pierced with the Greek spears, hurled into the sea, or trampled under foot.

A Spartan soldier

18. The Spartans, knowing that death awaited them, were desperate, and displayed the utmost possible valor⑨. When their spears were broken, they assailed the Persians with their swords. And when the swords gave out, they fought with their daggers, and even with their hands and teeth, till not one living man remained among them.

19. When the sun went down, there was only a mound of slain, bristling with spears and arrows.

The heroic Spartans were buried on the spot where they fell, and over them was raised a column with the inscription⑩: "Strangers, go tell at Sparta that we lie here obedient to its laws."

20. The column and its inscription have long since perished, but the glory of the Three Hundred will endure forever.

注释

① Humiliation, shame; disgrace.

② Assured, sure; certain.

③ Valiant, brave.

④ Abandon, give up.

⑤ Bade, ordered.

⑥ Sorely, greatly.

⑦ Retired, went away.

⑧ Assailed, attacked.

⑨ Valor, courage.

⑩ Inscription, that which is inscribed or written, especially on a building or monument.

36

THE FAIRY LIFE

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Courtesied when you have and kissed

The wild waves whist①,

Foot it featly② here and there;

And, sweet sprites③, the burden④ bear.

Hark, hark!

"Bow-wow,"

The watch-dog's bark:

"Bow-wow."

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticleer

Cry, "Cock-a-diddle-dow!"

注释

① Whist, still; quiet.

② Featly, nimbly.

③ Sprites, spirits; fairies.

④ Burden, the chorus of a song.

37

CHARLES DICKENS

1. Charles Dickens, one of the most popular of English novelists, was born in 1812 at Portsmouth, where his father was a government clerk. When he was two years old, the family moved to London, and thence to Chatham dockyard.

2. Charles Dickens's father was poor; but, fortunately for the book-loving boy, among the few family possessions was a small library of good books, and he spent many hours poring over "The Vicar of Wakefield," "Robinson Crusoe," and the essays in "The Tatler," "The Spectator," and "The Idler." He and a boy cousin amused themselves during their holidays by getting up private theatricals, for which Charles wrote a play, "The Sultan of India," which was greatly admired by his boy friends.

3. These were happy, care-free days, but they soon came to an end. The family went back to London. The father first lost his government position, and then was sent to prison for debt, according to the law at that time. The mother went to live with the father in prison, and Charles had to earn his living by pasting labels on blacking-pots. His wages were only six shillings① a week, and with this sum he had to support himself. The home was entirely broken up; even the precious books were sold; and these were sad, lonely days for the ten-year-old boy.

4. Things brightened a little when he took lodgings near the prison, where he could see his father and mother every day. As it was a family trait to look upon the bright side of things, even the prison life was not intolerable②. By and by better days came, and Charles had two years of school life.

5. Then he became office boy in a lawyer's office. In his seventeenth year he became a reporter, having learned shorthand in the reading-room of the British Museum.

Charles Dickens

6. His career as a writer began a few years later, when he sent some sketches of street life to a magazine. These sketches were signed "Boz." They were so good that a year later he was employed to write similar articles for a newspaper, and they appeared in book form under the title, "Sketches by Boz."

7. This led to an offer by a publishing firm for a series of articles to appear with a set of comic drawings. Dickens wrote for them in 1836 the famous "Pickwick Papers." This consisted of sketches relating the adventures of an imaginary club of Londoners during their visits to the country. It made Dickens famous at once. The next year he published his first novel, "Oliver Twist." This struck a new note in fiction, and gave pitch to the life work of the author; for from this time he never wavered in his purpose, which was the portrayal③ of the life of the lower classes and the righting of social wrongs.

8. One of the most popular of Dickens's books is "David Copperfield," which is supposed to contain many reminiscences④ of the author's own early days. In this book occur some of the most famous of Dickens's characters.

9. Among his other works Dickens produced a series of tales called "The Christmas Stories." The first of these, "A Christmas Carol," appeared in 1843, and for a number of years he published a story of this kind every year. The most celebrated⑤ of these stories are "A Christmas Carol," "The Cricket on the Hearth," and "The Chimes." In these stories Dickens did more than give to the world pleasant and interesting tales of domestic life; he portrayed the true spirit of Christmastide, with its lessons of peace and good will.

10. Dickens also wrote "A Tale of Two Cities," "Nicholas Nickleby," and "A Child's History of England," which is a great favorite with young people. He died suddenly in 1870 and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

This selection is from "Bleak House," one of the best of Dickens's novels.

注释

① Shillings, the shilling is a silver coin of Great Britain, equal in value to about twenty-four cents of our money.

② Intolerable: not to be borne.

③ Portrayal: description.

④ Reminiscences: recollections.

⑤ Celebrated: famous; well known.

38

LITTLE CHARLEY

BY CHARLES DICKENS

Ⅰ

1. We found the house to which we had been directed by a friend of my guardian①, and we went up to the top room. I tapped at the door, and a little shrill voice inside said: "We are locked in; Mrs. Blinder's got the key."

2. We had been prepared for this by Mrs. Blinder, the shopkeeper below, who had given us the key of the room.

The boy walked up and down.

3. I applied the key on hearing this, and opened the door. In a poor room, with a sloping ceiling, and containing very little furniture, was a mite of a boy, some five or six years old, nursing and hushing a heavy child of eighteen months. There was no fire, though the weather was cold; both children were wrapped in some poor shawls and tippets as a substitute②. Their clothing was not so warm, however, but that their noses looked red and pinched and their small figures shrunken, as the boy walked up and down, nursing and hushing the child, with its head on his shoulder.

4. "Who has locked you up here alone?" we naturally asked.

"Charley," said the boy, standing still to gaze at us.

"Is Charley your brother?"

"No. She's my sister Charlotte. Father called her Charley."

5. "Where is Charley now?'

"Out a-washing," said the boy, beginning to walk up and down again, and taking the baby's nankeen③ bonnet much too near the bedstead by trying to gaze at us at the same time.

6. We were looking at one another and at these two children, when there came into the room a very little girl, childish in figure, but shrewd and older looking in the face—pretty faced, too—wearing a womanly sort of bonnet much too large for her and drying her bare arms on a womanly sort of apron. Her fingers were white and wrinkled with washing, and the soapsuds were yet smoking which she wiped off her arms. But for this she might have been a child playing at washing and imitating a poor workingwoman with a quick observation of the truth.

7. She had come running from some place in the neighborhood, and had made all the haste she could. Consequently④, though she was very light, she was out of breath and could not speak at first, as she stood panting, and wiping her arms, and looking quietly at us.

8. "Oh, here's Charley!" said the boy.

The child he was nursing stretched forth its arms and cried out to be taken by Charley. The little girl took it in a womanly sort of manner belonging to the apron and the bonnet, and stood looking at us over the burden that clung to her most affectionately.

9. "Is it possible," whispered my guardian, as we put a chair for the little creature and got her to sit down with her load—the boy keeping close to her, holding to her apron—"that this child works for the rest! Look at this! Look at this!"

10. It was a thing to look at. The three children close together, and two of them relying solely on the third, and the third so young and yet with an air of age and steadiness that sat so strangely on the childish figure.

Ⅱ

11. "Charley, Charley," said my guardian, "how old are you?"

"Over thirteen, sir," replied the child.

12. "Oh, what a great age!" said my guardian. "What a great age, Charley!"

I cannot describe the tenderness with which he spoke to her, half playfully, yet all the more compassionately⑤ and mournfully.

13. "And do you live alone here with these babies Charley?" said my guardian.

Yes, sir," returned the child, looking up into his face with perfect confidence, "since father died."

14. "And how do you live, Charley? O Charley," said my guardian, turning his face away for a moment, "how do you live?"

"Since father died, sir, I've gone out to work. I'm out washing to-day."

15. "God help you, Charley!" said my guardian. "You're not tall enough to reach the tub."

"In pattens⑥, I am, sir,' she said quickly. "I've got a high pair that belonged to mother."

"And when did mother die? Poor mother!"

16. "Mother died just after Emma was born," said the child, glancing at the face upon her bosom. "Then father said I was to be as good a mother to her as I could. And so I tried. And so I worked at home, and did cleaning and nursing and washing for a long time before I began to go out. And that's how I know how; don't you see, sir?"

17. "And do you often go out?"

"As often as I can," said Charley, opening her eyes and smiling, "because of earning sixpences and shillings."

Little Charley came in.

18. "And do you always lock the babies up when you go out?"

"To keep 'em safe, sir, don't you see?" said Charley. "Mrs. Blinder comes up now and then, and Mr. Gridley comes up sometimes, and perhaps I can run in sometimes; and they can play, you know, and Tom isn't afraid of being locked up. Are you, Tom?"

"No—o!" said Tom, stoutly.

19. "When it comes on dark, the lamps are lighted down in the court, and they show up here quite bright—almost quite bright. Don't they, Tom?"

"Yes, Charley," said Tom; "almost quite bright."

20. "Then, he's as good as gold," said the little creature—oh! in such a motherly, womanly way. "And when Emma's tired, he puts her to bed. And when he's tired, he goes to bed himself. And when I come home and light the candle and have a bit of supper, he sits up again and has it with me. Don't you, Tom?"

21. "Oh, yes, Charley," said Tom. "That I do!" And either in this glimpse of the great pleasure of his life, or in gratitude⑦ and love for Charley, who was all in all to him, he laid his face among the scanty folds of her frock and passed from laughing into crying.

22. It was the first time since our entry that a tear had been shed among these children. The little orphan girl had spoken of their father and their mother as if all that sorrow were subdued by the necessity of taking courage, and by her childish importance in being able to work, and by her bustling⑧, busy way. But now, when Tom cried—although she sat quite tranquil⑨, looking quietly at us, and did not by any movement disturb a hair of the head of either of her little charges—I saw two silent tears fall down her face.

Mrs. Blinder

23. I stood at the window with Ada, pretending to look at the housetops, and the blackened stack of chimneys, and the poor plants, and the birds, in little cages, belonging to the neighbors, when I found that Mrs. Blinder from the shop below, had come in—perhaps it had taken her all this time to get upstairs—and was talking to my guardian.

"It's not much to forgive 'em the rent, sir," she said. "Who could take it from them!"

24. "Well, well!" said my guardian to us two. "It is enough that the time will come when this good woman will find that it was much, and that forasmuch as she did it unto the least of these— This child," he added, after a few moments, "could she possibly continue this?"

25. "Really, sir, I think she might," said Mrs. Blinder, getting her heavy breath by painful degrees. "She's as handy as it's possible to be. Bless you, sir, the way she tended the two children after the mother died was the talk of the yard. And it was a wonder to see her with him after he was ill, it really was. 'Mrs. Blinder,' he said to me, the very last he spoke—he was lying there—'Mrs. Blinder, I saw an angel sitting in this room last night along with my child, and I trust her to our Father.'"

26. We kissed Charley, and took her down-stairs with us, and stopped outside the house to see her run away to her work. I don't know where she was going, but we saw her run—such a little, little creature, in her womanly bonnet and apron—through a covered way at the bottom of the court, and melt into the city's strife and sound like a dewdrop in an ocean.

Ⅲ

27. One night, after I had gone to my room, I heard a soft tap at my door. So I said, "Come in," and there came in a pretty little girl, neatly dressed in mourning, who dropped a courtesy.

28. "If you please, miss," said the little girl, in a soft voice, "I am Charley."

"Why, so you are!" said I, stooping down in astonishment, and giving her a kiss. "How glad I am to see you, Charley!"

"Don't cry, if you please, miss."

29. "If you please, miss," pursued Charley, in the same soft voice, "I'm your maid."

"Charley?"

"If you please, miss, I'm a present to you, with Mr. Jarndyce's love."

30. I sat down with my hand on Charley's neck, and looked at Charley.

"And oh, miss," says Charley, clapping her hands, with the tears starting down her dimpled cheeks, "Tom's at school, if you please; and little Emma, she's with Mrs. Blinder, miss. And Tom, he would have been at school; and Emma, she would have been left with Mrs. Blinder; and I should have been here, all a deal sooner, miss; only Mr. Jarndyce thought that Tom and Emma and I had better get a little used to parting first, we were so small. Don't cry, if you please, miss."

31. "I can't help it, Charley."

"No, miss, I can't help it," says Charley. "And, if you please, miss, Mr. Jarndyce's love, and he thinks you'll like to teach me now and then. And, if you please, Tom and Emma and I are to see each other once a month. And I'm so happy and so thankful, miss," cried Charley, with a heaving heart, "and I'll try to be such a good maid!"

32. Charley dried her eyes, and entered on her functions⑩, going in her matronly⑪ little way about and about the room, and folding up everything she could lay her hands upon.

33. Presently, Charley came creeping back to my side, and said: "Oh, don't cry, if you please, miss."

And I said again: "I can't help it, Charley."

And Charley said again: "No, miss; I can't help it." And so, after all, I did cry for joy, indeed, and so did she.

注释

① Guardian, one to whose care a person or thing is committed.

② Substitute, a person or thing put in place of another.

③ Nankeen, a kind of yellow cotton cloth.

④ Consequently, accordingly; as a result.

⑤ Compassionately, pityingly.

⑥ Pattens, wooden soles made to raise the feet above mud.

⑦ Gratitude, thankfulness.

⑧ Bustling, noisy; active.

⑨ Tranquil, quiet; calm.

⑩ Functions, actions suitable to a business or profession.

⑪ Matronly, womanly; motherly.

39

TRAY

BY ROBERT BROWNING

Robert Browning (1812-1889): An English poet. His poems are frequently difficult and obscure, but they are full of courage, manliness, and hopefulness, which appeal to young readers as well as to older ones. "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," "Herve Riel," and "How They Carried the Good News from Ghent to Aix" are among the poems best liked by young people.

1. A beggar-child...

Sat on a quay's edge: like a bird

Sang to herself at careless play,

And fell into the stream. "Dismay!

Help, you standers-by!" None stirred.

2. Bystanders reason, think of wives

And children ere they risk their lives.

Over the balustrade① has bounced

A mere instinctive② dog, and pounced

Plumb on the prize. "How well he dives!

3. "Up he comes with the child, see, tight

In mouth, alive, too, clutched from quite

A depth of ten feet—twelve, I bet!

Good dog! What, off again? There's yet

Another child to save? All right!

4. "How strange we saw no other fall!

It's instinct in the animal.

Good dog! But he's a long while under:

If he got drowned I should not wonder—

Strong current, that against the wall!

5. "Here he comes, holds in mouth this time

—What may the thing be? Well, that's prime!

Now, did you ever? Reason reigns

In man alone, since all Tray's pains

Have fished—the child's doll from the slime!"

注释

① Balustrade, a railing along the edge of a bridge or staircase.

② Instinctive: acting according to his nature.

40

THE GOLDEN FLEECE

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

Ⅰ

1. When Jason, the son of the dethroned king of Iolchos, was a little boy, he was sent away from his parents and placed under the queerest schoolmaster that ever you heard of. This learned person was one of the people or quadrupeds called Centaurs. He lived in a cavern, and had the body and legs of a white horse, with the head and shoulders of a man. His name was Chiron; and, in spite of his odd appearance, he was a very excellent teacher.

2. The good Chiron taught his pupils how to play upon the harp, and how to cure diseases, and how to use the sword and shield, together with various other branches of education in which the lads of those days used to be instructed, instead of writing and arithmetic.

3. So Jason dwelt in the cave, with his four-footed Chiron, from the time that he was an infant only a few months old until he had grown to the full height of a man.

4. At length, being now a tall and athletic youth, Jason resolved to seek his fortune in the world. He had heard that he himself was a prince royal, and that his father, King Æson, had been deprived of the kingdom of Iolchos by a certain Pelias, who would also have killed Jason had he not been hidden in the Centaur's cave. And being come to the strength of a man, Jason determined to set all this business to rights, and to punish the wicked Pelias for wronging his dear father, and to cast him down from the throne and seat himself there instead.

5. With this intention he took a spear in each hand, and threw a leopard's skin over his shoulders to keep off the rain, and set forth on his travels, with his long, yellow ringlets waving in the wind. The part of his dress on which he most prided himself was a pair of sandals① that had been his father's. They were handsomely embroidered, and were tied upon his feet with strings of gold.

6. I know not how far Jason had traveled when he came to a turbulent② river, which rushed right across his pathway, with specks of white foam among its black eddies, hurrying onward, and roaring angrily as it went. He stepped boldly into the raging and foamy current and began to stagger away from the shore.

7. Jason's two spears, one in each hand, kept him from stumbling and enabled him to feel his way among the hidden rocks. When he was half way across, his foot was caught in a crevice between two rocks, and stuck there so fast that, in the effort to get free, he lost one of his golden-stringed sandals.

8. After traveling a pretty long distance, he came to a town situated at the foot of a mountain, and not a great way from the shore of the sea. On the outside of the town there was an immense crowd of people. Jason inquired of one of the multitude why so many persons were here assembled.

9. "This is the kingdom of Iolchos," answered the man, "and we are the subjects of King Pelias. Our monarch has summoned us together that we may see him sacrifice a black bull to Neptune. Yonder is the king, where you see the smoke going up from the altar."

10. While the man spoke, he eyed Jason with great curiosity, for his garb③ was quite unlike that of the Iolchians, and it looked very odd to see a youth with a leopard's skin over his shoulders and each hand grasping a spear. Jason perceived, too, that the man stared particularly at his feet, one of which, you remember, was bare, while the other was decorated with his father's golden-stringed sandal.

11. "Look at him! only look at him!" said the man to his next neighbor. "Do you see? He wears but one sandal."

"My name is Jason."

Upon this, first one person and then another began to stare at Jason, and everybody seemed to be greatly struck with something in his aspect; though they turned their eyes much oftener towards his feet than to any other part of his figure. Besides, he could hear them whispering to one another.

12. Poor Jason was greatly abashed, and made up his mind that the people of Iolchos were exceedingly ill bred to take such public notice of an accidental deficiency in his dress. Meanwhile, whether it was that they hustled him forward, or that Jason of his own accord thrust a passage through the crowd, it so happened that he soon found himself close to the smoking altar where King Pelias was sacrificing the black bull.

Ⅱ

13. The murmur and hum of the multitude, in their surprise at the spectacle of Jason with his one bare foot, grew so loud that it disturbed the ceremonies; and the king, holding the great knife with which he was just going to cut the bull's throat, turned angrily about and fixed his eyes on Jason.

"Ha!" muttered he, "here is the one-sandaled fellow, sure enough. What can I do with him?"

14. And he clutched more closely the great knife in his hand, as if he were half a mind to slay Jason instead of the black bull. The people round about caught up the king's words, indistinctly as they were uttered; and first there was a murmur among them, and then a loud shout.

"The one-sandaled man has come! The prophecy must be fulfilled!"

15. For you are to know that, many years before, King Pelias had been told that a man with one sandal should cast him down from his throne. On this account he had given strict orders that nobody should ever come into his presence unless both sandals were securely tied upon his feet.

16. In the whole course of the king's reign, he had never been thrown into such a fright as by the spectacle of poor Jason's bare foot. But, as he was naturally a bold and hard-hearted man, he soon took courage and began to consider in what way he might rid himself of this terrible one-sandaled stranger.

17. "My good young man," said King Pelias, taking the softest tone imaginable in order to throw Jason off his guard, "you are very welcome to my kingdom. Judging by your dress, you must have traveled a long distance; for it is not the fashion to wear leopard skins in this part of the world. Pray, what may I call your name? and where did you receive your education?"

18. "My name is Jason," answered the young stranger. "Ever since my infancy I have dwelt in the cave of Chiron the Centaur. He was my instructor and taught me music and horsemanship, and how to cure wounds, and likewise how to inflict wounds with my weapons."

19. "I have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster," replied King Pelias. "It gives me great delight to see one of his scholars at my court. But, to test how much you have profited under so excellent a teacher, will you allow me to ask you a single question?"

"I do not pretend to be very wise," said Jason. "But ask me what you please, and I will answer to the best of my ability."

20. Now King Pelias meant cunningly to entrap the young man and to make him say some. thing that should be the cause of mischief and destruction to himself. So, with an evil smile upon his face, he spoke as follows:

"What would you do, brave Jason," asked he, "if there were a man in the world by whom, as you had reason to believe, you were doomed to be ruined and slain—what would you do, I say, if that man stood before you and in your power?"

21. When Jason saw the malice④ and wickedness which King Pelias could not prevent from gleaming out of his eyes, he probably guessed that the king had discovered what he came for, and that he intended to turn his own words against himself.

22. Still he scorned to tell a falsehood. Like an upright and honorable prince, as he was, he determined to speak out the real truth. Since the king had chosen to ask him the question, and since Jason had promised him an answer, there was no right way save to tell him precisely what would be the most prudent thing to do if he had his worst enemy in his power.

23. Therefore, after a moment's consideration, he spoke up with a firm and manly voice.

"I would send such a man," said he, "in quest⑤ of the Golden Fleece."

24. This enterprise, you will understand, was of all others the most difficult and dangerous in the world. In the first place, it would be necessary to make a long voyage through unknown seas. There was hardly a hope or a possibility that any young man who should undertake this voyage would either succeed in obtaining the Golden Fleece or would survive to return home and tell of the perils he had run. The eyes of King Pelias sparkled with joy, therefore, when he heard Jason's reply.

25. "Well said, wise man with the one sandal!" cried he. "Go, then, and at the peril of your life bring me back the Golden Fleece."

"I go," answered Jason. "If I fail, you need not fear that I will ever come back to trouble you again. But if I return to Iolchos with the prize, then, King Pelias, you must hasten down from your throne and give me your crown and scepter⑥."

"That I will," said the king, with a sneer. "Meantime, I will keep them very safely for you."

Ⅲ

26. The first thing that Jason thought of doing after he left the king's presence was to go to Dodona and inquire of the Talking Oak what course it was best to pursue. This wonderful tree stood in the center of an ancient wood. Its stately trunk rose up a hundred feet into the air and threw a broad and dense shadow over more than an acre of ground.

27. Standing beneath it, Jason looked up among the knotted branches and green leaves and into the mysterious heart of the old tree, and spoke aloud, as if he were addressing some person who was hidden in the depths of the foliage.

"What shall I do," said he, "in order to win the Golden Fleece?"

28. At first there was a deep silence, not only within the shadow of the Talking Oak, but all through the solitary wood. In a moment or two, however, the leaves of the oak began to stir and rustle as if a gentle breeze were wandering amongst them, although the other trees of the wood were perfectly still. The sound grew louder and became like the roar of a high wind.

29. By and by Jason imagined that he could distinguish words, but very confusedly, because each separate leaf of the tree seemed to be a tongue, and the whole myriad of tongues were babbling at once. But the noise waxed broader and deeper, until it resembled a tornado sweeping through the oak and making one great utterance out of the thousand and thousand of little murmurs which each leafy tongue had caused by its rustling. And now, though it still had the tone of mighty wind roaring among the branches, it was also like a deep bass voice speaking, as distinctly as a tree could be expected to speak, the following words:

"Go to Argus the shipbuilder, and bid him build a galley⑦ with fifty oars."

30. Then the voice melted again into the indistinct murmur of the rustling leaves and died gradually away.

On inquiry among the people of Iolchos, he found that there was really a man in the city, by the name of Argus, who was a very skillful builder of vessels. At Jason's request, Argus readily consented to build him a galley so big that it should require fifty strong men to row it; although no vessel of such a size and burden had heretofore been seen in the world.

The new ship, which was called the Argo, was soon made quite ready for sea. Jason visited the Talking Oak again, and, standing beside its huge, rough trunk, inquired what he should do next.

31. This time there was no such quivering of the leaves throughout the whole tree as there had been before. But after a while Jason observed that the foliage of a great branch which stretched above his head had begun to rustle, as if the wind were stirring that old bough, while all the other boughs of the oak were at rest.

"Cut me off," said the branch, as soon as it could speak distinctly; "cut me off, cut me off, and carve me into a figurehead for your galley."

32. Accordingly, Jason took the branch at its word, and lopped it off the tree. A carver in the neighborhood engaged to make the figurehead. When the work was finished, it turned out to be the figure of a beautiful woman with a helmet on her head, from beneath which the long ringlets fell down upon her shoulders. On the left arm was a shield, and the right arm was extended as if pointing onward.

33. Jason was delighted with the oaken image, and gave the carver no rest until it was completed and set up where a figurehead has always stood from that time to this, in the vessel's prow⑧.

"And now," cried he, as he stood gazing at the calm, majestic face of the statue, "I must go to the Talking Oak and inquire what next to do."

34. "There is no need of that, Jason," said a voice which, though it was far lower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great oak. "When you desire good advice, you can seek it of me."

Jason had been looking straight into the face of the image when these words were spoken. But he could hardly believe either his ears or his eyes. The truth was, however, that the oaken lips had moved, and, to all appearance, the voice had proceeded from the statue's mouth.

35. Recovering a little from his surprise, Jason bethought himself that the image had been carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, and that, therefore, it was really no great wonder, but, on the contrary, the most natural thing in the world that it should possess the faculty of speech.

36. "Tell me, wondrous image," exclaimed Jason —"since you inherit the wisdom of the Speaking Oak of Dodona, whose daughter you are—tell me where shall I find fifty bold youths who will take each of them an oar of my galley? They must have sturdy⑨ arms to row, and brave hearts to encounter⑩ perils, or we shall never win the Golden Fleece."

"Go," replied the oaken image, "go, summon all the heroes of Greece."

37. And, in fact, considering what a great deed was to be done, could any advice be wiser than this which Jason received from the figure-head of his vessel? He lost no time in sending messengers to all the cities and making known to the whole people of Greece that Prince Jason, the son of King Æson, was going in quest of the Fleece of Gold, and that he desired the help of forty-nine of the bravest and strongest young men alive to row his vessel and share his dangers. And Jason himself would be the fiftieth.

38. At this news the adventurous youths all over the country began to bestir themselves. They came thronging to Iolchos and clambered on board the new galley. Shaking hands with Jason, they assured him that they did not care a pin for their lives, but would help row the vessel to the remotest edge of the world, and as much farther as they might think it best to go.

Ⅳ

39. If I were to tell you all the adventures of the Argonauts, it would take me till nightfall, and perhaps a great deal longer. There was no lack of wonderful events, any one of which would make a story by itself. After many adventures, they at last reached Colchis.

40. When the king of the country, whose name was Æetes, heard of their arrival, he instantly summoned Jason to court. The king was stern and cruel looking; and, though he put on as polite and hospitable an expression as he could, Jason did not like his face a whit better than that of the wicked King Pelias, who dethroned his father.

41. "You are welcome, brave Jason," said King Æetes. "Pray, are you on a pleasure voyage?—or do you meditate⑪ the discovery of unknown islands? —or what other cause has procured me the happiness of seeing you at my court?"

42. "Great sir," replied Jason, "I have come hither with a purpose which I now beg your majesty's permission to execute. King Pelias, who sits on my father's throne (to which he has no more right than to the one on which your excellent majesty is now seated), has engaged to come down from it and to give me his crown and scepter provided I bring him the Golden Fleece. This, as your majesty is aware, is now hanging on a tree here at Colchis, and I humbly solicit⑫ your gracious leave to take it away."

43. In spite of himself, the king's face twisted itself into an angry frown; for, above all things else in the world, he prized the Golden Fleece, and was even suspected of having done a very wicked act in order to get it into his own possession. It put him into the worst possible humor, therefore, to hear that the gallant Prince Jason and forty-nine of the bravest young warriors of Greece had come to Colchis with the sole purpose of taking away his chief treasure.

44. "Do you know," asked King Æetes, eying Jason very sternly, "what are the conditions which you must fulfill before getting possession of the Golden Fleece?"

"I have heard," rejoined the youth, "that a dragon lies beneath the tree on which the prize hangs, and that whoever approaches him runs the risk of being devoured at a mouthful."

45. "True," said the king, with a smile that did not look particularly good-natured. "Very true, young man; but there are other things as hard, or perhaps a little harder, to be done before you can even have the privilege of being devoured by the dragon. For example, you must first tame my two brazen-footed and brazen-lunged bulls which Vulcan, the wonderful blacksmith, made for me.

46. "There is a furnace in each of their stomachs, and they breathe such hot fire out of their mouths and nostrils that nobody has hitherto gone nigh them without being instantly burned to a small, black cinder. What do you think of this, my brave Jason?"

"I must encounter the peril," answered Jason, "since it stands in the way of my purpose."

47. "After taming the fiery bulls," continued King Æetes, who was determined to scare Jason if possible, "you must yoke them to a plow, and must plow the sacred earth in the Grove of Mars, and sow some of the dragon's teeth from which Cadmus raised a crop of armed men. You and your nine and forty Argonauts, my bold Jason, are hardly strong enough to fight with such a host as will spring up."

48. "My master, Chiron," replied Jason, "taught me long ago the story of Cadmus. Perhaps I can manage the quarrelsome sons of the dragon's teeth as well as Cadmus did."

"I wish the dragon had him," muttered King Æetes to himself. "We'll see what my fire-breathing bulls will do for him. Well, Prince Jason," he continued aloud and as complaisantly⑬ as he could, "make yourself comfortable for to-day, and tomorrow morning, since you insist upon it, you shall try your skill at the plow."

49. While the king talked with Jason a beautiful young woman was standing behind the throne. She fixed her eyes earnestly upon the youthful stranger, and listened attentively to every word that was spoken; and when Jason withdrew from the king's presence, this young woman followed him out of the room.

50. "I am the king's daughter," she said to him, "and my name is Medea. I know a great deal of which other young princesses are ignorant, and can do many things which they would be afraid so much as to dream of. If you will trust to me, I can instruct you how to tame the fiery bulls, and sow the dragon's teeth, and get the Golden Fleece."

51. "Indeed, beautiful princess," answered Jason, "if you will do me this service, I promise to be grateful to you my whole life long. But how can you help me to do the things of which you speak? Are you an enchantress?"

52. "Yes, Prince Jason," answered Medea, with a smile, "you have hit upon the truth. I am an enchantress. Circe, my father's sister, taught me to be one. It is well for you that I am favorably inclined; for, otherwise, you would hardly escape being snapped up by the dragon."

"I should not so much care for the dragon," replied Jason, "if I only knew how to manage the brazen-footed and fiery-lunged bulls."

53. "If you are as brave as I think you, and as you have need to be," said Medea, "your own bold heart will teach you that there is but one way of dealing with a mad bull. What it is I leave you to find out in the moment of peril. As for the fiery breath of these animals, I have a charmed ointment here which will prevent you from being burned up, and cure you if you chance to be a little scorched."

54. So she put a golden box into his hand and directed him how to apply the ointment which it contained, and where to meet her at midnight.

"Only be brave," added she, "and before daybreak the brazen bulls shall be tamed."

55. The young man assured her that his heart would not fail him. He then rejoined his comrades, and told them what had passed between the princess and himself, and warned them to be in readiness in case there might be need of their help.

Ⅴ

56. At the appointed hour he met the beautiful Medea on the marble steps of the king's palace. She gave him a basket in which were the dragon's teeth, just as they had been pulled out of the monster's jaws by Cadmus long ago. Medea then led Jason down the palace steps, and through the silent streets of the city, and into the royal pasture ground, where the two brazen-footed bulls were kept. It was a starry night, with a bright gleam along the eastern edge of the sky, where the moon was soon going to show herself.

57. At some distance before him he perceived four streams of fiery vapor, regularly appearing and again vanishing, after dimly lighting up the surrounding obscurity⑭. These, you will understand, were caused by the breath of the brazen bulls, which was quietly stealing out of their four nostrils as they lay chewing their cuds.

58. At the first two or three steps which Jason made, the four fiery streams appeared to gush out somewhat more plentifully; for the two brazen bulls had heard his foot tramp and were lifting up their hot noses to snuff the air. He went a little farther, and by the way in which the red vapor now spouted forth he judged that the creatures had got upon their feet. Now he could see glowing sparks and vivid jets of flame.

59. Suddenly as a streak of lightning, on came the fiery animals, roaring like thunder and sending out sheets of white flame. Most distinctly Jason saw the two horrible creatures galloping right down upon him, their brazen hoofs rattling and ringing over the ground, and their tails sticking up stiffly into the air, as has always been the fashion with angry bulls.

Jason and the Brazen Bulls

60. Their breath scorched the herbage before them. But as for Jason himself, thanks to Medea's enchanted ointment, the white flame curled around his body without injuring him a jot.

61. Greatly encouraged at finding himself not yet turned into a cinder, the young man awaited the attack of the bulls. Just as the brazen brutes fancied themselves sure of tossing him into the air, he caught one of them by the horn and the other by his screwed-up tail, and held them in a grip like that of an iron vise, one with his right hand, and the other with his left. Well, he must have been wonderfully strong in his arms, to be sure.

62. But the secret of the matter was that the brazen bulls were enchanted creatures, and that Jason had broken the spell of their fiery fierceness by his bold way of handling them.

63. It was now easy to yoke the bulls and to harness them to the plow, and by the time that the moon was a quarter of her journey up the sky the plowed field lay before him, a large tract of black earth, ready to be sown with the dragon's teeth. So Jason scattered them broadcast.

The moon was now high aloft in the heavens and threw its bright beams over the plowed field, where as yet there was nothing to be seen.

64. But by and by all over the field there was something that glistened in the moonbeams like sparkling drops of dew. These bright objects sprouted higher, and proved to be the steel heads of spears. Then there was a dazzling gleam from a vast number of polished brass helmets, beneath which, as they grew farther out of the soil, appeared the dark and bearded visages of warriors struggling to free themselves from the imprisoning earth.

65. The first look that they gave at the upper world was a glare of wrath and defiance. Next were seen their bright breastplates; in every right hand there was a sword or a spear, and on each left arm a shield; and when this strange crop of warriors had but half grown out of the earth, they struggled—such was their impatience of restraint—and, as it were, tore themselves up by the roots.

66. Wherever a dragon's tooth had fallen, there stood a man armed for battle. They made a clangor⑮ with their swords against their shields, and eyed one another fiercely; for they had come into this beautiful world, and into the peaceful moonlight, full of rage and stormy passions, and ready to take the life of every human brother, in recompense of the boon of their own existence.

67. For a while the warriors stood flourishing their weapons, clashing their swords against their shields, and boiling over with the red-hot thirst for battle. At last the front rank caught sight of Jason, who, beholding the flash of so many weapons in the moonlight, had thought it best to draw his sword.

68. In a moment all the sons of the dragon's teeth appeared to take Jason for an enemy; and crying with one voice, "Guard the Golden Fleece!" they ran at him with uplifted swords and protruded⑯ spears. Jason knew that it would be impossible to withstand this bloodthirsty battalion⑰ with his single arm, but determined, since there was nothing better to be done, to die as valiantly as if he himself had sprung from a dragon's tooth.

69. Medea, however, bade him snatch up a stone from the ground.

"Throw it among them quickly!" cried she. "It is the only way to save yourself."

The armed men were now so nigh that Jason could discern the fire flashing out of their enraged eyes, when he let fly the stone, and saw it strike the helmet of a tall warrior who was rushing upon him with his blade aloft.

70. The stone glanced from this man's helmet to the shield of his nearest comrade, and thence flew right into the angry face of another, hitting him smartly between the eyes.

Each of the three who had been struck by the stone took it for granted that his next neighbor had given him a blow; and instead of running any farther towards Jason, they began a fight among themselves.

71. The confusion spread through the host, so that it seemed scarcely a moment before they were all hacking, hewing, and stabbing at one another.

In an incredibly short space of time—almost as short, indeed, as it had taken them to grow up—all of the heroes of the dragon's teeth were stretched lifeless on the field.

And there was the end of the army that had sprouted from the dragon's teeth. That fierce and feverish fight was the only enjoyment which they had tasted on this beautiful earth.

Ⅳ

72. Agreeably to Medea's advice, Jason went m the morning to the palace of King Æetes. Entering the presence chamber, he stood at the foot of the throne and made a low obeisance⑱.

"Your eyes look heavy, Prince Jason," observed the king; "you appear to have spent a sleepless night. I hope you have been considering the matter a little more wisely, and have concluded not to get yourself scorched to a cinder in attempting to tame my brazen-lunged bulls."

73. "That is already accomplished, may it please your majesty," replied Jason. "The bulls have been tamed and yoked; the field has been plowed; the dragon's teeth have been sown broadcast and harrowed into the soil; the crop of armed warriors have sprung up, and they have slain one another to the last man. And now I solicit your majesty's permission to encounter the dragon, that I may take down the Golden Fleece from the tree and depart with my nine and forty comrades."

74. King Æetes scowled and looked very angry and greatly disturbed; for he knew that, in accordance with his kingly promise, he ought now to permit Jason to win the Fleece if his courage and skill should enable him to do so.

75."You never would have succeeded in this business, young man," said he, "if my undutiful daughter Medea had not helped you with her enchantments. Had you acted fairly, you would have been at this instant a black cinder or a handful of white ashes. I forbid you, on pain of death, to make any more attempts to get the Golden Fleece. To speak my mind plainly, you shall never set eyes on so much as one of its glistening locks."

76. Jason left the king's presence in great sorrow and anger. But, as he was hastening down the palace steps, the Princess Medea called after him and beckoned him to return.

"What says King Æetes, my royal and upright father?" inquired Medea, slightly smiling. "Will he give you the Golden Fleece without any further risk or trouble?"

77. "On the contrary," answered Jason, "he is very angry with me for taming the brazen bulls and sowing the dragon's teeth. And he forbids me to make any more attempts, and positively refuses to give up the Golden Fleece whether I slay the dragon or no."

78. "Yes, Jason," said the princess, "and I can tell you more. Unless you set sail from Colchis before to-morrow's sunrise, the king means to burn your fifty-oared galley and put yourself and your forty-nine brave comrades to the sword. But be of good courage. The Golden Fleece you shall have, if it lies within the power of my enchantments to get it for you. Wait for me here an hour before midnight."

79. At the appointed hour you might again have seen Prince Jason and the Princess Medea, side by side, stealing through the streets of Colchis, on their way to the sacred grove, in the center of which the Golden Fleece was suspended⑲ to a tree.

80. Jason followed Medea's guidance into the Grove of Mars, where the great oak trees that had been growing for centuries threw so thick a shade that the moonbeams struggled vainly to find their way through it. Only here and there a glimmer fell upon the leaf-strewn earth, or now and then a breeze stirred the boughs aside and gave Jason a glimpse of the sky, lest, in that deep obscurity, he might forget that there was one overhead.

81. At length, when they had gone farther and farther into the heart of the duskiness, Medea squeezed Jason's hand.

"Look yonder," she whispered. "Do you see it?"

Gleaming among the venerable oaks there was a radiance, not like the moonbeams, but rather resembling the golden glory of the setting sun. It proceeded from an object which appeared to be suspended at about a man's height from the ground, a little farther within the wood.

82. "What is it?" asked Jason.

"Have you come so far to seek it," exclaimed Medea, "and do you not recognize the meed⑳ of all your toils and perils when it glitters before your eyes? It is the Golden Fleece."

83. Jason went onward a few steps farther, and then stopped to gaze. Oh, how beautiful it looked, shining with a marvelous light of its own, that prize which so many heroes had longed to behold, but had perished in the quest of it either by the perils of their voyage or by the fiery breath of the brazen-lunged bulls!

84. "How gloriously it shines!" cried Jason, in a rapture. "It has surely been dipped in the richest gold of sunset. Let me hasten onward and take it to my bosom."

"Stay," said Medea, holding him back. "Have you forgotten what guards it?"

85. To say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object of his desires, the terrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason's memory. Soon, however, something came to pass that reminded him what perils were still to be encountered.

86. An antelope, that probably mistook the yellow radiance for sunrise, came bounding fleetly through the grove. He was rushing straight towards the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was a frightful hiss, and the immense head and half the scaly body of the dragon were thrust forth—for he was twisted round the trunk of the tree on which the Fleece hung—and seizing the poor antelope, swallowed him with one snap of his jaws.

87. The dragon had probably heard the voices; for, swift as lightning, his black head and forked tongue came hissing among the trees again, darting full forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed a magic potion㉑ right down the monster's wide-open throat. Immediately, with an outrageous hiss and a tremendous wriggle, flinging his tail up to the tiptop of the tallest tree and shattering all its branches as it crashed heavily down again, the dragon fell at full length upon the ground and lay quite motionless.

The galley flew over the water.

88. "It is only a sleeping potion," said the enchantress to Prince Jason. "Quick! Snatch the prize and let us begone. You have won the Golden Fleece."

Jason caught the Fleece from the tree and hurried through the grove, the deep shadows of which were illuminated㉒, as he passed, by the golden glory of the precious object that he bore along.

89. Jason found the heroes seated on the benches of the galley, with their oars held perpendicularly, ready to let fall into the water.

As he drew near, he heard the Talking Image calling to him with more than ordinary eagerness, in its grave, sweet voice:

"Make haste, Prince Jason! For your life, make haste!"

90. With one bound, he leaped aboard. At sight of the glorious radiance of the Golden Fleece, the nine and forty heroes gave a mighty shout, and Orpheus, striking his harp, sang a song of triumph, to the cadence㉓ of which the galley flew over the water, homeward bound, as if careering along with wings.

注释

① Sandals, shoes consisting of soles strapped to the feet.

② Turbulent, disturbed; roused to great commotion.

③ Garb, dress.

④ Malice, ill will.

⑤ Quest, search.

⑥ Scepter, a staff carried by a king as a sign of his authority.

⑦ Galley, a vessel with oars, used by ancient people.

⑧ Prow, the forepart of a vessel.

⑨ Sturdy, strong.

⑩ Encounter, meet.

⑪ Meditate, intend; think seriously.

⑫ Solicit, ask earnestly.

⑬ Complaisantly, politely.

⑭ Obscurity, darkness.

⑮ Clangor, a sharp, harsh, ringing sound.

⑯ Protruded, thrust out.

⑰ Battalion, body of troops.

⑱ Obeisance, bow.

⑲ Suspended, hung.

⑳ Meed, reward.

㉑ Potion, drink; dose; usually of liquid medicine.

㉒ Illuminated, lighted up; brightened.

㉓ Cadence, the close or fall of a strain of music.

41

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER

BY FRANCIS SCOTT KEY

Francis Scott Key (1780-1843): An American lawyer, who will be remembered as the author of "The Star-Spangled Banner."

Key composing "The Star-Spangled Banner"

During the second war with England, in 1814, the British made an attack upon the city of Baltimore. The British war ships moved up near Fort McHenry and opened a heavy fire of cannon balls, bomb shells, and rockets. These latter were made like our well-known sky rockets, and could be thrown at the enemy.

During the battle some Americans, one of whom was Francis Scott Key, carried a flag of truce out to the British fleet to secure the release of an American citizen who had been taken prisoner. The Americans were detained over night on a ship far to the rear of the attack. During the night they listened anxiously to the sound of the guns, and watched the red rockets and the bursting bombs, being sure that, as long as the firing continued, the fort still held out; but late in the night the guns became silent. Did it mean that the attack had been repulsed? Or had the fort surrendered? Only daylight would well.

Before dawn the anxious Americans were watching. The first faint light of day showed them the stars and stripes still floating over the fort; then they knew that the attack had failed and that the Americans were victorious.

While on the deck of the British war ship, Mr. Key composed the poem which has become our national anthem.

1. Oh, say! can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming—

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the clouds of the fight,

O'er the ramparts① we watched, were so gallantly streaming?

And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

Oh, say! does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

2.On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,

Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze o'er the towering② steep,

As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam;

In full glory reflected now shines on the stream;

Tis the star-spangled banner; oh! long may it wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

3. And where is that band who so vauntingly③ swore

That the havoc④ of war and the battle's confusion

A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution⑤;

No refuge could save the hireling⑥ and slave

From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave;

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

4. Oh! thus be it ever when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and war's desolation!

Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto, "In God is our trust;"

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

________

Young men, you are the architects of your own fortunes. Rely on your own strength of body and soul. Take for your star self-reliance. Energy, invincible determination, with a right motive, are the levers that move the world. Love your God and your fellowmen. Love truth and virtue. Love your country and obey its laws.

—PORTER

注释

① Ramparts: walls surrounding a place for its defence.

② Towering: very high.

③ Vauntingly: boastingly; braggingly.

④ Havoc: destruction; ruin.

⑤ Pollution: uncleanness.

⑥ Hireling: one who serves for gain only.

42

MY NATIVE LAND

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): A Scotch poet and novelist. "Marmion," "The Lady of the Lake," and "The Lay of the Last Minstrel" are considered the best of his poems; and of his many novels probably "Ivanhoe" and "Kenilworth" are most read. Children enjoy "The Tales of a Grandfather," stories from Scottish history written for his own little grandson.

This selection is from "The Lay of the Last Minstrel."

1. Breathes there the man with soul so dead,

Who never to himself hath said,

"This is my own, my native land!"

Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,

As home his footsteps he hath turned

From wandering on a foreign strand①?

2. If such there breathe, go, mark him well!

For him no minstrel raptures swell.

High though his titles, proud his name,

Boundless his wealth as wish can claim—

Despite those titles, power, and pelf②,

The wretch, concentered③ all in self,

Living shall forfeit fair renown,

And, doubly dying, shall go down

To the vile dust from whence he sprung,

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

注释

① Strand: shore.

② Pelf: money; riches.

③ Concentered: concentrated; fixed.

43

HUNTING THE GRIZZLY

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919): The twenty-sixth President of the United States. He was made Assistant Secretary of the Navy in 1897, and the next year resigned to organize with Dr. Leonard Wood the First U. S. Cavalry Volunteers, popularly called Roosevelt's Rough Riders. The regiment distinguished itself in action in Cuba, and Roosevelt was made colonel for gallantry in the battle of La Quasina. In 1898 he was elected Governor of New York, and in 1900 Vice-President. On the death of President McKinley, September 14, 1901, he became President. He has done much big game shooting in the West, and is the author of a number of books, among which are "The Winning of the West" and "The Life of Gouverneur Morris."

Ⅰ

1. That evening we almost had a visit from one of the animals we were after. Several times we had heard at night the musical calling of the bull elk—a sound to which no writer has as yet done justice.

2. This particular night, when we were in bed and the fire was smoldering①, we were roused by a ruder noise—a kind of grunting or roaring whine, answered by the frightened snorts of the ponies. It was a bear which had evidently not seen the fire, as it came from behind the bank, and had probably been attracted by the smell of the horses.

3. After it made out what we were, it stayed round a short while, again uttered its peculiar roaring grunt and went off. We had seized our rifles and had run out into the woods, but in the darkness could see nothing; indeed, it was rather lucky we did not stumble across the bear, as he could have made short work of us when we were at such a disadvantage.

A grizzly bear

4. Next day we went off on a long tramp through the woods and along the sides of the canyons②. There were plenty of berry bushes growing in clusters, and all around these there were fresh tracks of bear. But the grizzly is also a flesh-eater, and has a great liking for carrion③.

5. On visiting the place where Merrifield had killed the black bear, we found that the grizzlies had been there before us, and had utterly devoured the carcass, with cannibal④ relish. Hardly a scrap was left, and we turned our steps toward where lay the bull elk I had killed.

6. It was quite late in the afternoon when we reached the place. A grizzly had evidently been at the carcass during the preceding night, for his great footprints were in the ground all around it, and the carcass itself was gnawed and torn and partially covered with earth and leaves; for the grizzly has a curious habit of burying all of his prey that he does not at the moment need.

We sat still to wait.

7. A great many ravens had been feeding on the body, and they wheeled about over the tree tops above us, uttering their barking croaks.

8. The forest was composed mainly of what are called ridge-pole pines, which grow close together, and do not branch out until the stems are thirty or forty feet from the ground. Beneath these trees we walked over a carpet of pine needles, upon which our moccasined feet made no sound. The woods seemed vast and lonely, and their silence was broken now and then by the strange noises always to be heard in the great forests, and which seem to mark the sad and everlasting unrest of the wilderness.

9. We climbed up along the trunk of a dead tree which had toppled over until its upper branches struck in the limb crotch of another, that thus supported it at an angle halfway in its fall. When above the ground far enough to prevent the bear's smelling us, we sat still to wait for his approach until, in the gathering gloom, we could no longer see the sights of our rifles, and could but dimly make out the carcass of the great elk.

10. It was useless to wait longer, and we clambered down, and stole out to the edge of the woods. The forest here covered one side of a steep, almost canyon-like ravine, whose other side was bare, except of rock and sage brush⑤. Once out from under the trees there was still plenty of light, although the sun had set, and we crossed over some fifty yards to the opposite hillside and crouched down under a bush to see if perchance some animal might not also leave the cover.

11. To our right the ravine sloped downward toward the valley of the Bighorn River, and far on its other side we could catch a glimpse of the great main chain of the Rockies, their snow peaks glinting crimson in the light of the set sun.

12. Again we waited quietly in the growing dusk, until the pine trees in our front blended into one dark, frowning mass. We saw nothing; but the wild creatures of the forest had begun to stir abroad. The owls hooted dismally from the tops of the tall trees, and two or three times a harsh, wailing cry, probably the voice of some lynx or wolverine, arose from the depths of the woods.

13. At last, as we were rising to leave, we heard the sound of the breaking of a dead stick from the spot where we knew the carcass lay. It was a sharp, sudden noise, perfectly distinct from the natural creaking and snapping of the branches; just such a sound as would be made by the tread of some heavy creature. "Old Ephraim"⑥ had come back to the carcass.

14. A minute afterward, listening with strained ears, we heard him brush by some dry twigs. It was entirely too dark to go in after him; but we made up our minds that on the morrow he should be ours.

Ⅱ

15. Early the next morning we were over at the elk carcass, and, as we expected, found that the bear had eaten his fill at it during the night. His tracks showed him to be an immense fellow, and were so fresh that we doubted if he had left long before we arrived; and we made up our minds to follow him up and try to find his lair⑦.

16. My companion was a skillful tracker, and we took up the trail at once. For some distance it led over the soft, yielding carpet of moss and pine needles, and the footprints were quite easily made out, although we could follow them but slowly; for we had, of course, to keep a sharp lookout ahead and around us as we walked noiselessly on in the somber half light always prevailing under the great pine trees.

17. We made no sound ourselves, and every little sudden noise sent a thrill through me as I peered about, with each sense on the alert⑧. Two or three of the ravens that we had scared from the carcass flew overhead, croaking hoarsely; and the pine tops moaned and sighed in the slight breeze—for pine trees seem to be ever in motion, no matter how light the wind.

18. After going a few hundred yards the tracks turned off on a well-beaten path made by the elk; the woods were in many places cut up by these game trails, which had often become as distinct as ordinary footpaths. The beast's footprints were perfectly plain in the dust, and he had lumbered along up the path until near the middle of the hillside, where the ground broke away and there were hollows and bowlders⑨.

19. Here there had been a windfall⑩, and the dead trees lay among the living, piled across one another in all directions; while between and around them sprouted up a thick growth of young spruces and other evergreens. The trail turned off into the tangled thicket, within which it was almost certain we would find our quarry⑪.

20. We could still follow the tracks, by the slight scrapes of the claws on the bark, or by the bent and broken twigs; and we advanced with noiseless caution, slowly climbing over the dead tree trunks and upturned stumps, and not letting a branch rustle or catch on our clothes. When in the middle of the thicket, we crossed what was almost a breastwork of fallen logs, and Merrifield, who was leading, passed by the upright stem of a great pine.

He reared up on his haunches.

21. As soon as he was by it he sank suddenly on one knee, turning half round, his face fairly aflame with excitement; and as I strode past him, with my rifle at the ready, there, not ten steps off, was the great bear, slowly rising from his bed among the young spruces. He had heard us, but apparently hardly knew exactly where or what we were, for he reared up on his haunches, sideways to us.

22. Then he saw us and dropped down again on all fours, the shaggy hair on his neck and shoulders seeming to bristle as he turned toward us. As he sank down on his fore feet I had raised the rifle; his head was bent slightly down, and when I saw the top of the white bead fairly between his small, glittering, evil eyes, I pulled the trigger.

23. Half rising up, the huge beast fell over on his side in the death throes, the ball having gone into his brain, striking as fairly between the eyes as if the distance had been measured by a carpenter's rule.

24. The whole thing was over in twenty seconds from the time I caught sight of the game; indeed, it was over so quickly that the grizzly did not have time to show fight at all, or come a step toward us. It was the first I had ever seen, and I felt not a little proud as I stood over the great brindled bulk which lay stretched out at length in the cool shade of the evergreens.

25. He was a monstrous fellow, much larger than any I have seen since, whether alive or brought in dead by the hunters. As near as we could estimate—for of course we had nothing with which to weigh more than very small portions—he must have weighed about twelve hundred pounds; and though this is not so large as some of his kind are said to grow in California, it is yet a very unusual size for a bear. He was a good deal heavier than any of our horses; and it was with the greatest difficulty that we were able to skin him.

26. He must have been very old, his teeth and claws being all worn down and blunted; but nevertheless he had been living in plenty, for he was as fat as a prize hog, the layers of his back being a finger's length in thickness.

27. He was still in the summer coat, his hair being short, and in color a curious brindled brown, somewhat like that of certain bulldogs; while all the bears we shot afterward had the long, thick winter fur, cinnamon or yellowish brown.

28. By the way, the name of this bear has reference to its character and not to its color, and should, I suppose, be properly spelled "grisly"—in the sense of horrible, exactly as we speak of a "grisly specter⑫"—and not "grizzly;" but perhaps the latter way of spelling it is too well established to be now changed.

__________

The spring is pleasant. The air is warm. Flowers are in blossom. The days and nights are equal.

Summer also will be pleasant. The air will be hot. Many flowers will be in blossom. The days will be long.

Winter was not so pleasant. The air was cold. The flowers were not in blossom. The days were short.

Which sentences tell (1) how things are now; (2) how they were; (3) how they will be?

Write these sentences as if (1) winter were here; (2) as if it were still to come.

WORDS IN FOURTH READER

abandon: give up.

accuracy: correctness.

Æson.

Æetes.

Ahmed.

amain: busily.

amazement: surprise.

Apia.

architect: a person skilled in the art of building.

Argonauts.

Argus.

aspect: appearance; look.

aspiring: rising upward.

assailed: attacked.

asseverated: said earnestly.

assured (shurd): sure; certain.

asunder: apart; in two.

atmosphere (fer): air.

aweary: tired.

awry: twisted toward one side.

bade: ordered.

balm: a gummy substance which flows from the fir tree.

balsam: a gummy substance which flows from the fir tree.

balus trade: a railing along the edge of a bridge or staircase.

barges: roomy boats to carry goods or passengers.

barnacles: small shellfish which fasten themselves on rocks, timbers, other animals, etc.

bass: a kind of fish.

battalion: body of troops.

bazaar: in the East a shop where goods are kept for sale.

belike: perhaps.

benevolent: kind.

benumbed: deprived of feeling, as by cold.

beseech: beg; ask earnestly.

billows: great waves of the sea.

Bisnagar.

blithesome: gay; cheerful.

board: go on deck of.

bowlders: large stones worn smooth by the action of water; rocks, rounded or not, carried by natural agencies far from their native bed.

brethren: brothers.

briny: salty.

buoy: a floating object chained in place to mark a channel or to show the position of something under the water, as a rock.

burden: the chorus of a song.

burrows: holes in the ground, made for homes by certain animals.

bustling: noisy; active.

cadence: the close or fall of a strain of music.

Cadmus.

cannibal: an animal that devours its own kind.

canoe: a small, light boat.

canyons: deep gorges or hollows between steep banks, worn by water courses.

captive: a prisoner taken in war.

caravan: a company of travelers through a desert.

carrion: dead bodies of animals, unfit for food.

cataracts: great falls of water oversteep places.

celebrated: famous; well known.

Centaurs.

ceremonies: forms of politeness.

charity: kindness to the poor.

Cheemaun: a birch canoe.

Chiron.

Cintra: a town in Portugal.

clangor: a sharp, harsh ringing sound.

cleave: cut; part.

client: one who asks advice of a lawyer.

Colchis.

commended: praised.

compassionately: (pash) pityingly.

compelled: forced, obliged.

complaisantly: politely.

comprehend: understand.

concentered: concentrated; fixed.

confiding: trusting.

conjecture: guess.

conjure: beg earnestly.

conjurer: a magician.

consequently: accordingly: as a result.

construction: manner of building; arrangement.

converted: changed.

conveyed: carried.

covert: shelter.

Crusoe's: men like Robinson Crusoe, the hero of the story of that name. He was a shipwrecked sailor who lived many years on an uninhabited island.

decision: fixed purpose.

deficiency purpose: want.

deliberate: slow and careful.

demurely: soberly.

disguised: dressed for the purpose of concealment.

dismal: sad.

divert: turn aside.

Dodona.

dreariest: most comfortless and sorrowful.

drowsy: sleepy.

eddying: moving in a circle.

emerged: came out.

emigrants: emigrants are people who have left one country to settle in another.

encounter: meet.

energy: force and resolution; power for work.

entertainment: amusement.

equipped: dressed; fitted out.

espied: saw.

ethereal: heavenly.

featly: nimbly.

feats: tricks.

fee: charge.

festivals: feasts.

fibrous: composed of fibers or threads; tough.

fidelity: faithfulness.

fissure: a narrow opening. (fish)

fitful: changeable.

flaunt: wave; spread out.

flee: run away.

flimsy: thin.

forbear: keep from.

foreign: belonging to other countries.

fourscore: eighty.

fraud: deceit; cheat.

frothy: full of bubbles.

functions: actions suitable to a business or profession.

gallant: brave.

galley: a vessel with oars, used by ancient people.

garb: dress.

Geezis: the sun.

genies: spirits; powerful fairies.

giving ear: listening.

glare: stare; look fiercely.

glee: joy; mirth.

glossy: smooth and shining.

gratitude: thankfulness.

gravitation: the law of nature by which all bodies are drawn toward one another.

Great Wall, the: a wall fourteen hundred miles long, built many hundreds of years ago for the defense of the Chinese Empire.

greensward: turf green with grass.

guardian: one to whose care a person or thing is committed.

gulls: long-winged seabirds.

havoc: destruction; ruin.

hawsers: large ropes.

hermit: a man who lives apart from other people.

hillock: a small mound.

hireling: one who serves for gain only.

hopper: a box through which grain passes into a mill.

Houssain.

hovers: covers; shelters.

humiliation: shame; disgrace.

illuminated: lighted up; brightened.

imaginative: full of fancies.

impetuous: hasty.

impostor: a cheat; one who imposes upon others.

incredulity: unbelief.

infinitely: beyond measure; greatly.

ingenuity: skill; inventiveness.

inheritance: possession.

inscription: that which is inscribed or written, especially on a building or monument.

installed: placed in office.

instinctive: acting according to ones nature.

intercede: speak in ones behallf.

intolerable: not to be borne.

invalid: one who is weak from illness.

Iolchos.

Jason.

jungles: thickets of trees and vines.

Kagh: the hedgehog.

kine: cows.

knight: a man who receives a rank which entitles him to be called Sir; as, Sir Walter Scott.

lag: go slowly.

lair: the bed of a wild beast.

lea: meadow; field.

leagues: a league is a measure of distance of from two to four miles.

legal: relating to law; governed by the rules of law.

Leonidas.

line, the: the Equator.

linguist: a person skilled in languages.

loath: unwilling.

lower: seem dark and gloomy.

malice: ill will.

manufactured: made.

matronly: womanly; motherly.

maze: a tangle; a network.

mechanical: relating to tools and machinery.

mechanism: arrangement of the parts of anything.

meditate: intend; think seriously.

meed: reward.

minaret: the tall, slen. der tower of a mosque.

minstrel: poet; singer.

mischance: misfortune; ill luck.

mischievous: doing harm in play.

moccasin: an Indian shoe made of deerskin, the sole and the upper part being in one piece.

Moon of Leaves: May.

mosque: a church in Eastern countries.

moustachios: mustache.

mullet: a kind of fish.

mystery: something secret.

nankeen: a kind of yellow cotton cloth.

Neptune.

nook: corner.

Nourgi han.

Nouronnihar.

obeisance: bow.

obscurity: darkness.

observing: seeing; noticing.

orbits: paths round the sun.

Orpheus.

palanquin: an inclosed carriage, used in China and India, which is borne on the shoulders of men by means of two poles.

parachute: a sort of umbrella by means of which descent is made from a balloon.

pattens: wooden soles made to raise the feet above mud.

peers: equals.

pelf: money; riches.

Pelias.

penetrate: pierce into.

Peribanou.

pestilence: the plague; a deadly disease.

philosophy: the science or knowledge of things, their causes and their effects.

phiz: face.

pilot-cloth sack: a coat made of coarse dark blue cloth such as pilots wear.

pliant: bending easily without breaking.

plummy: full of plums.

Pollock: a sea-fish somesomewhat like the cod.

pollution: uncleanness.

porpoises: sea animals.

port: manner of carrying oneself.

portrayal: description.

potion: drink; dose, usually of liquid medicine.

pried: looked closely.

produce: that which is brought forth from the ground.

profession: employment; the business which one follows.

promoted: advanced; raised in rank.

protruded: thrust out.

prow: the forepart of vessel.

prowling: going stealthily or slyly.

quadruped: an animal having four feet.

quaint: odd; curious.

quarry: the animal hunted.

quarter staff: a long, stout staff used as a weapon.

quest: search.

ramparts: walls surrounding a place for its defense.

reluctant: unwilling.

reminiscences: recollections.

remonstrances: objections.

renounce: give up.

repel: drive away.

reproachfully: chidingly.

required: needed.

resin: a gummy substance which flows from the fir tree.

resplendent: very bright; shining.

retired: went away.

reverential: respectful; humble.

roamed: wandered; went from place to place.

roseate: rosy.

routine: regular course of action.

ruddiness: redness.

sallied: ran out.

Samarkand.

Samoa.

sandals: shoes consisting of soles strapped to the feet.

scepter: a staff carried by a king as a sign of his authority.

sea-pies: shore birds, sometimes called oyster catchers.

secluded: apart from others; lonely.

sedges: coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.

Serapis.

sheer: straight up and down.

shillings: the shilling is a silver coin of Great Britain equal in value to about twenty-four cents of our money.

shoal: a great number, a crowd—said especially of fish.

smoldering: burning and smoking without flame.

sojourners: those who dwell for a time.

solicit: ask earnestly.

solitary: lonely.

somber: dark; gloomy.

sorely: greatly.

sovereign: effectual.

species: kinds.

spiked: made the guns useless by stopping the vent or touchhole with a nail or spike.

spray: water falling in very small drops.

sprites: spirits; fairies.

squaws: Indian women.

straightway: at once.

strand: shore.

strids: passages between steep rocks or banks so narrow that they look as if they might be crossed at a stride.

sturdy: strong.

substitute: a person or thing put in place of another.

sulkily: peevishly; angrily.

sultan: an Eastern king

supple: easily bent.

suspended: hung.

sweep: a boy who cleans chimneys by sweeping them.

swirling: whirling.

sylph: a fairy.

sympathize: pity.

Tamarack: the American larch.

Taquamenaw: a river of northern Michigan, which flows into Lake Superior.

terns: long-winged seabirds.

tethered: fastened by a rope, for feeding within certain limits.

Thermopy lae.

thither: to this place.

tokens: signs.

towering: very high.

tranquil: quiet, calm.

transparent: that can be seen through.

transported: carried.

turbulent: disturbed; roused to great commotion.

ungentle: not gentle; rough.

urchin: a little boy.

Vailima.

valiant: brave.

valor: courage.

vauntingly: boastingly: braggingly.

veered: turned; changed direction.

verdurous: green.

vibrates: moves to and fro.

viziers: in Eastern countries, officers of high rank.

Vulcan.

whist: still; quiet.

wigwams: Indian houses made of poles covered with mats or bark.

windfall: portion of a forest blown down in a wind storm.

wrought: worked.

Xerxes.

yacht: a light sea-going vessel used for parties of pleasure, racing, etc.

注释

① Smoldering, burning and smoking without flame.

② Canyons, deep gorges or hollows between steep banks, worn by water courses.

③ Carrion, dead bodies of animals, unfit for food.

④ Cannibal, an animal that devours its own kind.

⑤ Sage brush, a low shrub which grows in great quantities on the plains of the Western United States.

⑥ "Old Ephraim", a hunter's name for the grizzly bear.

⑦ Lair, the bed of a wild beast.

⑧ On the alert, on the lookout against danger.

⑨ Bowlders, large stones worn smooth by the action of water; rocks, rounded or not, carried by natural agencies far from their native bed.

⑩ Windfall, portion of a forest blown down in a wind storm.

⑪ Quarry, the animal hunted for.

⑫ Specter, ghost.

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森

为美国学生选编的经典文学读本

This series of literature readers is edited by the president of the University of Chicago Harry Pratt Judson, as to supply almost the only reading of many children, and stimulate their taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classical tales and fables are largely used. Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different part of the United States, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediated, and advanced grades.

We believe that Graded Literature Readers disclose a broader knowledge of literature, better taste and judgment in its selections.

010-62627373

第5册目录

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 A FAREWELL APPEARANCE　(F. ANSTEY)

2 TO-DAY　(THOMAS CARLYLE)

3 THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL　(NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

4 SIDNEY LANIER

5 SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE　(SIDNEY LANIER)

6 THE FOUR MACNICOLS　(WILLIAM BLACK)

7 THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS　(FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS)

8 THE BOSTON MASSACRE　(NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

9 CONCORD HYMN　(RALPH WALDO EMERSON)

10 EPPIE　(GEORGE ELIOT)

11 CHARLES AND MARY LAMB

12 THE MAGPIE'S NEST　(CHARLES AND MARY LAMB)

13 THE FRAMEWORK OF THE BODY

14 THE BUGLE SONG　(ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

15 ROBINSON CRUSOE GETS SUPPLIES FROM THE WRECK　(DANIEL DEFOE)

16 THE TIGER　(WILLIAM BLAKE)

17 THE BATTLES OF CRECY AND POITIERS　(CHARLES DICKENS)

18 THE SNOWSTORM　(JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER)

19 BALL BEARINGS

20 THE IRISH WIDOW'S MESSAGE TO HER SON IN AMERICA　(ELLEN FORRESTER)

21 THE LARCH AND THE OAK　(THOMAS CARLYLE)

22 SELF-CONTROL　(JOHN HENRY NEWMAN (CARDNAL NEWMAN))

23 CALEB AND BERTHA　(CHARLES DICKENS)

24 TO A BUTTERFLY　(WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

25 TO THE DANDELION　(JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL)

26 THE CHIEFTAINESS AND THE VOLCANO　(CHARLOTTE M. YONGE)

27 KAPIOLANI　(ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

28 AN ASCENT OF KILAUEA　(LADY BRASSEY)

29 THE SKELETON IN ARMOR　(HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW)

30 THE STORY OF WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

31 FOREST SCENE—FROM "AS YOU LIKE IT"　(WILLIAM SHAKSPERE)

32 THE STORY OF "THE TEMPEST"　(CHARLES AND MARY LAMB)

33 ANIMAL MIMICS　(HENRY DRUMMOND)

34 THE CLOUD　(PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY)

35 SIR WALTER SCOTT

36 THE ARCHERY CONTEST　(SIR WALTER SCOTT)

37 THE FRIGATE AND THE GALLEYS　(A. T. QUILLER-COUCH)

38 ABOU BEN ADHEM　(LEIGH HUNT)

WORD LIST

返回总目录

Harry Pratt Judson (1849 - 1927) was an American educator and historian, born at Jamestown, New York, and educated at Williams College. He taught in the Troy High School in Troy, New York in 1870-1885 and was professor of history and lecturer on pedagogic at the University of Minnesota in 1885-1892. At the University of Chicago he became professor of political science and head dean of the colleges in 1892 and head of the political science department and dean of the faculties of arts, literature, and science in 1894. He served as the acting president of the University of Chicago between 1906 and 1907 and as the president of the University of Chicago from 1907 until 1923.

Judson became a member of the General Education Board in 1906 and of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913. He edited a series of readers for school students, and wrote some great books.

欢迎访问家庭学校微博／博客

http://weibo.com/318999618

http://blog.sina.com.cn/homeschoolnow

GRADED

LITERATURE

READERS

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森主编的经典文学读本

美国学生

文学读本

HARRY PRATT JUDSON

〔美〕哈里·P·贾德森／编

天津人民出版社

INTRODUCTION

IN the Fourth and Fifth Readers the selections are longer, the language more advanced, and the literature of a more mature and less imaginative character than in the earlier books.

The teacher may now place increased emphasis on the literary side of the reading, pointing out beauties of language and thought, and endeavoring to create an interest in the books from which the selections are taken. Pupils will be glad to know something about the lives of the authors whose works they are reading, and will welcome the biographical sketches throughout the book. These can be made the basis of further biographical study at the discretion of the teacher.

The word lists at the end of the selections contain all necessary explanations of the text. For convenience, the more difficult words, with definitions and complete diacritical markings, are grouped together in the vocabulary at the end of the book.

A basal series of readers can do little more than broadly outline a course in reading, relying on the teacher to carry it forward. If a public library is within reach, the children should be encouraged to use it; if not, the school should exert every effort to accumulate a school library of standard works to which the pupils may have ready access.

The primary purpose of a reading book is to give pupils the mastery of the printed page, but through oral reading it also becomes a source of valuable training of the vocal organs. Almost every one finds pleasure in listening to good reading. Many feel that the power to give this pleasure comes only as a natural gift, but an analysis of the art shows that with practice any normal child may acquire it. The qualities which are essential to good oral reading may be considered in three groups:

First—An agreeable voice and clear articulation, which, although possessed by many children naturally, may also be cultivated.

Second—Correct inflection and emphasis, with that due regard for rhetorical pauses which will appear whenever a child fully understands what he is reading and is sufficiently interested in it to lose his self-consciousness.

Third—Proper pronunciation, which can be acquired only by association or by direct teaching.

Clear articulation implies accurate utterance of each syllable and a distinct termination of one syllable before another is begun.

Frequent drill on pronunciation and articulation before or after the reading lesson will be found profitable in teaching the proper pronunciation of new words and in overcoming faulty habits of speech.

Attention should be called to the omission of unaccented syllables in such words as history (not histry), valuable (not valuble), and to the substitution of unt for ent, id for ed, iss for ess, unce for ence, in for ing, in such words as moment, delighted, goodness, sentence, walking. Pupils should also learn to make such distinctions as appear between u long, as in duty, and u after r, as in rude; between a as in hat, a as in far, and a as in ask.

The above hints are suggestive only. The experienced teacher will devise for herself exercises fitting special cases which arise in her own work. It will be found that the best results are secured when the interest of the class is sustained and when the pupil who is reading aloud is made to feel that it is his personal duty and privilege to arouse and hold this interest by conveying to his fellow-pupils, in an acceptable manner, the thought presented on the printed page.

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

Stories

A Farewell Appearance

The Four MacNicols

Eppie

Robinson Crusoe Gets Supplies from the Wreck

Caleb and Bertha

The Story of "The Tempest"

The Archery Contest

The Frigate and the Galleys

Biography

Sidney Lanier

Charles and Mary Lamb

The Story of William Shakspere

Sir Walter Scott

History, Travel, and Adventure

The Boston Massacre

The Battles of crecy and Poitiers

The Chieftainess and the Volcano

An Ascent of Kilauea

Nature Study and Science

The Framework of the Body

Ball Bearings

Animal Mimics

Poems

To-day

Song of the Chattahoochee

The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers

Concord Hymn

The Magpie's Nest

The Bugle Song

The Tiger

The Snowstorm

The Irish Widow's Message to her Son in America

Self-Control

To a Butterfly

To the Dandelion

Kapiolani

The Skeleton in Armor

Forest Scene from "As You Like It"

The Cloud

Abou Ben Adhem

Miscellaneous

The Old-Fashioned School

The Larch and the Oak

1

A FAREWELL APPEARANCE

BY F. ANSTEY

F. Anstey (1856—1934): The pen name of Thomas Anstey Guthrie, an English novelist. He is the author of "Vice Versa," "The Tinted Venus," and other novels.

Ⅰ

1. "Dandy, come here, sir; I want you." The little girl who spoke was standing by the table in a room of a London house one summer day, and she spoke to a small silver-gray terrier lying curled up at the foot of one of the window curtains.

2. As Dandy happened to be particularly comfortable just then, he pretended not to hear, in the hope that his child mistress would not press the point.

3. But she did not choose to be trifled with in this way: he was called until he could dissemble[1] no longer, and came out gradually, stretching himself and yawning with a deep sense of injury.

"I know you haven't been asleep; I saw you watching the flies," she said. "Come up here, on the table."

4. Seeing there was no help for it, he obeyed, and sat down on the tablecloth opposite to her, with his tongue hanging out and his eyes blinking, waiting her pleasure.

5. Dandy was rather particular as to the hands he allowed to touch him, but, generally speaking, he found it pleasant enough—when he had nothing better to do—to resign[2] himself to be pulled about, lectured, or caressed by Hilda.

6. She was a strikingly pretty child with long, curling, brown locks. On the whole, although Dandy thought she had taken rather a liberty in disturbing him, he was willing to overlook it.

"I've been thinking, Dandy," said Hilda, "that, as you and Lady Angelina will be thrown a good deal together when we go into the country next week, you ought to know each other, and you've never been properly introduced yet; so I'm going to introduce you now."

7. Now, Lady Angelina was only Hilda's doll, and a doll, too, with perhaps as few ideas as any doll ever had yet—which is a good deal to say.

Dandy despised her with all the enlightenment of a thoroughly superior dog. He considered there was simply nothing in her, except possibly sawdust, and it had made him jealous and angry for a long time to notice the influence that this staring creature had managed to gain over her mistress.

8. "Now sit up," said Hilda. Dandy sat up. But he was careful not to look at Lady Angelina, who was lolling ungracefully in the work-basket, with her toes turned in.

9. "Lady Angelina," said Hilda next, with great ceremony, "let me introduce my particular friend, Mr. Dandy. Dandy, you ought to bow and say something nice and clever, only you can't; so you must give Angelina your paw instead."

Here was an insult for a self-respecting dog. Dandy determined never to disgrace himself by giving his paw to a doll; it was quite against his principles. He dropped on all fours, rebelliously.

10. "That's very rude of you," said Hilda; "but you shall do it. Angelina will think it so odd of you. Sit up again and give your paw, and let Angelina stroke your head."

The dog's little black nose wrinkled and his lips twitched, showing his sharp white teeth: he was not going to be touched by Angelina's flabby wax hand if he could help it!

11. Unfortunately, Hilda, like older people sometimes, was bent upon forcing persons to know one another, in spite of an unwillingness on at least one side. So she brought the doll up to the terrier, and, taking one limp pink arm, attempted to pat the dog's head with it.

This was too much: his eyes flamed red like two signal lamps, there was a sharp sudden snap, and the next minute Lady Angelina's right arm was crunched between Dandy's keen teeth.

12. After that there was a terrible pause. Dandy knew he was in for it, but he was not sorry. He dropped the mangled pieces of wax one by one, and stood there with his head on one side, growling to himself, but wincing for all that, for he was afraid to meet Hilda's indignant gray eyes.

13. "You abominable[3], barbarous[4] dog!" she said at last, using the longest words she could to impress him. "See what you've done; you've bitten poor Lady Angelina's arm off!"

He could not deny it; he had. He looked down at the fragments before him, and then sullenly up again at Hilda. His eyes said what he felt—"I'm glad of it; serves her right; I'd do it again."

14. "You deserve to be well whipped," continued Hilda, severely, "but you do howl so. I shall leave you to your own conscience"—a favorite remark of her governess—"until your bad heart is touched, and you come here and say you're sorry and beg both our pardons. I only wish you could be made to pay for a new arm. Go away out of my sight, you bad dog; I can't bear to look at you!"

15. Dandy, still impenitent[5], moved leisurely down from the table and out of the open door into the kitchen. He was thinking that Angelina's arm was very unpleasant to the taste, and he should like something to take the taste away. When he got downstairs, however, he found the butcher was calling and had left the gate open, which struck him as a good opportunity for a ramble. By the time he came back Hilda would have forgotten all about it, or she might think he was lost, and find out which was the more valuable animal—a silly, useless doll, or an intelligent dog like himself.

16. Hilda saw him from the window as he bolted out with tail erect.

"He's doing it to show off," she said to herself; "he's a horrid dog sometimes. But I suppose I shall have to forgive him when he comes back!"

17. However, Dandy did not come back that night, nor all the next day, nor the day after that, nor any more; for, the fact was, Dandy happened that very morning to come across a dog stealer who had long had his eye upon him.

18. He was not such a stupid dog as to be unaware he was doing wrong in following a stranger; but then the man had such delightful suggestions about him of things dogs love to eat, and Dandy had started for his run in a disobedient temper.

19. So he followed the man till they reached a narrow, lonely alley, and then, just as Dandy was thinking about going home again, the stranger turned suddenly on him, caught him up in one hand, tapped him sharply on the head, and slipped him, stunned, into a big inside pocket.

Ⅱ

20. For some reason or other, the dog stealer did not think it prudent to claim the reward offered for Dandy, as he had intended to do at first, and the dog not being of a breed in fashionable demand, the man tried to get rid of him for the best price that could be obtained. And so Dandy was bought by Bob and Jem, two traveling showmen, and became the dog Toby in their Punch-and-Judy show. Though in time the new Toby learned to perform his duties respectably enough, he did so without the least enthusiasm[6]. Day by day he grew more miserable and homesick.

21. He never could forget what he had once been and what he was, and often in the close sleeping room of some common lodging house he dreamed of the comfortable home he had lost and Hilda's pretty, imperious[7] face, and woke to miss her more than ever.

At first his new masters had been careful to keep him from all chance of escape, and Bob led him after the show by a string; but, when he seemed to be getting resigned to his position, he was allowed to run loose.

22. He was trotting tamely at Jem's heels one hot August morning, followed by a small train of admiring children, when all at once he became aware that he was in a street he knew well,—he was near his old home,—a few minutes' hard run and he would be safe with Hilda!

He looked up sideways at Jem, who was beating his drum and blowing his pipes. Bob's head was inside the show, and both were in front and not thinking of him just then.

23. Dandy stopped, turned round upon the unwashed children behind, looked wistfully up at them, as much as to say, "Don't tell," and then bolted at the top of his speed.

There was a shrill cry from the children at once of "Oh, Mr. Punch, sir, please — your dog's running away from you!" and angry calls to return from the two men. Jem even made an attempt to pursue him, but the drum was too much in his way, and a small dog is not easily caught at the best of times when he takes it into his head to run away. So he gave it up sulkily.

24. Meanwhile Dandy ran on, till the shouts behind died away. And at last, panting and exhausted, he reached the well-remembered gate, out of which he had marched so defiantly[8], it seemed long ages ago. Fortunately, some one had left the gate open, and he pattered eagerly down the steps, feeling safe and at home at last.

The kitchen door was shut, but the window was not, and, as the sill was low, he contrived to scramble up somehow and jumped into the kitchen, where he reckoned upon finding friends to protect him.

25. But he found it empty, and looking strangely cold and desolate; only a small fire was smoldering in the range, instead of the cheerful blaze he remembered there, and he could not find the cook—an especial friend of his—anywhere.

He scampered up into the hall, making straight for the room where he knew he should find Hilda curled up in one of the armchairs, with a book.

26. But that room, too, was empty,—the shutters were up, and the half light which streamed in above them showed a dreary state of confusion: the writing table was covered with a sheet and put away in a corner, the chairs were piled up on the center table, the carpet had been taken up and rolled under the sideboard, and there was a faint, warm smell of flue and dust and putty in the place.

27. He pattered out again, feeling puzzled and a little afraid, and went up the bare staircase to find Hilda in one of the upper rooms, perhaps in the nursery.

But the upper rooms, too, were all bare and sheeted and ghostly, and, higher up, the stairs were spotted with great stars of whitewash, and there were ladders and planks on which strange men in dirty white clothes were talking and joking a great deal, and doing a little whitewashing now and then, when they had time for it.

28. Their voices echoed up and down the stairs with a hollow noise that seared him, and he was afraid to venture any higher. Besides, he knew by this time somehow that Hilda, her father and mother, all the friends he had counted upon seeing again, would not be found in any part of that house.

It was the same house, though stripped and deserted, but all the life and color and warmth had gone out of it; and he ran here and there, seeking for them in vain.

29. He picked his way forlornly down to the hall again, and there he found an old woman with a duster pinned over her head and a dustpan and brush in her hand; for, unhappily for him, the family, servants and all, had gone away some days before into the country, and this old woman had been put into the house as a caretaker.

30. She dropped her brush and pan with a start as she saw him, for she was not fond of dogs.

"Why, dear me," she said. "How did the little beast get in, running about as if the whole place belonged to him?"

31. Dandy sat up and begged. In the old days he would not have done such a thing for any servant below a cook,—who was always worth while being polite to,—but he felt a very reduced and miserable little animal indeed just then, and he thought she might be able to take him to Hilda.

32. But the woman's only idea was to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

"Why, if it isn't a Toby dog!" she cried, as her dim old eyes caught sight of his frill. "Here, you get out; you don't belong here!"

And she took him up by the scruff of the neck and went to the front door. As she opened it, a sound came from the street outside which Dandy knew only too well: it was the long-drawn squeak of Mr. Punch.

33. "That's where he came from," cried the caretaker, and she went down the steps and called over the gate: "Hi, master, you don't happen to have lost your Toby dog, do you? Is this it?"

The man with the drum came up—it was Jem himself; and thereupon Dandy was handed over the railings to him, and delivered up once more to the hard life he had so nearly succeeded in shaking off.

34. He had a severe beating when they got him home, as a warning to him not to rebel again; and he never did try to run away a second time. Where was the good of it? Hilda was gone, he did not know where, and the house was a home no longer.

35. So he went patiently about with the show, a dismal little dog captive, the dullest little Toby that ever delighted a street audience; so languid and listless at times that Mr. Punch was obliged to rap him really hard on the head before he could induce him to pay the slightest attention to his duties.

Ⅲ

36. It was winter time, about a fortnight after Christmas, and the night was snowy and slushy outside, though warm enough in the kitchen of a big London house. The kitchen was crowded, a stream of servants was perpetually[9] coming and going. In front of the fire a tired little terrier, with a shabby frill around his neck, was basking in the blaze, and near him sat a little dirty-faced man with a red beard, who was being listened to with some attention by some of the servants, who were enjoying a moment's leisure.

37. The little man was Jem; and he, with his partner, Bob, and Dandy, were in the house, owing to a queer notion of its master, who happened to have a taste for experiments.

He agreed with many who consider that some kind of amusement in the intervals of dancing is welcome to children; and he was curious to see whether the drama of Punch and Judy had quite lost its old power to please.

38. So he had decided upon introducing the original Mr. Punch from his native streets, and Jem and Bob chanced to be the persons selected to exhibit him.

"Your little dog seems very wet and tired," said a pretty housemaid, bending down to pat Dandy, as he lay stretched out wearily at her feet. "Would he eat a cake if I got one for him?"

39. "He isn't fed on cakes as a general thing," said Jem, dryly; "but you can try him, miss."

But Dandy only half raised his head and did not take the cake. He was very comfortable there in the warm firelight, and the place made him feel as if he were back in his own old kitchen; but he was too tired to be hungry.

40. "He will hardly look at it," said the housemaid. "I don't think he can be well."

"Well!" said Jem. "He's well enough; that's all his contrariness, that is. The fact is, he thinks himself too good for the likes of us. I tell you what it is, miss: that dog's heart isn't in his business—he looks down on the whole concern, thinks it low!"

41. Here Bob, who had been setting up the show in one of the rooms, came into the kitchen, looking rather uneasy at finding himself in such fine company, and Dandy was soon called upon to follow the pair upstairs.

42. They went into a large, handsome room, where at one end there were placed rows of chairs, and at the other the homely old show, seeming oddly out of place in its new surroundings.

Poor draggled Dandy felt more ashamed of it and himself than ever, and he was glad to get away under its ragged hangings and lie still by Bob's dirty boots till he was wanted.

43. And then there was the sound of children's voices and laughter as they all came trooping in, with a crisp rustle of delicate dresses and a scent of hothouse flowers and kid gloves that reached Dandy where he lay. It reminded him of evenings long ago when Hilda had had parties, and he had been washed and combed and decked out in ribbons for the occasion. The children had played with him and given him nice things to eat, which had generally disagreed with him; but now he could only remember the pleasure and petting of it all.

44. He would not be petted any more! Presently these children would see him smoking a pipe and being familiar with that low Punch. They would laugh at him, too,—they always did,—and Dandy, like most dogs, hated being laughed at.

45. The host's experiment was a complete success: the children were delighted to meet an old friend. Many had often wished to see the show through from beginning to end, and chance or a stern nurse had never permitted it. Now their time had come; and Mr. Punch was received with the usual applause.

46. At last the hero called for his faithful dog Toby; and accordingly Dandy was caught up and set on the shelf by his side.

The sudden glare hurt his eyes, and he sat there blinking at the audience with a pitiful want of pride in his dignity as dog Toby.

47. He tried to look as if he didn't know Punch, who was doing all he could to catch his eye. He longed to get away from the whole thing and lie down somewhere in peace.

Jem was scowling up at him. "I knew that dog would go and disgrace himself," he was saying to himself. "When I get him to myself, he shall catch it for this!"

48. Dandy was able to see better now. He found, as he had guessed, that here was not one of his usual audiences — no homely crowd of ragged children, turning their grinning faces up to him.

49. There were children here, too, plenty of them. but children at their best and daintiest, and looking as if untidiness and quarrels were things unknown to them, though possibly they were not. The laughter, however, was much the same as he was accustomed to, more musical perhaps and pleasanter to hear, but quite as hearty and unrestrained; they were laughing at him, and he hung his head.

50. But all at once he forgot his shame, though he did not remember Mr. Punch a bit the more for that; he ran backwards and forwards on his ledge, sniffing and whining, wagging his tail and giving short, piteous barks in a state of the wildest excitement. The reason of it was this: near the end of the front row he saw a little girl who was bending eagerly forward with her pretty gray eyes wide open and a puzzled line on her forehead.

51. Dandy knew her at the very first glance. It was Hilda, looking more like a fairy princess than ever.

She knew him almost as soon, for her clear voice rang out above the general laughter: "Oh, that isn't Toby—he's my own dog, my Dandy, that I lost! It is, really! Let him come to me, please do! Don't you see how badly he wants to?"

"Let him come to me! Please do!"

52. There was a sudden surprised silence at this, even Mr. Punch was quiet for an instant; but as soon as Dandy heard her voice, he could wait no longer and crouched for a spring.

"Catch the dog, somebody, he's going to jump!" cried the master of the house, more amused than ever, from behind.

53. Jem was too sulky to interfere, but some good-natured grown-up person caught the trembling dog just in time to save him from a broken leg, or worse, and handed him to his delighted little mistress. I think the joy which Dandy felt as he was clasped tightly in her loving arms once more and covered her flushed face with his eager kisses, more than made up for all he had suffered.

54. Hilda refused to have anything to do with Jem, who tried hard to convince her she was mistaken. She took her recovered favorite to her hostess.

"He really is mine!" she assured her earnestly; "and he doesn't want to be a Toby, I'm sure he doesn't: see how he trembles when that horrid man comes near! Dear Mrs. Lovibond, please tell them I'm to have him!"

55. And of course Hilda carried her point; for the showmen were not unwilling, after a short conversation with the master of the house, to give up their rights in a dog that would never be much of an ornament to their profession and was out of health into the bargain.

Hilda held Dandy, all muddy and draggled as he was, fast in her arms all through the remainder of the show, as if she was afraid Mr. Punch might still claim him for his own; and the dog lay there in perfect content.

56. "I think I should like to go home now," she said to her hostess, when Mr. Punch had finally retired. "Dandy is so excited; feel how his heart beats, just there, you know; he ought to be in bed, and I want to tell them all at home so much!"

She resisted all entreaties to stay, from several small partners, and she and Dandy drove home together.

57. "Dandy, you're very quiet," she said once. "Aren't you going to tell me you're glad to be mine again?"

But Dandy could only wag his tail feebly and look up in her face with a sigh. He had suffered much and was almost worn cut, but rest was coming to him at last.

注释

1 Dissemble: pretend not to be what one really is.

2 Resign: submit; give up.

3 Abominable: hateful.

4 Barbarous: cruel.

5 Impenitent: not sorry.

6 Enthusiasm: joyful excitement.

7 Imperious: commanding; overbearing.

8 Defiantly: showing a disposition to resist.

9 Perpetually: constantly.

2

TO-DAY

BY THOMAS CARLYLE

Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881): A Scotch author, who exerted great influence on the religious and political beliefs of his time. His translations and essays on German literature made it for the first time familiar to English readers. He wrote "Sartor Resartus," "The French Revolution," "Heroes and Hero Worship," "Cromwell's Letters and Speeches," "The History of Frederick the Great," and other works.

1. So here hath been dawning

Another blue day:

Think, wilt thou let it

Slip useless away?

2. Out of Eternity

This new day is born;

Into Eternity,

At night, will return.

3. Behold it aforetime[1]

No eye ever did;

So soon it forever

From all eyes is hid.

4. Here hath been dawning

Another blue day;

Think, wilt thou let it

Slip useless away?

注释

1 aforetime: before.

3

THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864): An American author whose work ranks among the best American contributions to literature. He wrote "The Scarlet Letter," "The Marble Faun," and several other novels. He also wrote for children some beautiful imaginative stories, tales from New England history, and stories from Greek mythology.

1. Imagine yourselves in Master Ezekiel Cheever's schoolroom. It is a large, dingy room, with a sanded floor, and is lighted by windows that turn on hinges and have little diamond-shaped panes of glass. The scholars sit on long benches with desks before them.

2. At one end of the room is a great fireplace, so very spacious that there is room enough for three or four boys to stand in each of the chimney corners. This was the good old fashion of fireplaces when there was wood enough in the forests to keep people warm without their digging into the earth for coal.

3. It is a winter's day when we take our peep into the schoolroom. See what great logs of wood have been rolled into the fireplace, and what a broad, bright blaze goes leaping up the chimney! And every few moments a vast cloud of smoke is puffed into the room, which sails slowly over the heads of the scholars until it gradually settles upon the walls and ceiling. They are blackened with the smoke of many years already.

4. Do you see the venerable schoolmaster, severe in aspect, with a black skullcap on his head, like an ancient Puritan, and the snow of his white beard drifting down to his very girdle? What boy would dare to play, or whisper, or even glance aside from his book while Master Cheever is on the lookout behind his spectacles? For such offenders, if any such there be, a rod of birch is hanging over the fireplace, and a heavy ferule lies on the master's desk.

The old-fashioned school

5. And now school is begun. What a murmur of multitudinous[1] tongues, like the whispering leaves of a wind-stirred oak, as the scholars con[2] over their various tasks! Buzz! buzz! buzz! Amid just such a murmur has Master Cheever spent above sixty years; and long habit has made it as pleasant to him as the hum of a beehive when the insects are busy in the sunshine.

6. Now a class in Latin is called to recite. Forth steps a row of queer-looking little fellows wearing Square-skirted coats and smallclothes, with buttons at the knee. They look like so many grandfathers in their second childhood. These lads are to be sent to Cambridge and educated for the learned professions.

7. Old Master Cheever has lived so long and seen so many generations of schoolboys grow up to be men that now he can almost prophesy[3] what sort of a man each boy will be. One urchin shall hereafter be a doctor, and administer pills and potions, and stalk gravely through life. Another shall be a lawyer, and fight his way to wealth and honors, and in his declining age shall be a member of his majesty's council. A third—and he the master's favorite—shall be a worthy successor[4] to the old Puritan ministers now in their graves; he shall preach with great unction[5] and effect, and leave volumes of sermons in print and manuscript for the benefit of future generations.

8. But, as they are merely schoolboys now, their business is to read Virgil[6]. Poor Virgil! whose verses, which he took so much pains to polish, have been misparsed and misinterpreted by so many generations of idle schoolboys. There, sit down, ye Latinists. Two or three of you, I fear, are doomed to feel the master's ferule.

9. Next comes a class in arithmetic. These boys are to be merchants, shopkeepers, and mechanics of a future period. Hitherto they have traded only in marbles and apples. Hereafter some will send vessels to England for broadcloths and all sorts of manufactured wares, and to the West Indies for sugar and coffee.

10. Others will stand behind counters and measure tape and ribbon and cambric by the yard. Others will upheave[7] the blacksmith's hammer, or drive the plane over the carpenter's bench, or take the lapstone and the awl and learn the trade of shoemaking. Many will follow the sea and become bold, rough sea captains.

11. This class of boys, in short, must supply the world with those active, skillful hands and clear, sagacious[8] heads, without which the affairs of life would be thrown into confusion by the theories of studious and visionary men. Wherefore, teach them their multiplication table, good Master Cheever, and whip them well when they deserve it; for much of the country's welfare depends on these boys.

12. But, alas! while we have been thinking of other matters, Master Cheever's watchful eye has caught two boys at play. Now we shall see awful times. The two malefactors[9] are summoned before the master's chair, wherein he sits with the terror of a judge upon his brow. Ah, Master Cheever has taken down that terrible birch rod! Short is the trial,—the sentence quickly passed,—and now the judge prepares to execute it in person. Thwack! thwack! thwack! In these good old times a schoolmaster's blows were well laid on.

13. See, the birch rod has lost several of its twigs and will hardly serve for another execution[10]. Mercy on us, what a bellowing the urchins make! My ears are almost deafened, though the noise comes through the far length of a hundred and fifty years.

14. And thus the forenoon passes away. Now it is twelve o'clock. The master looks at his great silver watch, and then, with tiresome deliberation, puts the ferule into his desk. The little multitude await the word of dismissal with almost irrepressible[11] impatience.

"You are dismissed," says Master Cheever.

15. The boys retire, treading softly until they have passed the threshold; but, fairly out of the schoolroom, lo, what a joyous shout! what a scampering and tramping of feet! what a sense of recovered freedom expressed in the merry uproar of all their voices! What care they for the ferule and birch rod now? Were boys created merely to study Latin and arithmetic? No; the better purposes of their being are to sport, to leap, to run, to shout, to slide upon the ice, to snowball.

16. Happy boys! Enjoy your playtime now, and come again to study and to feel the birch rod and the ferule to-morrow. Sport, boys, while you may, for the morrow cometh with the birch rod and the ferule; and after that another morrow with troubles of its own.

17. Now the master has set everything to rights and is ready to go home to dinner. Yet he goes reluctantly. The old man has spent so much of his life in the smoky, noisy, buzzing schoolroom that, when he has a holiday, he feels as if his place were lost and himself a stranger in the world.

注释

1 Multitudinous: very many.

2 Con: study.

3 Prophesy: foretell.

4 Successor: one who takes the place of another; follower.

5 Unction: religious zeal; strong devotion.

6 Virgil (B. C. 70-19): a great Roman poet.

7 Upheave: raise.

8 Sagacious: wise.

9 Malefactor: an evil doer.

10 Execution: as a law term, the carrying into effect the judgment of a court of law.

11 Irrepressible: that cannot be repressed or controlled.

4

SIDNEY LANIER

1. SIDNEY LANIER was born at Macon, Georgia, on the 3rd of February, 1842. From childhood he showed love for books and music, and he learned, almost without instruction, to play on the flute, organ, piano, violin, and guitar. The violin was his favorite instrument; but in deference to the wishes of his father, who feared for him the fascination of the violin, he devoted himself especially to the flute.

2. At the age of fourteen Sidney Lanier entered Oglethorpe College, from which he was graduated four years later. He was offered a tutorship in the college, and he held that position until the beginning of the war between the states.

3. In April, 1861, Lanier enlisted with the Macon Volunteers in the Confederate army, and remained in service till the last year of the war. In 1864, he was put in charge of a vessel which was to run the blockade. The vessel being captured, Lanier was for five months a prisoner at Point Lookout. This period of his life is described in his novel, "Tiger Lilies."

4. In February, 1865, Lanier was released by an exchange of prisoners, and he returned on foot to his Georgia home, carrying with him his one possession,—his flute,—which he had concealed in his sleeve when he entered the prison. He reached home utterly exhausted, and for weeks was desperately ill.

5. He was married. in 1867, to Miss Mary Day, and for several years he filled clerical positions, taught in a country academy, and practiced law. During the spring and summer of 1870 he was very ill, and the next eleven years were a struggle with illness, want, and care, ending only with death. Years brought a sense of obligation for the use of his talents,—the deeper because he felt his time short, —and he resolved to devote himself to an artistic life.

6. "For twenty years," he said, "through poverty, through pain, through weariness, through sickness, through the uncongenial[1] atmosphere of a farcical[2] college and of a bare army, and then of an exacting business life— in spite of all these depressing circumstances, and of a thousand more which I could enumerate, these two figures of music and of poetry have steadily kept in my heart so that I could not banish them. Does it not seem that I begin to have the right to enroll myself among the devotees[3] of these two sublime arts, after having followed them so long and so humbly and through so much bitterness?"

7. In 1873, he made his home in Baltimore under engagement as first flute for the Peabody Symphony Concerts. The remaining years of his life were at once happy and sad. "On the one hand, was the opportunity for study, and the full consciousness of power, and a will never subdued; and on the other hand, a body wasting with consumption, that must be forced to tasks beyond its strength, not merely to express the thoughts of beauty which strove for utterance, but from the necessity of providing bread for his children."

8. Lanier's poem, "Corn," published in 1875, made him known to appreciative readers, and led to his being chosen to write the cantata[4] for the opening of the Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia.

9. In 1879, he was appointed lecturer on English literature at Johns Hopkins University, and for the first time had an assured income. During the next two years some of his finest poems were written, including the "Song of the Chattahoochee," "A Song of Love," and "The Marshes of Glynn." Some of his University lectures were published in the volumes entitled, "The Science of English Verse" and "The Novel and its Development." He also edited for young people several volumes of hero tales,—"The Boy's Froissart[5]," "The Boy's King Arthur[6]," "The Boy's Mabinogion[7]," and "The Boy's Percy[8]."

10. The winter of 1880 brought a struggle for life itself, but no cessation of work. When too weak to leave his bed, with a fever temperature of a hundred and four degrees, he penciled his last poem, "Sunrise," one of a projected series of "Hymns of the Marshes," which he was not to live to finish. In the summer of 1881 he went with his wife to Lynn, North Carolina, and there he died, September 7, 1881.

11. By virtue of originality, lyrical beauty, and nobility of subject and treatment, Lanier's poems are being more and more recognized as ranking high among the best work yet produced in America.

注释

1 Uncongenial: not adapted to; not in sympathy with.

2 Farcical: ridiculous.

3 Devotee: one who is wholly devoted.

4 Cantata: a poem set to music.

5 Jean Froissart (1337-1410?): a French author who wrote an entertaining history of his own times.

6 King Arthur: a hero-king of Britain said to have lived in the sixth century.

7 Mabinogion: a series of Welsh tales, chiefly about King Arthur and his knights.

8 Thomas Percy (1729-1811): an English clergyman who collected and published early English poems.

5

SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE[1]

BY SIDNEY LANIER

1. Out of the hills of Habersham,

Down the valleys of Hall,

I hurry amain to reach the plain,

Run the rapid and leap the fall,

Split at the rock and together again,

Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,

And flee from folly on every side,

With a lover's pain to attain the plain

Far from the hills of Habersham,

Far from the valleys of Hall.

2. All down the hills of Habersham,

All through the valleys of Hall,

The rushes cried, "Abide, abide,"

The willful waterweeds held me thrall,

The laving[2] laurel turned my tide,

The ferns and the fondling grass said, "Stay,

The dewberry dipped for to[3] work delay,

And the little reeds sighed, "Abide, abide,

Here in the hills of Habersham,

Here in the valleys of Hall."

3. High o'er the hills of Habersham,

Veiling the valleys of Hall,

The hickory told me manifold[4]

Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall

Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,

The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,

Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,

Said, "Pass not, so cold, these manifold

Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,

These glades in the valleys of Hall."

4. And oft in the hills of Habersham,

And oft in the valleys of Hall,

The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook stone

Did bar[5] me of passage with friendly brawl,

And many a luminous[6] jewel lone

—Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,

Ruby, garnet, and amethyst—

Made lures[7] with the lights of streaming stone

In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,

In the beds of the v alleys of Hall.

5. But oh, not the hills of Habersham,

And oh, not the valleys of Hall

Avail: I am fain[8] for to water the plain.

Downward the voices of Duty call—

Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main[9],

The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,

And a myriad[10] flowers mortally yearn,

And the lordly main from beyond the plain,

Calls o'er the hills of Habersham,

Calls through the valleys of Hall.

—From "Poems of Sidney Lanier,"

注释

1 Chattahoochee: a river of Georgia.

2 Laving: bathing.

3 For to: in order to; an expression now little used.

4 Manifold: many.

5 Bar: hinder.

6 Luminous: very bright; shining.

7 Lures: attractions.

8 Fain: glad; contented.

9 Main: the sea.

10 Myriad: a very great number; the word at first meant ten thousand.

6

THE FOUR MACNICOLS

BY WILLIAM BLACK

William Black (1841-1899): An English novelist. He studied art with the view of becoming a landscape painter, but gave up art for journalism. He wrote many novels, of which "A Princess of Thule" and "A Daughter of Heth" are the most popular.

Ⅰ

1. The four MacNicols lived at Erisaig, a fishing village in the north of Scotland. Robert, the eldest, was an active, stout-sinewed, black-eyed lad of seventeen; Duncan and Nicol were Rob's younger brothers, and Neil was their orphan cousin.

2. Their father, a hand on board the steamer Glenara Castle, had but small wages. It was all he could do to pay for the boys' lodging and schooling, leaving them pretty much to hunt for themselves as regarded food and clothes.

Their food, mostly porridge, potatoes, and fish of their own catching, cost little; and they did not spend much money on clothes.

3. Nevertheless, for various purposes, money was necessary to them; and this they obtained by going down in the morning when the herring boats came in and helping the men to strip the nets. The men were generally tired out and sleepy with their long night's work. They were glad to give these lads twopence or threepence apiece to undertake the labor of lifting the nets out of the hold and shaking out the silvery fish.

4. And when they had shaken out the last of the nets and received their wages, they stepped ashore with a certain pride; and generally they put both hands in their pockets, as a real fisherman would do.

5. On the whole, it was an idle, careless, happy life that they led up to the time that their father was drowned.

That was a sad evening for Rob MacNicol. It was his first introduction to the cruel facts of life. And amid his sorrow for the loss of his father, Rob felt that now he must care for his two brothers and his cousin.

6. "Neil," said Rob to his cousin, "we'll have to think about things now. We have just about as much left as will pay for the lodgings this week, and Nicol must go three nights a week to the night school. What we get for stripping the nets will not do now."

"It will not," said Neil.

7. "Neil," said he, "if we had only a net, do you not think we could trawl[1] for cuddies[2]?"

And again he said, "Neil, do you not think we could make a net for ourselves out of the old rags lying at the shed?"

8. And again he said, "Do you think that Peter, the tailor, would let us have his old boat for a shilling a week?"

It was clear that Rob had been carefully considering the details of this plan. And it was eagerly welcomed, not only by Neil, but also by the brothers Duncan and Nicol.

9. It was determined, under Rob's direction, to set to work at once. So Rob bade his brothers and cousin get their rude fishing rods and betake themselves down to the rocks at the mouth of the harbor, and see what fish they could get for him during the afternoon.

10. Meanwhile he himself went along to the shed, which was used as a sort of storage house by some of the fishermen; and here he found lying about plenty of pieces of net that had been cast aside.

11. Rob was allowed to pick out a number of pieces that he thought might serve his purpose; and these he carried home. But then came the question of floats and sinkers. Enough pieces of cork to form the floats might in time be got about the beach; but the sinkers had all been removed from the castaway netting.

12. In this extremity Rob thought of rigging up a couple of guy poles, as the salmon fishers call them, one for each end of the small seine[3] he had in view, so that these guy poles, with a lump of lead at the lower end, would keep the net vertical while it was being dragged through the water.

13. All this took up the best part of the afternoon; for he had to hunt about before he could get a couple of stout poles; and he had to bargain with the blacksmith for a lump of lead. Then he walked along to the point where the other MacNicols were busy fishing.

14. They had been lucky with their lines and bait. On the rocks beside them lay two or three small cod, a large flounder, and nearly a dozen saithe[4]. Rob got hold of these, washed them clean, put a string through their gills, and marched off with them to the village.

Ⅱ

15. He felt no shame in trying to sell fish: was it not the whole trade of the village? So he walked into the grocer's shop.

"Will you buy some fish?" said he; "they're fresh."

16. The grocer looked at them.

"What do you want?"

"A ball of twine."

"Let me tell you this, Rob," said the grocer, severely, "that a lad in your place should be thinking of something else besides flying a kite."

17. "I don't want to fly a kite," said Rob; "I want to mend a net."

"Oh, that is quite different," said the grocer; and then he added, with a good-natured laugh, "Are you going to be a fisherman, Rob?"

"I will see," said Rob.

18. So he had his ball of twine— and a very large one it was.

Off he set to his companions. "Come away, boys, I have other work for you."

19. Well, it took them several days of very hard and constant work before they rigged up something resembling a small seine. Then Rob affixed his guy poles; and the lads went to the grocer and got from him a lot of old rope, on the promise to give him a few fresh fish whenever they happened to have a good haul.

20. Then Rob proceeded to his fateful interview with Peter, the tailor, who agreed to let them have his boat for a shilling a week.

Rob went back eager and joyous. Forthwith, a thorough inspection[5] of the boat was set about by the lads: they tested the oars, they tested the thole pins[6], they had a new piece of cork put into the bottom.

21. At last they were ready and went out to try their luck. So successful were they, and so eagerly did they work, that, when the coming darkness warned them to return, they had the stern of the boat about a third full of very fair-sized saithe.

22. When they got into the slip, Neil at once proceeded to inform the inhabitants of Erisaig that for sixpenee a hundred they could have fine fresh cuddies.

23. The sale of the cuddies proceeded briskly. Indeed, when the people had gone away again, and the four lads were by themselves, there was not a single cuddy left except a dozen that Rob had put into a can of water, to be given to the grocer in the morning as part payment for the loan of the ropes.

24. "What do you make it all together?" said Neil to Rob, who was counting the money.

"Three shillings and nine pence."

"Three shillings and nine pence! Man, that's a lot! Will you put it in the savings bank?"

25. "No, I will not," said Rob. "I'm not satisfied with the net, Neil. We must have better ropes all the way round; and sinkers, too; and whatever money we can spare, we must spend on the net."

26. It was wise counsel, as events showed. For one afternoon, some ten days afterward, they set out as usual. They had been having varying success; but they had earned more than enough to pay their landlady, the tailor, and the schoolmaster; and every farthing[7] beyond these necessary expenses they had spent on the net.

27. They had replaced all the rotten pieces with sound twine; they had got new ropes; they had deepened it, moreover, and added some more sinkers to help the guy poles.

Ⅲ

28. Well, on this afternoon, Duncan and Nicol were pulling away to one of the small, quiet bays, and Rob was idly looking around him, when he saw something on the surface of the sea at some distance off that excited a sudden interest. It was what the fishermen call "broken water"—a seething[8] produced by a shoal of fish.

29. "Look, look, Neil!" he cried. "It's either mackerel or herring: shall we try for them?"

The greatest excitement now prevailed on board. The younger brothers pulled their hardest for that rough patch on the water.

30. Rob undid the rope from the guy pole and got this last ready to drop overboard. They came nearer and nearer that strange hissing of the water. They kept rather away from it; and Rob quietly dropped the guy pole over.

31. Then the three lads pulled hard, and in a circle, so that at last they were sending the bow of the boat straight toward the floating guy pole. The other guy pole was near the stern of the boat, the rope made fast to one of the thwarts[9]. In a few minutes Rob had caught this first guy pole; they were now possessed of the two ends of the net.

32. But the water had grown suddenly quiet. Had the fish dived and escaped them? There was not the motion of a fin anywhere; and yet the net seemed heavy to haul.

33. "Rob," said Neil, almost in a whisper, "we've got them!"

"We haven't got them, but they're in the net. Man, I wonder if it'll stand."

34. Then it was that the diligent patching and the strong tackle told. The question was not with regard to the strength of the net; it was rather with regard to the strength of the younger lads: for they had succeeded in inclosing a goodly portion of a large shoal of mackerel, and the weight seemed more than they could get into the boat.

35. But even the strength of the younger ones seemed to grow into the strength of giants when they saw through the clear water a great moving mass like quicksilver.

And then the wild excitement of hauling in; the difficulty of it; the danger of the fish escaping; the warning cries of Rob; the clatter made by the mackerel; the possibility of swamping the boat, as all the four were straining their utmost at one side!

36. When that heaving, sparkling mass of quicksilver at last was captured, shining all through the brown meshes of the net, the young lads sat down quite exhausted, wet through and happy.

37. "Man! Rob, what do you think of that?" said Neil, in amazement.

"What do I think?" said Rob. "I think that if we could get two or three more hauls like that, I would buy soon a share in Coll MacDougall's boat and go after the herring."

38. They had no more thought that afternoon of "cuddy" fishing after this famous take, but rowed back to Erisaig; then Rob left the boat at the slip and walked up to the office of the fish salesman.

39. "What will you give me for mackerel?" he said. The salesman laughed at him, thinking he had caught a few with rods and flies.

40. "I'm not buying mackerel," said he; "not by the half dozen."

"I have half a boat load," said Rob.

"Well, I will buy the mackerel from you," he said, "I will give you half a crown[10] the hundred for them."

41. "Half a crown!" said Rob. "I will take three and sixpence the hundred for them."

"I will not give it to you. But I will give you three shillings the hundred, and a good price, too."

"Very well, then," said Rob.

42. So the MacNicols got all together two pounds and eight shillings for that load of mackerel; and out of that Rob spent the eight shillings on still further improving the net, the two pounds going into the savings bank.

43. It is to be imagined that after this they kept a pretty sharp lookout for "broken water"; but of course they could not expect to run across a shoal of mackerel every day.

44. However, as time went on, with bad luck and good, and by dint[11] of hard and constant work, whatever the luck was, the sum in the savings bank slowly increased, and at last Rob announced to his companions that they had saved enough to enable him to purchase a share in Coll MacDougall's boat. This was accordingly done after a great deal of bargaining.

Ⅳ

45. These MacNicol boys had grown to be greatly respected in Erisaig. The audacity[12] of four boys setting up to do fishing on their own account had at first amused the neighbors, but their success and their conduct generally soon raised them above ridicule.

46. One day, as Rob was going along the main street of Erisaig, the banker called him into his office.

"Rob," said he, "have you seen the skiff at the building yard?"

"Yes," said Rob, rather wistfully, for many a time he had stood and looked at the beautiful lines of the new craft; "she's a splendid boat."

"And you've seen the new drift net in the shed?"

"Yes, I have that."

47. "Well, you see, Rob," continued Mr. Bailie, regarding him with a good-natured look, "I had the boat built and the net bought as a kind of speculation. Now, I have been hearing a good deal about you, Rob, from the neighbors. They say that you and your brothers and cousin are sober and diligent lads, and that you are good seamen and careful. Then you have been awhile at the herring fishing yourself. Now, do you think you could manage that new boat?"

48. In his excitement at the notion of being made master of such a beautiful craft, Rob forgot the respect he ought to have shown in addressing so great a person as the banker. He blurted out, "Man, I would just like to try!"

49. "I will pay you a certain sum per week while the fishing lasts," continued Mr. Bailie, "and you will hire what crew you think fit. Likewise, I will give you a percentage on the takes. Will that do?"

50. Rob was quite bewildered. All he could say was, "I am obliged to you, sir. Will you wait for a minute till I see Neil?"

And very soon the wild rumor ran through Erisaig that no other than Rob MacNicol had been appointed master of the new skiff, the Mary of Argyle, and that he had taken his brothers and cousin as a crew.

51. Rob, having sold out his share in MacDougall's boat, bought jerseys and black boots and yellow oilskins for his companions; so that the new crew, if they were rather slightly built, looked smart enough as they went down to the slip to overhaul the Mary of Argyle.

52. Then came the afternoon on which they were to set out for the first time after the herring. All Erisaig came out to see; Rob was a proud lad as he stepped on board with the lazy indifference of the trained fisherman very well imitated, and took his seat as stroke oar.

53. The afternoon was lovely; there was not a breath of wind; the setting sun shone over the bay; and the Mary of Argyle went away across the shining waters, with the long white oars dipping with the precision of clockwork.

"I want to come on board, Bob," said Daft Sandy,

54. At the mouth of the harbor, Daft[13] Sandy rowed his boat right across the path of the Mary of Argyle. Daft Sandy was a half-witted old man to whom Rob had been kind.

"What is it you want?" cried Rob.

55. "I want to come on board, Rob," the old man said, as he now rowed his boat up to the stern of the skiff.

"Rob," said he, in a whisper, as he fastened his boat, "I promised I would tell you something. I'll show you how to find the herring."

56. "You!" said Rob.

"Yes, Rob; I'll make a rich man of you. I will tell you something about the herring that not any one in Erisaig knows— that not any one in all Scotland knows."

57. He begged Rob to take him for that night's fishing. He had discovered a sure sign of the presence of herring, unknown to any of the fishermen; this sign that the old man had discovered went to show the presence of large masses of fish, stationary[14] and deep; it was the appearance, on the surface of the water, of small air bubbles.

58. He was sure of it. He had watched it. It was a secret worth a bankful of money. And again he besought[15] Rob to let him accompany him. Rob had stopped the lads when they were throwing herring at him; Rob alone should have the benefit of this valuable discovery of his.

59. Rob MacNicol was doubtful, for he had never heard of this thing before; but he could not resist the old half-witted creature. So they pulled him in and anchored the boat; then they set forth again, rowing slowly as the light faded out of the sky, and keeping watch all around on the almost glassy sea.

Ⅴ

60. There was no sign of any herring; no breaking of the water; and none of the other boats, as far as they could make out, had as yet shot their nets.

61. The night was coming on, and they were far away from Erisaig, but still old Sandy kept up his watch, studying the surface of the water as though he expected to find pearls floating there. And at last, in great excitement, he grasped Rob's arm.

62. Leaning over the side of the boat, they could just make out in the dusk a great quantity of minute[16] air bubbles rising to the surface of the sea.

"Put some stones along with the sinkers, Rob," the old man said in a whisper, as though he were afraid the herring would hear. "Go deep, deep, deep!"

63. To let out a long drift net, which sometimes goes as deep as fifteen fathoms[17], is an easy affair; but to haul it in again is a hard task; and when it happens to be laden, and heavily laden, with silver-gleaming fish, that is a break-back business for four young lads.

64. But there is such a thing as the nervous, eager, joyous strength of success; and if you are hauling in yard after yard of a dripping net, only to find the brown meshes starred at every point with the shining silver of the herring, then even young lads can work like men. Daft Sandy was laughing all the while.

65. "Rob, my man, what think you of the air bubbles now? Maybe Daft Sandy is not so daft after all. And do you think I would go and tell any one but yourself, Rob?"

66. Rob could not speak: he was breathless. Nor was their work nearly done when they had got in the net, with all its splendid silver treasure. There was not a breath of wind; they had to set to work to pull the heavy boat back to Erisaig.

67. The gray of the dawn gave way to a glowing sunrise. When they at length reached the quay, the people were all about. The lads were tired out, but there were ten crans[18] of herring in that boat.

68. Mr. Baile came along and shook hands with Rob and congratulated him; for it turned out that, while not another Erisaig boat had that night got more than from two to three crans, the Mary of Argyle had ten crans—as good herring as ever were got out of Loch Scrone.

69. Well, the MacNicol lads were now in a fair way of earning an independent and honorable living. Sometimes they had good luck and sometimes bad luck; but always they had the advantage of that additional means of discovering the whereabouts of the herring that had been imparted to them by Daft Sandy.

70. And the last that the present writer heard of them was this: that they had bought outright the Mary of Argyle and her nets from the banker; and that they were building for themselves a small stone cottage on the slope of the hill above Erisaig; and that Daft Sandy was to become a sort of general major-domo[19],—cook, gardener, and mender of nets.

注释

1 Trawl: take fish with a trawl, or large bag net.

2 Cuddies: a Scotch name for the coalfish, or pollock.

3 Seine: a large fishing net.

4 Saithe: the pollock, or coalfish.

5 Inspection: close examination.

6 Thole pins: wooden or metal pins set in the side of a boat to support the oars in rowing.

7 Farthing: a small copper coin of Great Britain, equal in value to half a cent.

8 Seething: boiling; being in a state of violent commotion.

9 Thwarts: seats in a boat reaching from one side to the other; that is, athwart it.

10 Crown: an English silver coin worth about a dollar and twenty cents.

11 Dint: a blow; the mark left by a blow; also, force or power, especially as in this phrase "by dint of."

12 Audacity: daring; venturesomeness.

13 Daft: foolish; insane.

14 Stationary: not moving; fixed.

15 Besought: begged.

16 Minute: very small.

17 Fathoms: the fathom is a measure of length, containing six feet, used chiefly in measuring cables and the depth of water.

18 Crans: the cran is a Scotch measure for fresh herring,—as many as will fill a barrel.

19 Major-domo: a man employed to manage domestic affairs and to act within certain limits as master of the house.

7

THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS

BY FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793-1835): An English poet. She began to write when a small child, and published many volumes of verse. Among her best-known poems are,—"The Voice of Spring," "The Better Land," "The Graves of a Household," "The Treasures of the Deep," and the following poem.

1. The breaking waves dashed high

On a stern and rock-bound coast;

And the woods, against a stormy sky,

Their giant branches tossed;

2. And the heavy night hung dark,

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles[1] moored[2] their bark

On the wild New England shore.

3. Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came,

Not with the roll of the stirring drums,

And the trumpet that sings of fame;

From the painting by G. Ⅱ. Boughton

The Return of the Mayflower

4. Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear;—

They shook the depths of the desert gloom

With their hymns of lofty cheer.

5. Amidst the storm they sang;

And the stars heard, and the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem[3] of the free.

6. The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave's foam;

And the rocking pines of the forest roared,

This was their welcome home!

7. There were men with hoary hair,

Amidst that pilgrim band;—

Why had they come to wither there,

Away from their childhood's land?

8. There was woman's fearless eye,

Lit by her deep love's truth;

There was manhood's brow serenely[4] high,

And the fiery heart of youth.

9. What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?

They sought a faith's pure shrine.

10. Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod.

They have left unstained what there they found,

Freedom to worship God.

注释

1 Exiles: people who are sent away from home.

2 Moored: fixed in place, as by an anchor.

3 Anthem: a song or hymn.

4 Serenely: calmly.

8

THE BOSTON MASSACRE

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

Ⅰ

1. It was now the 3rd of March, 1770. The sunset music of the British regiments was heard as usual throughout the town. The shrill fife and rattling drum awoke the echoes in King Street, while the last ray of sunshine was lingering on the cupola of the Town House. And now all the sentinels were posted.

2. One of them marched up and down before the Custom House, treading a short path through the snow, and longing for the time when he would be dismissed to the warm fireside of the guardroom. Meanwhile, Captain Preston was, perhaps, sitting before the hearth of the British Coffee House. In the course of the evening there were two or three slight commotions which seemed to indicate that trouble was at hand.

3. Small parties of young men stood at the corners of the streets or walked along the narrow pavements. Squads of soldiers who were dismissed from duty passed by them, shoulder to shoulder, with the regular step which they had learned at the drill. Whenever these encounters took place, it appeared to be the object of the young men to treat the soldiers with as much incivility as possible.

4. "Turn out, you lobsterbacks!" one would say.

"Crowd them off the sidewalks!" another would cry. "A redcoat has no right in Boston streets!"

"Oh, you rebel rascals!" perhaps the soldiers would reply, glaring fiercely at the young men. "Some day or other we'll make our way through Boston streets at the point of the bayonet!"

5. Once or twice such disputes as these brought on a scuffle, which passed off, however, without attracting much notice. About eight o'clock, for some unknown cause, an alarm bell rang loudly and hurriedly.

6. At the sound many people ran out of their houses, supposing it to be an alarm of fire. But there were no flames to be seen, nor was there any smell of smoke in the clear, frosty air; so that most of the townsmen went back to their own firesides and sat talking with their wives and children about the calamities[1] of the times. Others, who were younger and less prudent, remained in the streets; for there seems to have been a presentiment[2] that some strange event was on the eve of taking place.

7. Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock, several young men passed by the Town House and walked down King Street. The sentinel was still on his post in front of the Custom House, pacing to and fro; while, as he turned, a gleam of light from some neighboring window glittered on the barrel of his musket. At no great distance were the barracks[3] and the guardhouse, where his comrades were probably telling stories of battle and bloodshed.

Ⅱ

8. Down toward the Custom House, as I told you, came a party of wild young men. When they drew near the sentinel, he halted on his post and took his musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet at their breasts.

"Who goes there?" he cried, in the gruff, peremptory[4] tones of a soldier's challenge.

9. The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they had a right to walk their own streets without being accountable to a British redcoat, even though he challenged them in King George's name. They made some rude answer to the sentinel. There was a dispute or perhaps a scuffle.

10. Other soldiers heard the noise and ran hastily from the barracks to assist their comrades. At the same time many of the townspeople rushed into King Street by various avenues and gathered in a crowd round about the Custom House. It seemed wonderful how such a multitude had started up all of a sudden.

11. The wrongs and insults which the people had been suffering for many months, now kindled them into a rage. They threw snowballs and lumps of ice at the soldiers. As the tumult grew louder, it reached the ears of Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered eight soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and follow him. They marched across the street, forcing their way roughly through the crowd and pricking the townspeople with their bayonets.

12. A gentleman—it was Henry Knox[5], afterwards general of the American artillery—caught Captain Preston's arm.

"For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, "take heed what you do or there will be bloodshed."

"Stand aside!" answered Captain Preston, haughtily[6]. "Do not interfere, sir! Leave me to manage the affair."

13. Arriving at the sentinel's post, Captain Preston drew up his men in a semicircle with their faces to the crowd and their rear to the Custom House. When the people saw the officer, and beheld the threatening attitude[7] with which the soldiers fronted them, their rage became almost uncontrollable.

"Fire, you lobsterbacks!" bellowed some.

"You dare not fire, you cowardly redcoats!" cried others.

14. "Rush upon them!" shouted many voices. "Drive the rascals to their barracks! Down with them! Down with them! Let them fire if they dare!"

Amid the uproar the soldiers stood glaring at the people with the fierceness of men whose trade was to shed blood.

Ⅲ

15. Oh, what a crisis had now arrived! Up to this very moment, the angry feelings between England and America might have been pacified[8]. England had but to stretch out the hand of reconciliation[9], and acknowledge that she had hitherto mistaken her rights, but would do so no more.

16. Then the ancient bonds of brotherhood would again have been knit together as firmly as in old times. The habit of loyalty[10], which had grown as strong as instinct, was not utterly overcome. The perils shared, the victories won in the old French War, when the soldiers of the colonies fought side by side with their comrades from beyond the sea, were unforgotten yet.

17. England was still that beloved country which the colonists called their home. King George, though he had frowned upon America, was still reverenced as a father.

18. But should the king's soldiers shed one drop of American blood, then it was a quarrel to the death. Never, never would America rest satisfied until she had torn down the royal authority and trampled it in the dust.

19. "Fire, if you dare, villains!" hoarsely shouted the people, while the muzzles of the muskets were turned upon them. "You dare not fire!"

The Boston massacre

They appeared ready to rush upon the leveled bayonets. Captain Preston waved his sword and uttered a command which could not be distinctly heard amid the uproar of shouts that issued from a hundred throats. But his soldiers deemed[11] that he had spoken the fatal mandate[12], "Fire!"

20. The flash of their muskets lighted up the streets, and the report rang loudly between the edifices. It was said, too, that the figure of a man, with a cloth hanging down over his face, was seen to step into the balcony of the Custom House and discharge a musket at the crowd.

21. A gush of smoke had overspread the scene. It rose heavily as if it were loath to reveal the dreadful spectacle beneath it. Eleven of the sons of New England lay stretched upon the street. Some, sorely wounded, were struggling to rise again. Others stirred not nor groaned; for they were past all pain.

22. Blood was streaming upon the snow; and that purple stain in the midst of King Street, though it melted away in the next day's sun, was never forgotten nor forgiven by the people.

————

Truth crushed to earth shall rise again:

The eternal years of God are hers;

But Error, wounded, writhes with pain,

And dies among his worshipers.

—BRYANT

注释

1 Calamities: great misfortunes.

2 Presentiment: foreboding; impression that something unpleasant is about to happen.

3 Barracks: buildings in which soldiers are lodged.

4 Peremptory: positive; commanding.

5 Henry Knox (1750-1806): an American Revolutionary general.

6 Haughtily: proudly; in an overbearing manner.

7 Attitude: position.

8 Pacified: made to be at peace; calmed.

9 Reconciliation: reunion; renewal of friendship.

10 Loyalty: faithfulness, especially to one's king or government.

11 Deemed: thought.

12 Mandate: order.

9

CONCORD HYMN

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Concord battleground and monument

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882): An American poet and essayist. Many of his essays were delivered as lectures. "In both poetry and prose he is the philosophic and religious teacher, the lover of nature, dwelling remote from human passion and human sorrow." He wrote "Representative Men," "English Traits," "The Conduct of Life," other lectures and essays, and a volume of poems.

This poem was written in 1836, and was sung at the completion of the Concord battle monument, April 19, 1836.

1. By the rude bridge that arched the flood,

Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled[1] farmers stood,

And fired the shot heard round the world.

2. The foe long since in silence slept;

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;

And Time the ruined bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

3. On this green bank; by this soft stream,

We set to-day a votive[2] stone;

That memory may their deed redeem[3],

When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

4. Spirit, that made those heroes dare

To die, and leave their children free,

Bid Time and Nature gently spare

The shaft we raise to them and thee.

————

On this question of principle, while actual suffering was yet afar off, the Colonies raised their flag against a power, to which for purposes of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome, in the height of her glory, is not to be compared—a power which has dotted over the surface of the whole globe with her possessions and military posts, whose morning drum-beat, following the sun, and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England.

—WEBSTER

注释

1 Embattled: arranged in order of battle; prepared or armed for battle.

2 Votive: devoted; given in fulfillment of a vow.

3 Redeem: rescue; buy back.

10

EPPIE

BY GEORGE ELIOT

George Eliot (1819-1880): The pen name of the great English novelist, Marian Evans Cross. In 1851 she went to London, and there became the center of a literary circle. She wrote "Adam Bede," "The Mill on the Floss," "Silas Marner," "Romola," and other novels. Her pictures of middle-class life in England are hardly equaled in English literature.

George Eliot

A little girl had wandered away from her mother, who lay dead in the snow, and had come to the cottage of Silas Marner, a weaver, who lived by himself near a stone pit and who had recently been robbed of a large sum of money. The child entered the cottage and fell asleep on an old sack by the fire. Silas, meanwhile, while in the act of closing the door, had fallen into one of the unconscious fits to which he was subject, and knew nothing of his little visitant.

Ⅰ

1. When Marner recovered he closed his door, unaware of any change except that the light had grown dim and that he was chilled and faint. He thought he had been too long standing at the door and looking out.

2. Turning towards the hearth, where the two logs had fallen apart and sent forth only a red, uncertain glimmer, he seated himself on his fireside chair, and was stooping to push his logs together, when, to his blurred vision, it seemed as if there were gold on the floor in front of the hearth.

3. Gold!—his own gold—brought back to him as mysteriously[1] as it had been taken away. He felt his heart begin to beat violently, and for a few moments he was unable to stretch out his hand and grasp the restored treasure. The heap of gold seemed to glow and get larger beneath his agitated[2] gaze. He leaned forward at last and stretched forth his hand; but instead of the hard coin with the familiar resisting outline, his fingers encountered soft, warm curls.

4. In utter amazement, Silas fell on his knees and bent his head low to examine the marvel; it was a sleeping child—a round, fair thing, with soft yellow rings all over its head. Could this be his little sister come back to him in a dream—his little sister whom he had carried about in his arms for a year before she died, when he was a small boy without shoes or stockings? That was the first thought that darted across Silas's blank wonderment. Was it a dream?

5. He rose to his feet again, pushed his logs together, and, throwing on some dried leaves and sticks, raised a flame; but the flame did not disperse[3] the vision—it only lit up more distinctly the little round form of the child and its shabby clothing. It was very much like his little sister. Silas sank into his chair powerless, under the double presence of an inexplicable[4] surprise and a hurrying influx[5] of memories. How and when had the child come in without his knowledge?

6. But there was a cry on the hearth; the child had awakened, and Marner stooped to lift it on his knee. It clung round his neck and burst louder and louder into cries of "Mammy." Silas pressed it to him, and almost unconsciously[6] uttered sounds of hushing tenderness, while he bethought himself that some of his porridge, which had got cool by the dying fire, would do to feed the child with if it were only warmed up a little.

7. He had plenty to do through the next hour. The porridge, sweetened with some dry brown sugar, stopped the cries of the little one, and made her lift her blue eyes with a wide quiet gaze at Silas, as he put the spoon into her mouth.

8. Presently she slipped from his knee and began to toddle about, but with a pretty stagger that made Silas jump up and follow her lest she should fall against anything that would hurt her. But she only fell in a sitting posture[7] on the ground and began to pull at her boots, looking up at him with a crying face as if the boots hurt her.

9. He took her on his knee again, but it was some time before it occurred to Silas's dull bachelor mind that the wet boots were the grievance[8], pressing on her warm ankles. He got them off with difficulty.

Ⅱ

10. Silas kept the little girl, and called her Eppie, lavishing on her the affection he had formerly given only to his gold.

11. By the time Eppie was three years old, she developed a fine capacity for mischief and for devising[9] ways of being troublesome, which found much exercise, not only for Silas's patience, but for his watchfulness.

12. For example. He had wisely chosen a broad strip of linen as a means of fastening her to his loom when he was busy; it made a broad belt round her waist, and was long enough to allow of her reaching the low bed and sitting down on it, but not long enough for her to attempt any dangerous climbing.

13. One bright summer's morning Silas had been more engrossed[10] than usual in "setting up" a new piece of work, an occasion on which his scissors were in requisition[11]. These scissors had been kept carefully out of Eppie's reach; but the click of them had a peculiar attraction for her ear. Silas had seated himself in his loom, and the noise of the weaving had begun; but he had left his scissors on a ledge which Eppie's arm was long enough to reach; and now, like a small mouse, watching her opportunity, she stole quietly from her corner, secured the scissors, and toddled to the bed again, setting up her back as a mode of concealing the fact.

Here sat Eppie.

14. She had a distinct intention as to the use of the scissors; and having cut the linen strip in a jagged but effectual manner, in two moments she had run out at the open door where the sunshine was inviting her, while poor Silas believed her to be a better child than usual. It was not until he happened to need his scissors that the terrible tact burst upon him: Eppie had run out by herself—had perhaps fallen into the stone pit.

15. Silas, shaken by fear, rushed out, calling, "Eppie!" and ran eagerly about the uninclosed space, exploring the dry cavities into which she might have fallen, and then gazing with questioning dread at the smooth red surface of the water. The cold drops stood on his brow. How long had she been out? There was one hope, — that she had crept through the stile, and got into the fields where he usually took her to stroll.

16. But the grass was high in the meadow, and there was no descrying[12] her, if she were there, except by a close search. Poor Silas, after peering all round the hedge rows, traversed the grass, beginning with perturbed[13] vision to see Eppie behind every group of red sorrel, and to see her moving always farther off as he approached. The meadow was searched in vain; and he got over the stile into the next field, looking with dying hope towards a small pond which was now reduced to its summer shallowness, so as to leave a wide margin of good adhesive[14] mud.

17. Here, however, sat Eppie, discoursing cheerfully to her own small boot, which she was using as a bucket to convey the water into a deep hoof mark, while her little naked foot was planted comfortably on a cushion of olive-green mud. A redheaded calf was observing her with alarmed doubt through the opposite hedge.

18. Silas, overcome with joy at finding his treasure again, could do nothing but snatch her up and cover her with half-sobbing kisses. It was not until he had carried her home and had begun to think of the necessary washing, that he recollected the need that he should punish Eppie and "make her remember." The idea that she might run away again and come to harm gave him unusual resolution, and for the first time he determined to try the coal hole—a small closet near the hearth.

19. "Naughty, naughty Eppie," he suddenly began, holding her on his knee, and pointing to her muddy feet and clothes; "naughty to cut with the scissors and run away. Eppie must go into the coal hole for being naughty. Daddy must put her in the coal hole."

20. He half expected that this would be shock enough, and that Eppie would begin to cry. But instead of that she began to shake herself on his knee as if the plan opened a pleasing novelty. He put her in the coal hole and held the door closed, with a trembling sense that he was using a strong measure.

21. For a moment there was silence. Then came a little cry, "Open, open!" and Silas let her out again, saying, "Now Eppie will never be naughty again, else she must go in the coal hole—a black, naughty place."

The weaving must stand still a long while this morning, for now Eppie must be washed and have clean clothes on; but it was to be hoped that this punishment would have a lasting effect, and save time in future—though, perhaps, it would have been better if Eppie had cried more.

22. In half an hour she was clean again. Silas, having turned his back to see what he could do with the linen band, threw it down again, with the reflection that Eppie would be good without fastening for the rest of the morning. He turned round again, and was going to place her in her little chair near the loom, when she peeped out at him with black face and hands again, and said, "Eppie in de toal hole!"

注释

1 Mysteriously: in a way difficult or impossible to understand.

2 Agitated: disturbed; excited.

3 Disperse: drive away; scatter.

4 Inexplicable: that cannot be explained.

5 Influx: a flowing in.

6 Unconsciously: not purposely; without being aware of.

7 Posture: position.

8 Grievance: trouble; grief.

9 Dvising: planning; inventing.

10 Engrossed: occupied wholly.

11 Requisition: requirement; need.

12 Descrying: seeing; discovering.

13 Perturbed: disturbed; troubled.

14 Adhesive: sticky.

11

CHARLES AND MARY LAMB

1. Few brothers and sisters have been so closely united in joys and sorrows throughout a lifetime as Charles and Mary Lamb.

Charles Lamb was born in London, February 10, 1775. Mary was eleven years his senior, but as children they began their literary studies by "browsing" together in an old library.

2. John Lamb, a poor clerk, would hardly have been able to give his son educational advantages had not it been for the help of a friend, who placed Charles in Christ Church School. This is a quaint old London school, founded by "that godly and royal child, King Edward Ⅵ." Lamb has left us in two charming papers his "Recollections" of his seven years there. The poet Coleridge was one of his schoolfellows, and the friendship then begun between him and Lamb lasted a lifetime.

3. As soon as Charles Lamb left school, the poverty of his family made it necessary for him to set to work to earn his daily bread. After holding a position in the South Sea House for a while, he obtained a place as clerk in the India House, and there he remained thirty-three years.

4. In 1796, a terrible calamity befell the family. In a sudden fit of insanity Mary Lamb stabbed her mother to the heart, and wounded her invalid father. She recovered from this attack, but she was always afterward subject to fits of insanity, becoming more frequent and more prolonged in the course of years. When these attacks were over, she was a charming woman, clever and amiable.

5. This sad event affected the whole life of Lamb. Whatever plans he might have formed for his individual happiness, were bravely and cheerfully given up, and the remainder of his life was devoted to the care of his afflicted sister. "Out of that misery and desolation," says one who knew them, "sprang that wonderful love between brother and sister which has no parallel in history."

Charles Lamb

6. Hard and dreary as was his daily life, Charles Lamb found time to read and reread the great English authors of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. His mind was so saturated[1] with much reading of these old authors that his style has a peculiar and subtle[2] charm— the flavor of the writers who were his familiar friends.

7. In the scanty leisure allowed him by his "drudgery at the desk's dead wood," he wrote criticisms and essays for various London periodicals. The best known of these are the "Essays of Elia," characterized by quaint humor and tender pathos. The name signed, Elia, was the borrowed name of an Italian who had at one time been a fellow-clerk.

Mary Lamb, the "Cousin Bridget" of the essays, was her brother's housekeeper. Their humble home was a favorite resort of many distinguished men.

8. Charles and Mary Lamb together wrote several books for children. One is a volume of "Poetry for Children," from which "The Magpie's Nest" is taken. Another is "Tales from Shakspere," consisting of twenty tales, founded upon as many different plays of Shakspere. Fourteen were written by Mary, and the remaining six, the great tragedies, by Charles. The success of the "Tales" was decisive and immediate. It has kept its place as a classic all these years, and serves to-day as a most excellent introduction to the study of Shakspere.

9. In a private letter to a friend, Mary Lamb wrote: "You would like to see us as we often sit writing at one table, I taking snuff, and he groaning all the while and saying he can make nothing of it, which he always says till he has finished, and then he finds out that he has made something of it."

10. In 1825, Charles Lamb retired from the India House, being allowed a liberal pension, and the ensuing years were spent in leisure hitherto denied him.

A slight accident brought on erysipelas[3], and "the gentle Elia," sinking rapidly, died in December, 1834. Mary survived her brother thirteen years, and was laid in the same grave with him in May, 1847.

注释

1 Saturated: soaked.

2 Subtle: artful and refined.

3 Erysipelas: a disease of the skin.

12

THE MAGPIE'S NEST

BY CHARLES AND MARY LAMB

1. When the arts in their infancy were,

In a fable of old 'tis expressed

A wise magpie constructed that rare

Little house for young birds, called a nest.

2. This was talked of the whole country round;

You might hear it on every bough sung;

"Now no longer upon the rough ground

Will fond mothers brood over their young:

3. "For the magpie with exquisite skill

Has invented a moss-covered cell

Within which a whole family will

In the utmost security[1] dwell."

4. To her mate did each female bird say:

"Let us fly to the magpie, my dear;

If she will but teach us the way,

A nest we will build us up here.

5. "It's a thing that's close arched overhead,

With a hole made to creep out and in;

We, my bird, might make just such a bed

If we only knew how to begin."

6. To the magpie soon all the birds went,

And in modest terms made their request,

That she would be pleased to consent

To teach them to build up a nest.

7. She replied: "I will show you the way,

So observe everything that I do:

First, two sticks 'cross each other I lay—"

"To be sure," said the crow, "why I knew

8. "It must be begun with two sticks,

And I thought that they crossed should be."

Said the pie[2], "Then some straw and moss mix

In the way you now see done by me."

9. "Oh yes, certainly," said the jackdaw,

"That must follow, of course, I have thought

Though I never before building saw,

I guessed that, without being taught."

10. "More moss, more straw, and feathers, I place

In this manner," continued the pie.

"Yes, no doubt, madam, that is the case;

Though no builder myself, so thought I."

11. Whatever she taught them beside,

In his turn every bird of them said,

Though the nest-making art he ne'er tried,

He had just such a thought in his head.

12. Still the pie went on showing her art,

Till a nest she had built up halfway;

She no more of her skill would impart[3],

But in her anger went fluttering away.

13. And this speech in their hearing she made,

As she perched o'er their heads on a tree:

"If ye all were well skilled in my trade,

Pray, why came ye to learn it of me?"

注释

1 Security: safety.

2 Pie: magpie.

3 Impart: make known; share.

13

THE FRAMEWORK OF THE BODY

Ⅰ

1. If you were asked what your body is made of, probably you would say that it is made of flesh and bones and covered with skin. You also know something about the blood which flows through it, and that there is a very important part which we call the brain.

2. But the flesh and the bones make up the largest part of the body, and there is a good deal to be learned about them. You know the general appearance of both flesh and bone from the parts of animals which you see in the butcher's shop.

3. Bone is hard, and of a white color; indeed, it looks more like a piece of wood or stone than a part of a living animal. But bone is a real part of the living body, and it grows and is nourished just as the body is. If a man breaks the bone of his arm or his leg, it is firmly bound up, to prevent the broken parts from moving out of the proper place, and in time the bone grows together again and becomes quite strong.

4. The bones are fastened together by various kinds of joints. They form the framework of the body, and give it strength to retain[1] its proper shape. This framework is called the skeleton. Some animals, such as worms and slugs, have no skeleton; and others, such as shellfish, have a kind of hard covering or skeleton outside.

5. The most important part of the skeleton is the backbone. It is so important that naturalists divide all animals into two classes, — those which have a backbone and those which have none. All the higher animals, including man, have a backbone, or vertebral column as it is called. They are therefore called vertebrate animals. The others are called invertebrate animals.

6. The vertebral column, or backbone, is not really a bone at all. It is a pillar of small bones firmly bound together. If you string a number of spools upon a strong cord, and pull the cord tight, you will have a column somewhat like the vertebral column. It will bend slightly, as the backbone does; but, while you keep the string tight, it will be firm enough to stand upright.

The vertebral column

7. At the upper end of the backbone there is the skull. This is a hollow box or case made up of several pieces of bone fitting closely together. Inside the skull is the brain, which is in many ways the most important organ of the body.

8. The nerves come from the brain, and it is by means of them that we feel and see and hear and taste; by means of them, also, that we move any part of our bodies as we wish. They are like living telegraph wires running all through the body.

9. From the lower part of the brain there is what we might call a living telegraph cable passing down through the backbone. This is the spinal cord, which gives off many branches, or nerves, as it passes downward. If the spinal cord is injured, either by disease or by some accident, all power of feeling or of movement in the lower part of the body is lost. When this happens, we say that part of the body is paralyzed.

10. There is another box or case of bones in front of the backbone. The ribs, which are joined to the backbone from behind and bend round toward the breastbone in front, form a strong cage, inside of which are placed the heart and the lungs.

The ribs

11. The heart is a kind of force pump which sends the blood through every part of the body. In the lungs the blood is made pure by mixing with the oxygen of the air. These organs, like the brain and the spinal cord, are well protected by the strong bony framework which surrounds them.

Ⅱ

12. Besides a head and a trunk, or body, the higher animals have four limbs. Birds have two wings and two legs, quadrupeds have four legs, and we have two legs and two arms. But in their framework these different kinds of limbs are very much alike.

13. The arm joins the body at the shoulder, and the shoulder itself is formed of two bones, — the collar bone in front and the shoulder blade behind. The collar bone does not go round the neck, as its name might lead you to think. It is nearly straight, and has one end joined to the top of the breastbone, just below the throat, and the other end to the top of the shoulder.

14. The shoulder blade is a broad, flat bone, which rests on the ribs behind. Its outer corner meets the end of the collar bone and forms the top of the shoulder. The arm hangs from this corner of the shoulder blade, and is also joined to the collar bone. The collar bone gives the square shape to the shoulder when looked at from the front.

15. Between the shoulder and the elbow there is only one bone in the arm, but between the elbow and the wrist there are two. When you hold out your arm and turn the palm of the hand first upward and then downward, you can feel those two bones twisting round each other.

16. The bones of the hand are arranged so as to give it great strength and yet allow very free movement. In the wrist there are eight small bones, set in two rows across. They are very firmly bound together, but their large number allows the wrist to bend much more freely than if there were only one or two.

17. Next come the bones of the hand itself. In the body or palm of the hand there are five long bones—one for each finger and one for the thumb. Then each of the fingers has three bones and the thumb has two. Thus we have as many as twenty-seven pieces in the framework of the hand and wrist alone.

18. At its lower end the backbone is fastened to a broad, strong mass of bone, to which the lower limbs are also joined. The bones of the leg and foot are very much like those of the arm and hand. They are larger and stronger, as they have the whole weight of the body to carry, and the joints do not move so easily.

19. The joints of the limbs are very beautifully formed. The bones are bound together by bands of a very strong substance, somewhat like the sinews which you find in meat. The ends of the bones which rub against each other are very smooth and are covered with a substance called cartilage or gristle, which is much softer than the rest of the bone. There is a kind of oil which is made by the body itself at the places where it is needed, and some of this oil is constantly poured over the parts of the bone which touch each other.

20. These joints are thus like the hinges we make for ourselves: the parts are firmly joined, quite smooth, and well oiled, so that they move easily. Indeed, they are so like hinges that we call many of them hinge joints. The elbow joint is a hinge joint.

21. The shoulder joint is of a different kind. The top of the upper arm bone is round like a ball, and it moves in a shallow cup or socket in the end of the shoulder blade. Thus you can swing your arm round in a circle, and move it up and down or from back to front. This kind of joint is called a ball and socket joint.

Ⅲ

22. You have now some idea of the framework of the body. As long as it is living, the body is always moving. Motion never ceases: sometimes there is motion from place to place, or locomotion; sometimes there are the voluntary[2] movements which we make when we are writing or speaking or eating. All our life long, even while we are asleep, there are involuntary[3] movements going on, such as those of the chest in breathing, and of the heart in keeping the blood flowing through the body.

23. The bones themselves are hard like a piece of wood, and have no power of moving. How, then, are all those movements caused? If you were to make a framework like that of the arm by joining pieces of wood together with hinges, how could you make these pieces of wood move as the arm moves?

24. The best way would be to have strings fixed to the various pieces of your model, so that when you pulled one string, it bent the joint, and when you pulled another, it extended it again. This is exactly the way in which we move our limbs; there are strings which are fixed to the bones to pull them up or down as we wish.

25. But how are the strings pulled, and who pulls them? This is the strangest part of all, and shows how different a living being is from any model or machine which man can make. The strings are living strings, and they pull themselves whenever we, who live in these wonderful houses, wish them to do so.

Raising the forearm

26. The strings are the muscles and sinews. Muscle is another name for the red flesh which is covered by the skin. Now look at this picture of the arm and one of its muscles. At the lower end is a strong sinew fastened to the bone of the forearm, a little below the elbow joint, and at the upper end are two sinews which pass over the top of the shoulder to the shoulder blade. But in the middle there is a thick mass of flesh lying along the upper arm bone. You can feel this by laying your hand on your own arm.

27. Keep your hand there as you bend your arm, and notice what happens. You feel this lump of flesh getting harder and thicker in the middle, while at the same time it gets shorter. This is the whole secret of all the hundreds of movements in our bodies. The middle of the string of muscle gets shorter and thicker, and so the two ends are pulled closer together.

28. When you extend[4] your arm again, another muscle must do the work. A muscle which lies along the back of the arm pulls in the opposite direction, while the first becomes soft and loose again. One muscle can pull only in one direction, and so the muscles are usually in pairs,—one for bending the joint, and one for extending it again.

29. What makes the muscle act this way? Some strange kind of telegraph message comes from the brain through those nerves of which we spoke, and causes the muscle to act.

30. Every time a muscle acts, it loses a little of its substance, and so it wastes away gradually. But the blood is constantly carrying a supply of new material from the food we eat, and thus the muscle is repaired as quickly as it is wasted.

31. The more frequently the substance of our muscles is wasted away and renewed in this way, the stronger and firmer they become. This is the reason why plenty of exercise or hard work makes our muscles firm and strong, while a life of laziness tends to keep them weak.

Ⅳ

32. Young people generally know more about the skin of the body than they do about the flesh or the bones. It is easier to know about the outside of things than about the inside. Snakes and toads and some other animals change their skins every year. Perhaps you are not aware that we also change our skins.

33. We do not draw off the old skin as the snake does, like a glove or a stocking, and find a soft, new one underneath; we are constantly changing it, little by little, every day. The old skin comes off in very small, flat scales, like fine white dust, and the new skin is constantly growing from beneath. This is one of the reasons why daily washing and frequent change of underclothing are necessary.

34. The outer layer of the skin, from which these scales come, is called the epidermis. It can stand a good deal of rough treatment without bleeding or feeling painful. But if this outer layer happens to be taken away by a scratch or a blister, you find that the lower skin bleeds freely, showing that it is full of blood vessels, and is painful when touched, showing that it is full of nerves.

35. These nerves give us the sense of touch or feeling, but they need the rough upper skin to keep them from injury. On the tips of the fingers, where we have a keen sense of touch, the nerves are very numerous. They rise in little mounds and ridges, so as to be near the surface and to give greater fineness of touch.

36. There is a very curious fact about these little ridges which you see curving round and round on the tips of your fingers and thumbs. They are never exactly alike in any two persons, and they never change their form from year to year. Thus no two persons' fingers can make marks of the same shape on a piece of soft wax.

37. Now, when a person is accused of a crime, it is sometimes very important to know whether it is the same person who was formerly punished for another crime. Accordingly, the police in some places keep copies of the finger prints of all convicts. It is found that these finger prints are a surer way of knowing a person again than a photograph is. The face changes more than the fingers do.

38. One use of the skin is to protect the tender parts underneath—the veins and small blood-vessels, and the nerves or living telegraph wires. And in the lower animals, in order to give the better protection, the skin is sometimes covered over with such substances as shells, scales, hair, wool, feathers, nails, claws, horns, and the like, which are all different forms of the outer layer of the skin.

39. If a part of the body, such as the arm, be inclosed in a loose india rubber bag full of fresh air and kept in it for some time, the air in the bag is found to be changed. It contains the same impurities as the air which we breathe out from the lungs. This shows us that the skin is really one of our breathing organs.

40. This breathing, as well as the passage of the perspiration, takes place through very fine spiral tubes or pores of the skin. On the palm of the hand there are nearly three thousand pores in every square inch of skin, and it has been found that the whole length of these tubes in a single body would be about thirty miles!

41. Such facts as these may help you to see that the skin is a very important part of the body. And it is the part which we can do most to help in its work, as it is not covered up from us. The help we can give it is chiefly by keeping it clean and vigorous, and protecting it from cold when necessary.

注释

1 Retain: keep.

2 Voluntary: controlled by the will.

3 Involuntary: not under the control of the will.

4 Extend: stretch out.

14

THE BUGLE SONG

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892): One of the most popular of English poets. His greatest work is "In Memoriam," written in memory of his friend, Arthur Henry Hallam. He wrote "The Idylls of the King," "The Princess," "Maud," several dramas, and many shorter poems.

1. 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.

2. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,

And thinner, clearer, farther going!

O sweet and far from cliff and scar[1]

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying

3. O love, they die in yon rich sky,

They faint on hill or field or river:

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow forever and forever.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

————

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll!

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;

Man marks the earth with ruin—his control

Stops with the shore;—upon the watery plain

The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain

A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,

Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

(BYRON)

注释

1 scar: a steep, rocky place; a bare place on the side of a mountain.

15

ROBINSON CRUSOE GETS SUPPLIES FROM THE WRECK

BY DANIEL DEFOE

Daniel DeFoe (1660?-1731): An English author. His masterpiece is "Robinson Crusoe," from which this selection is taken. The story of "Robinson Crusoe," suggested by the experiences of a sailor named Alexander Selkirk, narrates the adventures of a man shipwrecked on an uninhabited island. DeFoe wrote "A History of the Plague" and many other books.

Daniel DeFoe

Ⅰ

1. When I waked it was broad day, the weather clear and the storm abated. That which surprised me most was, that the ship was lifted off in the night from the sand where she lay by the swelling of the tide, and was driven up almost as far as the rock which I first mentioned, where I had been so bruised by the wave dashing me against it. This being within about a mile from the shore where I was, and the ship seeming to stand upright still, I wished myself on board, that at least I might save some necessary things for my use.

2. When I came down from my apartment in the tree, I looked about me again, and the first thing I found was the boat, which lay, as the wind and the sea had tossed her up, upon the land, about two miles on my right hand.

3. I walked as far as I could upon the shore to have got to her; but found a neck, or inlet, of water, between me and the boat, which was about half a mile broad; so I came back for the present, being more intent upon getting at the ship, where I hoped to find something for my present subsistence[1].

4. A little after noon, I found the sea very calm and the tide ebbed so far out that I could come within a quarter of a mile of the ship: and here I found a fresh renewing of my grief; for I saw, evidently, that if we had kept on board, we had all been safe; that is to say, we had all got safe on shore, and I had not been so miserable as to be left entirely destitute of all comfort and company, as I now was.

5. This forced tears from my eyes again, but as there was little relief in that, I resolved, if possible, to get to the ship; so I pulled off my clothes, for the weather was hot to extremity, and took the water. But when I came to the ship, my difficulty was still greater to know how to get on board; for as she lay aground, and high out of the water, there was nothing within my reach to lay hold of.

6. I swam round her twice, and the second time I spied a small piece of rope, which I wondered I did not see at first, hang down by the fore-chains so low, as that with great difficulty I got hold of it, and by the help of that rope got up into the forecastle of the ship.

7. Here I found that the ship was bulged, and had a great deal of water in her hold; but that she lay so on the side of a bank of hard sand, or rather earth, that her stern lay lifted up upon the bank, and her head low, almost to the water.

8. By this means all her quarter was free, and all that was in that part was dry; for you may be sure my first work was to search and to see what was spoiled and what was free: and, first, I found that all the ship's provisions were dry and untouched by the water; and, being very well disposed to eat, I went to the bread room, and filled my pockets with biscuit, and ate it as I went about other things, for I had no time to lose. Now I wanted nothing but a boat to furnish myself with many things which I foresaw would be very necessary to me.

9. It was in vain to sit still and wish for what was not to be had, and this extremity roused my application[2]. We had several spare yards[3], and two or three large spars[4] of wood, and a spare topmast or two in the ship. I resolved to fall to work with these, and flung as many of them overboard as I could manage for their weight, tying every one with a rope, that they might not drive away.

10. When this was done, I went down the ship's side, and pulling them to me, I tied four of them fast together at both ends, as well as I could, in the form of a raft, and laying two or three short pieces of plank upon them crossways, I found I could walk upon it very well, but that it was not able to bear any great weight, the pieces being too light; so I went to work, and with the carpenter's saw I cut a spare topmast into three lengths, and added them to my raft, with a great deal of labor and pains. But the hope of furnishing myself with necessaries encouraged me to go beyond what I should have been able to do upon another occasion.

11. My raft was now strong enough to bear any reasonable weight. My next care was what to load it with, and how to preserve what I laid upon it from the surf of the sea; but I was not long considering this.

12. I first laid all the planks or boards upon it that I could get, and having considered well what I most wanted, I first got three of the seamen's chests, which I had broken open and emptied, and lowered them down upon my raft; the first of these I filled with provisions, viz., bread, rice, three Dutch cheeses, five pieces of dried goats' flesh, which we lived much upon, and a little remainder of European corn, which had been laid by for some fowls which we had brought to sea with us, but the fowls were killed. There had been some barley and wheat together, but, to my great disappointment, I found afterward that the rats had eaten or spoiled it all.

13. The tide had now begun to flow, though very calm; and I had the mortification to see my coat, shirt, and waistcoat, which I had left on shore upon the sand, swim away; as for my breeches, which were only linen and open-kneed, I swam on board in them.

14. However, this put me upon rummaging[5] for clothes, of which I found enough, but took no more than I wanted for present use, for I had other things which my eye was more upon; as, first, tools to work with on shore; and it was after long searching that I found the carpenter's chest, which was, indeed, a very useful prize to me, and much more valuable than a ship-lading of gold would have been at that time. I got it down to my raft, even whole as it was, without losing time to look into it, for I knew in general what it contained.

15. My next care was for some ammunition and arms. There were two very good fowling pieces in the great cabin, and two pistols; these I secured first, with some powder-horns and a small bag of shot, and two old rusty swords. I knew there were three barrels of powder in the ship, but knew not where our gunner had stowed them; but with much search I found them, two of them dry and good, the third had taken water. Those two I got to my raft, with the arms.

Ⅱ

16. And now I thought myself pretty well freighted, and began to think how I should get to shore with them, having neither sail, oar, nor rudder; and the least capful of wind would have overset all my navigation.

17. I had three encouragements: first, a smooth, calm sea; secondly, the tide rising, and setting in to the shore; thirdly, what little wind there was blew me toward the land. And thus, having found two or three broken oars belonging to the boat, and besides the tools which were in the chest, I found two saws, an ax, and a hammer; and with this cargo I put to sea.

18. For a mile or thereabouts my raft went very well, only that I found it drive a little distant from the place where I had landed before, by which I perceived that there was some indraft of the water, and consequently I hoped to find some creek or river there which I might make use of as a port to get to land with my cargo.

19. As I imagined, so it was: there appeared before me a little opening of the land, and I found a strong current of the tide set into it, so I guided my raft, as well as I could, to keep in the middle of the stream. But here I had like to have suffered a second shipwreck, which, if I had, I think it verily[6] would have broken my heart; for, knowing nothing of the coast, my raft ran aground at one end of it upon a shoal, and not being aground at the other end, it wanted but a little that all my cargo had slipped off toward that end that was afloat, and so fallen into the water.

20. I did my utmost, by setting my back against the chests, to keep them in their places, but could not thrust off the raft with all my strength; neither durst[7] I stir from the posture I was in, but holding up the chests with all my might I stood in that manner near half an hour, in which time the rising of the water brought me a little more upon a level.

My raft went very well

21. A little after, the water still rising, my raft floated again, and I thrust her off, with the oar I had, into the channel; and then driving up higher, I at length found myself in the mouth of a little river, with land on both sides, and a strong current or tide running up. I looked on both sides for a proper place to get to shore, for I was not willing to be driven too high up the river, hoping, in time, to see some ship at sea, and therefore resolved to place myself as near the coast as I could.

22. At length I spied a little cove on the right shore of the creek, to which, with great pain and difficulty, I guided my raft, and at last got so near, as that, reaching ground with my oar, I could thrust her directly in; but here I had like to have dipped all my cargo into the sea again; for that shore lying pretty steep, that is to say, sloping, there was no place to land, but where one end of my float, if it ran on shore, would lie so high and the other sink lower, as before, that it would endanger my cargo again.

23. All that I could do was to wait till the tide was at the highest, keeping the raft with my oar like an anchor, to hold the side of it fast to the shore, near a flat piece of ground, which I expected the water would flow over; and so it did. As soon as I found water enough, for my raft drew about a foot of water, I thrust her upon that flat piece of ground, and there fastened or moored her, by sticking my two broken oars into the ground, one on one side near one end, and one on the other side near the other end: and thus I lay till the water ebbed away, and left my raft and all my cargo safe on shore.

24. My next work was to view the country, and seek a proper place for my habitation[8], and where to stow my goods, to secure them from whatever might happen. Where I was I yet knew not; whether on the continent, or on an island; whether inhabited, or not inhabited; whether in danger of wild beasts, or not. There was a hill, not above a mile from me, which rose up very steep and high, and which seemed to overtop some other hills, which lay as in a ridge from it, northward.

25. I took out one of the fowling pieces and one of the pistols and a horn of powder; and thus armed I traveled for discovery up to the top of that hill; where, after I had, with great labor and difficulty, got up to the top, I saw my fate, to my great affliction, viz., that I was in an island, environed[9] every way with the sea, no land to be seen, except some rocks, which lay a great way off, and two small islands, less than this, which lay about three leagues to the west.

26. I found also that the island I was in was barren, and, as I saw good reason to believe, uninhabited, except by wild beasts, of whom, however, I saw none; yet I saw abundance of fowls, but knew not their kinds; neither, when I killed them, could I tell what was fit for food, and what not.

Crusoe exploring his island

27. At my coming back, I shot at a great bird, which I saw sitting upon a tree, on the side of a great wood. I believe it was the first gun that had been fired there since the creation of the world. I had no sooner fired, but from all the parts of the wood there arose an innumerable number of fowls of many sorts, making a confused screaming and crying, every one according to his usual note; but not one of them of any kind that I knew. As for the creature I killed, I took it to be a kind of a hawk, its color and beak resembling it, but it had no talons or claws more than common. Its flesh was carrion and fit for nothing.

28. Contented with this discovery, I came back to my raft, and fell to work to bring my cargo on shore, which took me up the rest of that day: what to do with myself at night I knew not, nor indeed where to rest; for I was afraid to lie down on the ground, not knowing but some wild beast might devour me; though, as I afterward found, there was really no need for those fears.

29. However, as well as I could, I barricadoed[10] myself round with the chests and boards that I had brought on shore, and made a kind of hut for that night's lodging. As for food, I yet saw not which way to supply myself except that I had seen two or three creatures, like hares, run out of the wood where I shot the fowl.

Ⅲ

30. I now began to consider that I might yet get a great many things out of the ship, which would be useful to me, and particularly some of the rigging[11] and sails, and such other things as might come to land; and I resolved to make another voyage on board the vessel, if possible. And as I knew that the first storm that blew must necessarily break her all in pieces, I resolved to set all other things apart, till I got everything out of the ship that I could get.

31. Then I called a council, that is to say, in my thoughts, whether I should take back the raft; but this appeared impracticable: so I resolved to go as before, when the tide was down; and I did so, only that I stripped before I went from my hut, having nothing on but a checkered shirt, a pair of linen drawers, and a pair of pumps on my feet.

32. I got on board the ship as before, and prepared a second raft; and having had experience of the first, I neither made this so unwieldy[12], nor loaded it so hard, but yet I brought away several things very useful to me; as, first, in the carpenter's stores, I found two or three bags of nails and spikes, a great screw jack[13], a dozen or two of hatchets, and, above all, that most useful thing called a grindstone.

33. All these I secured together, with several things belonging to the gunner; particularly, two or three iron crows, and two barrels of musket bullets, seven muskets, and another fowling piece[14], with some small quantity of powder more, a large bag full of small shot, and a great roll of sheet lead; but this last was so heavy, I could not hoist it up to get it over the ship's side.

Besides these things, I took all the men's clothes that I could find, and a spare fore-topsail, a hammock, and some bedding; and with this I loaded my second raft, and brought them all safe on shore, to my very great comfort.

34. I was under some apprehensions lest, during my absence from the land, my provisions might be devoured on shore; but when I came back, I found no sign of any visitor; only there sat a creature like a wild cat upon one of the chests, which, when I came toward it, ran away a little distance, and then stood still. She sat very composed and unconcerned, and looked full in my face, as if she had a mind to be acquainted with me.

35. I presented my gun to her, but, as she did not understand it, she was perfectly unconcerned at it, nor did she offer to stir away, upon which I tossed her a bit of biscuit, though I was not very free of it, for my store was not great; however, I spared her a bit, I say, and she went to it, smelled of it, and ate it, and looked, as pleased, for more; but I thanked her, and could spare no more: so she marched off.

36. Having got my second cargo on shore,—though I was fain to open the barrels of powder, and bring them by parcels, for they were too heavy, being large casks,—I went to work to make me a little tent, with the sail and some poles, which I cut for that purpose; and into this tent I brought everything that I knew would spoil either with rain or sun; and I piled all the empty chests and casks up in a circle round the tent, to fortify it from any sudden attempt either from man or beast.

37. When I had done this, I blocked up the door of the tent with some boards within, and an empty chest set up on end without; and spreading one of the beds upon the ground, laying my two pistols just at my head, and my gun at length by me, I went to bed for the first time, and slept very quietly all night, for I was very weary and heavy; for the night before I had slept little, and had labored very hard all day, as well to fetch all those things from the ship as to get them on shore.

38. I had the biggest magazine[15] of all kinds now that ever was laid up, I believe, for one man; but I was not satisfied still, for while the ship sat upright in that posture, I thought I ought to get everything out of her that I could; so every day, at low water, I went on board, and brought away something or other; but particularly the third time I went, I brought away as much of the rigging as I could, as also all the small ropes and rope twine I could get, with a piece of spare canvas, which was to mend the sails upon occasion, and the barrel of wet gunpowder.

39. In a word, I brought away all the sails first and last; only that I was fain to cut them in pieces, and bring as much at a time as I could, for they were no more useful to be sails, but as mere canvas only.

40. But that which comforted me still more was, that, last of all, after I had made five or six such voyages as these, and thought I had nothing more to expect from the ship that was worth my meddling with: I say, after all this, I found a great hogshead of bread, and a box of sugar, and a barrel of fine flour; this was surprising to me, because I had given over expecting any more provisions, except what was spoiled by the water. I soon emptied the hogshead of that bread, and wrapped it up, parcel by parcel, in pieces of the sails, which I cut out; and, in a word, I got all this safe on shore also.

Ⅳ

41. The next day I made another voyage, and now having plundered the ship of what was portable[16] and fit to hand out, I began with the cables, and cutting the great cable into pieces such as I could move, I got two cables and a hawser on shore, with all the iron work I could get; and having cut down the spritsail[17] yard and the mizzen[18] yard, and everything I could, to make a large raft, I loaded it with all those heavy goods and came away.

42. But my good luck began now to leave me; for this raft was so unwieldy and so overladen that after I was entered the little cove, where I had landed the rest of my goods, not being able to guide it so handily as I did the other, it overset, and threw me and all my cargo into the water; as for myself, it was no great harm, for I was near the shore; but as to my cargo, it was a great part of it lost, especially the iron, which I expected would have been of great use to me.

43. However, when the tide was out, I got most of the pieces of cable ashore and some of the iron, though with infinite labor; for I was fain to dip for it into the water — a work which fatigued me very much. After this I went every day on board, and brought away what I could get.

44. I had been now thirteen days ashore, and had been eleven times on board the ship, in which time I had brought away all that one pair of hands could well be supposed capable to bring, though I believe verily, had the calm weather held, I should have brought away the whole ship, piece by piece; but preparing, the twelfth time, to go on board, I found the wind began to rise. However, at low water, I went on board.

45. Though I thought I had rummaged the cabin so effectually as that nothing could be found, yet I discovered a locker with drawers in it, in one of which I found two or three razors, and one pair of large scissors, with some ten or a dozen of good knives and forks; in another I found about thirty-six pounds in money, some European coin, some Brazil, some pieces of eight[19], some gold, and some silver.

46. I smiled to myself at the sight of this money: "O drug!" I exclaimed, "what art thou good for? Thou art not worth to me, no, not the taking off the ground; one of those knives is worth all this heap: I have no manner of use for thee; e'en remain where thou art, and go to the bottom, as a creature whose life is not worth saving."

47. However, upon second thoughts, I took it away; and wrapping all this in a piece of canvas, I began to think of making another raft; but while I was preparing this, I found the sky overcast, and the wind began to rise, and in a quarter of an hour it blew a fresh gale from the shore.

48. It presently occurred to me that it was in vain to pretend to make a raft with the wind off shore; and that it was my business to be gone before the tide of flood began, or otherwise I might not be able to reach the shore at all. Accordingly I let myself down into the water, and swam across the channel which lay between the ship and the sands, and even that with difficulty enough, partly with the weight of the things I had about me, and partly the roughness of the water; for the wind rose very hastily, and before it was quite high water it blew a storm.

49. But I was got home to my little tent, where I lay, with my wealth about me very secure. It blew very hard all that night, and in the morning, when I looked out, behold, no more ship was to be seen. I was a little surprised, but recovered myself with this satisfactory reflection, viz., that I had lost no time, nor abated no diligence, to get everything out of her, that could be useful to me, and that, indeed, there was little left in her that I was able to bring away, if I had had more time.

注释

1 Subsistence: means of support; livelihood.

2 Application: earnest effort; close attention.

3 Yards: long pieces of timber tapering toward the ends, used to support sails.

4 Spar: a general term for any round piece of timber used as a mast, yard, etc.

5 Rummaging: searching closely.

6 Verily: certainly; in fact.

7 Durst: dared.

8 Habitation: dwelling.

9 Environed: surrounded.

10 Barricadoed: defended with a barrier.

11 Rigging: the ropes, etc., which support the masts of a ship and serve to manage the sails.

12 Unwieldy: unmanageable; not easily managed or carried.

13 Screw jack: a jackscrew; a machine for lifting heavy weights by means of a screw.

14 Fowling piece: a light gun used in killing birds and other small game.

15 Magazine: a storehouse; the word is here used for the things kept in the storehouse.

16 Portable: that can be carried.

17 Spritsail: a sail extended by a sprit or small pole.

18 Mizzen: the hindmost sail of a three-masted ship.

19 Pieces of eight: Spanish coins of about the value of a dollar.

16

THE TIGER

BY WILLIAM BLAKE

William Blake (1757-1827): An English painter, engraver, and poet. He was the son of a poor hosier, and his education seems to have been entirely self-acquired. His poems were written and illustrated in color entirely by his own hand. "Songs of Innocence" and "Songs of Experience" include the most popular of his beautiful imaginative poems.

1. Tiger, tiger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night,

What immortal[1] hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry[2]?

2. In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

3. And what shoulder, and what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand forged thy dread feet?

4. What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

5. When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered Heaven with their tears,

Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

6. Tiger, tiger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

————

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man:

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The child is father of the man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

(WORDSWORTH)

注释

1 Immortal: undying.

2 Symmetry: beautiful proportion; the due relation of the parts to the whole.

17

THE BATTLES OF CRECY AND POITIERS

BY CHARLES DICKENS

Charles Dickens (1812-1870): An English novelist. The fame which he won by his first works, "Sketches by Boz" and "Pickwick Papers," was increased by his later novels, "Oliver Twist," "David Copperfield," "A Tale of Two Cities," and others. This description of the battles of Crecy and Poitiers is from his "Child's History of England," which is a great favorite with young people.

Ⅰ

1. It was in the month of July, in the year 1346, when Edward, the King of England, embarked at Southampton for France, with an army of about thirty thousand men in all, attended by the Prince of Wales and by several of the chief nobles. He landed at La Hogue in Normandy; and, burning and destroying as he went, according to custom, advanced up the left bank of the river Seine and fired the small towns even close to Paris.

2. But, being watched from the right bank of the river by the French king and all his army, it came to this at last—that Edward found himself on Saturday, the 26th of August, 1346, on a rising ground behind the little French village of Crecy, face to face with the French king's forces. And, although the French king had an enormous[1] army,—in number more than eight times his,—he there resolved to beat him or be beaten.

3. The young prince, assisted by the Earl of Oxford and the Earl of Warwick, led the first division of the English army; two other great earls led the second; and the king the third. When the morning dawned, the king heard prayers, and then, mounted on horseback with a white wand in his hand, rode from company to company, and rank to rank, encouraging both officers and men. Then the whole army breakfasted, each man sitting on the ground where he had stood; and then they remained quietly on the ground with their weapons ready.

4. Up came the French king with all his great force. It was dark and angry weather; there was an eclipse of the sun; there was a thunderstorm accompanied with tremendous rain; the frightened birds flew screaming above the soldiers' heads. A certain captain in the French army advised the French king, who was by no means cheerful, not to begin the battle until the morrow.

5. The king, taking this advice, gave the word to halt. But, those behind not understanding it, or desiring to be foremost with the rest, came pressing on. The roads for a great distance were covered with this immense army and with the common people from the villages, who were flourishing their rude weapons and making a great noise. Owing to these circumstances, the French army advanced in the greatest confusion; every French lord doing what he liked with his own men, and putting out the men of every other French lord.

6. Now their king relied strongly upon a great body of crossbowmen from Genoa; and these he ordered to the front to begin the battle, on finding that he could not stop it. They shouted once, they shouted twice, they shouted three times, to alarm the English archers; but the English would have heard them shout three thousand times and would have never moved.

7. At last the crossbowmen went forward a little and began to discharge their bolts; upon which the English let fly such a hail of arrows that the Genoese speedily made off; for their crossbows, besides being heavy to carry, required to be wound up with a handle and consequently took time to reload. The English, on the other hand, could discharge their arrows almost as fast as the arrows could fly.

8. When the French king saw the Genoese turning, he cried out to his men to kill those scoundrels who were doing harm instead of service. This increased the confusion. Meanwhile, the English archers, continuing to shoot as fast as ever, shot down great numbers of the French soldiers and knights.

9. The prince and his division were at this time so hard pressed that the Earl of Warwick sent a message to the king, who was overlooking the battle from a windmill, beseeching him to send more aid.

10. "Is my son killed?" said the king.

"No, sire[2], please God," returned the messenger.

"Is he wounded?" said the king.

"No, sire."

"Is he thrown to the ground?" said the king.

"No, sire, not so; but he is very hard pressed."

11. "Then," said the king, "go back to those who sent you and tell them I shall send no aid; because I set my heart upon my son proving himself this day a brave knight, and because I am resolved, please God, that the honor of a great victory shall be his."

12. These bold words, being reported to the prince and his division, so raised their spirits that they fought better than ever. The King of France charged gallantly with his men many times; but it was of no use.

13. Night dosing in, his horse was killed under him by an English arrow, and the knights and nobles who had clustered about him early in the day were now completely scattered. At last, some of his few remaining followers led him off the field by force, since he would not retire of himself, and they journeyed away to Amiens.

14. The victorious English, lighting their watch fires, made merry on the field, and the king, riding to meet his gallant son, took him in his arms, kissed him, and told him that he had acted nobly and proved himself worthy of the day and of the crown.

15. While it was yet night, King Edward was hardly aware of the great victory he had gained; but next day it was discovered that eleven princes, twelve hundred knights, and thirty thousand common men lay dead upon the French side.

16. Among these was the King of Bohemia, an old blind man, who, having been told that his son was wounded in the battle, and that no force could stand against the Black Prince, called to him two knights, put himself on horseback between them, fastened the three bridles together, and dashed in among the English, where he was presently slain. He bore as his crest three white ostrich feathers, with the motto, "Ich dien," signifying[3] in English "I serve." This crest and motto were taken by the Prince of Wales in remembrance of that famous day, and have been borne by the Prince of Wales ever since.

Ⅱ

17. Five days after this great battle, the king laid siege to Calais. This siege— ever afterward memorable—lasted nearly a year. In order to starve the inhabitants out, King Edward built so many wooden houses for the lodgings of his troops that it is said their quarters looked like a second Calais suddenly sprung around the first.

18. The garrison were so hard pressed at last that they sent a letter to King Philip, telling him that they had eaten all the horses, all the dogs, and all the rats and mice that could be found in the place; and that, if he did not relieve them, they must either surrender to the English or eat one another. Philip made one effort to give them relief; but they were so hemmed in by the English power that he could not succeed and was fain to leave the place. Upon this they hoisted the English flag and surrendered to King Edward.

19. "Tell your general," said he to the humble messengers who came out of the town, "that I require to have sent here six of the most distinguished citizens, barelegged, and in their shirts, with ropes about their necks; and let those six men bring with them the keys of the castle and the town."

20. When the governor of Calais related this to the people of the market place, there was great weeping and distress; in the midst of which one worthy citizen, named Eustace de Saint Pierre, rose up and said that if the six men required were not sacrificed, the whole population would be; therefore, he offered himself as the first.

21. Encouraged by this bright example, five other worthy citizens offered themselves to save the rest. The governor, who was too badly wounded to be able to walk, mounted a poor old horse that had not been eaten and conducted these good men to the gate, while all the people cried and mourned.

22. Edward received them wrathfully and ordered the heads of the whole six to be struck off. However, the good queen fell upon her knees and besought the king to give them up to her.

The king replied, "I wish you had been somewhere else; but I cannot refuse you."

23. So she had them properly dressed, made a feast for them, and sent them back with a handsome present, to the great rejoicing of the whole camp. I hope the people of Calais loved the daughter to whom she gave birth afterward, for her gentle mother's sake.

Ⅲ

24. After eight years the Prince of Wales again invaded France with an army of sixty thousand men. He went through the south of the country, burning and plundering wheresoever he went.

The French king, Philip, was now dead, and was succeeded by his son John. The Black Prince, called by that name from the color of the armor he wore to set off his fair complexion, continuing to burn and destroy in France, roused John into determined opposition.

25. So cruel had the Black Prince been in his campaign, and so severely had the French peasants suffered, that he could not find one who for love or money or the fear of death would tell him what the French king was doing or where he was. Thus it happened that he came upon the French king's forces all of a sudden, near the town of Poitiers, and found that the whole neighboring country was occupied by a vast French army.

26. "God help us!" said the Black Prince; "we must make the best of it."

So, on a Sunday morning, the 18th of September, the prince—whose army was now reduced to ten thousand men in all—prepared to give battle to the French king, who had sixty thousand horse alone.

27. While he was so engaged, there came riding from the French camp a cardinal, who had persuaded John to let him offer terms and try to save the shedding of Christian blood.

"Save my honor," said the prince to this good priest, "and save the honor of my army, and I will make any reasonable terms."

28. He offered to give up all the towns, castles, and prisoners he had taken, and to swear to make no war in France for seven years.

But, as John would hear of nothing but his surrender, with a hundred of his chief knights, the treaty was broken off and the prince said quietly, "God defend the right; we shall fight tomorrow."

29. Therefore, on Monday morning at break of day, the two armies prepared for battle. The English were posted in a strong place, which could only be approached by one narrow lane, skirted by hedges on both sides. The French attacked them by this lane, but were so galled and slain by English arrows from behind the hedges that they were forced to retreat. Then went six hundred English bowmen round about, and coming upon the rear of the French army, rained arrows on them thick and fast.

30. The French knights, thrown into confusion, quitted their banners and dispersed in all directions.

Said Sir John Chandos to the prince: "Ride forward, noble prince, and the day is yours. The King of France is so valiant a gentleman that I know he will never fly, and may be taken prisoner."

Father and son fought well.

31. Said the prince to this, "Advance, English banners, in the name of God and St. George[4]!" and on they pressed until they came up with the French king fighting fiercely with his battle-ax; and when all his nobles had forsaken him, attended faithfully to the last by his youngest son, Philip, only sixteen years of age. Father and son fought well, and the king had already two wounds in his face and had been beaten down when he at last delivered himself to a banished French knight and gave him his right-hand glove in token that he had done so.

32. The Black Prince was generous as well as brave, and he invited his royal prisoner to supper in his tent and waited upon him at table, and, when they afterward rode into London in a gorgeous[5] procession, mounted the French king on a fine cream-colored horse and rode at his side on a little pony. This was all very kind, but I think it was perhaps a little theatrical, too, and has been made more meritorious[6] than it deserved to be; especially as I am inclined to think that the greatest kindness to the King of France would have been not to have shown him to the people at all.

33. However, it must be said for these acts of politeness that, in Course of time, they did much to soften the horrors of war and the passions of conquerors. It was a long, long time before the common soldiers began to have the benefit of such courtly[7] deeds; but they did at last; and thus it is possible that a poor soldier who asked for quarter at the battle of Waterloo[8], or any other such great fight, may have owed his life indirectly to Edward, the Black Prince.

注释

1 Enormous: very large.

2 Sire: lord or master; a title of respect in addressing a king.

3 Signifying: meaning.

4 St. George: the patron saint of England.

5 Gorgeous: fine; magnificent.

6 Meritorious: possessing merit.

7 Courtly: polite; elegant.

8 Waterloo: a great battle fought in 1815, in which the French were defeated by the allied forces of English and Prussians.

18

THE SNOWSTORM

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892): An American poet. The scenes and people which surrounded his childhood are described in "Snowbound," from which this selection is taken. Whittier is sometimes called "The Poet of New England," because, better than any other writer, he pictures the scenes, life, and people of New England. Many of his shorter poems, such as "Maud Muller," "In School Days," and "The Barefoot Boy," are very popular.

John Greenleaf Whittier

1.The sun that brief December day

Rose cheerless over hills of gray,

And, darkly circled, gave at noon

A sadder light than waning moon.

Slow tracing down the thickening sky

Its mute and ominous[1] prophecy,

A portent[2] seeming less than threat,

It sank from sight before it set.

A chill no coat, however stout,

Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,

A hard, dull bitterness of cold,

That checked, mid-vein, the circling race

Of life blood in the sharpened face,

The coming of the snowstorm told.

The wind blew east; we heard the roar

Of Ocean on his wintry shore,

And felt the strong pulse throbbing there

Beat with low rhythm[3] our inland air.

2. Meanwhile we did our nightly chores[4],

Brought in the wood from out of doors,

Littered the stalls, and from the mows

Raked down the herd's grass[5] for the cows;

Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;

And, sharply clashing horn on horn,

Impatient down the stanchion[6] rows

The cattle shake their walnut bows;

While, peering from his early perch

Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,

The cock his crested helmet[7] bent

And down his querulous[8] challenge sent.

Unwarmed by any sunset light

The gray day darkened into night,

A night made hoary[9] with the swarm

And whirl dance of the blinding storm,

As zigzag wavering to and fro

Crossed and recrossed the winged snow:

And ere the early bedtime came

The white drift piled the window frame,

And through the glass the clothesline posts

Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

3. So all night long the storm roared on:

The morning broke without a sun;

In tiny spherule[10] traced with lines

Of Nature's geometric[11] signs,

In starry flake and pellicle[12]

All day the hoary meteor fell;

And, when the second morning shone,

We looked upon a world unknown,

On nothing we could call our own.

Around the glistening wonder bent

The blue walls of the firmament,

No cloud above, no earth below,—

A universe of sky and snow!

The old familiar sights of ours

Took marvelous shapes; strange domes and towers

Rose up where sty or corncrib stood,

Or garden wall or belt of wood;

A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,

A fenceless drift what once was road;

The bridle post an old man sat

With loose-flung coat and high-cocked hat;

The well curb had a Chinese roof[13];

And even the long sweep, high aloof[14],

In its slant splendor, seemed to tell

Of Pisa's[15] leaning miracle[16].

注释

1 Ominous: foreshadowing good or evil, usually evil.

2 Portent: a sign, especially of evil.

3 Rhythm: measured beat; movement in musical time.

4 Chores: the regular light work of a household or farm.

5 Herds grass: a kind of grass much used for hay.

6 Stanchion: a bar for confining cattle in a stall.

7 Helmet: a defensive covering for the head. The helmet was often adorned with a crest—a plume of feathers or other decoration—to show the rank of the wearer.

8 Querulous: expressing complaint.

9 Hoary: white, usually with age.

10 Spherule: a little sphere.

11 Geometric: according to geometry, the branch of mathematics which treats of solids, surfaces, lines, and angles.

12 Pellicle: thin film or skin.

13 Chinese roof: a high, peaked roof.

14 A loof: away; at a distance.

15 Pisa's: a city of Italy.

16 leaning miracle: the famous leaning tower of Pisa.

19

BALL BEARINGS

1. My attention was first directed to the subject when my brother James, coming home one day after a long spin, complained loudly that some one had been tampering[1] with his bicycle. Finding it harder work than usual, he had got off to look at the bearings, and found that several of the balls were missing. It struck me as wonderful that so much extra work—and so much bad temper —should depend on a few small balls, and I was interested enough to study the subject.

2. Of course it is a question of friction. What is that, you say? Well, the word really means "rubbing," but a scientific man using it means the resistance which is met by any surface in moving over another surface.

3. If you try to draw a heavy box along the ground by means of a rope, you will find it very hard work because the bottom of the box is pressed down against the ground, and the roughness of both surfaces causes resistance to movement.

4. That tells why carts and carriages and railway engines have wheels. The wheels bear the weight of the load above them, and a comparatively slight force is sufficient to move them; and when they move the friction between the rolling wheels and the ground is much less than would be the friction if the cart, carriage, or engine were dragged stiffly along the ground.

In other words, rolling friction is always very much less than sliding friction.

5. That explains the use of the skid[2] in going down the hill. The carter stops by means of it the rolling of his wheel, and thus by increasing the friction he lessens the speed of his descent.

6. What about the bicycle, then? Well, you must have noticed that all wheeled vehicles have an axle or two, and that the axle passes through the round hole at the hub or center of the wheel. The place where the axle bears upon the hub of the wheel is called the bearing.

7. Now, in ordinary carriages the bearing is a plain bearing; that is, the axle remains still while the wheel revolves directly on it. The parts are made very smooth and are kept oiled, in order to lessen the friction.

8. But in order to lessen still more the friction in the bicycle, ball bearings are employed. Look at the accompanying section of a bicycle wheel bearing. A is the hub of the wheel, which revolves on the axle, B; but it does not run directly on it. At each end of the hub there is a concave[3] surface, C, called a cup, and at each end of the axle a convex[4] surface, D, called a cone. These are both ground perfectly smooth and true, and in the hollow between them is a ring of smooth steel balls encircling the axle.

9. Now you see what happens. When the wheel turns, the hub turns on the balls. These in their turn roll round in the same direction with the same speed, and thus the hub, instead of sliding stiffly round on the axle, is itself as it were going on wheels.

10. That this device[5] very much reduces the friction you can easily prove for yourself. Try to push heavy box along the floor; with all your straining you can hardly move it.

11. Now take a handful of marbles, put them in three lines on the ground, and let the box lie evenly upon them. You can now move it with a touch. It is just the same with a ball bearing, except that the balls there are shut up in a cup and cannot escape as the marbles can slip away from under the box, and that the hub rolls, while the box slides.

12. I had hitherto thought that bicycling was as hard work as walking; but, when I found how ingeniously the makers have reduced the friction and consequently the labor of riding, I made up my mind to do most of my walking on wheels.

————

A little neglect may breed great mischief: for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and for want of a shoe the horse was lost, and for want of a horse the rider was lost.

(FRANKLIN)

注释

1 Tampering: meddling; trying little experiments with.

2 Skid: an iron clog or hook fastened to a chain and placed under a wagon wheel to keep it from turning when going down a steep hill.

3 Concave: hollow and rounded,—said of the inside of a curved surface or line, in opposition to convex.

4 Convex: rising into a rounded form; said of a curved surface or line when viewed from without, in opposition to concave.

5 Device: contrivance; plan.

20

THE IRISH WIDOW'S MESSAGE TO HER SON IN AMERICA

BY ELLEN FORRESTER

1. "Remember, Dennis, all I bade you say,

Tell him we're well and happy, thank the Lord,

But of our troubles since he went away,

You'll mind, avick[1], and never say a word,

Of cares and troubles, sure, we've all our share,

The finest summer isn't always fair.

2. "Tell him the spotted heifer[2] calved in May

She died, poor thing! but that you needn't mind —

Nor how the constant rain destroyed the hay;

But tell him God to us was always kind;

And when the fever spread the country o'er,

His mercy kept the sickness from the door.

3. "Be sure you tell him how the neighbors came,

And cut the corn, and stored it in the barn;

'Twould be as well to mention them by name,

Pat Murphy, Ned McCabe, and James McCarn,

And big Tim Daly from behind the hill,

But say, agra[3]! oh, say I missed him still!

4. "They came with ready hands our toil to share,

'Twas then I missed him most, my own right hand!

I felt, although kind hearts were round me there,

The kindest heart beat in a foreign land.

Strong arm! brave heart! oh, severed[4] far from me

By many a weary mile of shore and sea!

5. "You'll tell him she was with us (he'll know who),

Mavourneen[5]! hasn't she the winsome eyes?

The darkest, deepest, brightest, bonniest blue

That ever shone except in summer skies;

And such black hair! — it is the blackest hair

That ever rippled o'er a neck so fair.

6. "Tell him old Pincher fretted many a day

Ah, poor old fellow, he had like to die!

Crouched by the roadside, how he watched the way,

And sniffed the travelers as they passed him by.

Hail, rain, or sunshine, sure 'twas all the same,

He listened for the foot that never came.

7. "Tell him the house is lonesome-like and cold,

The fire itself seems robbed of half its light;

But maybe 'tis my eyes are growing old,

And things grow dim before my failing sight;

For all that, tell him 'twas myself that spun

The shirts you bring, and stitched them every one.

8. "Give him my blessing; morning, noon, and night,

Tell him my prayers are offered for his good,

That he may keep his Maker still in sight,

And firmly stand, as his brave father stood,

True to his name, his country, and his God,

Faithful at home, and steadfast still abroad."

注释

1 Avick: my dear.

2 Heifer: a young cow.

3 Agra: an Irish term of endearment.

4 Severed: separated.

5 Mavourneen: my darling.

21

THE LARCH AND THE OAK

BY THOMAS CARLYLE

1. "What is the use of thee, thou gnarled sapling?" said a young larch tree to a young oak. "I grow three feet in a year, thou scarcely so many inches; I am straight and taper as a reed, thou straggling and twisted as a loosened withe."

2. "And thy duration," answered the oak, "is some third part of man's life, and I am appointed to flourish for a thousand years. Thou art felled and sawed into paling, where thou rottest and art burned after a single summer; of me are fashioned battleships, and I carry mariners and heroes into unknown seas."

22

SELF-CONTROL

BY JOHN HENRY NEWMAN (CARDINAL NEWMAN)

John Henry, cardinal Newman (1801-1890): An English theologian and author. He left the Church of England and connected himself with the Roman Catholic Church, in which he was made cardinal in 1879. He was the author of many sermons and religious works. He wrote a number of poems, among which are the wellknown hymn, "Lead, Kindly Light," and "The Dream of Gerontius."

cardinal Newman

1. Prune thou thy words, the thoughts control

That o'er thee swell and throng;

They will condense within thy soul,

And change to purpose strong.

2. But he who lets his feelings run

In soft luxurious[1] flow,

Shrinks when hard service must be done,

And faints at every woe.

3. Faith's meanest deed more favor bears,

Where hearts and wills are weighed,

Than brightest transports[2], choicest prayers,

Which bloom their hour and fade.

注释

1 Luxurious: given to the pleasure of the senses; indulging in unrestrained delight and freedom.

2 Transports: great delights.

23

CALEB AND BERTHA

BY CHARLES DICKENS

Ⅰ

1. Caleb Plummer and his blind daughter lived all alone by themselves, as the storybooks say, in a little cracked nutshell of a wooden house. The house of Gruff and Tackleton was the great feature of the street; but you might have knocked down Caleb Plummer's dwelling with a hammer or two, and carried off the pieces in a cart.

2. I have said that Caleb and his poor blind daughter lived here; but I should have said Caleb lived here, and his poor blind daughter somewhere else, in an enchanted home of Caleb's furnishing, where scarcity and shabbiness were not and trouble never entered.

3. Caleb was no sorcerer[1], but in the only magic art that still remains to us—the magic of devoted, deathless love. Nature had been the mistress of his study; and from her teaching all the wonder came.

The blind girl never knew that ceilings were discolored; walls blotched, and bare of plaster here and there; high crevices[2] unstopped and widening every day. The blind girl never knew that iron was rusting, wood rotting, paper peeling off; the very size and shape and true proportion of the dwelling withering away.

4. The blind girl never knew that ugly shapes of delft[3] and earthenware were on the board; that sorrow and faint-heartedness were in the house; that Caleb's scanty hairs were turning grayer and more gray before her sightless face. The blind girl never knew they had a master, cold, exacting, and uninterested; never knew that Tackleton was Taekleton in short; but lived in the belief that he was a man who loved to have his jest with them; and, while he was the guardian angel of their lives, disdained to hear one word of thankfulness.

5. And all was Caleb's doing; all the doing of her simple father! When the motherless blind child was very young, the thought came to him that even her great deprivation[4] might be almost changed into a blessing, and the girl made happy by these little means.

6. Caleb and his daughter were at work together in their usual working room, which served them for their ordinary living room as well; and a strange place it was. There were houses in it, finished and unfinished, for dolls of all stations in life. Country houses for dolls of moderate means; kitchens and single apartments for dolls of the lower classes; capital town residences for dolls of high estate.

7. There were various other samples of his handicraft[5] besides dolls in Caleb Plummer's room. There were Noah's arks, in which the birds and beasts were an uncommonly tight fit, I assure you; though they could be crammed in anyhow at the roof, and rattled and shaken into the smallest compass.

8. There were scores of melancholy[6] little carts which, when the wheels went round, performed most doleful[7] music. Many small fiddles, drums, and other instruments of torture; no end of cannon, shields, swords, spears, and guns.

There were beasts of all sorts: horses, in particular, of every breed, from the spotted barrel on four pegs, with a small tippet for a mane, to the thoroughbred rocker on his highest mettle.

9. In the midst of all these objects, Caleb and his daughter sat at work, — the blind girl busy as a doll's dressmaker; and Caleb painting and glazing the front of a desirable family mansion.

The care imprinted in the lines of Caleb's face, and his absorbed and dreamy manner, —which would have sat well on some student, —were at first sight an odd contrast to his occupation.

10. "So you were out in the rain last night, father, in your beautiful, new greatcoat," said Caleb's daughter.

"In my beautiful new greatcoat," answered Caleb, glancing toward a clothesline in the room on which his sackcloth garment was carefully hung up to dry.

11. "How glad I am you bought it, father!"

"And of such a tailor, too," said Caleb. "Quite a fashionable tailor. It's too good for me."

The blind girl rested from her work and laughed with delight. "Too good, father? What can be too good for you?"

Happy blind girl! How merry she was!

12. "I see you, father," she said, clasping her hands, "as plainly as if I had the eyes I never want when you are with me. A blue coat—"

"Bright blue," said Caleb.

13. "Yes, yes! Bright blue!" exclaimed the girl, turning up her radiant face; "the color I can just remember in the blessed sky! You told me it was blue before! A bright blue coat—"

14. "Made loose to the figure," suggested Caleb.

"Yes, loose to the figure!" cried the blind girl, laughing heartily; "and in it you, dear father, with your merry eye, your smiling face, your free step, and your dark hair, looking so young and handsome!"

15. "Holloa! holloa!" said Caleb. "I shall be vain presently."

"I think you are already," cried the blind girl, pointing at him, in her glee. "I know you, father! Ha, ha, ha! I've found you out, you see!"

16. How different the picture in her mind from Caleb, as he sat observing her! She had spoken of his free step. She was right in that. For years and years he never once had crossed that threshold at his own slow pace, but with a footfall counterfeited[8] for her ear; and never had he, when his heart was heaviest, forgotten the light tread that was to render hers so cheerful and courageous.

Ⅱ

17. "There we are," said Caleb, falling back a pace or two to form the better judgment of his work. "What a pity that the whole front of the house opens at once! If there were only a staircase in it now and regular doors to the rooms to go in at!"

18. Caleb began to hum a fragment of a song. "What! you are singing, are you?" said Tackleton, putting his head in at the door. "Go it! I can't sing."

No one would have suspected him of it. He hadn't what is generally termed a singing face, by any means.

"I can't afford to sing," said Tackleton. "I'm glad you can. I hope you can afford to work, too. Hardly time for both, I should think!"

19. "If you could only see him, Bertha, how he's winking at me!" whispered Caleb. "Such a man to joke! You'd think, if you didn't know him, he was in earnest, wouldn't you, now?"

The blind girl smiled and nodded.

20. "The bird that can sing and won't sing must be made to sing, they say," grumbled Tackleton. "What about the owl that can't sing, and oughtn't to sing, and will sing? Is there anything that he should be made to do?"

21. "The extent to which he's winking at this moment!" whispered Caleb to his daughter. "Oh, my gracious!"

"Always merry and light-hearted with us!" cried the smiling Bertha.

22. "Oh, you are there, are you? and being there —how are you?" said Tackleton.

"Oh! well; quite well. And as happy as even you could wish me to be. As happy as you would make the whole world if you could!"

23. "Bertha!" said Tackleton, assuming a little cordiality[9]. "Come here."

"Oh, I can come straight to you. You needn't guide me!" she rejoined.

24. "Shall I tell you a secret, Bertha?"

"If you will!" she answered eagerly.

How bright the darkened face! How adorned with light, the listening head!

25. "This is the day on which little what's-her name, Peerybingle's wife, pays her regular visit to you—makes her fantastic[10] picnic here, isn't it?" said Tackleton, with a strong expression of distaste for the whole concern.

"Yes," replied Bertha. "This is the day."

26. "I thought so!" said Tackleton. "I should like to join the party."

"Do you hear that, father?" cried the blind girl, m an ecstasy[11].

"Yes, yes, I hear it," murmured Caleb, with the fixed look of a sleepwalker; "but I do not believe it. It's one of my lies, I've no doubt."

27. "You see, I — I want to bring the Peerybingles a little more into company with May Fielding," said Tackleton. "I am going to be married to May."

"Married!" cried the blind girl, starting from him.

"You are singing, are you?" said Tackleton.

28. "She's such an idiot," muttered Tackleton," that I was afraid she'd never comprehend me. Ah, Bertha. married! Church, parson, clerk, bell, breakfast, bridecake, favors, and all the rest. A wedding, you know; a wedding. Don't you know what a wedding is?"

"I know," replied the blind girl, in a gentle tone. "I understand."

29. "Do you?" muttered Taekleton. "It's more than I expected. Well, on that account, I want to join the party and to bring May and her mother. I'll send in a little something or other before the afternoon. A cold leg of mutton, or some comfortable trifle of that sort. You'll expect me?"

"Yes, she answered.

30. She had drooped her head and turned away, and so stood, with her hands crossed, musing.

"I don't think you will," muttered Tackleton, looking at her; "for you seem to have forgotten all about it already. Caleb!"

31. "I may venture to say I'm here, I suppose," thought Caleb. "Sir!"

"Take care she doesn't forget what I've been saying to her."

"She never forgets," returned Caleb. "It's one of the few things she isn't clever in."

32. "Every man thinks his own geese swans," observed the toy merchant, with a shrug. Having delivered himself of which remark he withdrew.

Bertha remained where he had left her, lost in meditation.

33. It was not until Caleb had been occupied some time in yoking a team of horses to a wagon by the simple process of nailing the harness to their bodies, that she drew near to his working stool, and, sitting down beside him, said:—

"Father, I'm lonely in the dark. I want my eyes: my patient, willing eyes."

34. "Here they are," said Caleb. "Always ready. They are more yours than mine, Bertha, any hour in the four and twenty. What shall your eyes do for you, dear?"

35. "Look round the room, father."

"All right," said Caleb. "No sooner said than done, Bertha."

"Tell me about it."

36. "It's much the same as usual," said Caleb. "Homely, but very snug. The gay colors on the walls; the bright flowers on the plates and dishes; the shining wood, where there are beams or panels; the general cheerfulness and neatness of the building make it very pretty."

37. Cheerful and neat it was, wherever Bertha's hands could busy themselves. But nowhere else were cheerfulness and neatness possible, in the crazy old shed, which Caleb's fancy so transformed.

"You have your working dress on, and are not so fine as when you wear the handsome coat?" said Bertha, touching him.

"Not quite so fine," answered Caleb. "Pretty brisk, though."

38. "Father," said the blind girl, drawing close to his side, and stealing one arm round his neck, "tell me something about May. She is very fair."

"She is, indeed," said Caleb. And she was, indeed. It was quite a rare thing to Caleb not to have to draw on his invention.

39. "Her hair is dark," said Bertha, "darker than mine. Her voice is sweet and musical, I know. I have often loved to hear it. Her shape—"

"There's not a doll's in all the room to equal it," said Caleb.

40. "Our friend, father; our benefactor[12]. I am never tired, you know, of hearing about him. Now was I ever?" she said hastily.

"Of course not," answered Caleb. "And with reason."

41. "Ah, with how much reason!" cried the blind girl, with such fervency that Caleb could not endure to meet her face; but dropped his eyes, as if she could have read in them his innocent deceit.

42. "Then tell me again about him, dear father!" said Bertha. "Many times again! His face is benevolent, kind, and tender. Honest and true, I am sure it is. The manly heart that tries to cloak all favors with a show of roughness and unwillingness beats in its every look and glance."

43. "And makes it noble," added Caleb, in his quiet desperation[13].

"And makes it noble!" cried the blind girl.

Ⅲ

44. "I have been thinking of what I have done," said Caleb to Mary; "I have been blaming myself till I hardly knew what to do or where to turn, and I've come to the conclusion that I'd better tell her the truth. You will stay with me the while?" he inquired, trembling from head to foot.

45. "I don't know what effect it may have upon her; I don't know what she'll think of me; I don't know that she'll ever care for her poor father afterward. But it's best for her that she should be undeceived; and I must bear the consequences as I deserve."

46. "Mary," said Bertha, "where is your hand? Ah, here it is! here it is!" pressing it to her lips with a smile, and drawing it through her arm. Her father went on one side of her, while Mary remained upon the other, holding her hand.

47. "Bertha, my dear," said Caleb, "I have something on my mind I want to tell you, while we three are alone. Hear me kindly! I have a confession to make to you, my darling."

"A confession, father?"

48. "I have wandered from the truth and lost myself, my child," said Caleb, with a pitiable expression in his bewildered face. "I have wandered from the truth, intending to be kind to you, and have been cruel."

She turned her wonder-stricken face toward him, and repeated, "'Cruel'!"

49. "He accuses himself too strongly, Bertha," said Mary. "You'll say so presently. You'll be the first to tell him so."

"He cruel to me!" cried Bertha, with a smile of incredulity.

50. "Not meaning it, my child," said Caleb. "But I have been, though I never suspected it till yesterday. My dear blind daughter, hear me and forgive me! The world you live in, heart of mine, doesn't exist as I have represented it. The eyes you have trusted in have been false to you."

She turned her wonder-stricken face toward him still; but drew back and clung closer to her friend.

51. "Your road in life was rough, my poor one," said Caleb, "and I meant to smooth it for you. I have altered objects, changed the characters of people, invented many things that never have been, to make you happier. I have had concealments from you, put deceptions on you, — God forgive me! — and surrounded you with fancies."

52. "But living people are not fancies!" she said hurriedly, and turning very pale and still retiring from him. "You can't change them."

"I have done so, Bertha," pleaded Caleb. "Tackleton is a stern, sordid, grinding man. A hard master to you and me, my dear, for many years. Ugly in his looks and in his nature. Unlike what I have painted him to you in everything, my child. In everything."

53. "Oh, why," cried the blind girl, "why did you ever do this! Why did you ever fill my heart so full, and then come in like Death and tear away the objects of my love! Oh! Heaven, how blind I am! How helpless and alone!"

Her afflicted father hung his head, and offered no reply but in his penitence[14] and sorrow.

54. "Mary," said the blind girl, "tell me what my home is, —what it truly is."

"It is a poor place, Bertha; very poor and bare indeed. The house will scarcely keep out wind and rain another winter. It is as roughly shielded from the weather, Bertha," Mary continued, in a low, clear voice, "as your poor father in his sackcloth coat."

55. The blind girl spread her hands before her face. "Dear Mary, a moment. One moment! Speak softly to me. You are true, I know. You'd not deceive me now, would you?"

"No, Bertha, indeed!"

56. "No, I am sure you would not. You have too much pity for me. Mary, look where my father is —my father, so compassionate and loving to me —and tell me what you see."

"I see," said Mary, who understood her well, "an old man sitting in a chair and leaning sorrowfully on the back, with his face resting on his hand. As if his child should comfort him, Bertha."

57. "Yes, yes. She will. Go on."

"He is an old man, worn with care and work. He is a spare thoughtful, gray-haired man. I see him now, despondent[15] and bowed down, and striving against nothing. But, Bertha, I have seen him many times before, and striving hard in many ways for one great sacred object. And I honor his gray head, and bless him!"

58. The blind girl broke away from her, and, throwing herself on her knees before him, took the gray head to her breast.

"It is my sight restored. It is my sight!" she cried. "I have been blind, and now my eyes are open. I never knew him! To think I might have died and never truly seen the father, who has been so loving to me!"

There were no words for Caleb's emotion.

59. "There is not a gallant figure on this earth," exclaimed the blind girl, holding him in her embrace, "that I would love so dearly, and would cherish so devotedly, as this! The grayer and more worn, the dearer, father! Never let them say I am blind again. There's not a furrow in his face, there's not a hair upon his head, that shall be forgotten in my prayers and thanks to heaven!"

Caleb managed to say, "My Bertha!"

60. "And, in my blindness, I believed him," said the girl, caressing him with tears of exquisite affection, "to be so different! And having him beside me, day by day, so mindful of me always, never dreamed of this!"

"The fresh, smart father in the blue coat, Bertha," said Caleb, —"he's gone!"

61. "Nothing is gone," she answered. "Dearest father, no! Everything is here—in you. The father that I loved so well; the father that I never loved enough, and never knew; the benefactor whom I first began to reverence and love because he had such sympathy for me. All are here in you. Nothing is dead to me. The soul of all that was most dear to me is here—here, with the worn face, and the gray head. And I am not blind, father, any longer! Father," said Bertha, hesitating. "Mary."

62. "Yes, my dear," returned Caleb. "Here she is."

"There is no change in her? You never told me anything of her that was not true?"

"I should have done it, my dear, I am afraid," returned Caleb, "if I could have made her better than she was. But I must have changed her for the worse, if I had changed her at all. Nothing could improve her, Bertha."

注释

1 Sorcerer: magician.

2 Crevices: narrow openings; cracks.

3 Delft: earthenware made in the city of Delft, in Holland, or ware in imitation of that.

4 Deprivation: loss; bereavement.

5 Handicraft: a trade requiring skill of hand.

6 Melancholy: sad.

7 Doleful: full of dole or grief; sad.

8 Counterfeited: changed with a view to deceiving.

9 Cordiality: heartiness.

10 Fantastic: fanciful; queer.

11 Ecstasy: delight; rapture.

12 Benefactor: one who confers favors.

13 Desperation: despair; recklessness.

14 Penitence: sorrow for sins or faults.

15 Despondent: low spirited; disheartened; hopeless.

24

TO A BUTTERFLY

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): One of the greatest of English poets. His poems are full of loving appreciation of nature, and more than almost any other poet he has helped other people to love and appreciate nature. He wrote "The Excursion," "The Prelude," "Intimations of Immortality," and many other poems.

1. I've watched you now a full half hour,

Self-poised[1] upon that yellow flower;

And, little butterfly, indeed

I know not if you sleep or feed.

How motionless! —not frozen seas

More motionless! and then

What joy awaits you, when the breeze

Hath found you out among the trees,

And calls you forth again!

2. This plot of orchard ground is ours;

My trees they are, my sister's flowers;

Here rest your wings when they are weary;

Here lodge as in a sanctuary[2]!

Come often to us, fear no wrong;

Sit near us, on the bough!

We'll talk of sunshine and of song;

And summer days when we were young;

Sweet childish days, that were as long

As twenty days are now.

注释

1 Poised: balanced.

2 Sanctuary: a place of refuge; a sacred place.

25

TO THE DANDELION

BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

James Russell Lowell (1819-1891): An American author. He was minister to Spain and afterward to Great Britain. His writing covers a large range, — literary and critical essays, public addresses, poetical satires, lyrics, and odes. He wrote "My Study Windows," "Among my Books," "The Vision of Sir Launfal," "A Fable for Critics," "The Biglow Papers," and other works in prose and poetry.

1. Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way,

Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold,

First pledge of blithesome May,

Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold,

High-hearted buccaneers[1], o'erjoyed that they

An Eldorado[2] in the grass have found,

Which not the rich earth's ample round

May match in wealth — thou art more dear to me

Than all the prouder summer blooms may be.

2. Gold such as thine ne'er drew the Spanish prow

Through the primeval[3] hush of Indian seas,

Nor wrinkled the lean brow

Of age, to rob the lover's heart of ease;

'Tis the Spring's largess[4] which she scatters now

To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand,

Though most hearts never understand

To take it at God's value, but pass by

The offered wealth with unrewarded eye.

3. Thou art my tropics and mine Italy;

To look at thee unlocks a warmer clime;

The eyes thou givest me

Are in the heart and heed not space or time;

Not in mid June the golden-cuirassed[5] bee

Feels a more summerlike, warm ravishment

In the white lily's breezy tent,

His fragrant Sybaris[6], than I, when first

From the dark green thy yellow circles burst.

4. Then think I of deep shadows in the grass, —

Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze,

Where, as the breezes pass,

The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways, —

Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass,

Or whiten in the wind, —or waters blue

That from the distance sparkle through

Some woodland gap, — and of a sky above

Where one white cloud like a stray lamb doth move.

5. My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked with thee.

The sight of thee calls back the robin's song,

Who, from the dark old tree

Beside the door, sang clearly all day long,

And I, secure in childish piety,

Listened as if I heard an angel sing

With news from Heaven, which he could bring

Fresh every day to my untainted[7] ears,

When birds and flowers and I were happy peers.

6. Thou art the type of those meek charities

Which make up half the nobleness of life;

Those cheap delights the wise

Pluck from the dusty wayside of earth's strife;

Words of frank cheer, glances of friendly eyes,

Love's smallest coin, which yet to some may give

The morsel that may keep alive

A starving heart, and teach it to behold

Some glimpse of God where all before was cold.

7. Thy winged seeds, where of the winds take care,

Are like the words of poet and of sage

Which through the free Heaven fare,

And, now unheeded, in another age

Take root, and to the gladdened future bear

That witness which the present would not heed,

Bringing forth many a thought and deed,

And, planted safely in the eternal sky,

Bloom into stars which earth is guided by.

8. Full of deep love thou art, yet not more full

Than all thy common brethren of the ground,

Wherein, were we not dull,

Some words of highest wisdom might be found;

Yet earnest faith from day to day may cull

Some syllables, which, rightly joined, can make

A spell[8] to soothe life's bitterest ache,

And ope Heaven's portals[9], which are near ns still,

Yea, nearer ever than the gates of Ill.

9. How like a prodigal doth Nature seem,

When thou, for all thy gold, so common art!

Thou teachest me to deem

More sacredly of every human heart,

Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam

Of Heaven, and could some wondrous secret show,

Did we but pay the love we owe,

And with a child's undoubting wisdom look

On all these living pages of God's book.

10. But let me read thy lesson right or no,

Of one good gift from thee my heart is sure;

Old I shall never grow

While thou each year dost come to keep me pure

With legends of my childhood; ah, we owe

Well more than half life's holiness to these

Nature's first lowly influences,

At thought of which the heart's glad doors burst ope,

In dreariest days, to welcome peace and hope.

————

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;

In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.

Life's but a means unto an end, that end

Beginning, mean, and end to all things, — God.

(BAILEY)

注释

1 Buccaneers: pirates; sea robbers, especially those who attacked the Spanish in America in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

2 Eldorado: the golden country; a name given by the Spaniards in the sixteenth century to an imaginary country in the interior of South America, said to abound in gold and gems.

3 Primeval: original; belonging to the first ages.

4 Largess: bounty; gift.

5 Cuirassed: wearing a cuirass, a piece of defensive armor covering the body from the neck to the girdle.

6 Sybaris: a Greek colony noted for the luxury of its inhabitants.

7 Untainted: pure; uncorrupted.

8 Spell: a charm.

9 Portals: gates.

26

THE CHIEFTAINESS AND THE VOLCANO

BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE

Charlotte Mary Yonge (1823-1901): An English writer. She is the author of more than one hundred novels and juvenile books, some of which are widely popular. This story is one of the heroic tales retold in her "Book of Golden Deeds."

1. Few regions in the world are more beautiful than the Hawaiian Islands, which lie far away in the Pacific. They are in great part formed by the busy little coral polyps; but in the midst of them are lofty mountains, thrown up by the wonderful power that we call volcanic.

2. In sailing up to the islands the first things that one sees are two lofty peaks, each two miles and a half high. One is white with perpetual snow, the other is dark—dark with lava and cinders on which the inward heat will not permit the snow to cast a white mantle. The first of these has been tranquil for many years, the other is the largest and most terrible active volcano in the world, and is named Kilauea.

The volcano from the sea

3. The huge crater is a lake of liquid fire several miles across. Over it there is always a vapor, which hangs by day like a silvery cloud, but at dusk is red and glowing, and at night is like a forest in flames. Rising into the glowing mist are two black cones, in the midst of a sea of melted lava, tossed wildly about as in a boiling caldron[1].

4. The edge of this huge basin of burning matter is a ledge of hard lava, above which rises a mighty wall of scoria or cinder; in one place it forms an abrupt precipice four thousand feet high, but in others it can be descended, by dangerous paths, by those who desire to have a closer view of the lake of flame within.

5. Tremendous is the scene at all times, but at the periods of eruption[2] the majesty is beyond all imagination. Rivers of boiling lava, blood-red with heat, rush down the mountain side and spread destruction over the plains.

6. Heathen nations living among such wonderful appearances of nature naturally think they are caused by divine beings, and so in the Hawaiian Islands the terrible Kilauea was supposed to be the home of the goddess Pele. Fierce goddess she was, who permitted no woman to touch the verge[3] of her mountain, and, if one should do so, it was believed that Pele, in her wrath, would destroy the whole island.

7. At length, however, missionaries came to the islands, and little by little the people ceased to worship their savage deities, and they began to revere the one true Maker of heaven and earth. But still they did not quite put aside their old belief about Kilauea; there the terrible sights and sounds and the desolating[4] streams that might at any moment burst from the basin of flame were to them signs of the anger of a mighty goddess whom the nation feared to provoke.

8. After the young king and all his court had made up their minds to abandon their idols, still the priests of Pele on the flaming mountain kept their stronghold of heathenism, and threatened Pele's wrath upon those who gave up the ancient worship.

9. Then it was that a brave, Christian woman, strong in faith and courage, resolved to defy the goddess and break the spell that bound the trembling people to her worship. The name of this woman was Kapiolani. No common trust and courage were needed to enable her to carry out her undertaking. Not only was she outraging the old religious belief of her people; the ascent of the mountain was very toilsome and dangerous.

10. Wild crags and slippery sheets of lava and slopes of crumbling cinders were difficult for the feet of the coast-bred woman to climb. And the heated soil, the vapor that oozed up from the crevices of the half-cooled lava, must have filled any mind with awe and terror, above all One that had been bred up in the faith that these were the signs of the wrath of a revengeful and powerful deity[5] whose law she was disobeying.

11. A short time before, several men had been suffocated on the mountain side by the gases of the volcano—struck dead, as it must have seemed to the islanders, by the breath of the angry goddess.

12. But Kapiolani, strong in the faith that the God in whom she believed would guard her from danger, climbed up the mountain, bearing in her hand the sacred berries which it was considered sacrilege[6] for one of her sex to touch.

13. The angry priests of Pele tried to bar her way by threatening her with the rage of their mistress; but Kapiolani heeded them not. She made her way to the top of the mountain and gazed into the fiery gulf below, then she descended the side of the terrible crater, even to the margin of the boiling sea of fire, and hurled into it the sacred berries.

14. "If I perish by the anger of Pele," she exclaimed, "then dread her power; but, behold, I defy her wrath. I live and am safe, for Jehovah the Almighty is my God. His was the breath that kindled these flames; His is the hand which restrains their fury! Oh, all ye people, behold how vain are the gods of Hawaii and turn and serve the Lord!"

15. Then the brave woman descended the mountain and went in safety to her home. She had won her cause—the cause of faith.

注释

1 Caldron: a large kettle.

2 Eruption: a violent throwing out of flames, lava, etc., as from a volcano or a fissure in the earth.

3 Verge: edge.

4 Desolating: laying waste.

5 Deity: god.

6 Sacrilege: the sin of profaning sacred things; impiety.

27

KAPIOLANI

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

1. When from the terrors of Nature a people have fashioned[1] and worship a Spirit of Evil,

Blest be the voice of the Teacher who calls to them,

"Set yourselves free!"

2. Noble the Saxon who hurled at his idol a valorous weapon in olden England!

Great and greater, and greatest of women, island heroine, Kapiolani,

Clomb[2] the mountain, and flung the berries, and dared the goddess, and freed the people

Of Hawa-i-ee!

3. A people believing that Pele, the goddess. would wallow in fiery riot and revel

On Kilauea,

Dance in a fountain of flame with her devils, or shake with her thunders and shatter her island,

Rolling her anger

Through blasted[3] valley and flaring forest in blood-red cataracts down to the sea!

4. Long as the lava light

Glares from the lava lake

Dazing the starlight,

Long as the silvery vapor in daylight

Over the mountain

Floats, will the glory of Kapiolani be mingled with either on Hawa-i-ee.

5. What said her priesthood?

"Woe to this island if ever a woman should handle or gather the berries of Pele!

Accursed were she!

And woe to this island if ever a woman should climb to the dwelling of Pele, the goddess!

Accursed were she!"

6. One from the Sunrise

Dawned on His people, and slowly before Him

Vanished shadowlike

Gods and goddesses,

None but the terrible Pele remaining as Kapiolani ascended the mountain,

Baffled[4] her priesthood,

Broke the taboo[5],

Dipt to the crater,

Called on the Power adored by the Christian, and crying, "I dare her, let Pele avenge herself!"

Into the flame billow dashed the berries, and drove the demon from Hawa-i-ee.

注释

1 Fashioned: made; gave shape or figure to.

2 Clomb: climbed.

3 Blasted: blighted.

4 Baffled: defeated; prevented from carrying out a purpose.

5 Taboo: a superstition formerly common in the Polynesian Islands which forbade people to have anything to do with certain persons and things.

28

AN ASCENT OF KILAUEA

BY LADY BRASSEY

Lady Brassey: An English woman, who, with her husband, made a yacht voyage around the world in 1876-1877. This selection is taken from her pleasant record of the voyage, entitled "Around the World in the Yacht Sunbeam."

Ⅰ

1. At last we found ourselves at the very edge of the old crater, the bed of which, three or four hundred feet beneath us, was surrounded by steep and in many places overhanging sides. It looked like an enormous caldron, four or five miles in width, full of a mass of cooled pitch. In the center was the still glowing stream of dark red lava flowing slowly toward us, and in every direction were red-hot patches, and flames, and smoke, issuing from the ground.

2. Yet the first sensation is rather one of disappointment, as one expects greater activity on the part of the volcano; but the new crater was still to be seen, containing the lake of fire, with steep walls rising up in the midst of the sea of lava.

3. We spent the night at the Volcano House, and at three o'clock the next afternoon we set out, a party of eight, with two guides, and three porters to carry our wraps and provisions, and to bring back specimens.

4. First of all we descended the precipice, three hundred feet in depth, forming the wall of the old crater, but now thickly covered with vegetation. It is so steep in many places that flights of zigzag wooden steps have been inserted in the face of the cliff in some places, in order to render the descent practicable.

5. At the bottom we stepped straight on to the surface of cold boiled lava, which we had seen from above last night. Even here, in every crevice where a few grains of soil had collected, delicate little ferns might be seen struggling for life, and thrusting out their green fronds toward the light.

6. It was the most extraordinary walk imaginable, over that vast plain of lava, twisted and distorted into every conceivable[1] shape and form, according to the temperature it had originally attained and the rapidity with which it had cooled, its surface, like half-molten glass, cracking and breaking beneath our feet.

7. Sometimes we came to a patch that looked like the contents of a pot, suddenly petrified[2] in the act of boiling; sometimes the black, iridescent[3] lava had assumed the form of waves, or more frequently of huge masses of rope, twisted and coiled together; sometimes it was piled up like a collection of organ pipes, or had gathered into mounds and cones of various dimensions.

8. As we proceeded, the lava became hotter and hotter, and from every crack arose gaseous fumes, affecting our noses and throats in a painful manner; till at last, when we had to pass to leeward of the molten stream flowing from the lake, the vapors almost choked us, and it was with difficulty we continued to advance.

9. The lava was more glassy and transparent-looking, as if it had been fused[4] at a higher temperature than usual; and the crystals of sulphur, alum, and other minerals, with which it abounded, reflected the light in bright prismatic colors[5]. In places it was quite transparent, and we could see beneath it the long streaks of a stringy kind of lava, like brown spun glass, called "Pele's hair."

Ⅱ

10. At last we reached the foot of the present crater, and commenced the ascent of the outer wall. Many times the thin crust gave way beneath our guide, and he had to retire quickly from the hot, blinding, choking fumes[6] that immediately burst forth. But we succeeded in reaching the top, and then what a sight presented itself to our astonished eyes! I could neither speak nor move at first, but could only stand and gaze at the horrible grandeur of the scene.

11. We were standing on the extreme edge of precipice, overhanging a lake of molten fire, a hundred feet below us, and nearly a mile across. Dashing against the cliffs on the opposite side, with a noise like the roar of a stormy ocean, waves of blood-red fiery liquid lava hurled their billows upon an iron-bound headland, and then rushed up the face of the cliffs to toss their gory spray high in the air.

The orater of Kilauea

12. The restless, heaving lake boiled and bubbled, never remaining the same for two minutes together. Its normal[7] color seemed to be a dull dark red, covered with a thin gray scum, which every moment and in every part swelled and cracked, and emitted fountains, cascades, and whirlpools of yellow and red fire, while sometimes one big golden river, sometimes four or five, flowed across it.

13. As the sun set and as darkness enveloped the scene, it became more awful than ever. We retired a little way from the brink to breathe some fresh air, and to try and eat the food we had brought with us; but this was an impossibility. Every instant a fresh explosion or glare made us jump up to survey the scene.

14. The violent struggles of the lava to escape from its fiery bed, and the loud and awful noises by which they were at times accompanied, suggested the idea that some imprisoned monsters were trying to release themselves from their bondage, with shrieks and groans, and cries of agony and despair at the futility[8] of their efforts. Sometimes there were at least seven spots on the borders of the lake where the molten lava dashed up furiously against the rocks—seven fire fountains playing at the same time.

15. I had for some time been feeling very hot and uncomfortable, and on looking round the cause was at once apparent. Not two inches beneath the surface the gray lava on which we were standing and sitting was red hot. A stick thrust through it caught fire, a piece of paper was immediately destroyed, and the gentlemen found the heat from the crevices so great that they could not approach near enough to light their pipes.

16. One more long last look, and then we turned our faces away from the scene that had enthralled[9] us for so many hours. The whole of the lava we had crossed in the extinct[10] crater was now aglow in many patches, and in all directions flames were bursting forth, fresh lava flowing, and steam and smoke were issuing from the surface.

17. It was a toilsome journey back again, walking as we did in single file, and obeying the strict charges of our head guide to follow him closely, and to tread exactly in his footsteps. On the whole, it was easier by night than by day to distinguish the route to be taken, as we could now see the dangers that before we could only feel; and many were the fiery crevices we stepped over and jumped across.

18. Once I slipped, and my foot sank through the thin crust. Sparks issued from the ground, and the stick on which I leaned caught fire before I could fairly recover myself.

注释

1 Conceivable: that may be thought of or imagined.

2 Petrified: changed, as an animal or vegetable substance into stone.

3 Iridescent: having colors like the rainbow.

4 Fused: melted; made fluid.

5 Prismatic colors: the colors into which light is resolved when passed through a prism.

6 Fumes: vapor; smoke.

7 Normal: natural; ordinary.

8 Futility: uselessness.

9 Enthralled: enslaved.

10 Extinct: put out; extinguished.

29

THE SKELETON IN ARMOR

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882): An American poet. He wrote "Evangeline," "Hiawatha," "Tales of a Wayside Inn," and other poems. He was also the author of two prose volumes, "Outre Mer" and "Hyperion."

1. "Speak, speak! thou fearful guest!

Who, with thy hollow breast

Still in rude armor drest,

Comest to daunt me!

Wrapt not in Eastern balms[1],

But with thy fleshless palms

Stretched, as if asking alms,

Why dost thou haunt me?"

2. Then, from those cavernous eyes

Pale flashes seemed to rise,

As when the Northern skies

Gleam in December;

And, like the water's flow

Under December's snow,

Came a dull voice of woe

From the heart's chamber.

3. "I was a viking[2] old!

My deeds, though manifold,

No skald[3] in song has told,

No saga[4] taught thee!

Take heed, that in thy verse

Thou dost the tale rehearse,

Else dread a dead man's curse!

For this I sought thee.

4. "Far in the Northern land,

By the wild Baltic's strand,

I, with my childish hand,

Tamed the gerfalcon[5];

And with my skates fast bound

Skimmed the half-frozen sound,

That the poor whimpering hound

Trembled to walk on.

5. "Oft to his frozen lair

Tracked I the grisly bear,

While from my path the hare

Fled like a shadow;

Oft through the forest dark

Followed the werewolf's[6] bark,

Until the soaring lark

Sang from the meadow.

6. "But when I older grew,

Joining a corsair's[7] crew,

O'er the dark sea I flew

With the marauders[8].

Wild was the life we led;

Many the souls that sped,

Many the hearts that bled,

By our stern orders.

7. "Many a wassail bout[9]

Wore the long winter out;

Often our midnight shout

Set the cocks crowing,

As we the Berserk's[10] tale

Measured in cups of ale,

Draining the oaken pail

Filled to o'erflowing.

8. "Once as I told in glee

Tales of the stormy sea,

Soft eyes did gaze on me,

Burning yet tender;

And as the white stars shine

On the dark Norway pine,

On that dark heart of mine

Fell their soft splendor.

9. "I wooed the blue-eyed maid,

Yielding, yet half afraid,

And in the forest's shade

Our vows were plighted[11].

Under its loosened vest

Fluttered her little breast,

Like birds within their nest

By the hawk frighted.

10. "Bright in her father's hall

Shields gleamed upon the wall,

Loud sang the minstrels all,

Chanting his glory;

When of old Hildebrand

I asked his daughter's hand,

Mute did the minstrels stand

To hear my story.

11. "While the brown ale he quaffed,

Loud then the champion laughed,

And as the wind gusts waft

The sea foam brightly,

So the loud laugh of scorn,

Out of those lips unshorn,

From the deep drinking horn

Blew the foam lightly.

12. "She was a prince's child,

I but a viking wild,

And though she blushed and smiled,

I was discarded!

Should not the dove so white

Follow the sea mew's flight,

Why did they leave that night

Her nest unguarded?

13. "Scarce had I put to sea,

Bearing the maid with me, —

Fairest of all was she

Among the Norsemen!—

When on the white sea strand

Waving his armed hand,

Saw we old Hildebrand

With twenty horsemen.

14. "Then launched they to the blast,

Bent like a reed each mast,

Yet we were gaining fast,

When the wind failed us;

And with a sudden flaw

Came round the gusty skaw[12],

So that our foe we saw

Laugh as he hailed us.

15. "And as to catch the gale

Round veered the flapping sail,

Death! was the helmsman's hail,

Death without quarter!

Midships with iron keel

Struck we her ribs of steel;

Down her black hulk did reel

Through the black water!

16. "As with his wings aslant,

Sails the fierce cormorant[13],

Seeking some rocky haunt,

With his prey laden,

So toward the open main,

Beating to sea again

Through the wild hurricane,

Bore I the maiden.

17. "Three weeks we westward bore,

And when the storm was o'er,

Cloudlike we saw the shore

Stretching to leeward[14];

There for my lady's bower

Built I the lofty tower,

Which to this very hour,

Stands looking seaward.

18. "There lived we many years;

Time dried the maiden's tears;

She had forgot her fears,

She was a mother;

Death closed her mild blue eyes,

Under that tower she lies;

Ne'er shall the sun arise

On such another!

19. "Still grew my bosom then,

Still as a stagnant fen[15]!

Hateful to me were men,

The sunlight hateful!

In the vast forest here,

Clad in my warlike gear[16],

Fell I upon my spear,

Oh, death was grateful!

20. "Thus, seamed with many scars,

Bursting these prison bars,

Up to its native stars

My soul ascended!

There from the flowing bowl

Deep drinks the warrior's soul,

Skoal[17]! to the Northland! Skoal!"

—Thus the tale ended.

注释

1 Wrapped in Eastern balms: in Egypt and other Eastern countries it was once the custom to embalm the bodies of the dead; that is, to preserve them by the use of certain oils and spices.

2 Viking: one belonging to the pirate crews from among the Northmen, who plundered the coasts of Europe in the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries.

3 Skald: a reciter and singer of heroic poems among the Norsemen.

4 Saga: a legend or heroic story among the Norsemen and kindred people.

5 Gerfalcon (or gyrfalcon): a large Arctic falcon.

6 Werewolf: according to old superstition, a person who had been changed into a wolf.

7 Corsair: pirate.

8 Marauders: plunderers.

9 Wassail bout: a drinking revel, so called from an old expression of good wishes, Wes hal, health be to you, used in drinking to some one.

10 Berserk: a berserker; in Norse mythology, a hero mad with the rage of battle.

11 Plighted: pledged; promised.

12 Skaw: headland.

13 Cormorant: a sea bird.

14 Leeward: in the direction toward which the wind blows.

15 Fen: marsh.

16 Gear: clothing; armor.

17 Skoal: a Norse word meaning hail.

30

THE STORY OF WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

Ⅰ

1. In the year 1564 Stratford-on-Avon, in Warwickshire, was a quiet little village that differed in no way from hundreds of others scattered over England at that time. In these little villages the houses were built commonly of wood, with the upper stories overhanging the lower, and with windows of latticework or horn, as glass was then seldom used except in the houses of the wealthy.

2. Each cottage had its garden wherein grew rosemary and fennel and all kinds of herbs, in closest neighborhood to the roses and daffodils and violets, which were the pride of the cottagers. In the fields beyond, the paths led through scarlet poppies and golden primroses to the great forests, which were then found all over England.

3. Quite outside the villages, and often far removed from them, were the manor houses[1] of the wealthy squires, the castles of the great nobles, and the abbeys and cathedrals whose fine architecture so beautified the country.

4. But in Stratford itself the beauty consisted mainly in the prettily kept gardens; the beautiful river Avon, which flows past the village on its way to join the Severn; in the graceful yew, elm, and lime trees which shaded the cottage roofs; and in the old church, built possibly in the days when the Normans were still trying to make the English nation become French.

5. In one of these cottages, which was richer than many of its neighbors, since it possessed two stories instead of one, and had, furthermore, some dormer windows in its roof, was born, in 1564, William Shakspere, whose name stands far above every other in the story of English literature, and whose genius has made the village of Stratford immortal.

William Shakspere

6. Very little is known of Shakspere's childhood and boyhood, except that they were spent at Stratford. But we know that his father was a man of some importance in the village, and that the boy's early days must have been comfortable and happy.

7. When he was seven years of age, he entered the free grammar school of the village, where pupils were admitted as soon as they knew how to read. Here, for seven years, he learned from books the things that were then taught in the grammar schools, including no doubt some Latin and Greek and as much English as was considered necessary. In those days English was thought of little importance, and to be a scholar meant to know certain languages and sciences which the learner would probably never use.

8. Out of school Shakspere learned much, and stored the knowledge well in his mind. He knew all the flowers, plants, and trees which were to be found in the fields and meadows and woods for miles around. He spent hours in poring over the history of Stratford Church, where he had been christened, and to which he went regularly every Sunday. It joined the England of his day with a past that was full of the glorious and stirring history of the English nation.

9. Shakspere learned much from the traffic which constantly passed through the village, for Stratford was cut into four sections by the two great public highways, which ran through the place from the great neighboring cities, and over which went all the traffic of that part of the kingdom.

10. In this way he heard of the great world beyond Stratford. He learned of those heroes of the sea, Frobisher[2] and Hawkins[3] and Gilbert[4] and Drake[5], and followed them in imagination in their voyages across the ocean to the unknown continents and islands of the New World. And he heard in the same way of the affairs of London—what the queen and the great nobles were about, and what was thought to be fine in the sight of London folk, and what they despised as poor and mean.

11. A few miles away from Stratford were the great castles of Warwick and Kenilworth. The former was rich in memories of the War of the Roses[6], when England was a great battlefield from end to end, and second in interest only to Kenilworth, where Queen Elizabeth came from time to time, with her train of lords and ladies, to be entertained by Lord Leicester.

12. Most interesting of all the events connected with her visit were the shows and plays, which were given at the castle in her honor. One of the royal progresses to Kenilworth occurred when Shakspere was about twelve years of age, and very likely the boy was present at the entertainments given there, and watched with eager eyes the scene before him.

13. Besides these entertainments in honor of the queen, Shakspere saw from time to time the companies of regular players who traveled from London throughout the country, frequently stopping at Stratford, where they gave their performances, as was usual at a time when there were no theaters, in the courtyard of the inn.

14. In this way the boy Shakspere became familiar with the best plays and players of the day, and this, joined with visits to Coventry, where great religious plays were given, must have given him many a glimpse of the life beyond his native village.

Amid such scenes and impressions Shakspere grew to manhood, and it is easy to trace their influence in his works.

Ⅱ

15. When Shakspere was twenty-one, he went to London to try his fortunes in that great city; and a very interesting place was the London of his day.

There was the famous London Bridge and St. Paul's Cathedral, and palaces and markets and taverns and bear gardens, and long streets full of shops.

16. Then, too, there were the daily crowds where could be seen people from all over the world. Knights and courtiers[7] jostling county squires, and scholars and divines[8] touching, as they passed, the highwayman or thief who had won notoriety by his clever robberies.

17. Here, also, were noblemen dressed in velvet and gold, from Italy and Spain and France; slaves from Spanish America, sea captains and priests, soldiers and servants—all held by chance or interest within the gray walls which circled London, and whose gates gave welcome to as strange a crowd as could be found in the world.

18. Into this curious crowd came Shakspere, quick to see and eager to learn, and before long all these strange sights were as familiar to him as the faces of his own townsfolk. Each one told its story to him so plainly that, as before he had learned the secrets of the fields and woods, so now he learned men and the interests which make up the great world.

19. And he learned these lessons so well that when he came to write his plays he made such use of them as no writer ever made before or since; for it is the use of this knowledge of the world, combined with his own genius, that makes Shakspere the greatest dramatist that has ever lived.

20. But when Shakspere first entered London, the objects of greatest interest to him were the theaters, for since his boyhood two or three regular theaters had been opened. One of the principal was that called Blackfriars, which had been made out of some dwelling houses, and which took its name from the monastery[9] of Blackfriars near by.

21. It was this poor little playhouse—lit by candles, and with its floor of earth, and its stage covered with rushes, and with an audience that smoked, laughed, talked, and ate as the play went on—that Shakspere entered soon after he reached London, and by so doing crowned it with a fame as immortal as that which rests upon Stratford itself.

22. The plays that were then the most popular were in many cases written by the actors themselves, and as the company at Blackfriars consisted of some of the leading actors of the day, Shakspere was at once thrown into the society that would best bring out his talents as an actor and playwright. Shakspere frequented the theaters and acted in a small way for a while, and then in a year or two began to write for the stage himself.

23. At first he simply joined with some fellow-actor in writing a new play or in rewriting an old one, but this only continued for a short time, and soon he began the series of wonderful plays which stand alone in all literature.

24. Shakspere gathered the materials for his plays from many sources, for nearly all the authors of ancient times had been translated into English, and the playwright of the day could choose his plot from many different scenes. In fact, the literature that was open to Shakspere was as rich and varied as a casket of precious stones, and he made good use of it.

25. He was familiar with the old writers of Greece and Rome, and knew all the old tales of love and adventure and revenge which filled the pages of Italian writers. He was wise in the old chronicles of England, whose history was as romantic and interesting as a fairy tale.

26. And besides this, he read the tales of those adventurers who had traveled in the far East and told thrilling stories of Arab and Moor and Turk, or excited the imagination by relating the dangers of the Southern Ocean or the Arctic Sea, and the perils among the hostile tribes and savage beasts in distant America.

27. And all this knowledge of books he combined with his knowledge of men, and put both into his plays, and made them so real and true that when people saw them on the stage, they forgot that what they saw was acting, and could fancy that they were looking at the real scenes which Shakspere had in mind when he was writing. And so they laughed over his clowns and fools and jesters, and wept over his unhappy kings and wretched queens and murdered princes, whose pitiful stories made them think the more tenderly of their own children safe at home. And when the play was over, and they came back to everyday life again, it was to declare that this Shakspere was the greatest writer of dramas that had yet appeared.

28. Shakspere always considered Stratford his home, and bought there an estate, where he visited his family from time to time. When he had made a good sum of money, he retired to Stratford. There he died four years later, on the fifty-second anniversary of his birthday, and was buried in the parish church so closely connected with his first childish memories.

29. Outside of his plays he is known as the author of a few poems and songs, and more than a hundred sonnets full of beauty, but it is his great dramas which have won for Shakspere the fame which has placed his name far above and beyond any other writer in the history of the world.

注释

1 Manor house: a country house of some importance.

2 Sir Martin Frobisher (1535?-1594): an English navigator.

3 Sir John Hawqins (1532-1595): an English naval commander.

4 Sir Humphrey Gilbert (1539?-1584): an English navigator.

5 Sir Francis Drake (1540?-1596): an English navigator.

6 War of the Roses: an English civil war in the fifteenth century, so called because the rival parties took as emblems the red and the white rose.

7 Courtiers: gentlemen in attendance on the court of a prince.

8 Divines: priests; clergymen.

9 Monastery: a house of religious retirement; a convent.

31

FOREST SCENE—FROM "AS YOU LIKE IT"

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

ACT Ⅱ

SCENE Ⅰ — The Forest of Arden

Enter DUKE senior, AMIENs, and two or three Lords like foresters

DUKE S.　Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet

Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods

More free from peril than the envious court?

Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,

The seasons' difference, as the icy fang

And churlish[1] chiding of the winter's wind,

Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,

Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,

"This is no flattery: these are counselors

That feelingly persuade me what I am."

Sweet are the uses of adversity[2],

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in its head;

And this our life exempt from public haunt

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

I would not change it.

AMI.　　Happy is your grace,

That can translate the stubbornness of fortune

Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

DUKE S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison?

And yet it irks[3] me the poor dappled fools,

Being native burghers[4] of this desert city,

Should, in their own confines, with forked heads[5]

Have their round haunches gored.

FIRST LORD.　　Indeed, my lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,

"Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens."

And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp

Than doth your brother that hath banished you.

To-day my lord of Amiens and myself

Did steal behind him as he lay along

Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out

Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:

To the which place a poor sequestered[6] stag,

That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,

Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,

The wretched animal heaved forth such groans

That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat

Almost to bursting, and the big round tears

Coursed one another down his innocent nose

In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool

Much marked of the melancholy Jaques

Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook

Augmenting[7] it with tears.

DUKE S.　　But what said Jaques?

Did he not moralize this spectacle[8]?

FIRST LORD.　Oh, yes, into a thousand similes[9].

First, for his weeping into the needless stream;

"Poor deer," quoth[10] he, "thou makest a testament[11]

As worldings do, giving thy sum of more

To that which hath too much;" then, being there alone,

Left and abandoned of his velvet friends,

"'Tis right," quoth he. "Thus misery doth part

The flux[12] of company:" anon a careless herd

Full of the pasture, jumps along by him

And never stays to greet him; "Ay," quoth Jaques;

"Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;

'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look

Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?"

Thus most invectively[13] he pierceth through

The body of the country, city, court,

Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we

Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse

To fright the animals, and to kill them up

In their assigned and native dwelling place.

DUKE S.　And did you leave him in this contemplation?

SEC. LORD. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting

Upon the sobbing deer.

DUKE S.　　Show me the place;

I love to cope[14] him in these sullen fits,

For then he's full of matter[15].

FIRST LORD.　I'll bring you to him straight.

注释

1 Churlish: rude.

2 Adversity: trouble; misfortune.

3 Irks: pains; vexes=used impersonally.

4 Burghers: citizens; inhabitants.

5 Forked heads: arrows.

6 Sequestered: retired; set apart.

7 Augmenting: increasing.

8 Moralize this spectacle: make moral reflections on this sight.

9 Similes: comparisons; words by which a thing is likened to something else.

10 Quoth: said.

11 Testament: will.

12 Flux: flow.

13 Invectively: with severe blame; reproachfully.

14 Cope: meet.

15 Matter: affairs worthy of account; things of importance or interest.

32

THE STORY OF "THE TEMPEST"

BY CHARLES AND MARY LAMB

Ⅰ

1. There was a certain island in the sea, the only inhabitants of which were an old man, whose name was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda, a very beautiful young lady. She came to this island so young that she had no memory of having seen any other human face than her father's.

2. They lived in a cave or cell made out of a rock; it was divided into several apartments, one of which Prospero called his study; there he kept his books, which chiefly treated of magic, a study at that time much affected[1] by all learned men.

3. The knowledge of this art he found very useful to him, being thrown by a strange chance upon this island, which had been enchanted by a witch called Sycorax, who died there a short time before his arrival. Prospero, by his art, released many good spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the bodies of large trees because they had refused to execute her wicked commands. These gentle spirits were ever after obedient to the will of Prospero. Of these Ariel was the chief.

4. The lively little sprite, Ariel, had nothing mischievous in his nature, except that he took rather too much pleasure in tormenting an ugly monster called Caliban, for he owed him a grudge because he was the son of his old enemy, Sycorax. This Caliban, Prospero found in the woods, a strange misshapen thing, far less human in form than an ape; he took him home to his cell and taught him to speak.

5. Prospero would have been very kind to him, but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from his mother, Sycorax, would not let him learn anything good or useful. Therefore he was employed like a slave to fetch wood and do the most laborious offices, and Ariel had the charge of compelling him to these services.

6. When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel—who was invisible to all eyes but Prospero's —would come slyly and pinch him and sometimes tumble him down in the mire. Then Ariel, in the likeness of an ape, would make mouths at him; then swiftly changing his shape, in the likeness of a hedgehog, he would lie tumbling in Caliban's way, who feared the hedgehog's sharp quills would prick his bare feet. With a variety of suchlike vexatious tricks Ariel would torment Caliban when he neglected the work which Prospero commanded him to do.

7. Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, Prospero could by their means command the winds and the waves of the sea. By his orders they raised a violent storm, in the midst of which, and struggling with the wild sea waves that every moment threatened to swallow it up, he showed his daughter a fine large ship, which he told her was full of living beings like themselves.

8. "Oh, my dear father," said she, "if by your art you have raised this dreadful storm, have pity on their sad distress. See! the vessel will be dashed to pieces. Poor souls! they will all perish. If I had power, I would sink the sea beneath the earth rather than the good ship should be destroyed, with all the precious souls within her."

9. "Be not so amazed, daughter Miranda," said Prospero; "there is no harm done. I have so ordered it that no person in the ship shall receive any hurt. What I have done has been in care of you, my dear child. You are ignorant who you are, or where you came from, and you know no more of me but that I am your father and live in this poor cave. Can you remember a time before you came to this cell? I think you cannot, for you were not then three years of age."

10. "Certainly I can, sir," replied Miranda.

"By what?" asked Prospero; "by any other house or person? Tell me what you can remember, my child."

Miranda said: "It seems to me like the recollection of a dream. But had I not once four or five women who attended upon me?"

11. Prospero answered: "You had, and more. How is it that this still lives in your mind? Do you remember how you came here?"

"No, sir," said Miranda. "I remember nothing more."

12. "Twelve years ago, Miranda," continued Prospero, "I was duke of Milan, and you were a princess and my only heir. I had a younger brother, whose name was Antonio, to whom I trusted everything; and, as I was fond of retirement and deep study, I commonly left the management of my state affairs to your uncle, my false brother, for so, indeed, he proved.

13. "I, neglecting all worldly ends, buried among my books, did give my whole time to the bettering of my mind. My brother Antonio, being thus in possession of my power, began to think himself the duke indeed. The opportunity I gave him of making himself popular among my subjects awakened in his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive me of my dukedom. This he soon effected with the aid of the King of Naples, a powerful prince, who was my enemy."

14. "Wherefore," said Miranda, "did they not that hour destroy us?"

"My child," answered her father, "they durst not, so dear was the love that my people bore me. Antonio carried us on board a ship, and when we were some leagues out at sea, he forced us into a small boat without either sail or mast; there he left us, as he thought, to perish. But a kind lord of my court, one Gonzalo, who loved me, had privately placed in the boat water, provisions, apparel[2], and some books, which I prize above my dukedom."

15. "Oh, my father," said Miranda, "what a trouble must I have been to you then!"

"No, my love," said Prospero, "you were a little cherub[3] that did preserve me. Your innocent smiles made me to bear up against my misfortunes. Our food lasted till we landed on this desert island, since when my chief delight has been in teaching you, Miranda, and well have you profited by my instructions."

16. "Heaven thank you, my dear father," said Miranda. "Now, pray tell me, sir, your reason for raising this sea storm."

"Know then," said her father, "that by means of this storm my enemies, the King of Naples and my cruel brother, are cast ashore upon this island."

Ⅱ

17. Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter with his magic wand, and she fell fast asleep; for the spirit Ariel just then presented himself before his master to give an account of the tempest and how he had disposed of the ship's company. Though the spirits were always invisible to Miranda, Prospero did not choose she should hear him holding converse—as would seem to her—with the empty air.

18. "Well, my brave spirit," said Prospero to Ariel, "how have you performed your task?"

Ariel gave a lively description of the storm and of the terrors of the mariners[4]; and how the king's son, Ferdinand, was the first who leaped into the sea; and his father thought he saw his dear son swallowed up by the waves and lost.

19. "But he is safe," said Ariel, "in a corner of the isle, sitting with his arms folded, sadly lamenting the loss of the king, his father, whom he concludes drowned. Not a hair of his head is injured; and his princely garments, though drenched in the sea waves, look fresher than before."

20. "That's my delicate Ariel," said Prospero. "Bring him hither; my daughter must see this young prince. Where are the king and my brother?"

"I left them," answered Ariel, "searching for Ferdinand, whom they have little hopes of finding, thinking they saw him perish. Of the ship's crew, not one is missing, though each one thinks himself the only one saved; and the ship, though invisible to them, is safe in the harbor."

21. "Ariel," said Prospero, "thy charge is faithfully performed; but there is more work yet."

"Is there more work?" said Ariel. "Let me remind you, master, you have promised me my liberty. I pray, remember I have done you worthy service, told you no lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudge or grumbling."

22. "How now?" said Prospero. "You do not recollect what a torment I freed you from. Have you forgot the wicked witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, was almost bent double? Where was she born? Speak: tell me."

"Sir, in Algiers," said Ariel.

23. "Oh, was she so?" said Prospero. "I must recount what you have been, which I find you do not remember. This bad witch Sycorax, for her witchcrafts, too terrible to enter human hearing, was banished from Algiers and here left by the sailors; because you were a spirit too delicate to execute her wicked commands, she shut you up in a tree, where I found you howling. This torment, remember, I did free you from."

24. "Pardon me, dear master," said Ariel, ashamed to seem ungrateful; "I will obey your commands."

"Do so," said Prospero, "and I will set you free." He then gave orders what further he would have him do. Away went Ariel, first to where he had left Ferdinand, and found him still sitting on the grass in the same melancholy posture.

25. "Oh, my young gentleman," said Ariel, when he saw him, "I will soon move you. You must be brought, I find, for the Lady Miranda to have a sight of your pretty person. Come, sir, follow me."

26. He then began singing:—

"Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes;

Nothing of him that doth fade,

But doth suffer a sea change

Into something rich and strange.

Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell:

Hark! now I hear them, —ding-dong, bell."

27. This strange news of his lost father soon roused the prince from the stupid fit into which he had fallen. He followed in amazement the sound of Ariel's voice till it led him to Prospero and Miranda, who were sitting under the shade of a large tree. Now Miranda had never seen a man before except her own father.

28. "Miranda," said Prospero, "tell me what you are looking at yonder."

"Oh, father," said Miranda, in a strange surprise, "surely that is a spirit. How it looks about! Believe me, sir, it is a beautiful creature. Is it not a spirit?"

29. "No, girl," answered her father; "it eats, and sleeps, and has senses such as we have. This young man you see was in the ship; he is somewhat altered by grief, or you might call him a handsome person; he has lost his companions, and is wandering about to find them."

30. Miranda, who thought all men had grave faces and gray beards like her father, was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful young prince. And Ferdinand, seeing such a lovely lady in this desert place, and, from the strange sounds he heard, expecting nothing but wonders, thought he was upon an enchanted island, and that Miranda was the goddess of the place, and as such he began to address her.

31. She timidly answered she was no goddess, but a simple maid, and was going to give him an account of herself, when Prospero interrupted her. He was well pleased to find they admired each other, for he plainly perceived they had, as we say, fallen in love at first sight; but to try Ferdinand's constancy, he resolved to throw some difficulties in their way.

32. Therefore, advancing forward, he addressed the prince with a stern air, telling him he came to the island as a spy to take it from him who was the lord of it.

"Follow me," said he; "I will tie you neck and feet together. You shall drink sea water; shellfish, withered roots, and husks of acorns shall be your food."

33. "No," said Ferdinand, "I will resist such entertainment till I see a more powerful enemy," and drew his sword. But Prospero, waving his magic wand, fixed him to the spot where he stood, so that he had no power to move.

Ⅲ

34. Miranda hung upon her father, saying: "Why are you so ungentle? Have pity, sir; I will be his surety[5]. This is the second man I ever saw, and to me he seems a true one."

35. "Silence!" said the father, "one word more will make me chide you, girl. What! an advocate[6] for an impostor! You think there are no more such fine men, having seen only him and Caliban. I tell you, foolish girl, most men as far excel this as he does Caliban."

36. This he said to prove his daughter's constancy; and she replied, "My affections are most humble. I have no wish to see a goodlier[7] man."

"Come on, young man," said Prospero to the prince, "you have no power to disobey me."

37. "I have not, indeed," answered Ferdinand; and, not knowing that it was by magic he was deprived of all power of resistance, he was astonished to find himself so strangely compelled to follow Prospero. Looking back on Miranda as long as he could see her, he said, as he went after Prospero into the cave, "My spirits are all bound up, as if I were in a dream; but this man's threats, and the weakness which I feel, would seem light to me if from my prison I might once a day behold this fair maid."

38. Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the cell. He soon brought out his prisoner and set him a severe task to perform, taking care to let his daughter know the hard labor he had imposed on him; and then pretending to go into his study, he secretly watched them both.

39. Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some heavy logs of wood. Kings' sons not being much used to laborious work, Miranda soon after found her lover almost dying with fatigue.

"Alas!" said she, "do not work so hard; my father is at his studies; he is safe for these three hours; pray rest yourself."

40. "Oh, my dear lady," said Ferdinand, "I dare not. I must finish my task before I take my rest."

"If you will sit down," said Miranda, "I will carry your logs the while."

But this Ferdinand would by no means agree to. Instead of a help, Miranda became a hindrance, for they began a long conversation, so that the business of log carrying went on very slowly.

41. Prospero, who had enjoined[8] Ferdinand this task merely as a trial of his love, was not at his books as his daughter supposed, but was standing by them, invisible, to overhear what they said.

"I will carry your logs."

Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told, saying it was against her father's command she did so.

42. Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his daughter's disobedience; for, having by his magic art caused his daughter to fall in love so suddenly, he was not angry that she showed her love by forgetting to obey his commands. And he listened, well pleased to a long speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed to love her above all the ladies he ever saw.

43. In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said exceeded all the women in the world, she replied: "I do not remember the face of any woman, nor have I seen any more men than you, my good friend, and my dear father. How features are abroad, I know not; but believe me, sir, I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can my imagination form any shape but yours that I could like. But, sir, I fear I talk to you too freely, and my father's precepts[9] I forget."

44. At this Prospero smiled, and nodded his head, as much as to say, "This goes on exactly as I could wish; my girl will be Queen of Naples."

And then Ferdinand, in another fine long speech, for young princes speak in courtly phrases, told the innocent Miranda he was heir to the crown of Naples, and that she should be his queen.

45. "Ah, sir," said she, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of. I will answer you in plain and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marry me."

Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing visible before them.

46. "Fear nothing, my child," said he; "I have overheard and approve of all you have said. And, Ferdinand, if I have too severely used you, I will make you rich amends[10] by giving you my daughter. All your vexations were but trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the test. Then as my gift, which your true love has worthily purchased, take my daughter, and do not smile that I boast she is above all praise."

47. He then, telling them that he had business which required his presence, desired they would sit down and talk together till he returned; and this command Miranda seemed not at all disposed to disobey.

48. When Prospero left them, he called his spirit Ariel, who quickly appeared before him, eager to relate what he had done with Prospero's brother and the King of Naples. Ariel said he had left them almost out of their senses with fear at the strange things he had caused them to see and hear.

49. When fatigued with wandering about, and famished for want of food, he had suddenly set before them a delicious banquet; and then, just as they were going to eat, he appeared visible before them in the shape of a harpy, a monster with wings, and the feast vanished away.

50. Then, to their utter amazement, this seeming harpy spoke to them, reminding them of their cruelty in driving Prospero from his dukedom and leaving him and his infant daughter to perish in the sea, saying that for this cause these terrors were suffered to afflict them.

51. The King of Naples and Antonio, the false brother, repented the injustice they had done to Prospero; and Ariel told his master he was certain their penitence was sincere, and that he, though a spirit, could not but pity them.

"Then bring them hither, Ariel," said Prospero; "if you, who are but a spirit, feel for their distress, shall not I, who am a human being like themselves, have compassion on them? Bring them quickly, my dainty Ariel."

Ⅳ

52. Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio, and old Gonzalo in their train, who had followed him, wondering at the wild music he played in the air to draw them on to his master's presence. This Gonzalo was the same who had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and provisions, when his wicked brother left him, as he thought, to perish in an open boat in the sea.

53. Grief and terror had so stupefied their senses that they did not know Prospero. He first discovered himself to the good old Gonzalo, calling him the preserver of his life; and then his brother and the king knew that he was the injured Prospero.

54. Antonio, with tears and sad words of sorrow and true repentance, implored his brother's forgiveness, and the king expressed his sincere remorse for having assisted Antonio to depose[11] his brother.

Prospero forgave them; and, upon their engaging to restore his dukedom, he said to the King of Naples, "I have a gift in store for you, too," and opening a door showed him his son, Ferdinand, playing at chess with Miranda.

55. Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son at this unexpected meeting, for they each thought the other drowned in the storm.

"Oh, wonder!" said Miranda, "what noble creatures these are! It must surely be a brave[12] world that has such people in it."

56. The King of Naples was almost as much astonished at the beauty and excellent graces of the young Miranda as his son had been.

"Who is this maid?" said he; "she seems the goddess that has parted us, and brought us thus together."

57. "No, sir," answered Ferdinand, smiling to find his father had fallen into the same mistake that he had done when he first saw Miranda, "she is a mortal, but by immortal Providence she is mine; I chose her when I could not ask you, my father, for your consent, not thinking you were alive. She is the daughter to this Prospero, who is the famous Duke of Milan, of whose renown I have heard so much, but never saw him till now; of him I have received a new life: he has made himself to me a second father, giving me this dear lady."

58. "Then I must be her father," said the king; "but oh! how oddly will it sound, that I must ask my child forgiveness!"

"No more of that," said Prospero; "let us not remember our troubles past, since they so happily have ended."

59. And then Prospero embraced his brother and again assured him of his forgiveness. He said that a wise, overruling Providence had permitted that he should be driven from his dukedom of Milan, that his daughter might inherit the crown of Naples; for that by their meeting on this desert island it happened that the king's son had loved Miranda.

60. These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to comfort his brother, so filled Antonio with shame and remorse, that he wept and was unable to speak; and the kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful reconciliation, and prayed for blessings on the young couple.

61. Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the harbor, and the sailors all on board her, and that he and his daughter would accompany them home the next morning.

"In the meantime," said he, "partake of such refreshments as my poor cave affords; and for your evening's entertainment I will relate the history of my life from my first landing in this desert island."

62. He then called for Caliban to prepare some food, and set the cave in order; and the company were astonished at the uncouth[13] form and savage appearance of this ugly monster, who, Prospero said, was the only attendant he had to wait upon him.

63. Before Prospero left the island, he dismissed Ariel from his service, to the great joy of that lively little spirit, who, though he had been a faithful servant to his master, was always longing to enjoy his free liberty, to wander uncontrolled in the air, like a wild bird, under green trees, among pleasant fruits and sweet-smelling flowers.

64. "My quaint Ariel," said Prospero to the little sprite when he made him free, "I shall miss you; yet you shall have your freedom."

"Thank you, my dear master," said Ariel; "but give me leaveto attend your ship home with prosperous gales before you bid farewell to the assistance of your faithful spirit; and then, master, when I am free, how merrily I shall live!"

65. Here Ariel sang this pretty song:—

Where the bee sucks, there suck I;

In a cowslip's bell I lie:

There I couch[14] when owls do cry.

On the bat's back I do fly

After summer merrily.

Merrily, merrily shall I live now,

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."

66. Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical books and wand, for he was resolved never more to make use of the magic art.

And, having thus overcome his enemies and being reconciled to his brother and the King of Naples, nothing now remained to complete his happiness but to revisit his native land, to take possession of his dukedom, and to witness the happy nuptials[15] of his daughter and Prince Ferdinand, which the king said should be instantly celebrated with great splendor on their return to Naples. At which place, under the safe convoy[16] of the spirit Ariel, they, after a pleasant voyage, soon arrived.

(From "Tales from Shakspere")

注释

1 Affected: liked; favored— an old meaning of the word.

2 Apparel: clothing.

3 Cherub: an angel.

4 Mariners: sailors.

5 Surety: one who is answerable for another.

6 Advocate: one who pleads the cause of another.

7 Goodlier: better looking; more agreeable.

8 Enjoined: ordered.

9 Precepts: commands; rules of action.

10 Amends: reward for loss or injury.

11 Depose: dethrone; remove from office.

12 Brave: excellent; fine, —an old use of the word.

13 Uncouth: strange.

14 Couch: lie as upon a bed.

15 Nuptials: marriage.

16 Convoy: an escort to guide or protect.

33

ANIMAL MIMICS

BY HENRY DRUMMOND

Henry Drummond (1851-1897): A Scotch author and traveler. He was professor of natural sciences in a college at Glasgow, and traveled widely in America, Africa, and Asia for purposes of scientific study. The following selection is from his book, "Tropical Africa." He wrote also a number of books on religious subjects, of which the best known is "Natural Law in the Spiritual World."

1. Have you ever wondered why the skins of animals have particular colors? Probably you have not, and it is very likely that most people would be surprised to hear that there is any reason for the colors at all. But there are reasons. Color in animals seems to be either "protective" or "warning." The object of the first is to render the animal not easy to be seen, the object of the second is the opposite, to make it easy to be seen.

2. Birds, monkeys, lizards, and spiders are very fond of butterflies, but there are some butterflies which are not edible[1], on account of unwholesome juices in their bodies. These butterflies of disagreeable flavor are brilliantly colored, and this gay coloring serves as a danger signal to the birds, monkeys, and spiders. These butterflies fly undisturbed about the forests in broad daylight, while their duskier edible brethren have to hurry in terror for their lives through the gloomiest parts of the forests.

3. For the same reason, well-armed or stinging insects, such as the wasp, are generally conspicuously[2] dressed in warning colors. This is true of bees and dragon flies; and it may be taken as a rule that gay colored insects are either bad eating or bad stingers.

4. But that the chief use of coloring is protection may be shown by simple observation of animal life in any part of the world. The motionlessness of wild game when danger is near is well known; and every hunter knows that it is often difficult to see even large animals, though they may be standing near him.

5. Lions, tigers, and other beasts of prey which move quietly through great masses of bush or jungle, are often not to be distinguished from the vegetation surrounding them. The stripes of the tiger, for instance, much resemble the long, reedlike stalks of the jungle.

6. One of the most beautiful and ornate[3] of all tropical reptiles[4] is the puff-adder. This animal, the bite of which is certain death, is from three to five feet long, and in some parts is almost as thick as the lower part of a man's thigh. The whole body is ornamented with strange devices in green, yellow, and black, and lying in a museum its glittering coils certainly form a most striking object.

7. But in nature the puff-adder has a very different background. It is a forest animal, its true dwelling place being among the fallen leaves in the deep shade of the trees by the banks of streams. Now in such a position, at the distance of a foot or two, its appearance so exactly resembles the forest bed as to be almost indistinguishable from it.

A puff adder

8. I was once just throwing myself down under a tree to rest when, stooping to clear the spot, I noticed a peculiar pattern among the leaves. I started back in horror, to find a puff adder of the largest size, only its thick back visible, and its fangs within a few inches of my face as I stooped. It was lying concealed among fallen leaves so like itself that, but for the exceptional caution which in African travel becomes a habit, I should certainly have sat down upon it: and to sit down upon a puff adder is to sit down for the last time.

9. I had stopped one day among some tall dry grass, when one of my men suddenly shouted, "Chirombo!" Chirombo means an inedible beast of any kind, and I turned round to see where the animal was. The native pointed straight at myself. I could see nothing, but he approached, and pointing close to a wisp of hay which had fallen upon my coat, repeated, "Chirombo!" Believing that it must be some insect among the hay, I took it in my fingers, looked over it, and told him pointedly there was no Chirombo there. He smiled, and pointing again to the hay exclaimed, "Moio!" (It's alive!)

10. The hay itself was Chirombo! I do not exaggerate when I say that that wisp of hay was no more like an insect than my barometer[5]. Take two inches of dried yellow grass stalk; then take six other pieces nearly as long and a quarter as thick; bend each in the middle at any angle you like, stick them in three opposite pairs upon the first grass stalk, and you have my Chirombo. When you catch him, his limbs are twisted about at every angle, as if the whole were made of one long stalk of the most delicate grass, hinged in a dozen places, and then gently crushed up into an untidy heap. Having once assumed a position, by a wonderful instinct, he never moves or varies one of his many angles by half a degree.

11 The way the insect keeps up the delusion[6] is indeed almost as wonderful as the mimicry[7] itself; you may turn him about, and over and over, but he is mere dried grass, and nothing will induce him to acknowledge the animal kingdom by the faintest suspicion of movement. All the members of this family have this power of shamming death; but how such emaciated[8] and juiceless skeletons should ever presume to be alive is the real mystery.

12. The grass-stalk insects live among the long grass which is found in patches all over the African forests. During three fourths of the year it is dried by the sun into a straw-yellow color, and all the insects are painted to match.

Caterpillar resembling twig

13. But an even more singular fact remains to be noted. After the rainy season, when the new green grasses spring up, these withered-grass insects all seem to disappear. Their color would now be no protection to them, and their places are taken by others, colored as green as the new grass. Whether these are new insects, or only the same in spring toilets, I do not know.

14. Another class of insects imitate twigs, sticks, and the smaller branches of shrubs. The commonest of these is a walking twig, a curious insect three or four inches long, which looks as if it were covered with bark and spotted with mold, like a real forest twig.

15. Some insects, belonging mostly to locust tribes, represent leaf forms. They are found in all forms, sizes, and colors, mimicking foliage at every stage of growth and decay. Some have the leaf stamped on their wings in vivid green, with veins and ribs complete. I have again and again watched these forms in the forest, not only with the living leaf, but with crumpled, shriveled ones. Indeed, the imitations of the crumpled autumn leaf are even more numerous and striking than those of the living form.

Butterfly resembling leaf

16. Lichens and mosses are also taken as models by insects. There is probably no form in the vegetable kingdom that has not its living counterpart[9] in some animal form.

注释

1 Edible: eatable; fit to be used as food.

2 Conspicuously: easily to be seen.

3 Ornate: decorated; beautiful.

4 Reptiles: animals that crawl, as snakes, lizards, etc.

5 Barometer: an instrument for finding out the weight or pressure of the atmosphere in order to learn the probable changes of weather, or the height of an ascent.

6 Delusion: deception; cheat.

7 Mimicry: imitation; likeness.

8 Emaciated: very lean; thin.

9 Counterpart: copy; a person or thing closely resembling another.

34

THE CLOUD

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822): A famous English poet whose poems are distinguished for their lyrical beauty. His finest poem is "Adonais," written on the occasion of the death of the poet Keats. "The Cloud," "To a Skylark," and "Ode to the West Wind" are the most familiar of his shorter poems.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

1. I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers

From the seas and the streams;

I bear light shade for the leaves when laid

In their noonday dreams.

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken

The sweet buds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,

As she dances about the sun.

I wield[1] the flail[2] of the lashing hail,

And whiten the green plains under;

And then again I dissolve it in rain,

And laugh as I pass in thunder.

2. I sift the snow on the mountains below,

And their great pines groan aghast[3];

And all the night 'tis my pillow white,

While I sleep in the arms of the blast.

Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers

Lightning, my pilot, sits;

In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,

It struggles and howls at fits.

Over earth and ocean with gentle motion

This pilot is guiding me,

Lured by the love of the genii that move

In the depths of the purple sea;

Over the rills and the crags and the hills,

Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream under mountain or stream

The spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,

Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

3. The sanguine[4] sunrise, with his meteor eyes,

And his burning plumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sailing rack[5],

When the morning star shines dead:

As on the jag[6] of a mountain crag

Which an earthquake rocks and swings

An eagle alit one moment may sit

In the light of its golden wings.

And, when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,

Its ardors of rest and of love,

And the crimson pall of eve may fall

From the depth of heaven above,

With wings folded I rest on mine airy nest,

As still as a brooding dove.

4. That orbed maiden with white fire laden

Whom mortals call the moon

Glides glimmering o'er my fleecelike floor

By the midnight breezes strewn;

And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,

Which only the angels hear,

May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,

The stars peep behind her and peer.

And I laugh to see them whirl and flee

Like a swarm of golden bees,

When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,

Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,

Are each paved with the moon and these.

注释

1 Wield: use; handle.

2 Flail: an instrument for threshing or beating out grain.

3 Aghast: frightened; terrified.

4 Sanguine: red.

5 Rack: thin-flying, broken clouds.

6 Jag: notch; cleft.

35

SIR WALTER SCOTT

Ⅰ

1. More than a hundred years ago Bishop Percy, an Englishman, published a book of ancient poetry, in which were put together as many old songs and ballads as he could find. Some of the ballads had been taken from old manuscripts, yellow and worn with time. Others had been jotted down from the lips of some village poet, the last descendant of the old bards. Some recorded old battles, and others homely incidents of love and domestic life. But all were full of the life of those distant ages, and brought back the old days with the vividness of a picture.

2. This interesting book drifted for twenty years among the haunts of book lovers, and won for itself a warm welcome everywhere.

Then it fell one day into the hands of a blue-eyed lad, who looked and read and straightway was lost to the present, having wandered back into that golden past which the old poems called up.

3. This lad was Walter Scott, and in his veins ran the blood of some of those old chieftains about whose deeds he was reading, for both his father and mother were descended from ancient historic families. In speaking of his first acquaintance with this book, Scott says that his heart was stirred as with the sound of a trumpet, and perhaps it is not the least glory of the old ballads[1] that they dropped into his boyish mind the seeds which in later years bore such golden harvests for English literature.

Sir Walter Soott

4. Scott was born in 1771 at Edinburgh, but, being delicate, he passed much of his childhood in the country, and here, among the farmer folk, his mind was filled with legends and quaint superstitions. These impressions sank into his mind and, finding fruitful soil, grew and flourished.

They gave form and color to his imagination in such a degree that when the time came for him to write books, he reproduced the spirit of the old days as no other writer could have done, because it was the same spirit that had influenced him when a child.

5. Scott was educated at the High School and at the University of Edinburgh, and was trained for the practice of law. But he found the law little to his liking, and in very early manhood he began the translation of German poetry. He soon discovered, however, that his work for literature must lie in other directions.

6. With the tastes of his childhood days strong within him, he turned his mind toward the old songs and ballads, which made up a large part of Scottish poetry, and he resolved to try to bring into some definite form the numerous and interesting legends which were woven into the pages of his country's story.

7. He traveled through the regions celebrated in history, and from shepherd and farmer and from curious old written songs he gathered together legends and old traditions[2], and became familiar with the scenery and manners of the places where each had been found. Then he studied, sifted, and edited, and at last put together in definite form these old bits of history and published them in a book called the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." This book was more than a compilation[3] of old songs; it was the reproduction of a part of the national history, and it won for Scott the honor and recognition that he deserved.

8. In this work Scott seems to have been searching for the right path in which to work. The results show that he found that which he sought, for in 1805 he published an original poem, "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," which was founded upon the romantic incidents of the old Border[4] warfare. Then came the poems called "Marmion," "The Lady of the Lake," and "The Lord of the Isles."

Ⅱ

9. But great as was his success in these poems, Scott was really at this period only finding his way toward his true work. The poems were splendid pictures of the romantic and chivalrous[5] ages, and were thrown into those fascinating meters[6] which appeal to the people at large. A passage or description from one of these poems could almost be chanted like an old battle hymn.

10. But still they were pictures of times and events rather than anything else, and lacked that human interest which marks the masterpieces of all literature. Scott's fame, therefore, as one of the great writers of romance, does not rest upon his poems, popular as they are, but upon his long series of romantic novels.

These novels are based upon incidents in English, Scottish, and Continental history, or upon domestic life, and in each of these departments Scott produced a masterpiece.

11. His first novel, called "Waverley, or 'Tis Sixty Years Since," was published in 1814. This novel was received with the same enthusiasm which had greeted his poetry, though few suspected the authorship. In this work Scott at once reached the highest point of his art. "Waverley" was followed by other brilliant romances full of magnificent description and stirring adventure.

12. Scott wrote in all twenty-nine romances. Among them we find stories of Scotland and England in the seventeenth century, legends of the Border, tales of London when Shakspere lived there, tales of the Crusaders[7], and many stories of private and domestic life.

13. "Ivanhoe," from which the following selection about Locksley is taken, is a story of England in the time of Richard the First. Locksley was the famous outlaw, Robin Hood, in disguise. "Ivanhoe" is one of the most famous of historical romances and should be read by every boy and girl.

Some of the other historical romances are "Kenilworth," a story of the time of Queen Elizabeth, "The Monastery" and "The Abbot," which give the story of Mary, Queen of Scots, "Woodstock," a tale of England in the seventeenth century, and "Quentin Durward," the scene of which is laid in the reign of Louis the Eleventh of France.

14. "Guy Mannering," "The Antiquary," and "The Heart of Midlothian" are the most famous of the novels of domestic life. In these Scott writes the history of the human heart with as true a hand as that which penned the great deeds of history.

15. The whole series of romances is now known under the name of the "Waverley Novels." They were all published anonymously[8], though it was generally believed, even at the time, that Scott was the author. He did not acknowledge the authorship, however, until the failure, in 1826, of the publishing house with which he was secretly connected. He then assumed the vast debt of almost six hundred thousand dollars, for which only his own sense of honor made him responsible, and set to work to pay it by his literary labors.

16. One book after another came from his pen to delight the eager public, but Scott's strength and life itself were given to the task. After a voyage in a vain search for health, he returned to Scotland to spend his last days at his home at Abbotsford. There he died September 21, 1832.

注释

1 Ballads: poems adapted for recitation or singing.

2 Tradition: knowledge or belief handed down by word of mouth.

3 Compilation: a book made of materials gathered from other writings.

4 The Border: districts of Scotland and England which adjoin.

5 Chivalrous: knightly; heroic.

6 Meters: poetical measures depending on number, quantity, and accent of syllable; verses.

7 Crusaders: men who joined the expeditions undertaken by the Christian nations in the Middle Ages for the recovery of the Holy Land from the Turks.

8 Anonymously: without the name of the author.

36

THE ARCHERY CONTEST

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

Ⅰ

1. To the best archer a prize was to be awarded, being a bugle horn, mounted with silver, and a silken baldric[1] richly ornamented with a medallion of Saint Hubert, the patron of sylvan[2] sport.

More than thirty yeomen[3] at first presented themselves as competitors, several of whom were rangers and under keepers in the royal forests of Needwood and Charnwood.

2. Prince John stepped from his royal seat to view more nearly the persons of these chosen yeomen, several of whom wore the royal livery. Having satisfied his curiosity, he looked for the object of his resentment, whom he observed standing on the same spot, and with the same composed countenance which he had exhibited upon the preceding day.

3. "Fellow," said Prince John, "I guessed by thy insolent babble thou wert no true lover of the longbow, and I see thou darest not adventure[4] thy skill among such merrymen[5] as stand yonder."

"Under favor, sir," replied the yeoman, "I have another reason for refraining to shoot, besides the fearing defeat and disgrace."

"What is thy other reason?" said Prince John.

4. "Because," replied the woodsman, "I know not if these yeomen and I are used to shoot at the same marks; and because, moreover, I know not how your grace might relish the winning of a third prize by one who has fallen under your displeasure."

5. Prince John colored as he put the question, "What is thy name, yeoman?"

"Locksley," answered the yeoman.

"Then, Locksley," said Prince John, "thou shalt shoot in thy turn, when these yeomen have displayed their skill. If thou carriest the prize, I will add to it twenty nobles[6]; but if thou losest it, thou shalt be stript and scourged[7] out of the lists with bowstrings, for a wordy and insolent braggart."

6. "And how if I refuse to shoot on such a wager?" said the yeoman. "Your grace's power, supported as it is by so many men at arms, may indeed easily strip and scourge me, but cannot compel me to bend or to draw my bow."

"If thou refusest my fair proffer[8]," said the prince, "the provost of the lists shall cut thy bowstring, break thy bow and arrows, and expel thee from the presence as a faint-hearted craven[9]."

7. "This is no fair chance you put on me, proud prince," said the yeoman, "to compel me to peril myself against the best archers of Leicester and Staffordshire, under the penalty of infamy if they should overshoot me. Nevertheless, I will obey your pleasure."

Ⅱ

8. A target was placed at the upper end of the southern avenue which led to the lists. The contending archers took their station in turn at the bottom of the southern access, the distance between that station and the mark allowing full distance for what was called a shot at rovers.

9. The archers, having previously determined by lot their order of precedence, were to shoot each three shafts in succession.

One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered their shafts yeomanlike and bravely. Of twenty-four arrows, shot in succession, ten were fixed in the target, and the others ranged so near it, that, considering the distance of the mark, it was accounted good archery. Of the ten shafts which hit the target, two within the inner ring were shot by Hubert, a forester in the service of Malvoisin, who was accordingly pronounced victorious.

10. "Now, Locksley," said Prince John to the bold yeoman, with a bitter smile, "wilt thou try conclusions[10] with Hubert, or wilt thou yield up bow, baldric, and quiver to the provost of the sports?"

"Sith[11] it be no better," said Locksley, "I am content to try my fortune, on condition that when I have shot two shafts at yonder mark of Hubert's, he shall be bound to shoot one at that which I shall propose."

11. "That is but fair," answered Prince John, "and it shall not be refused thee. If thou dost beat this braggart, Hubert, I will fill the bugle with silver pennies for thee."

"A man can but do his best," answered Hubert; "but my grandsire drew a good longbow at Hastings, and I trust not to dishonor his memory."

12. The former target was now removed, and a fresh one of the same size placed in its room. Hubert, who, as victor in the first trial of skill, had the right to shoot first, took his aim with great deliberation, long measuring the distance with his eye, while he held in his hand his bended bow with the arrow placed on the string.

13. At length he made a step forward, and raising the bow at the full stretch of his left arm, till the center or grasping place was nigh level with his face, he drew his bowstring to his ear. The arrow whistled through the air and lighted within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the center.

14. "You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert," said his opponent, bending his bow, "or that had been a better shot."

So saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause upon his aim, Locksley stept to the appointed station, and shot his arrow as carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked at the mark.

15. He was speaking almost at the instant that the shaft left the bowstring, yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which marked the center than that of Hubert.

16 Hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting the caution which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary allowance for a very light air of wind which had just arisen, and shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very center of the target.

17. "A Hubert! a Hubert!" shouted the populace, more interested in a known person than in a stranger. "In the clout[12]! in the clout! a Hubert forever!"

"Thou canst not mend[13] that shot, Locksley," said the prince, with an insulting smile.

"I will notch his shaft for him," replied Locksley.

18. And letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than before, it lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it split to shivers. The people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful dexterity that they could not even give vent to their surprise in their usual clamor.

Ⅲ

19. "And now," said Locksley, "I will crave your grace's permission to plant such a mark as is used in the North Country, and welcome every brave yeoman who shall try a shot at it to win a smile from the bonny[14] lass he loves best."

20. He then turned to leave the lists. "Let your guards attend me," he said, "if you please—I go but to cut a rod from the next willow bush."

Prince John made a signal that some attendants should follow him in case of his escape; but the cry of "Shame! shame!" from the multitude induced him to alter his ungenerous purpose.

21. Locksley returned almost instantly with a willow wand about six feet in length, perfectly straight, and rather thicker than a man's thumb. He began to peel this with great composure, observing at the same time that to ask a good woodsman to shoot at a target so broad as had hitherto been used was to put shame upon his skill.

22. "For his own part," he said, "and in the land where he was bred, men would as soon take for their mark King Arthur's round table, which held sixty knights around it. A child of seven years old," he said, "might hit yonder target with a headless shaft; but," added he, walking deliberately to the other end of the lists, and sticking the willow wand upright in the ground, "he that hits that rod at five score yards, I call him, an[15] archer fit to bear both bow and quiver before a king, an it were the stout King Richard himself."

llis arrow split the willow rod.

23. "My grandsire," said Hubert, "drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings, and never shot at such a mark in his life—and neither will I. If this yeoman can cleave that rod, I give him the bucklers[16]—or rather, I yield to the devil that is in his jerkin[17], and not to any human skill; a man can but do his best, and I will not shoot where I am sure to miss. I might as well shoot at the edge of our parson's whittle[18], or at a wheat straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can hardly see."

24. "Cowardly dog!" said Prince John. "Sirrah Locksley, do thou shoot; but if thou hittest such a mark, I will say thou art the first man ever did so. Howe'er it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of superior skill."

"I will do my best, as Hubert says," answered Locksley; "no man can do more."

25. So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked with attention to his weapon, and changed the string, which he thought was no longer truly round, having been a little frayed by the two former shots. He then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude awaited the event in breathless silence.

26. The archer justified their opinion of his skill: his arrow split the willow rod against which it was aimed. Acclamations followed; and even Prince John, in admiration of Locksley's skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his person.

27. "These twenty nobles," he said, "which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty if thou wilt take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our bodyguard, and be near to our person. For never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so true an eye direct a shaft."

28. "Pardon me, noble prince," said Locksley; "but I have vowed that if ever I take service it should be with your royal brother, King Richard. These twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave a bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty not refused the trial, he would have hit the wand as well as I."

29. Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty of the stranger; and Locksley, anxious to escape further observation, mixed with the crowd, and was seen no more.

注释

1 Baldric: a belt; usually a broad belt worn over one shoulder, across the breast, and under the opposite arm.

2 Sylvan: of the woods.

3 Yeoman: a man free born.

4 Adventure: risk; venture, try the chance of.

5 Merrymen: archers; a name frequently given to Robin Hood and his companions.

6 Nobles: the noble was an old English gold coin, worth about a dollar and sixty cents.

7 Scourged: whipped severely.

8 Proffer: offer.

9 Craven: coward.

10 Try conclusions: make a trial or an experiment:

11 Sith: an old word meaning since.

12 Clout: the center of the target.

13 Mend: improve; help.

14 Bonny: pretty.

15 An: if, a word used by old English authors.

16 Bucklers: shields.

17 Jerkin: a jacket or short coat.

18 Whittle: a knife.

37

THE FRIGATE AND THE GALLEYS

BY A. T. QUILLER-COUCH

Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch (1863-1944), an English novelist whose hooks are published under the pen name "Q." He has written "Dead Man's Rock," "The Splendid Spur," and other novels. This selection is from "The Blue Pavilions," copyrighted by Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons in 1891.

Ⅰ

1. The frigate[1] Merry Maid left Holland with her convoy of merchant vessels in line and in admirable order. The breeze was fair for England. A full moon rose over the sand banks behind them as Captain Barker sent the pilots ashore. He stood out to sea, for most of his merchant ships were slow sailers, and not a few were overladen. So clear was the night that he could not only count their thirty-six lanterns, but even see their canvas glimmering as they stole like ghosts in his wake[2].

2. He was delighted with the frigate and her crew, who were English to a man. Leaving the deck in charge of his friend, Captain Runacles, who was acting as his lieutenant, Barker descended to his cabin, where he remained until a sharp tap at the door aroused him.

3. "What is it?" he asked.

"Six French galleys[3] to the south, between us and the Thames!" answered Captain Runacles, coolly.

Barker sprang up and hurried up on deck.

"So these are the galleys I've heard so much about," he remarked, taking up a glass, through which he eyed them intently for a couple of minutes.

4. "What do you propose, Jack?" said Runacles.

"Propose? Why, I propose to do what I'm here for— to save the convoy."

"That's very pretty. But do you know how fast those galleys can move?"

5. "No, I don't. But I know they can outpace us. Nevertheless, I'll save the convoy."

"How?"

"There's only one way."

6. "And that is —?"

"By losing the frigate."

Captain Barker turned briskly.

"Signal the convoy," he shouted, "to make all sail and run for the Thames."

7. For some little while the frigate held on her course for the mouth of the Thames. Not a sail more did she carry than when she first came in sight. It almost seemed as if her captain had not seen the enemy flying to destroy him. For thirty-five minutes she held quietly on beside her convoy. And then the helm was shifted, and she came down straight for the Frenchmen.

8. It was a gallant stroke, and a subtle — so subtle that the French commander mistook its meaning, and gave a great shout of joy. He fancied he saw the English delivered into his hand. But he rejoiced too soon. To begin with, he perceived the next moment that the frigate, by hastening the attack, had caught his galley alone.

9. Four of his galleys had been sent off with all speed to place themselves between the merchantmen and the coast, and the remaining one, not having such a good crew of rowers as his own, was a league or more behind.

Still the commander was in no way disturbed. He never doubted for a moment that his galley alone, with two hundred fighting men aboard, would be more than a match for the frigate.

10. Down came the Merry Maid, closer and closer, her flag fluttering bravely; and on rushed the galley until the two were within cannon shot. The French commander gave the order, and sent a shot to meet her from one of the four guns in the prow. As the thunder of it died away and the smoke cleared, he waited for the Englishman's reply. There was none. The frigate held on her course, silent as death.

11. And then suddenly, when in three minutes the vessels must have come into collision, round flew the frigate's wheel; as her sails filled again, away she went on the westerly tack for her life.

12. Nothing gives more spirit than a flying enemy. From mouth to mouth ran the word that the English were showing their heels, and in a moment the wretched slaves at the oars were pulling like madmen. Jeers rose from the deck.

13. "If the Englishman doesn't strike his flag within two minutes, down he goes to the bottom."

On board the frigate Captain Barker said four words only, "Take the wheel, Jemmy."

14. Captain Runacles stepped to it, and the steersman gave place. Though this was his first acquaintance with a galley, Barker knew well enough that she would strike for the frigate's stern as the weakest point. This was just what he wished her to do. He stood by the taffrail[4] with one eye upon the galley and his face slightly turned toward his friend at the wheel. His right hand was lifted.

Ⅱ

15. On came the French galley with yelling crew. A few more leaps and it would strike the frigate.

One — two—

The little English captain looked back in their faces and smiled.

Three — four — five—

He dropped his hand. Quick as lightning Captain Jemmy spun the wheel round. The stern swung sharply off.

16. The next moment the galley flew past. Her beak, missing the stern, rushed on, tearing great splinters out of the Merry Maid's flank. Her starboard oars snapped like matchwood, hurling the slaves backward on their benches. Then she brought up, hopelessly disabled, right under the frigate's side.

17. And then at length the English cheer rang forth. In an instant the grappling irons[5] were out, and the frigate held her foe, clasped, caught. And at length, too, with a blinding flash and roar, the English guns spoke. A minute had done it all. Sixty seconds before, the gallant vessel had lain apparently at the Frenchman's mercy. Now the Frenchman was fastened, while the crowd upon deck stood as much exposed to the English fire as if the galley were a raft.

His right hand was lifted.

18. It was in this extremity that the French commander cast his eyes around, and found himself forced to do what Captain Barker from the first had meant him to do.

19. The four galleys that had started after the convoy were at this time sweeping along in rapid pursuit. In another five minutes the pathway to the Thames would be blocked, and all the merchant vessels at their mercy.

The Frenchman raised the flag of distress. He called them to his help.

20. A wild hurrah broke out from the crew of the frigate. The order meant their destruction; for how could the Merry Maid contend against six galleys? Yet they cheered, for they guessed what their captain had in his mind. And the little man's eyes sparkled as he heard.

21. As soon as the galleys saw their leader's signal, and turned unwillingly back from their chase, the capture of the Merry Maid became but a question of time. The fight was hard. As the galleys closed round her, the first of the merchantmen was entering the Thames. Captain Barker cast a look round and touched his old friend's arm.

22. "Better get back to the forecastle[6], Jemmy, and intrench[7] yourself." Captain Runacles nodded. "And you?" he asked.

"Oh! I'm going down to the cabin — first of all."

Captain Runacles nodded again. They looked straight into each other's eyes, shook hands, and parted.

23. The men of the Merry Maid could no longer keep the deck. She was hemmed in on every side, disabled by the fire of the enemy, and it only remained for the French to board her. Time after time they were driven back by Captain Runacles and his heroes, and it was only by laying open the deck of the frigate with axes, that the forecastle could be carried. When once aboard, the Frenchmen brought up their prisoners on deck— Captain Runacles with his right hand disabled.

24. "Are you the gallant captain of this frigate?" asked the French commander, taking off his hat.

"No, sir," Captain Runacles answered; "I have the honor to be his lieutenant."

25. Just then the report of a gun was heard, and two Frenchmen rushed upon deck from below, and came forward hurriedly, one with a hand clapped to a wound in his shoulder.

26. "That," said Captain Runaeles, "is probably Captain Barker. There is a shutter to his cabin-door."

"But this is silly," exclaimed the French commander, frowning.

27. "If you will excuse me, it is scarcely so silly as it looks. Captain Barker is within ten paces of the powder magazine. Moreover, between him and the powder magazine there is a door."

Ⅲ

28. The French commander rushed aft[8] to the companion ladder leading to the captain's cabin, and called on him to surrender.

"Go away!" answered a very surly[9] voice from below.

"But, sir, consider. Your ship is in our hands—"

"Then come and take it."

29. "Your gallant officers have surrendered. You have behaved like a hero. Sir, it is magnificent— but come out."

"I shan't."

"But, sir, how can you help it?"

"Very simply. Time is of no concern to me. I have plenty of food and ammunition down here, and, if any man comes to take my sword, I shall kill him."

30. "You cannot kill five or six hundred."

"No; when I have done all I can, I shall fire the powder magazine."

"But, sir—"

It was absurd that one man should hold a ship against hundreds. Nevertheless, it was the case, and the Frenchman did not see his way out of it.

31. He determined to use decisive measures, and ordered twelve soldiers to advance to the cabin door, break it open, and overpower the Englishman.

The twelve men advanced as they were bidden. One was halfway down the ladder, with the others at his heels, when the report of a musket was heard; down he dropped with a ball in his leg.

Captain Barker in the cabin

32. The soldiers hesitated. Another shot followed. It was pretty clear that the besieged man had plenty of firearms loaded and ready. They scrambled up the steps again.

"It was all very well," they said; "but as they could only advance in single file, exposing their legs before they could use their arms, the Englishman from behind his barricade could shoot them down like sheep."

33. The French commander reproached them for their cowardice. He was about to order them down again when a door slammed below, and Captain Barker's head appeared at the top of the ladder.

"Which of you's the French captain?"

The commander lifted his hat.

"Humph!"

34. He stepped up on deck, and the French officers drew back in amazement. They looked at this man who had defied them for nearly an hour. They had expected to see a giant. Instead, they saw a tiny man of twisted shape, pale of face, and with glaring eyes, who looked them all over with a grim smile as he limped along to deliver his sword to their commander.

35. Working his jaw, as a man who has to swallow a bitter pill which sticks in his mouth, he held out his sword without ceremony.

"Here you are," he said. "I've done with it; can't waste words."

36. "Sir," the Frenchman answered, bowing, "believe me, I receive it with little pleasure. The victory is ours, no doubt; but the honor of it you have wrested from us. Sir, I am a Frenchman, but I am a sailor, too, and my heart swells over such a feat as yours. Let me remind you that your present captivity is but the fortune of war, against which you have struggled bravely: that your self-sacrifice has saved your fleet."

37. "Humph," said the little man; "fine talk, sir, —fine talk. As for the ships, I saw the last of them slip into the Thames, ten minutes since, from my cabin window. Sorry to keep you parleying[10] so long; but couldn't come out before."

He blew his nose violently, cocked his head on one side, and added, —

"Though to be sure, sir, your words are very kind."

38. The Frenchman, with a pleasant smile, held out his sword to him.

"Take it back, sir— take back a weapon no man better deserves to wear. Forget that you are my prisoner; and, if I may beg it, remember rather that you are my friend."

39. The face of the little captain flushed crimson. He hesitated, took back the sword clumsily, and hesitated again; then swiftly held out his hand to the French commander, with a smile as beautiful as his body was deformed.

"Sir, you have beaten me. I fought your men for a while but I can't stand up against this."

注释

1 Frigate: a war vessel smaller than a ship of the line.

2 Wake: the track, especially that left by a vessel in the water.

3 Galley: a war vessel propelled by oars.

4 Taffrail: the rail around a ship's stern; the upper part of the stern.

5 Grappling irons: hooked irons used for seizing and holding fast a ship or other object.

6 Forecastle, the forward part of a ship.

7 Intrench: to make defensible against attack.

8 Aft: to the stern of a ship.

9 Surly: rough; ill natured.

10 Parleying: discussing; treating with an enemy as to terms of peace, etc.

38

ABOU BEN ADHEM

BY LEIGH HUNT

James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784-1859). An English poet and essayist. His writings are less memorable than his friendship with Keats and Shelley, as also with Lamb, Byron, Moore, Coleridge, Dickens, and Carlyle. He is the author of "The Feast of the Poets," "The Story of Rimini," "Imagination and Fancy," "Wit and Humor," "Stories of the Italian Poets," etc.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw within the moonlight in his room,

Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,

An angel writing in a book of gold:

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,

And to the Presence in the room he said,

"What writest thou?" —The vision raised its head,

And, with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, — "The names of those who love the Lord."

"And is mine one?" said Abou; "Nay, not so"

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,

But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blessed

And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

WORD LIST

abominable. Hateful.

adhesive. Sticky.

adventure. Risk; venture; try the chance of.

adversity. Trouble; misfortune.

advocate. One who pleads the cause of another.

affected. Used by Lamb with its old meaning of liked, favored.

aforetime. Before.

aft. The stern of a ship.

aghast. Frightened; terrified.

agitated. Disturbed; excited.

agra. An Irish term of endearment.

aloof. Away; at a distance.

amends. Reward for a loss or injury.

Amiens.

an. If; a word used by old English authors.

anonymously. Without the name of the author.

anthem. A song or hymn.

apparel. Clothing.

application. Earnest effort; close attention.

attitude. Position.

audacity. Daring; venture-someness.

augmenting. Increasing.

avick. My dear.

baffled. Defeated; prevented from carrying out a purpose.

baldric. A belt; usually, a broad belt worn over one shoulder, across the breast, and under the opposite arm.

ballads. Poems adapted for recitation or singing.

bar. Hinder.

barbarous. Cruel.

barometer. An instrument for finding out the weight or pressure of the atmosphere, in order to learn the probable changes of weather or the height of an ascent.

barracks. Buildings in which soldiers are lodged.

barricadoed. Defended with a barrier.

benefactor. One who confers favors.

Berserk. A berserker; in Norse mythology, a hero mad with the rage of battle.

besought. Begged.

blasted. Blighted.

bonny. Pretty.

Border, the. The districts of Scotland and England which adjoin.

brave. Excellent; fine, —an old use of the word.

buccaneers. Pirates; sea robbers. especially those who attacked the Spanish in America in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

bucklers. Shields.

burghers. Citizens; inhabitants.

Calais.

calamities. Great misfortunes.

caldron. A large kettle.

cantata. A poem set to music.

Chattahoochee. A river of Georgia.

cherub. An angel.

Chinese roof. A high, peaked roof.

chivalrous. Knightly, heroic.

chores. The regular light work of a household or farm.

churlish. Rude.

clomb. Climbed.

clout. The center of the target.

compilation. A book made of materials gathered from other writings.

con. Study.

concave. Hollow and rounded, said of the inside of a curved surface or line, in opposition to convex.

conceivable. That may be thought of or imagined.

conspicuously. Easily to be seen; showily.

convex. Rising into a rounded form, —said of a curved surface or line when viewed from without, in opposition to concave.

convoy. An escort to guide or protect.

cope. Meet.

cordiality. Heartiness.

cormorant. A sea bird.

corsair. Pirate.

couch. Lie, as upon a bed.

counterfeited. Changed with a view to deceiving.

counterpart. Copy; a person or thing closely resembling another.

courtiers. Gentlemen inattendance at the court of a prince.

courtly. Polite; elegant.

crans. The cran is a Scotch measure for fresh herring, —as many as will fill a barrel.

craven. Coward.

Crecy.

crevices. Narrow openings; cracks.

crown. An English silver coin worth about a dollar and twenty cents.

crusaders. Men who joined the expeditions undertaken in the Middle Ages by Christian nations for the recovery of the Holy Land from the Turks.

cuddies. A Scotch name for the coalfish or pollock.

cuirassed. Wearing a cuirass, —a piece of defensive armor covering the body from the neck to the girdle.

daft. Foolish; insane.

deemed. Thought.

defiantly. Showing a disposition to resist.

deity. God.

delft. Earthenware made at the city of Delft in Holland, or ware in imitation of that.

delusion. Deception; cheat.

depose. Dethrone; remove from office.

deprivation. Loss; bereavement.

descrying. Seeing; discovering.

desolating. Laying waste.

desperation. Despair; recklessness.

despondent. Low spirited; hopeless.

device. Plan.

devising. Planning; inventing

devotee. One who is wholly devoted.

dint. A blow; the mark left by a blow; also force or power especially, as in this phrase, "by dint of."

disperse. Drive away; scatter.

dissemble. Pretend not to be what one really is.

divines. Priests; clergymen.

doleful. Full of dole or grief; sad.

Drake, Sir Francis (1540?-1596). An English navigator.

durst. Dared.

ecstasy. Delight; rapture.

edible. Eatable; fit to be used as food.

eldorado. The golden country; a name given by the Spaniards in the sixteenth century to an imaginary country in the interior of South America said to abound in gold and gems.

emaciated. Very lean; thin

embattled. Arranged in order of battle; prepared or armed for battle.

engrossed. Occupied wholly.

enjoined. Ordered.

enormous. Very large.

enthralled. Enslaved.

enthusiasm. Joyful excitement.

environed. Surrounded.

eruption. A violent throwing out of flames, lava, etc., as from a volcano or a fissure in the earth.

erysipelas. A disease of the skin.

execution. As a law term, the carrying into effect the judgment given in a court of law.

exiles. People who are sent away from their homes or who have separated themselves from their home.

extended. Stretched out.

extinct. Put out; extinguished.

fain. Glad; contented.

fantastic. Fanciful, queer.

farcical. Ridiculous.

farthing. A small copper coin of Great Britain, equal in value to half a cent.

fashioned. Made; gave shape or figure to.

fathoms. The fathom is a measure of length containing six feet—used chiefly in measuring cables and the depth of water

fen. Marsh.

flail. An instrument for threshing or beating out grain

flux. Flow.

forecastle (sailors say foksl). The forward part of a ship

forked heads. Arrows.

for to. In order to; an expression now little used.

fowling piece. A light gun used in killing birds and other small game

frigate. A war vessel smaller than a ship of the line.

Frobisher, Sir Martin (1535-1594). An English navigator.

Froissart (1337-1410?). A French author who wrote an entertaining history of his own times.

fumes. Vapors; smoke.

fused. Melted; made fluid.

futility. Uselessness.

galley. A war vessel propelled by oars.

gear. Clothing; armor.

geometric. According to geometry, —the branch of mathematics which treats of solids, surfaces, lines, and angles.

gerfalcon. Gyrfalcon; a large Arctic falcon.

Gilbert, Sir Humphrey (1539?-1584). An English navigator.

goodlier. Better looking; more agreeable.

gorgeous. Fine; magnificent

grappling irons. Hooked irons used for seizing and holding fast ships or other objects.

grievance. Trouble; grief.

habitation. Dwelling.

handicraft. A trade requiring skill of hand.

haughtily. Proudly; in an overbearing manner.

Hawkins, Sir John (1532-1595). An English naval commander.

heifer. A young cow.

helmet. A defensive covering for the head. The helmet was often adorned with a crest, —a plume of feathers or other decoration to show the rank of the wearer.

herdsgrass. A kind of grass much used for hay.

hoary. White, usually with age.

immortal. Undying.

impart Make known; share.

impenitent. Not sorry.

imperious. Commanding; overbearing.

inexplicable. That cannot be explained.

influx. A flowing in.

inspection. A close examination.

intrench. Make defensible against attack.

invectively, With severe blame; reproachfully.

involuntary. Not under the control of the will; unwilling.

iridescent. Having colors like the rainbow.

irks. Pains; vexes—used impersonally.

irrepressible. That cannot be repressed or controlled.

jag. A notch; a cleft.

jerkin. A jacket or short coat.

Kapiolani.

Kilauea.

King Arthur. A hero king of Britain, said to have lived in the sixth century.

Knox, Henry (1750-1806). An American Revolutionary general.

La Hogue.

largess. Bounty; gift.

laving. Bathing.

leeward. In the direction towards which the wind blows.

loyalty. Faithfulness; especially to ones king or government.

luminous. Very bright; shining.

lures. Attractions.

luxurious. Given to the pleasure of the senses; indulging in unrestrained delight and freedom.

Mabinogion. A series of Welsh tales, chiefly about King Arthur and his knights.

magazine. A storehouse. The word is sometimes used for the things kept in a storehouse.

main. The sea.

major domo. A man employed to manage domestic affairs and to act within certain limits as master of the house.

malefactor. An evil doer.

mandate. Order.

manifold. Many.

manor house. A country house of some importance.

marauders. Plunderers.

mariners. Sailors.

matter. Affairs worthy of account; things of importance or interest.

mavourneen. My darling.

melancholy. Sad.

mend. Improve; help.

meritorious. Possessing merit.

merrymen. Archers, —a name frequently given to Robin Hood and his companions.

meters. Poetical measures depending on number, quantity, and accent of syllables; verses.

mimicry. Imitation; likeness.

minute. Very small.

mizzen. The hindmost sail of a three-masted ship.

monastery. A house of religious retirement; a convent.

moored. Fixed in place, as by anchor.

moralize this spectacle. Make moral reflections on this sight.

multitudinous. Very many.

myriad. A very great number; the word at first meant ten thousand.

mysteriously. In a way difficult or impossible to understand.

nobles. The noble was an old English gold coin worth about a dollar and sixty cents.

normal. Natural; ordinary.

nuptials. Marriage.

ominous. Foreshowing good or evil, usually evil.

ornate. Decorated; beautiful.

pacified. Made to be at peace.

parleying. Discussing; treating with an enemy, as to terms of peace, etc.

Pele.

pellicle. Thin film or skin.

penltence. Sorrow for sins or faults.

Percy, Thomas (1729-1811). An English clergyman who collected and published early English poems.

peremptory. Positive; commanding.

perpetually. Constantly.

perturbed. Disturbed; troubled.

petrified. Changed, as an animal or vegetable substance, into stone.

pie. Magpie.

pieces of eight. Spanish coins worth about a dollar.

Pisa. A city of Italy.

Pisas leaning miracle. The famous leaning tower of Pisa.

plighted. Pledged; promised.

poised. Balanced.

Poitiers.

portable. That can be carried.

portals. Gates.

portent. A sign, especially of evil.

posture. Position.

precepts. Commands; rules of action.

presentiment. Foreboding; impression that something unpleasant is about to happen.

prismatic colors. The colors into which light is resolved when passed through a prism.

primeval. Original; belonging to the first ages.

proffer. Offer.

prophesy. Foretell.

querulous. Expressing complaint.

quoth. Said.

rack. Thin, flying, broken clouds.

reconciliation. Reunion; renewal of friendship.

redeem. Rescue; buy back.

reptiles. Animals that crawl, as snakes, lizards, etc.

requisition Requirement; need.

resign. Submit; give up.

retain. Keep.

rhythm. Measured beat; movement in musical time.

rigging. The ropes which support the masts of a ship and serve to manage the sails, etc.

Roses, War of the. An English civil war in the fifteenth century, —so called because the rival parties took as emblems the red and the white rose.

rummaging. Searching closely.

sacrilege. The sin of profaning sacred things; impiety.

Saga. A legend or heroic story among the Norsemen and kindred people.

sagacious. Wise.

St. George. The patron saint of England.

saithe. The pollock or coalfish.

sanctuary. A place of refuge; a sacred place.

sanguine. Red.

saturated. Soaked.

scald. A reciter and singer of heroic poems among the Norsemen.

scar. A steep rocky place; a bare place on the side of a mountain.

scourged. Whipped severely.

screwjack. A jack screw; a machine for lifting heavy weights by means of a screw.

security. Safety.

seething. Boiling; being in a state of violent commotion.

seine. A large fishing net.

sequestered. Retired; set apart.

serenely. Calmly.

severed. Separated.

signifying. Meaning.

similes. Comparisons; words by which a thing is likened to something else.

sire. Lord or master; a title of respect used in addressing a king.

sith. An old word meaning since.

skaw. Headland.

skid. An iron clog or hook fastened to a chain and placed under a wagon wheel to keep it from turning when going down a steep hill.

skoal. A Norse word meaning hail.

sorcerer. A magician.

spar. A general term for any round piece of timber used as a mast, yard, etc.

spell. A charm.

spherule. A little sphere.

spritsail. A saii extended by a small pole.

stanchion. A bar for confining cattle in a stall.

stationary. Not moving; fixed.

subsistence. Means of support; livelihood.

subtle. Artful and refined.

successor. One who takes the place of another; follower.

surety. A bondsman; one who is answerable for another.

surly. Rough; ill-natured.

Sybaris. A Greek colony noted for the luxury of its inhabitants.

sylvan. Of the woods.

symmetry. Beautiful proportion; due relation of the parts to the whole.

taboo. A superstition, formerly common in the Polynesian Islands, which forbade people to have anything to do with certain persons and things.

taffrail. The rail around the ships stern or the upper part of the stern.

tampering. Meddling; making little experiments with.

testament. Will.

tholepins. Wooden or metal pins set in the side of a boat to support the oars in rowing.

thwarts. Seats in a boat reaching athwart it: that is, from one side to the other.

tradition. Knowledge or belief handed down by word of mouth.

transports. Great delights.

trawl. Take fish with a trawl or large bag net.

try conclusions. Make a trial or an experiment.

uncongenial. Not adapted to; not in sympathy with.

unconsciously. Not purposely; without being aware of.

uncouth. Strange.

unction. Religious zeal; strong devotion.

untainted. Pure; uncorrupted.

unwieldy. Unmanageable; not easily managed or carried.

upheave. Raise.

verge. Edge.

verily. Certainly; in fact.

viking. One belonging to the pirate crews from among the Norsemen, who plundered the coasts of Europe in the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries.

Virgil (B.C. 70-19). A great Roman poet.

voluntary. Subject to or controlled by the will.

votive. Devoted; given in fulfillment of a vow.

wake. A track, especially that left by a vessel in the water.

Warwick.

wassailbout. A drinking revel, so called from an old expression of good wishes, Wes hal, Health be to you, in drinking to some one.

Waterloo. A great battle fought in 1815 in which the French were defeated by the allied forces of the English and Prussians.

werewolf. According to old superstition, a person who had been changed into a wolf.

whittle. A knife.

wield. Use; handle.

wrapt not in Eastern balms. In Egypt and other Eastern countries it was once the custom to embalm the bodies of the dead, — that is, to preserve them by the use of certain oils and spices.

yards. Long pieces of timber tapering towards the ends, used to support and extend the sails.

yeoman. A man free born.

A great consideration governing the choice of all selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is to minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

— Harry Pratt Judson

(The 2nd president of the University of Chicago)

出版策划：神鸟文化

责任编辑：伍绍东

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森

为美国学生选编的经典文学读本

This series of literature readers is edited by the president of the University of Chicago Harry Pratt Judson, as to supply almost the only reading of many children, and stimulate their taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classical tales and fables are largely used. Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different part of the United States, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediated, and advanced grades.

We believe that Graded Literature Readers disclose a broader knowledge of literature, better taste and judgment in its selections.

010-62627373

第6册目录

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 AMONG THE SHOALS (J. F. COOPER)

2 RAIN IN SUMMER (H. W. LONGFELLOW)

3 A DROP OF WATER ON ITS TRAVELS (ARABELLA BUCKLEY)

4 A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP (NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

5 DAFFODILS (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

6 THE CAPTURE OF TICONDEROGA (ETHAN ALLEN)

7 TO A WATERFOWL (W. C. BRYANT)

8 GULLIVER IN LILLIPUT (JONATHAN SWIFT)

9 THE TWO BREATHS (CHARLES KINGSLEY)

10 PSALM XCIII

11 THE LADY OF SHALOTT (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

12 THE FALL OF THE LEAF (M. R. MITFORD)

13 THE FIRST NEWS MESSAGE BY TELEGRAPH (STEPHEN VAIL)

14 THE SHELL (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

15 THE CRATCHIT'S CHRISTMAS DINNER (CHARLES DICKENS)

16 PATRICK HENRY'S SPEECH IN THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION

17 EACH AND ALL (R. W. EMERSON)

18 MOSES GOES TO THE FAIR (OLIVER GOLDSMITH)

19 WINNING THE VICTORIA CROSS (RUDYARD KIPLING)

20 THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

21 POOR RICHARD'S SAYINGS (BENJAMIN FRANKLIN)

22 THE USES OF MOUNTAINS (JOHN RUSKIN)

23 THE AMERICAN FLAG (J. R. DRAKE)

24 THE MARVELOUS TOWER (WASHINGTON IRVING)

25 SONNET (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

26 AN ACCOUNT OF INDIAN CUSTOMS (CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH)

27 WORK (THOMAS CARLYLE)

28 MR. WINKLE ON SKATES (CHARLES DICKENS)

29 THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS (O. W. HOLMES)

30 ABOUT THE STARS (CAMILLE FLAMMARION)

31 TO THE EVENING STAR (WILLIAM BLAKE)

32 HOME-THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD (ROBERT BROWNING)

33 STORY OF A STONE (D. S. JORDAN)

34 TO A SKYLARK (P. B. SHELLEY)

35 SIR KENNETH AND THE FLAG (SIR WALTER SCOTT)

36 SONG ON A MAY MORNING (JOHN MILTON)

37 GOOD BOOKS (JOHN RUSKIN)

38 SILVIA (WILLIAM SHAKSPERE)

39 WONDERS OF THE DEEP SEA (REV. THEODORE WOOD)

40 SIR GALAHAD (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

41 ON AMERICAN TAXATION (WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM)

42 IN PRAISE OF WISDOM (PROVERBS III. 13-26)

43 STORMING A MEXICAN TEMPLE (W. H. PRESCOTT)

44 THE POET (RALPH WALDO EMERSON)

45 THE LANDING OF COLUMBUS IN THE NEW WORLD AND HIS RETURN TO SPAIN (WASHINGTON IRVING)

WORD LIST

返回总目录

Harry Pratt Judson (1849 - 1927) was an American educator and historian, born at Jamestown, New York, and educated at Williams College. He taught in the Troy High School in Troy, New York in 1870-1885 and was professor of history and lecturer on pedagogic at the University of Minnesota in 1885-1892. At the University of Chicago he became professor of political science and head dean of the colleges in 1892 and head of the political science department and dean of the faculties of arts, literature, and science in 1894. He served as the acting president of the University of Chicago between 1906 and 1907 and as the president of the University of Chicago from 1907 until 1923.

Judson became a member of the General Education Board in 1906 and of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913. He edited a series of readers for school students, and wrote some great books.

欢迎访问家庭学校微博／博客

http://weibo.com/318999618

http://blog.sina.com.cn/homeschoolnow

GRADED

LITERATURE

READERS

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森主编的经典文学读本

美国学生

文学读本

HARRY PRATT JUDSON

〔美〕哈里·P·贾德森／编

天津人民出版社

INTRODUCTION

THE selections in this Sixth Reader are a moderate, but distinct, advance over those in the Fifth Reader, in thought, in language, and in literary construction.

The teacher may now place increased emphasis on the literary Side of the reading, pointing out beauties of language and thought, and endeavoring to create an interest in the books from which the selections are taken. Pupils will be glad to know something about the lives of the authors whose works they are reading, and will welcome the biographical sketches throughout the book. These can be made the basis of further biographical study at the discretion of the teacher.

The word lists at the end of the selections contain all necessary explanations of the text. For convenience, the more difficult words, with definitions and complete diacritical markings, are grouped together in the vocabulary at the end of the book.

A basal series of readers can do little more than broadly outline a course in reading, relying on the teacher to carry it forward. If a public library is within reach, the children should be encouraged to use it; if not, the school should exert every effort to accumulate a school library of standard works to which the pupils may have ready access.

The primary purpose of a reading book is to give pupils the mastery of the printed page, but through oral reading it also becomes a source of valuable training of the vocal organs. Almost every one finds pleasure in listening to good reading. Many feel that the power to give this pleasure comes only as a natural gift, but an analysis of the art shows that with practice any normal child may acquire it. The qualities which are essential to good oral reading may be considered in three groups:

First— An agreeable voice and clear articulation, which, although possessed by many children naturally, may also be cultivated.

Second—Correct inflection and emphasis, with that due regard for rhetorical pauses which will appear whenever a child fully understands what he is reading and is sufficiently interested in it to lose his self-consciousness.

Third—Proper pronunciation, which can be acquired only by association or by direct teaching.

Clear articulation implies accurate utterance of each syllable and a distinct termination of one syllable before another is begun.

Frequent drill on pronunciation and articulation before or after the reading lesson will be found profitable in teaching the proper pronunciation of new words and in overcoming faulty habits of speech.

Attention should be called to the omission of unaccented syllables in such words as history (not histry), valuable (not valuble), and to the substitution of unt for ent, id for ed, iss for ess, unce for ence, iu for ing, in such words as moment, delighted, goodness, sentence, walking. Pupils should also learn to make such distinctions as appear between u long, as in duty, and u after r, as in rude; between a as in hat, a as in far, and a as in ask.

The above hints are suggestive only. The experienced teacher will devise for herself exercises fitting special cases which arise in her own work. It will be found that the best results are secured when the interest of the class is sustained and when the pupil who is reading aloud is made to feel that it is his personal duty and privilege to arouse and hold this interest by conveying to his fellow-pupils, in an acceptable manner, the thought presented on the printed page.

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

Stories

Among the Shoals

Gulliver in Lilliput

The Cratchit's Christmas Dinner

Moses Goes to the Fair

The Marvelous Tower

Mr. Winkle on Skates

Sir Kenneth and the Flag

History and Adventure

The Capture of Ticonderoga

Speech in the Virginia Convention

Winning the Victoria Cross

An Account of Indian Customs

On American Taxation

Storming a Mexican Temple

The Landing of Columbus

Nature Study and Science

A Drop of Water on its Travels

The Two Breaths

The Fall of the Leaf

The First News Message by Telegraph

The Uses of Mountains

About the Stars

Story of a Stone

Wonders of the Deep Sea

Poems

Rain in Summer

Daffodils

The American Flag

To a Waterfowl

The Lady of Shalott

The Shell

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Each and All

Sonnet Composed upon Westminster Bridge

Sir Galahad

The Chambered Nautilus

To the Evening Star

Home-Thoughts from Abroad

To a Skylark

Song on a May Morning

Silvia

The Poet

Miscellaneous

A Rill from the Town Pump

Psalm xciii.

Poor Richard's Sayings Work

Good Books

In Praise of Wisdom

1

AMONG THE SHOALS

BY J. F. COOPER

James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851): A famous American novelist. His best novels describe backwoods and seafaring life, with both of which Cooper's early experiences had made him familiar. The most popular of these stories are "Deerslayer," "The Last of the Mohicans," and "The Pilot."

This selection is from "The Pilot," the best of Cooper's sea novels. The scene is laid during the American Revolution, and John Paul Jones, the hero of so many Revolutionary sea-fights, is one of the characters in the story.

I

As the first mist of the gale passed over, it was succeeded by a faint light that was a good deal aided by the glittering foam of the waters, which now broke in white curls around the vessel in every direction. The land could be faintly discerned, rising like a heavy bank of black fog, above the margin of the waters, and was only distinguishable from the heavens by its deeper gloom and obscurity. The last rope was coiled and deposited in its proper place by the seamen, and for several minutes the stillness of death pervaded the crowded decks. It was evident to every one that their ship was dashing at a prodigious rate through the waves, and was approaching with velocity① the quarter of the bay where the shoals② and dangers were known to be situated.

"Tack③ your ship, sir, tack your ship," said the pilot to Griffith; "I would see how she works before we reach the point where she must behave well or we perish."

Griffith gazed after him, while the pilot gave forth the cheering order that called each man to his station to perform the desired evolution④. The helm was no sooner put alee⑤, than the huge ship bore up gallantly against the wind, and, dashing directly through the waves, threw the foam high into the air, as she looked boldly into the very eye of the wind; and then, yielding gracefully to its power, she fell off on the other tack, with her head pointed from those dangerous shoals that she had so recently approached with such terrifying velocity. The heavy yards swung round, as if they had been vanes to indicate the currents of the air; and in a few moments the frigate again moved with stately progress through the Water, leaving the rocks and shoals behind her on one side of the bay, but advancing toward those that offered equal danger on the other.

During this time the sea was becoming more agitated, and the violence of the wind was gradually increasing. The latter no longer whistled amid the cordage of the vessel, but it seemed to howl surlily as it passed the complicated machinery that the frigate obtruded in its path. An endless succession of white surges rose above the heavy billows, and the very air was glittering with the light that was disengaged from the ocean. The ship yielded each moment more and more before the storm, and in less than half an hour from the time that she had lifted her anchor she was driven along with tremendous fury by the full power of a gale of wind. Still the hardy and experienced mariners who directed her movements, held her to the course that was necessary to their preservation, and still Griffith gave forth, when directed by their unknown pilot, those orders that turned her in the narrow channel where alone safety was to be found.

So far the performance of his duty appeared easy to the stranger, and he gave the required directions in those still, calm tones that formed so remarkable a contrast to the responsibility of his situation. But when the land was becoming dim in distance as well as darkness, and the agitated sea alone was to be discovered as it swept by them in foam, he broke in upon the monotonous roaring of the tempest with the sound of his voice, seeming to rouse himself to the occasion.

"Now is the time to watch her closely, Mr. Griffith," he cried; "here we get the true tide and the real danger. Place the best quartermaster⑥ of your ship in those chains, and let an officer stand by him and see that he gives us the right water."

"I will take that office on myself," said the captain; "pass a light into the weather main chains."

"Stand by your braces⑦!" exclaimed the pilot, with startling quickness. "Heave away that lead!"⑧

These preparations taught the crew to expect the crisis, and every officer and man stood in fearful silence at his assigned station, awaiting the issue of the trial. Even the quartermaster gave out his orders to the men at the wheel in deeper and hoarser tones than usual, as if anxious not to disturb the quiet and order of the vessel.

While this deep expectation pervaded the frigate the piercing cry of the leadsman, as he called "by the mark⑨ seven," rose above the tempest, crossed over the decks, and appeared to pass away to leeward, borne on the blast like the warnings of some water-spirit.

"'Tis well," returned the pilot calmly; "try it again."

The short pause was succeeded by another cry, "and a half-five!"

"She shoals! she shoals!" exclaimed Griffith; "keep her a good full."

"Aye! you must hold the vessel in command now," said the pilot, with those cool tones that are most appalling in critical moments, because they seem to denote most preparation and care.

The third call, "by the deep four!" was followed by a prompt direction from the stranger to tack.

Griffith seemed to emulate the coolness of the pilot, in issuing the necessary orders to execute this maneuver⑩.

The vessel rose slowly from the inclined position into which she had been forced by the tempest, and the sails were shaking violently, as if to release themselves from their confinement, while the ship stemmed the billows, when the well-known voice of the sailing master was heard shouting from the forecastle: "Breakers! breakers, dead ahead!"

This appalling sound seemed yet to be lingering about the ship, when a second voice cried, "Breakers on our lee bow!"

"We are in a bight of the shoals, Mr. Gray!" cried the commander. "She loses her way; perhaps an anchor might hold her."

"Clear away that best bower⑪!" shouted Griffith through his trumpet.

"Hold on!" cried the pilot, in a voice that reached the very hearts of all who heard him; "hold on everything."

The young man turned fiercely to the daring stranger who thus defied the discipline of his vessel, and at once demanded: "Who is it that dares to countermand my orders? Is it not enough that you run the ship into danger, but you must interfere to keep her there? If another word —"

"Peace, Mr. Griffith," interrupted the captain, bending from the rigging, his gray locks blowing about in the wind and adding a look of wildness to the haggard care that he exhibited by the light of his lantern; "yield the trumpet to Mr. Gray; he alone can save us!"

Griffith threw his speaking trumpet on the deck, and as he walked proudly away, muttered in bitterness of feeling: "Then all is lost indeed! and among the rest the foolish hopes with which I visited this coast."

There was, however, no time for reply; the ship had been rapidly running into the wind, and as the efforts of the crew were paralyzed by the contradictory orders they had heard, she gradually lost her way and in a few seconds all her sails were taken aback.

Before the crew understood their situation, the pilot had applied the trumpet to his mouth, and, in a voice that rose above the tempest, he thundered forth his orders. Each command was given distinctly and with a precision that showed him to be master of his profession. The helm was kept fast, the head yards swung up heavily against the wind, and the vessel was soon whirling round on her heel with a retrograde⑫ movement.

II

Griffith was too much of a seaman not to perceive that the pilot had seized with a perception almost intuitive the only method that promised to extricate the vessel from her situation. He was young, impetuous, and proud, but he was also generous. Forgetting his resentment and his mortification, he rushed forward among the men, and, by his presence and example, added certainty to the experiment. The ship fell off slowly before the gale, and bowed her yards nearly to the water as she felt the blast pouring its fury on her broadside, while the surly waves beat violently against her stern, as if in reproach at departing from her usual manner of moving.

The voice of the pilot, however, was still heard, steady and calm, and yet so clear and high as to reach every ear; and the obedient seamen whirled the yards at his bidding, in despite of the tempest, as if they handled the toys of their childhood. When the ship had fallen off dead before the wind, her head sails were shaken, her after yards trimmed, and her helm shifted before she had time to run upon the danger that had threatened, as well to leeward as to windward. The beautiful fabric, obedient to her government, threw her bows up gracefully toward the wind again; and, as her sails were trimmed, moved out from among the dangerous shoals in which she had been embayed, as steadily and swiftly as she had approached them.

A moment of breathless astonishment succeeded the accomplishment of this nice maneuver, but there was no time for the usual expressions of surprise. The stranger still held the trumpet, and continued to lift his voice amid the howlings of the blast, whenever prudence or skill required any change in the management of the ship. For an hour longer there was a fearful struggle for their preservation, the channel becoming at each step more complicated, and the shoals thickening around the mariners on every side. The lead was cast rapidly, and the quick eye of the pilot seemed to pierce the darkness with a keenness of vision that exceeded human power.

It was apparent to all that were in the vessel that they were under the guidance of one who understood the navigation thoroughly, and their exertions kept pace with their reviving confidence. Again and again the frigate appeared to be rushing blindly on shoals where the sea was covered with foam and where destruction would have been as sudden as it was certain, when the clear voice of the stranger was heard warning them of the danger and inciting them to do their duty. The vessel was implicitly yielded to his government; and during those anxious moments when she was dashing the waters aside, throwing the spray over her enormous yards, each ear would listen eagerly for those sounds that had obtained a command over the crew that can only be acquired under such circumstances by great steadiness and consummate⑬ skill.

The ship was recovering from the inaction of changing her course in one of those critical tacks that she had made so often, when the pilot, for the first time, addressed the commander of the frigate, who still continued to superintend the allimportant duty of the leadsman.

"Now is the pinch," he said, "and if the ship behaves well, we are safe; but if otherwise, all we have yet done will be useless."

The veteran seaman whom he addressed left the chains at this portentous notice, and calling to his first lieutenant, required of the stranger an explanation of his warning.

"See you yon light on the southern headland?" returned the pilot; "you may know it from the star near it by its sinking at times in the ocean. Now observe the hummock⑭ a little north of it, looking like a shadow in the horizon; 'tis a hill far inland. If we keep that light open from the hill, we shall do well; but if not, we surely go to pieces."

"Let us tack again!" exclaimed the lieutenant.

The pilot shook his head as he replied: "There is no more tacking or box-hauling⑮ to be done to-night. We have barely room to pass out of the shoals on this course; and if we can weather the Devil's Grip, we clear their outermost point; but if not, as I said before, there is but an alternative."

"If we had beaten out the way we entered," exclaimed Griffith, "we should have done well."

"Say, also, if the tide would have let us do so," returned the pilot, calmly. "Gentlemen, we must be prompt; we have but a mile to go, and the ship appears to fly. That topsail is not enough to keep her up to the wind; we want both jib and mainsail." observed the doubtful captain.

"'Tis a perilous thing to loosen canvas in such a tempest!"

"It must be done," returned the collected stranger; "we perish without it. See! the light already touches the edge of the hummock; the sea casts us to leeward!"

"It shall be done!" cried Griffith, seizing the trumpet from the hand of the pilot.

The orders of the lieutenant were executed almost as soon as issued; and everything being ready the enormous folds of the mainsail were turned loose to the blast. There was an instant when the result was doubtful; the tremendous threshing of the heavy sail seemed to bid defiance to all restraint, shaking the ship to her center; but art and strength prevailed and gradually the canvas was distended, and bellying as it filled, was drawn down to its usual place by the power of a hundred men. The vessel yielded to this immense addition of force and bowed before it like a reed bending to a breeze. But the success of the measure was announced by a joyful cry from the stranger, that seemed to burst from his inmost soul.

"She feels it! she springs her luff! observe," he said, "the light opens from the hummock already: if she will only bear her canvas we shall go clear!"

A report like that of a cannon interrupted his exclamation, and something resembling a white cloud was seen drifting before the wind from the head of the ship, till it was driven into the gloom far to leeward.

"'Tis the jib, blown from the boltropes⑯," said the commander of the frigate. "This is no time to spread light duck; but the mainsail may stand it yet."

"The sail would laugh at a tornado," returned the lieutenant; "but the mast springs like a piece of steel."

"Silence all!" cried the pilot. "Now, gentlemen, we shall soon know our fate. Let her luff⑰— luff you can!"

This warning effectually closed all discourse⑱, and the hardy mariners, knowing that they had already done all in the power of man to insure their safety, stood in breathless anxiety, awaiting the result. At a short distance ahead of them the whole ocean was white with foam, and the waves, instead of rolling on in regular succession, appeared to be tossing about in mad gambols. A single streak of dark billows, not half a cable's length in width, could be discerned running into this chaos of water; but it was soon lost to the eye amid the confusion of the disturbed element. Along this narrow path the vessel moved more heavily than before, being brought so near the wind as to keep her sails touching. The pilot silently proceeded to the wheel, and with his own hands he undertook the steerage of the ship. No noise proceeded from the frigate to interrupt the horrid tumult of the ocean; and she entered the channel among the breakers with the silence of a desperate calmness.

Twenty times, as the foam rolled away to leeward, the crew were on the eve of uttering their joy, as they supposed the vessel past the danger; but breaker after breaker would still heave up before them, following each other into the general mass, to check their exultation. Occasionally the fluttering of the sails would be heard; and when the looks of the startled seamen were turned to the wheel, they beheld the stranger grasping its spokes, with his quick eye glancing from the water to the canvas. At length the ship reached a point where she appeared to be rushing directly into the jaws of destruction, when suddenly her course was changed, and her head receded rapidly from the wind. At the same instant the voice of the pilot was heard shouting, "Square away the yards! in mainsail!"

A general burst from the crew echoed, "Square away the yards!" and quick as thought the frigate was seen gliding along the channel before the wind. The eye had hardly time to dwell on the foam, which seemed like clouds driving in the heavens, and directly the gallant vessel issued from her perils, and rose and fell on the heavy waves of the sea.

The seamen were yet drawing long breaths, and gazing about them like men recovered from a trance, when Griffith approached the man who had so successfully conducted them through their perils. The lieutenant grasped the hand of the other, as he said, "You have this night proved yourself a faithful pilot, and such a seaman as the world cannot equal."

注释

①Velocity: speed; quickness of motion.

②Shoals: shallow water; advances into shallow water.

③Tack: change the direction of a vessel by shifting the position of the helm and sails; the direction of a vessel with regard to the position of its sails.

④Evolution: prescribed movement, as of a ship or a body of troops.

⑤Alee: on the side away from the wind.

⑥Quartermaster: an officer of low rank who attends to the helm, signals, etc., under the direction of the master of the ship.

⑦Braces: ropes by which the yards are moved horizontally.

⑧Heave away that lead: take soundings with the lead and line.

⑨Mark: one of the bits of leather or colored bunting placed upon a sounding line at distances of from two to five fathoms; the unmarked fathoms are called deeps.

⑩Maneuver: change of position; skillful movement.

⑪Best bower: large anchor.

⑫Retrograde: backward.

⑬Consummate: of the highest quality; perfect.

⑭Hummock: rounded knoll or hillock.

⑮Box-hauling: going from one tack or direction to another.

⑯Boltropes: ropes stitched to the edges of sails to strengthen the sails.

⑰Luff: turn the ship's head toward the wind.

⑱Discourse: conversation; talk.

2

RAIN IN SUMMER

BY H. W. LONGFELLOW

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882): The best known and best loved of American poets. His simplicity of thought and expression makes him a favorite with children. The best of his longer poems are "Hiawatha," "Evangeline," and "The Courtship of Miles Standish." Many of his shorter poems—such as "The Psalm of Life," "The Bridge," and "The Village Blacksmith" — are household favorites. Longfellow wrote two prose works, "Outre Mer" and "Hyperion," descriptive of his European travels.

How beautiful is the rain!

After the dust and the heat,

In the broad and fiery street,

In the narrow lane,

How beautiful is the rain!

How it clatters along the roofs,

Like the tramp of hoofs!

How it gushes and struggles out

From the throat of the overflowing spout!

Across the window-pane

It pours and pours;

And swift and wide,

With a muddy tide,

Like a river down the gutter roars

The rain, the welcome rain!

The sick man from his chamber looks

At the twisted brooks.

He can feel the cool

Breath of each little pool;

His fevered brain

Grows calm again,

And he breathes a blessing on the rain.

From the neighboring school

Come the boys,

With more than their wonted noise

And commotion;

And down the wet streets

Sail their mimic fleets,

Till the treacherous pool

Engulfs them in its whirling

And turbulent ocean.

In the country on every side,

Where far and wide,

Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide,

Stretches the plain,

To the dry grass and the drier grain

How welcome is the rain!

In the furrowed land

The toilsome and patient oxen stand;

Lifting the yoke-encumbered head,

With their dilated nostrils spread,

They silently inhale

The clover-scented gale,

And the vapors that arise

From the well-watered and smoking soil.

For this rest in the furrow after toil

Their large and lustrous eyes

Seem to thank the Lord,

More than man's spoken word.

Near at hand

From under the sheltering trees,

The farmer sees

His pastures and his fields of grain,

As they bend their tops

To the numberless beating drops

Of the incessant① rain.

He counts it as no sin

That he sees therein

Only his own thrift and gain.

注释

①Incessant: unceasing; uninterrupted.

3

A DROP OF WATER ON ITS TRAVELS

BY ARABELLA BUCKLEY

Arabella Burton Buckley (1840-1929): An English author and naturalist. She has written several books on scientific subjects for young people, — among them are "Winners in Life's Race," "Life and her Children," and "The Fairy-Land of Science," from which this selection is taken.

Although we never see any water traveling from our earth up into the skies, we know that it goes there, for it comes down again in rain, and so it must go up invisibly. But where does the heat come from which makes this water invisible? Not from below, but from above, pouring down from the sun. Wherever the sun-waves touch the rivers, ponds, lakes, seas, or fields of ice and snow upon our earth, they carry off invisible water vapor. They dart down through the top layers of the water, and shake the water particles forcibly apart, and the drops spread themselves out in the gaps between the air atoms of the atmosphere.

It has been calculated that in the Indian Ocean three-quarters of an inch of water is carried off from the surface of the sea in one day and night; so that as much as twenty-two feet, or a depth of water about twice the height of an ordinary room, is silently and invisibly lifted up from the whole surface of the ocean in one year. It is true that this is one of the hottest parts of the earth, where the sun-waves are most active; but even in our own country many feet of water are drawn up in the summer time.

What, then, becomes of all this water? Let us follow it as it struggles upward to the sky. We see it in our imagination, first carrying layer after layer of air up with it from the sea, till it rises far above our heads, and above the highest mountains. Now the air atoms are always trying to fly apart, and are only kept pressed together by the weight of the air above them, and so, as this water-laden air rises, its particles, no longer so much pressed together, begin to separate; as all work requires an expenditure① of heat, the air becomes colder, and then you know at once what must happen to the invisible vapor—it will form into tiny waterdrops, like the steam from the kettle.

And so, as the air rises and becomes colder, the vapor gathers into visible masses, and we can see it hanging in the sky and call it clouds. When these clouds are highest, they are about ten miles from the earth; but when they are made of heavy drops, and hang low down, they sometimes come within a mile of the ground.

Look up at the clouds as you go home, and think that the water of which they are made has all been drawn up invisibly through the air. Not, however, necessarily here where we live, for air travels as wind all over the world, and so these clouds may be made of vapor collected in the Atlantic Ocean, or in the Gulf of Mexico, or even, if the wind is from the north, of chilly particles gathered from the surface of Greenland ice and snow and brought here by the moving currents of air. Only, of one thing we may be sure, that they come from the water of our earth.

Sometimes, if the air is warm, these water particles may travel a long way without ever forming into clouds; and on a hot, cloudless day the air is often very full of invisible vapor. Then, if a cold wind comes sweeping along, high up in the sky, and chills this vapor, it forms into great bodies of water-dust clouds, and the sky is overcast.

At other times, clouds hang lazily in a bright sky, and these show us that just where they are the air is cold, and turns the invisible vapor rising from the ground into visible water-dust, so that exactly in those spaces we see it as clouds. Such clouds form often on a warm, still, summer's day, and they are shaped like masses of wool, ending in a straight line below. They are not merely hanging in the sky, they are really resting upon a tall column of invisible vapor which stretches right up from the earth; and that straight line under the clouds marks the place where the air becomes cold enough to turn this invisible vapor into visible drops of water.

And now, suppose that, while these or any other kinds of clouds are overhead, there comes along either a very cold wind or a wind full of vapor. As it passes through the clouds it makes them very full of water, for, if it chills them, it makes the water-dust draw more closely together; or, if it bring a new load of water-dust, the air is fuller than it can hold. In either case, water particles are set free, and our fairy force "cohesion②" seizes upon them at once and forms them into large waterdrops. Then they are much heavier than the air, and so they can float no longer, but down they come to the earth in a shower of rain.

There are other ways in which the air may be chilled, and rain made to fall, as, for example, when a wind laden with moisture strikes against the cold tops of mountains. Thus the Khasia Hills in India, which face the Bay of Bengal, chill the air which crosses them on its way from the Indian Ocean. The wet winds are driven up the sides of the hills, the air expands, and the vapor is chilled, and, forming into drops, falls in torrents of rain. The country on the other side of these hills gets hardly any rain, for all the water has been taken out of the air before it comes there.

In this way, from different causes, the water of which the sun has robbed our rivers and seas comes back to us, after it has traveled to various parts of the world, floating on the bosom of the air. But it does not always fall straight back into the rivers and seas again; a large part of it falls on the land, and has to trickle down slopes and into the earth, in order to get back to its natural home, and it is often caught on its way before it can reach the great waters.

Go to any piece of ground which is left wild and untouched, you will find it covered with grass, weeds, and other plants: if you dig up a small plot, you will find innumerable tiny roots creeping through the ground in every direction. Each of these roots has a spongelike mouth, by which the plant takes up water. Now, imagine raindrops falling on this plot of ground and sinking into the earth. On every side they will find rootlets thirsting to drink them in, and they will be sucked up as if by tiny sponges, and drawn into the plants and up the stems to the leaves. Here they are worked up into food for the plants, and only if the leaf has more water than it needs, some drops may escape at the tiny openings under the leaf, and be drawn up again by the sun-waves as invisible vapor into the air.

Again, much of the rain falls on hard rock and stone, where it cannot sink in, and then it lies in pools till it is shaken apart again into vapor and carried off in the air. Nor is it idle here even before it is carried up to make clouds. We have to thank this invisible vapor in the air for protecting us from the burning heat of the sun by day, and intolerable frost by night.

Let us for a moment imagine that we can see all that we know exists between us and the sun. First, we have the fine ether③ across which the sunbeams travel, beating down upon our earth with immense force, so that in the sandy desert they are like a burning fire. Then we have the coarser atmosphere of oxygen and nitrogen atoms hanging in this ether and bending the minute sun-waves out of their direct path. But they do very little to hinder them on their way, and this is why in very dry countries the sun's heat is so intense. The rays beat down mercilessly, and nothing opposes them. Lastly, in damp countries, we have the larger but still invisible particles of vapor hanging about among the air atoms. Now, these watery particles, although they are very few— only about one twenty-fifth part of the whole atmosphere—do hinder the sun-waves. For they are very greedy of heat, and, though the light-waves pass easily through them, they catch the heat-waves and use them to help themselves to expand. And so, when there is invisible vapor in the air, the sunbeams come to us deprived of some of their heat-waves, and we can remain in the sunshine without suffering from the heat.

This is how the water vapor shields us by day, but by night it is still more useful. During the day our earth and the air near it have been storing up the heat which has been poured down on them, and at night when the sun goes down all this heat begins to escape again. Now, if there were no vapor in the air, this heat would rush back into space so rapidly that the ground would become cold and frozen, even on a summer's night, and all but the most hardy plants would die. But the vapor, which formed a veil against the sun in the day, now forms a still more powerful veil against the escape of the heat by night. It shuts in the heat-waves, and only allows them to make their way slowly upwards from the earth—thus producing for us the soft, balmy nights of summer and preventing all life being destroyed in the winter.

注释

①Expenditure: laying out; spending.

②Cohesion: the law of nature by which the particles of a body are held together.

③Ether: a medium in all space, through which light and heat pass readily.

4

A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864): The greatest of American novelists. His principal works are "The Scarlet Letter," "The Marble Faun," and "The House of the Seven Gables." Hawthorne also wrote many sketches and tales, and several volumes of stories for children. The best of these are "Grandfather's Chair," tales from New England history, and "Tanglewood Tales" and "The Wonder Book," two volumes of stories from Greek mythology.

"A Rill from the Town Pump" is one of the sketches in the volume entitled "Twice-Told Tales."

(SCENE: The corner of two principal streets①, the Town Pump talking through its nose.)

Noon by the north clock! Noon by the east! High noon, too, by these hot sunbeams, which fall, scarcely aslope, upon my head and almost make the water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose. Truly, we public characters have a tough time of it! And among all the town officers chosen at March meeting, where is he that sustains for a single year the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed upon the town pump?

The title of "town treasurer" is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best treasure that the town has. The overseers of the poor ought to make me their chairman, since I provide bountifully for the pauper without expense to him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire department and one of the physicians to the board of health. As a keeper of the peace, all water drinkers will confess me equal to the constable. I perform some of the duties of the town clerk by promulgating② public notices when they are posted on my front.

To speak within bounds, I am the chief person of the municipality③, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my brother officers by the cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my business and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain, for all day long I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor alike, and at night I hold a lantern over my head, both to show where I am and keep people out of the gutters. At this sultry noontide I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dramseller on the mall④ at muster-day, I cry aloud to all and sundry⑤ in my plainest accents and at the very tip-top of my voice.

Here it is, gentlemen! Here is the good liquor! Walk up, walk up, gentlemen! Walk up, walk up! Here is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale of Father Adam—better than strong beer, or wine of any price; here it is by the hogshead or the single glass, and not a cent to pay! Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help yourselves!

It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they come. —A hot day, gentlemen! Quaff and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice cool sweat. —You, my friend, will need another cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of miles to-day, and like a wise man have passed by the taverns and stopped at the running brooks and well-curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat without and fire within, you would have been burned to a cinder or melted down to nothing at all, in the fashion of a jellyfish.

Who next? —Oh, my little friend, you are let loose from school and come hither to scrub your blooming face and drown the memory of certain taps of the ferule, and other schoolboy troubles, in a draught from the town pump? Take it, pure as the current of your young life. Take it, and may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now! There, my dear child! put down the cup and yield your place to this elderly gentleman who treads so tenderly over the paving stones that I suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! he limps by without so much as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers were meant only for people who have no wine-cellars. —Well, well, sir, no harm done, I hope? Go draw the cork, tip the decanter; but when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, it will be no affair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titillation⑥ of the gout, it is all one to the town pump. This thirsty dog with his red tongue lolling out does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind legs and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away again! Jowler, did your worship ever have the gout?

Are you all satisfied? Then wipe your mouths, my good friends, and while my spout has a moment's leisure I will delight the town with a few historical reminiscences. In far antiquity, beneath a darksome shadow of venerable boughs, a spring bubbled out of the leaf-strewn earth in the very spot where you now behold me on the sunny pavement. The water was as bright and clear and deemed as precious as liquid diamonds. The Indian sagamores⑦ drank of it from time immemorial, till the fatal deluge of the fire water⑧ burst upon the red men and swept their whole race away from the cold fountains.

Endicott⑨ and his followers came next, and often knelt down to drink, dipping their long beards in the spring. The richest goblet then was of birch-bark. Governor Winthrop⑩, after a journey afoot from Boston, drank here out of the hollow of his hand. The elder Higginson⑪ here wet his palm and laid it on the brow of the first town-born child. For many years it was the watering-place, and, as it were, the washbowl, of the vicinity, whither all decent folks resorted to purify their visages and gaze at them afterward — at least, the pretty maidens did — in the mirror which it made. On Sabbath days, whenever a babe was to be baptized, the sexton filled his basin here and placed it on the communion table of the humble meetinghouse, which partly covered the site of yonder brick one.

Thus one generation after another was consecrated to Heaven by its waters, and cast their waxing and waning shadows into its glassy bosom, and vanished from the earth, as if mortal life were but a flitting image in a fountain. Finally, the fountain vanished also. Cellars were dug on all sides and cart loads of gravel flung upon its source, whence oozed a turbid⑫ stream, forming a mud-puddle at the corner of two streets. In the hot months, when its refreshment was most needed, the dust flew in clouds over the forgotten birthplace of the waters, now their grave. But in the course of time a town pump was sunk into the source of the ancient spring; and when the first decayed, another took its place, and then another, and still another, till here stand I, gentlemen and ladies, to serve you with my iron goblet. Drink and be refreshed. The water is as pure and cold as that which slaked the thirst of the red saga more beneath the aged boughs, though now the gem of the wilderness is treasured under these hot stones, where no shadow falls but from the brick buildings. And be it the moral of my story that, as this wasted and long-lost fountain is now known and prized again, so shall the virtues of cold water—too little valued since your fathers' days—be recognized by all.

The Town Pump

Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt my stream of eloquence and spout forth a stream of water to replenish the trough for this teamster and his two yoke of oxen, who have come from Topsfield, or somewhere along that way. No part of my business is pleasanter than the watering of cattle. Look! how rapidly they lower the water-mark on the sides of the trough, till their capacious stomachs are moistened with a gallon or two apiece, and they can afford time to breathe it in with sighs of calm enjoyment. Now they roll their quiet eyes around the brim of their monstrous drinking vessel. An ox is your true toper.

One o'clock! Nay, then, if the dinner-bell begins to speak, I may as well hold my peace. Here comes a pretty young girl of my acquaintance with a large stone pitcher for me to fill May she draw a husband while drawing her water, as Rachel did of old! —Hold out your vessel, my dear! There it is, full to the brim; so now run home, peeping at your sweet image in the pitcher as you go, and forget not in a glass of my own liquor to drink "success to the town pump."

注释

①Two principal streets: Essex and Washington streets in Hawthorne's home, Salem, Massachusetts.

②Promulgating: publishing; making known.

③Municipality: a town having local government.

④Mall: public walk.

⑤Sundry: several; all and sundry, all together and each separately.

⑥Titillation: tickling.

⑦Sagamores: Indian chiefs.

⑧Fire water: the Indian name for whisky.

⑨⑩⑪Endicott, Winthrop, Higginson: men of prominence in Massachusetts in early colonial days.

⑫Turbid: muddy.

5

DAFFODILS

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): An English poet. He claimed that the art of poetry should be brought back to nature by making the ordinary topics of daily life its subjects and by employing the language "really used by men." His early poems were ridiculed and censured, but he was finally recognized as the greatest poet of his time. He wrote "The Excursion," "The Prelude," "Laodamia," "Ode on Intimations of Immortality," and many shorter poems.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze,

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way①,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund② company;

I gazed and gazed, — but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude,

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

————

The primal duties shine aloft, like stars;

The charities that soothe and heal and bless

Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers.

(WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

注释

①Milky Way: the bright belt which is seen at night stretching across the sky. It is composed of stars so far and so blended as to be distinguishable only with the telescope.

②Jocund: merry; gay.

6

THE CAPTURE OF TICONDEROGA

BY ETHAN ALLEN

Ethan Allen (1742-1789): An officer of the Revolutionary War, the leader of the famous Vermont soldiers called the "Green Mountain Boys." He was made prisoner by the English in 1775; after remaining in captivity two years and a half, he was exchanged for an English officer. He wrote a narrative of his captivity and some political papers.

The first systematical and bloody attempt at Lexington to enslave America thoroughly electrified my mind and fully determined me to take part with my country. And while I was wishing for an opportunity to signalize myself in its behalf, directions were privately sent to me from the then colony—now state— of Connecticut, to raise the Green Mountain Boys, and, if possible, with them to surprise and take the fortress of Ticonderoga.

This enterprise I cheerfully undertook; and, after first guarding all the several passes that led thither, to cut off all intelligence between the garrison and the country, made a forced march from Bennington, and arrived at the lake opposite to Ticonderoga on the evening of the 9th day of May, 1775, with two hundred and thirty valiant Green Mountain Boys; and it was with the utmost difficulty that I procured boats to cross the lake.

However, I landed eighty-three men near the garrison and sent the boats back for the rear-guard, commanded by Colonel Seth Warner; but the day began to dawn, and I found myself under the necessity to attack the fort before the rear could cross the lake; and, as it was viewed hazardous①, I harangued② the officers and soldiers in the manner following:

"Friends and fellow-soldiers: You have, for a number of years past, been a scourge and terror to arbitrary③ power. Your valor has been famed abroad and acknowledged, as appears by the advice and orders to me from the general assembly of Connecticut, to surprise and take the garrison now before us. I now propose to advance before you and in person conduct you through the wicket-gate; for we must this morning either quit our pretensions to valor or possess ourselves of this fortress in a few minutes; and, inasmuch as it is a desperate attempt, which none but the bravest of men dare undertake, I do not urge it on any contrary to his will. You that will undertake voluntarily, poise your firelocks④."

The men being at this time drawn up in three ranks, each poised his firelock. I ordered them to face to the right, and, at the head of the center file, marched them immediately to the wicket-gate aforesaid, where I found a sentry posted who instantly snapped his fusee⑤ at me. I ran immediately toward him, and he retreated through the covered way into the parade⑥ within the garrison, gave a halloo, and ran under a bomb-proof. My party, who followed me into the fort, I formed on the parade in such manner as to face the two barracks, which faced each other.

The garrison, being asleep, except the sentries, we gave three huzzas, which greatly surprised them. One of the sentries made a pass at one of my officers with a charged bayonet and slightly wounded him. My first thought was to kill him with my sword; but, in an instant, I altered the design and fury of the blow to a slight cut on the side of the head, upon which he dropped his gun and asked quarter, which I readily granted him, and demanded of him the place where the commanding officer slept.

He showed me a pair of stairs in the front of the barrack, on the west part of the garrison, which led up to a second story in said barrack, to which I immediately repaired, and ordered the commander, Captain de la Place, to come forth instantly or I would sacrifice the whole garrison; at which the captain came immediately to the door, when I ordered him to deliver me the fort instantly. He asked me by what authority I demanded it; I answered him, "In the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress."

The authority of the Congress being very little known at that time, he began to speak again; but I interrupted him, and with my drawn sword over his head, again demanded an immediate surrender of the garrison; with which he then complied and ordered his men to be forthwith paraded without arms, as he had given up the garrison. In the meantime, some of my officers had given orders, and in consequence thereof, sundry of the barrack doors were beat down and about one-third of the garrison imprisoned.

This surprise was carried into execution in the gray of the morning of the 10th day of May, 1775. The sun seemed to rise that morning with a superior luster; and Ticonderoga and its dependencies smiled on its conquerors.

注释

①Hazardous: dangerous; daring.

②Harangued: addressed; made a speech to.

③Arbitrary: bound by no law; possessing and abusing unlimited power.

④⑤Firelock, fusee: old-fashioned guns.

⑥Parade: ground where troops are drilled.

7

TO A WATERFOWL

BY W. C. BRYANT

William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878): The first American poet of note, and the one whose works show most loving appreciation of nature. His finest poem is "Thanatopsis," written when he was only eighteen. "The Death of the Flowers," "The Forest Hymn," "To a Waterfowl," and "To the Fringed Gentian" are the best of his poems descriptive of nature.

Whither, midst falling dew,

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,

Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue

Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,

As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,

Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy① brink

Of weedy lake, or marge② of river wide,

Or where the rocking billows rise and sink

On the chafed ocean side?

There is a Power whose care

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast——

The desert and illimitable③ air——

Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fanned,

At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere,

Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,

Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end;

Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest,

And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,

Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.

Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven

Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart

Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,

And shall not soon depart.

He who, from zone to zone,

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,

In the long way that I must tread alone,

Will lead my steps aright.

注释

①Plashy: watery.

②Marge: a poetical form of the word margin.

③Illimitable: boundless.

8

GULLIVER IN LILLIPUT

BY JONATHAN SWIFT

Jonathan Swift (1667-1745): An English prose writer, one of the most celebrated and most unlovable men of his age. He wrote satires on personal, political, and religious subjects. His best-known works are "Gulliver's Travels," "The Tale of a Tub," "The Battle of Books," and "Drapier's Letters."

"Gulliver's Travels," aside from its satire, is for children a charming story of pygmies and giants. It narrates the adventures of a ship's surgeon on four voyages: first, to the country of Lilliput where everything is diminutive; second, to Brobdingnag where everything is gigantic; third, to the flying island of Laputa and to the Academy of Lagado; fourth, to the country of the Yahoos.

This selection describes some of Gulliver's experiences among the Lilliputians.

Dean Swift

I

I lay down on the grass, which was very short and soft, where I slept sounder than ever I remembered to have done in my life, and, as I reckoned, above nine hours; for when I awaked it was just daylight. I attempted to rise, but was not able to stir; for, as I happened to lie on my back, I found my arms and legs were strongly fastened on each side to the ground; and my hair, which was long and thick, tied down in the same manner.

I likewise felt several slender ligatures① across my body, from my armpits to my thighs. I could only look upward; the sun began to grow hot, and the light offended mine eyes. I heard a confused noise about me, but in the posture I lay could see nothing except the sky.

In a little time I felt something alive moving on my left leg, which, advancing gently forward over my breast, came almost up to my chin. Bending mine eyes downward as much as I could, I perceived it to be a human creature not six inches high, with a bow and arrow in his hands and a quiver at his back. In the meantime I felt at least forty more of the same kind — as I conjectured — following the first.

I was in the utmost astonishment, and roared so loud that they all ran back in a fright; and some of them, as I was afterward told, were hurt by the falls they got by leaping from my sides upon the ground. However, they soon returned, and one of them who ventured so far as to get a full sight of my face, lifting up his hands and eyes by way of admiration cried out in a shrill but distinct voice, "Hekinah Degul." The others repeated the same words several times, but I then knew not what they meant.

I lay all this while, as the reader may believe, in great uneasiness. At length, struggling to get loose, I had the fortune to break the strings and wrench out the pegs that fastened my left arm to the ground. By lifting it up to my face I discovered the methods they had taken to bind me. At the same time, with a violent pull, which gave me excessive pain, I a little loosened the strings that tied down my hair on the left side, till I was just able to turn my head about two inches.

But the creatures ran off a second time before I could seize them; whereupon there was a great shout in a very shrill accent, and after it had ceased I heard one of them cry aloud, "Tolgo Phonac." In an instant I felt about a hundred arrows discharged on my left hand, which pricked me like so many needles; and besides, they shot another flight into the air, as we do bombs in Europe, whereof many, I suppose, fell on my body—though I felt them not — and some on my face, which I immediately covered with my left hand.

When this shower of arrows was over, I fell a-groaning with grief and pain, and then, striving again to get loose, they discharged another volley, larger than the first, and some of them attempted with spears to stick me in the sides; but by good luck I had on me a buff jerkin, which they could not pierce. I thought it the most prudent method to lie still, and my design was to continue so till night, when, my left hand being already loose, I could easily free myself; and as for the inhabitants, I had reason to believe I might be a match for the greatest army they could bring against me, if they were all of the same size with him that I saw. But fortune disposed otherwise of me.

When the people observed I was quiet, they discharged no more arrows; but by the noise I heard I knew their numbers increased. About four yards from me, over against my right ear, I heard a knocking for about an hour, like that of people at work. Turning my head that way, as well as the pegs and strings would permit me, I saw a stage erected about a foot and a half from the ground, capable of holding four of the inhabitants, with two or three ladders to mount it; from whence one of them, who seemed to be a person of quality, made me a long speech whereof I understood not one syllable.

But I should have mentioned that before the principal person began his oration he cried out three times, "Langro Dehul san;" these words and the former were afterward repeated and explained to me. Whereupon immediately about fifty of the inhabitants came and cut the strings that fastened the right side of my head. This gave me the liberty of turning it to the right and of observing the person and gesture of him that was to speak.

He appeared to me to be of a middle age and taller than any of the other three who attended him, whereof one was a page that held up his train, and seemed to be somewhat longer than my middle finger. The other two stood one on each side to support him. He acted every part of an orator, and I could observe many periods② of threatening's and others of promises, pity, and kindness.

I answered in a few words, but in the most submissive manner, lifting up my left hand and both mine eyes to the sun, as calling him for a witness; and being almost famished with hunger, not having eaten a morsel for some hours before I left the ship, I found the demand of nature so strong upon me that I could not forbear showing my impatience—perhaps against the strict rules of decency— by putting my finger frequently on my mouth, to signify that I wanted food.

The hurgo—for so they call a great lord, as I afterward learned—understood me very well. He descended from the stage and commanded that several ladders should be applied to my sides, on which above a hundred of the inhabitants mounted, and walked toward my mouth, laden with baskets full of meat, which had been provided and sent thither by the king's orders upon the first news he received of me.

I observed there was the flesh of several animals, but could not distinguish them by the taste. There were shoulders, legs, and loins, shaped like those of mutton, and very well dressed, but smaller than the wings of a lark. I ate them by two or three at a mouthful, and took three loaves at a time, about the bigness of musket bullets. They supplied me as they could, showing a thousand marks of wonder and astonishment at my bulk and appetite.

I then made another sign that I wanted drink. They found by my eating that a small quantity would not suffice me; and, being a most ingenious people, they slung up, with great dexterity③, one of their largest hogsheads, and then rolled it toward my hand and beat out the top. I drank it off at a draught, which I might well do, for it did not hold half a pint, and tasted like a small wine of Burgundy, but much more delicious. They brought me a second hogshead, which I drank in the same manner, and made signs for more; but they had none to give me.

When I had performed these wonders, they shouted for joy and danced upon my breast, repeating several times as they did at first, "Hekinah Degul." They made me signs that I should throw down the two hogsheads, but first warning the people below to stand out of the way, crying aloud, "Borach Mivolah." When they saw the vessels in the air there was an universal shout of "Hekinah Degul."

I confess I was often tempted, while they were passing backward and forward on my body, to seize forty or fifty of the first that came in my reach and dash them against the ground. But remembrance of what I had felt, which probably might not be the worst they could do, and the promise of honor I had made them—so I interpreted my submissive behavior— soon drove out these imaginations④. Besides, I now considered myself as bound by the laws of hospitality to a people who had treated me with so much expense and magnificence.

However, in my thoughts, I could not sufficiently wonder at the courage of these diminutive mortals who durst venture to mount and walk upon my body while one of my hands was at liberty, without trembling at the very sight of so prodigious⑤ a creature as I must appear to them. After some time, when they observed that I made no more demands for meat, there appeared before me a person of high rank from his imperial majesty. His excellency, having mounted on the small of my right leg, advanced forward up to my face with about a dozen of his retinue⑥, and producing his credentials⑦ under the signet⑧ royal, which he applied close to mine eyes, he spoke about ten minutes without any sign of anger, but with a kind of determinate⑨ resolution. He often pointed forward, which as I afterward found was toward the capital city about half a mile away, whither it was agreed by his majesty in council that I must be conveyed.

I answered in few words, but to no purpose, and made a sign with my hand that was loose, putting it to the other— but over his excellency's head for fear of hurting him or his train— and then to my own head and body, to signify that I desired my liberty.

It appeared that he understood me well enough, for he shook his head by way of disapprobation, and held his hand in a posture to show that I must be carried as a prisoner. However, he made other signs to let me understand that I should have meat and drink enough and very good treatment.

Whereupon I once more thought of breaking my bonds; but again when I felt the smart of their arrows upon my face and hands, which were all in blisters, and many of the darts still sticking in them, and observing likewise that the number of my enemies increased, I gave tokens to let them know that they might do with me what they pleased.

Upon this, the hurgo and his train withdrew with much civility and cheerful countenances.

Soon after I heard a general shout, with frequent cries of "Peplom Selan;" and I felt great numbers of the people on my left side relaxing the cords to such a degree that I was able to turn upon my right and so ease myself.

But before this they had daubed my face and both my hands with a sort of ointment, very pleasant to the smell, which in a few minutes removed all the smart of their arrows. These things, added to the refreshment I had received by their victuals and drink, which were very nourishing, disposed me to sleep. I slept about eight hours, as I was afterward assured. It was no wonder, for the doctors, by the emperor's orders, had mingled a sleeping draught in the hogsheads of wine.

II

Gulliver was carried prisoner to the capital of Lilliput. At first he was kept prisoner, but he gained favor by his mild disposition, and finally had liberty granted him upon certain conditions. War breaking out between Lilliput and an adjoining empire, Gulliver had opportunity of being useful to his friends.

The empire of Blefuscu is an island situated to the north-northeast side of Lilliput, from which it is parted only by a channel of eight hundred yards wide.

I had not yet seen it, and, upon notice of an intended invasion, I avoided appearing on that side of the coast, for fear of being discovered by some of the enemy's ships, who had received no intelligence of me, all intercourse between the two empires having been strictly forbidden during the war upon pain of death and an embargo⑩ laid by our emperor upon all vessels whatsoever.

I communicated to his majesty a project I had formed of seizing the enemy's whole fleet; which, as our scouts assured us, lay at anchor in the harbor, ready to sail with the first fair wind. I consulted the most experienced seamen upon the depth of the channel, which they had often plumbed⑪, who told me that in the middle at high water it was seventy glum gluffs deep, which is about six feet of European measure; and the rest of it fifty glum gluffs at most.

I walked toward the northeast coast over against Blefuscu, and, lying down behind a hillock, I took out my small pocket perspective-glass and viewed the enemy's fleet at anchor, consisting of about fifty men-of-war and a great number of transports. I then came back to my house and gave order—for which I had a warrant — for a great quantity of the strongest cable and bars of iron. The cable was about as thick as packthread, and the bars of the length and size of a knitting needle.

I trebled the cable to make it stronger, and for the same reason I twisted three of the iron bars together, bending the extremities into a hook. Having thus fixed fifty hooks to as many cables, I went back to the northeast coast, and putting off my coat, shoes, and stockings, walked into the sea in my leathern jerkin, about half an hour before high water. I waded with what haste I could, and swam in the middle about thirty yards, till I felt ground.

I arrived to the fleet in less than half an hour. The enemy were so frightened when they saw me that they leaped out of their ships and swam to shore, where there could not be fewer than thirty thousand souls. I then took my tackling, and fastening a hook to the hole at the prow of each, I tied all the cords together at the end.

While I was thus employed the enemy discharged several thousand arrows, many of which stuck in my hands and face; and, besides the excessive smart, gave me much disturbance in my work. My greatest apprehension was for mine eyes, which I should have infallibly lost if I had not suddenly thought of an expedient⑫.

I kept, among other little necessaries, a pair of spectacles in a private pocket, which had escaped the emperor's searchers. These I took out and fastened as strongly as I could upon my nose, and, thus armed, went on boldly with my work, in spite of the enemy's arrows, many of which struck against the glasses of my spectacles, but without any other effect farther than a little to discompose them.

I had now fastened all the hooks, and taking the knot in my hand, began to pull; but not a ship would stir, for they were all too fast held by their anchors, so that the boldest part of my enterprise remained. I therefore let go the cord, and leaving the hooks fixed to the ships, I resolutely cut with my knife the cables that fastened the anchors, receiving above two hundred arrows in my face and hands. Then I took up the knotted end of the cables to which my hooks were tied, and with great ease drew fifty of the enemy's largest men-of-war after me.

The Blefuscudians, who had not the least imagination of what I intended, were at first confounded with astonishment. They had seen me cut the cables and thought my design was only to let the ships run adrift, or fall foul on each other. But when they perceived the whole fleet moving in order, and saw me pulling at the end, they set up such a scream of grief and despair as it is almost impossible to describe or conceive.

"I came in a short time within hearing"

When I had got out of danger, I stopped awhile to pick out the arrows that stuck in my hands and face, and rubbed on some of the ointment that was given me at my first arrival, as I have formerly mentioned. I then took off my spectacles, and waiting about an hour, till the tide was a little fallen, I waded through the middle with my cargo, and arrived safe at the royal port of Lilliput.

The emperor and his whole court stood on the shore, expecting the issue of this great adventure. They saw the ships move forward in a large half moon, but could not discern me who was up to my breast in water. When I advanced to the middle of the channel, they were yet more in pain, because I was under water to my neck. The emperor concluded me to be drowned and that the enemy's fleet was approaching in a hostile⑬ manner.

But he was soon eased of his fears; for the channel growing shallower every step I made, I came in a short time within hearing, and holding up the end of the cable by which the fleet was fastened, I cried in a loud voice, "Long live the most puissant⑭ Emperor of Lilliput!" This great prince received me at my landing with all possible encomiums⑮ and created me a nardac upon the spot, which is the highest title of honor among them.

注释

①Ligatutres: bands.

②Periods: sentences.

③Dexterity: skill; cleverness.

④Imaginations: purposes; ideas; fancies.

⑤Prodigious: huge; monstrous.

⑥Retinue: train of attendants.

⑦Credentials: letters of credit; testimonials showing that a person has a right to exercise official power.

⑧Signet: seal; sign.

⑨Determinate: fixed; positive.

⑩Embargo: an order of government forbidding the departure of ships of commerce from certain ports.

⑪Plumbed: found out the depth; sounded.

⑫Expedient: means of overcoming a difficulty.

⑬Hostile: warlike; unfriendly.

⑭Puissant: powerful.

⑮Encomiums: high praise; strong commendation.

9

THE TWO BREATHS

BY CHARLES KINGSLEY

Charles Kingsley (1819-1875): An English clergyman and author. Young people know him best from "Greek Heroes" and "Water Babies, a Fairy Tale for a Land Baby." "Hypatia," "Westward Ho," "Alton Locke," and "Yeast" are the most popular of his novels.

This selection is from "Health and Education," a book of simple talks on hygienic and scientific subjects.

I wish to call this talk "The Two Breaths," not merely "The Breath;" and for this reason: every time you breathe, you breathe two different breaths; you take in one, you give out another. The composition of those two breaths is different. Their effects are different. The breath which has been breathed out must not be breathed in again.

If you want to see how different the breath breathed out is from the breath taken in, you have only to try a somewhat cruel experiment, but one which people too often try upon themselves, their children, and their work-people. If you take any small animal with lungs like your own—a mouse, for instance—and force it to breathe no air but what you have breathed already; if you put it in a close box, and while you take in breath from the outer air, send out your breath through a tube into that box, the animal will soon faint; if you go on long with this process, it will die.

Take a second instance: if you allow a child to get into the habit of sleeping with its head under the bedclothes, and thereby breathing its own breath over and over again, that child will assuredly grow pale, weak, and ill.

Take another instance, which is only too common: if you are in a crowded room, with plenty of fire and lights and company, doors and windows all shut tight, how often you feel faint—so faint, that you may require smelling-salts or some other stimulant. The cause of your faintness is just the same as that of the mouse's fainting in the box: you and your friends, and as I shall show you presently, the fire and the candles likewise, having been all breathing each other's breaths, over and over again, till the air has become unfit to support life. You are doing your best to enact over again the Highland tragedy, when at a Christmas meeting thirty-six persons danced all night in a small room with a low ceiling, keeping the doors and windows shut. The atmosphere of the room was noxious① beyond description; and the effect was, that seven of the party were soon after seized with typhus fever, of which two died.

You are inflicting on yourselves the torments of the famous Black Hole of Calcutta②; and, if there was no chimney in the room, by which some fresh air could enter, the candles would soon burn blue— as the stories tell us they do when ghosts appear; your brains become disturbed; and you yourselves run the risk of becoming ghosts, and the candles of actually going out.

Of this last fact there is no doubt; for if, instead of putting a mouse into the box, you will put a lighted candle, and breathe into the tube, as before, however gently, you will in a short time put the candle out.

Now, how is this? First, what is the difference between the breath you take in and the breath you give out? And next, why has it a similar effect on animal life and a lighted candle?

The difference is this. The breath which you take in is, or ought to be, pure air, composed, on the whole, of oxygen and nitrogen, with a minute portion of carbonic acid gas.

The breath which you give out is an impure air, to which has been added, among other matters which will not support life, an excess③ of carbonic acid gas.

That this is the fact you can prove for yourselves by a simple experiment. Get a little lime water at the chemist's, and breathe into it through a glass tube; your breath will at once make the lime water milky. The carbonic acid gas of your breath has laid hold of the lime, and made it visible as white carbonate of lime, — in plain English, as common chalk.

Now, I do not wish to load your memories with scientific terms: but I beseech you to remember at least these two—oxygen gas and carbonic acid gas; and to remember that, as surely as oxygen feeds the fire of life, so surely does carbonic acid put it out.

I say, "the fire of life." In that expression lies the answer to our second question: Why does our breath produce a similar effect upon the mouse and the lighted candle? Every one of us is, as it were, a living fire. Were we not, how could we be always warmer than the air outside us? There is a process going on perpetually in each of us, similar to that by which coals are burned in a fire, oil in a lamp, wax in a candle, and the earth itself in a volcano. To keep each of those fires alight, oxygen is needed; and the products of combustion④, as they are called, are more or less the same in each case—carbonic acid gas and steam.

These facts justify the expression I just made use of, that the fire and the candles in the crowded room were breathing the same breath as you were. It is but too true. An average fire in the grate requires to keep it burning as much oxygen as several human beings do; each candle or lamp must have its share of oxygen likewise, and that a very considerable one; and an average gas-burner—pray attend to this, you who live in rooms lighted with gas—consumes as much oxygen as several candles. All alike are making carbonic acid gas. The carbonic acid gas of the fire happily escapes up the chimney in the smoke; but the carbonic acid gas from the human beings and the candles remains to poison the room, unless it be ventilated.

Now, I think, we may see what ventilation means, and why it is needed.

Ventilation means simply letting out the foul air and letting in the fresh air; letting out the air which has been breathed by men or by candles, and letting in the air which has not. To understand how to do that, we must remember a most simple chemical law, that a gas as it is warmed expands and therefore becomes lighter; as it cools it contracts and becomes heavier.

Now the carbonic acid gas in the breath which comes out of our mouth is warm, lighter than the air, and rises to the ceiling; and therefore in any unventilated room full of people, there is a layer of foul air along the ceiling. You might soon test that for yourselves, if you could mount a ladder and put your heads there aloft. You do test it for yourselves when you sit in the galleries of churches and theaters, where the air is palpably⑤ more foul, and therefore more injurious, than down below.

The first question in ventilation, therefore, is to get this carbonic acid gas safe out of the room, while it is warm and light and close to the ceiling; for if you do not, this happens:—The carbonic acid gas cools and becomes heavier; for carbonic acid gas at the same temperature as common air is so much heavier than common air that you may actually—if you are handy enough—turn it from one vessel to another and pour out for your enemy a glass of invisible poison. So down to the floor this heavy carbonic acid gas comes, and lies along it, just as it lies often in the bottom of old wells, as a stratum⑥ of poison, killing occasionally the men who descend into it.

And now, what becomes of this breath which passes from your lips? Is it merely harmful, merely waste? God forbid! God has forbidden that anything should be merely harmful or merely waste in this so wise and well-made world. The carbonic acid gas which passes from your lips at every breath is a precious boon to thousands of things of which you have daily need. Indeed, there is a sort of hint at physical truth in the old fairy tale of the girl from whose lips, as she spoke, fell pearls and diamonds; for the carbonic acid gas of your breath may help hereafter to make the pure carbonate of lime of a pearl or the still purer carbon of a diamond.

Nay, it may go— in such a world of transformations⑦ do we live—to make atoms of coal strata which shall lie buried for ages beneath deep seas, shall be upheaved in continents which are yet unborn, and there be burned for the use of a future race of men, and resolved into their original elements. Coal, wise men tell us, is, on the whole, breath and sunlight; the breath of living creatures who have lived in the vast swamps and forests of some primeval world, and the sunlight which transmuted⑧ that breath into the leaves and stems of trees, magically locked up for ages in that black stone, to become, when it is burned at last, light and carbonic acid gas, as it was at first.

For though you must not breathe your breath again, you may at least eat your breath, if you will allow the sun to transmute it for you into vegetables; or you may enjoy its fragrance and its color in the shape of a lily or a rose. When you walk in a sunlit garden, every word you speak, every breath you breathe, is feeding the plants and flowers around. The delicate surface of the green leaves absorbs the carbonic acid gas and parts it into its elements, retaining the carbon to make woody fiber, and courteously returning you the oxygen to mingle with the fresh air and be inhaled by your lungs once more. Thus do you feed the plants, just as the plants feed you; while the great life-giving sun feeds both; and the geranium standing in the sick child's window does not merely rejoice his eye and mind by its beauty and freshness but repays honestly the trouble spent on it: absorbing the breath which the child needs not, and giving to him the breath which he needs.

注释

①Noxious: hurtful; harmful; unwholesome.

②Black Hole of Calcutta: a cell in a fort at Calcutta into which one hundred and forty-six English prisoners were put; one hundred and twenty-three of whom died before morning from lack of air.

③Excess: undue amount; too much.

④Combustion: state of burning.

⑤Palpably: plainly; evidently.

⑥Stratum: layer.

⑦Transformations: changes.

⑧Transmuted: changed from one form or nature into another.

10

PSALM XCIII

The Lord reigneth; He is clothed with majesty; The Lord is clothed with strength, wherewith He hath girded Himself: the world also is stablished, that it cannot be moved.

Thy throne is established of old: Thou art from everlasting.

The floods have lifted up, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their waves.

The Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea.

Thy testimonies are very sure: holiness becometh Thine house, O Lord, forever.

11

THE LADY OF SHALOTT

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892): An English poet, who was for more than thirty years poetlaureate. He wrote "The Princess," "Maud," "In Memoriam," "Idylls of the King," several dramatie poems, and many shorter poems.

Lord Tennyson

"The Lady of Shalott" was suggested by a legend in Sir Thomas Malory's "Morte d'Arthur," a collection of old British legends about King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, which furnished Tennyson material for the poems composing the "Idylls of the King."

PART I

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold① and meet the sky;

And through the field 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 embowers

The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veiled,

Slide the heavy barges trailed

By slow horses; and unhailed

The shallop② 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 cheerly③

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 churls④,

And the red cloaks of market girls,

Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad⑤,

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 mirror's 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 greaves⑥

Of bold Sir Lancelot⑦.

A red-cross knight⑧ forever kneeled

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy⑨ bridle glittered free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy⑩.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down to Camelot⑪:

And from his blazoned⑫ baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armor rung,

Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jeweled 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.

"The curse is come upon me."

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 seer⑬ 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 water side,

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,

Dead-pale between the houses high,

Silent into Camelot.

Out upon the wharves 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."

注释

①Wold: plain; low hill.

②Shallop: boat.

③Cheerly: cheerily.

④Churls: rough, ill-bred men; laborers.

⑤Pad: an easy-paced horse.

⑥Greaves: armor for the leg below the knee.

⑦Sir Lancelot: the most famous of the knights of King Arthur's Round Table.

⑧Red-cross Knight: St. George, the patron saint of England.

⑨Gemmy: ornamented with gems.

⑩Camelot: a legendary town in Winchester, England, the seat of King Arthur's palace.

⑪Galaxy: the Milky Way.

⑫Blazoned: emblazoned; adorned with a coat of arms.

⑬Seer: prophet.

12

THE FALL OF THE LEAF

BY M. R. MITFORD

Mary Russell Mitford (1786-1855): An English author. Her most important work is "Our Village," a collection of sketches of English village life, the plan of which was suggested to her by Irving's "Sketch-Book." Miss Mitford also wrote several plays, tales in verse, a novel and a volume of literary recollections.

This selection from "Our Village" describes a November walk.

The weather is as peaceful to-day, as calm, and as mild, as in early April; and perhaps an autumn afternoon and a spring morning do resemble each other more in feeling, and even in appearance, than any two periods of the year. There is in both the same freshness and dewiness of the herbage; the same balmy softness in the air; and the same pure and lovely blue sky, with white fleecy clouds floating across it. The chief difference lies in the absence of flowers, and the presence of leaves. But then the foliage of November is so rich and glowing and varied that it may well supply the place of the gay blossoms of the spring; while all the flowers of the field or garden could never make amends for the want of leaves—that beautiful and graceful attire in which nature has clothed the rugged forms of trees—the verdant drapery to which the landscape owes its loveliness and the forests their glory.

If choice must be between two seasons, each so full of charm, it is at least no bad philosophy to prefer the present good, even while looking gratefully back, and hopefully forward, to the past and the future. And of a surety, no fairer specimen of a November day could well be found than this, a day made to wander

"By yellow commons and birch-shaded hollows,

And hedgerows bordering unfrequented lanes;"

nor could a prettier country be found for our walk than this shady and yet sunny Berkshire①, where the scenery, without rising into grandeur or breaking into wildness, is so peaceful, so cheerful, so varied, and so thoroughly English.

We must bend our steps toward the water side, for I have a message to leave at Farmer Riley's; and sooth to say it is no unpleasant necessity; for the road thither is smooth and dry, retired, as one likes a country walk to be, but not too lonely, which women never like; leading past the Loddon—the bright, brimming, transparent Loddon②—a fitting mirror for this bright blue sky, and terminating at one of the prettiest and most comfortable farmhouses in the neighborhood.

How beautiful the lane is to-day, decorated with a thousand colors! The brown road, and the rich verdure that borders it, strewed with the pale yellow leaves of the elm, just beginning to fall, hedgerows glowing with long wreaths of the bramble in every variety of purplish red; and overhead the unchanged green of the fir, contrasting with the spotted sycamore, the tawny beech, and the dry, sere leaves of the oak, which rustle as the light wind passes through them; a few common hardy yellow flowers —for yellow is the common color of flowers, whether wild or cultivated, as blue is the rare one—flowers of many sorts, but almost of one tint, still blowing in spite of the season, and ruddy berries glowing through all. How very beautiful is the lane!

And how pleasant is this hill where the road widens, with the group of cattle by the wayside, and George Hearn, the little post-boy, trundling his hoop at full speed, making all the better haste in his work, because he cheats himself into thinking it play! And how beautiful, again, is this patch of common at the hilltop with the clear pool, where Martha Pither's children, elves of three and four and five years old, without any distinction of sex in their sunburnt faces and tattered drapery, are dipping up water in their little homely cups, shining with cleanliness, and a small, brown pitcher with the lip broken, to fill that great kettle, which, when it is filled, their united strength will never be able to lift! They are quite a group for a painter, with their rosy cheeks and chubby hands and round, merry faces; and the low cottage in the background, peeping out of its vine leaves and china roses, with Martha at the door, tidy and comely③ and smiling, preparing the potatoes for the pot, and watching the progress of dipping and filling that useful utensil, completes the picture.

But we must get on. No time for more sketches in these short days. It is getting cold, too. We must proceed in our walk. Dash is showing us the way, and beating the thick double hedgerow that runs along the side of the meadows at a rate that indicates game astir, and causes the leaves to fly as fast as an east wind after a hard frost. Ah, a pheasant! a superb cock pheasant④! Nothing is more certain than Dash's questing⑤, whether in a hedgerow or covert⑥, for a better spaniel never went into the field; but I fancied that it was a hare afoot, and was almost as much startled to hear the whirring of those splendid wings, as the princely bird himself would have been at the report of a gun. Indeed, I believe that the way in which a pheasant goes off does sometimes make young sportsmen a little nervous—they don't own it very readily, but the observation may be relied on, nevertheless, —until they get, as it were, broken in to the sound; and then that grand and sudden burst of wing becomes as pleasant to them as it seems to be to Dash, who is beating the hedgerow with might and main, and giving tongue louder and sending the leaves about faster than ever, very proud of finding the pheasant and perhaps a little angry with me for not shooting it; at least, looking as if he would be angry if I were a man; for Dash is a dog of great sagacity⑦, and has doubtless not lived four years in the sporting world without making the discovery that although gentlemen do shoot, ladies do not.

The Loddon at last! the beautiful Loddon! and the bridge, where every one stops, as by instinct, to lean over the rails and gaze a moment on a landscape of surpassing loveliness, the fine grounds of the Great House, with their magnificent groups of limes and firs, and poplars grander than ever poplars were before; the green meadows opposite, studded with oaks and elms; the clear, winding river; the mill with its picturesque old buildings bounding the scene; all glowing with the rich coloring of autumn, and harmonized by the soft beauty of the clear blue sky and the delicious calmness of the hour. The very peasant, whose daily path it is, cannot cross that bridge without a pause.

But the day is wearing fast, and it grows colder and colder. I really think it will be a frost. After all, spring is the pleasantest season, beautiful as this scenery is. We must get on. Down that broad yet shadowy lane, between the park, dark with evergreens and dappled with deer, and the meadows, where sheep and cows and horses are grazing under the tall elms; that lane, where the wild bank, clothed with fern and tufted with furze and crowned by rich-berried thorn and thick shining holly on the one side, seems to vie in beauty with the picturesque old paling, the bright laurels, and the plumy cedars, on the other; down that shady lane, until the sudden turn brings us to an opening where four roads meet, where a noble avenue turns down to the Great House; where the village church rears its modest spire from amidst its venerable yew trees; and where, embosomed in orchards and gardens, and backed by barns and ricks and all the wealth of the farmyard, stands the spacious and comfortable abode of good Farmer Riley, the end and object of our walk.

And in happy time the message is said and the answer given, for this beautiful mild day is edging off into a dense frosty evening; the leaves of the elm and the linden in the old avenue are quivering and vibrating and fluttering in the air, and at length falling crisply on the earth, as if Dash were beating for pheasants in the tree-tops; the sun gleams dimly through the fog, giving little more of light or heat than his fair sister, the lady moon; I don't know a more disappointing person than a cold sun; and I am beginning to wrap my cloak closely round me and to calculate the distance to my own fireside, recanting all the way my praises of November and longing for the showery, flowery April as much as if I were a half-chilled butterfly, or a dahlia knocked down by the frost.

Ah, dear me! what a climate this is, that one cannot keep in the same mind about it for half an hour together! I wonder, by the way, whether the fault is in the weather, which Dash does not seem to care for, or in me? If I should happen to be wet through in a shower next spring, and should catch myself longing for autumn, that would settle the question.

注释

①Berkshire: an English county, in the southern part of which is situated the little village of Three Mile Cross, the scene of Miss Mitford's sketches.

②Loddon: a small river in southern England.

③Comely: good looking; handsome.

④Pheasant: an English game bird.

⑤Questing: seeking; going in pursuit of.

⑥Covert: cover; woods, or land covered with underbrush which conceals game.

⑦Sagacity: wisdom.

13

THE FIRST NEWS MESSAGE BY TELEGRAPH

BY STEPHEN VAIL

Late in the winter of 1837-38, there was introduced into the Congress of the United States a bill authorizing an appropriation of $30,000 with which to construct an experimental line of electric telegraph between Washington and Baltimore, some forty miles in length. This object was, by the wiseacres① in the Congress, considered so visionary and nonsensical that it was not until upon the night of the third of March, 1843, the last of the expiring session, and after five long and weary years of waiting on the part of the untiring inventors, Morse and Vail, that the bill was finally passed by the Senate and became a law, by but a bare majority.

Work upon the construction of the line was at once commenced. The mechanical and electrical part of the work was in charge of Alfred Vail, while Morse remained in Washington.

In October, 1843, ten miles of the underground line had been laid, when the insulation②, which had been gradually failing, disappeared altogether. The minds of those engaged in the enterprise were filled with consternation. Cornell dexterously managed to break the pipe-laying machine—one of his own device—that the apparent accident might furnish a plausible③ excuse to the newspapers and the public for the temporary suspension of the work.

In February, 1844, it was decided to place the conductors on poles, and on the first of April the stringing of the wires was begun at Washington.

On April 30th the line reached Annapolis Junction, twenty-two miles from Washington, and was operated with satisfactory results.

May 1st, 1844, was the date upon which there was to assemble in Baltimore the Whig convention, to nominate the candidates of that party for president and vice-president, and it was arranged between Morse and Vail that the latter should obtain from the passengers upon the afternoon train from Baltimore to Washington, when it stopped at Annapolis Junction, information of the proceedings of the convention and transmit④ it at once to Morse at the Capitol in Washington.

The train arrived at half-past three o'clock, and from the passengers, among whom were many of the delegates to the convention, Mr. Vail ascertained that the convention had assembled, nominated the candidates, and adjourned, which information he at once dispatched to Morse, with whom was gathered a number of prominent men who had been invited to be present. Morse sat awaiting the prearranged signal from Vail, when suddenly there came from the instrument the understood clicking, and starting the mechanism, unwinding the ribbon of paper upon which came the embossed dots and dashes, there was established the complete success of the telegraph over twenty-two miles of wire.

Slowly came the message, and when it had ended, Morse rose and said: "Gentlemen, the convention has adjourned. The train bearing that information has just left Annapolis Junction for Washington, and Mr. Vail has telegraphed me the ticket nominated, and it is—" he hesitated, holding in his hand the final proof of victory over space, "it is—it is Clay and Frelinghuysen."

"You are quizzing⑤ us," was the quiet remark. "It's easy enough for you to guess that Clay is at the head of the ticket, but Frelinghuysen— who is Frelinghuysen?"

"I only know," was the dignified answer, "that it is the name Mr. Vail has sent to me from Annapolis Junction, where he had the news five minutes ago from the train bound this way bearing the delegates."

At that time the twenty-two miles from the Junction to Washington required an hour and a quarter for the fastest trains, and long before the train reached Washington the newsboys—enterprising even in those days—had their "extras" upon the streets, their headings "By Telegraph" telling the story, and being the first time that such a legend had ever appeared upon a printed sheet.

A great and enthusiastic crowd greeted the delegates as they alighted from the train at the station They were struck dumb with astonishment when they heard the people hurrahing for "Clay and Frelinghuysen, and saw in cold type before their very eyes the information which they supposed was exclusively their own, but which had preceded them "by telegraph." They had asked Mr. Vail at the Junction what he was doing when they saw him working the telegraph key, and when he told them, they joked about it most glibly, for no one had any belief in the success of the telegraph.

Upon May 23d the entire line from Washington to Baltimore was completed. On the next day, May 24th, Alfred Vail received the so-called "historic message," "What hath God wrought?"

This message was dictated by Miss Ellsworth, daughter of the then Commissioner of Patents, who had taken a deep interest in the success of the bill appropriating $30,000 for the construction of the line, and who was the first to convey to Morse the information that the bill had passed. Morse, jubilant at the news, thereupon gave Miss Ellsworth his promise that the first message to pass over the line from Washington to Baltimore should be that which she might choose to dictate.

注释

①Wiseacres: persons who pretend to be very wise; dunces.

②Insulation: the state of a body's being separated from others by nonconductors so as to prevent the passing of electricity.

③Plausible: seemingly reasonable.

④Transmit: send.

⑤Quizzing: making sport of; mocking.

14

THE SHELL

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

See what a lovely shell,

Small and pure as a pearl,

Lying close to my foot,

Frail, but a work divine,

Made so fairily well

With delicate spire and whorl,

How exquisitely minute,

A miracle of design!

What is it? A learned man

Could give it a clumsy name.

Let him name it who can,

The beauty would be the same.

The tiny cell is forlorn,

Void of the little living will

That made it stir on the shore.

Did he stand at the diamond door

Of his house in a rainbow frill?

Did he push, when he was uncurled,

A golden foot or a fairy horn

Through his dim water-world?

Slight, to be crushed with a tap

Of my finger-nail on the sand,

Small, but a work divine,

Frail, but of force to withstand,

Year upon year, the shock

Of the cataract seas that snap

The three-decker's oaken spine

Athwart the ledges of rock,

Here on the Breton strand!

————

Small seroice is true service while it lasts;

Of humblest friends, bright creature! Scorn not one;

The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,

Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun.

(DRTH)

15

THE CRATCHIT'S CHRISTMAS DINNER

BY CHARLES DICKENS

Charles Dickens (1812-1870): One of the most popular of English novelists. He gives sympathetic pictures of the life of the lower classes, and some of his works were largely instrumental in the reform of social abuses. Among his best known novels are "Pickwick Papers," "David Copperfield," "Oliver Twist," and "Nicholas Nickleby."

This selection is from "A Christmas Carol," one of the tales included in the popular series of "Christmas Stories."

Up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, 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 Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners 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 yearned① 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 warn'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!"

Tiny Tim upon his shoulder.

"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 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. Cratehit.

"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension② in his high spirits; for he had been Tim's bloodhorse all the way from church, and had come home rampant③ — "not coming upon Christmas-day!"

Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so she came out prematurely④ 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 rallied⑤ Bob on his credulity⑥, 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 ubiquitous⑦ young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession.

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 around 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. Eked⑧ out by applesauce 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 eaten 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 back yard and stolen it while they were merry with the goose—a supposition at which the two young Cratehits 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, blazing in half of half a quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight⑨ 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 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 shovelful 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 crackled noisily.

Then Bob proposed: "A merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"

Which all the family reechoed.

"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.

注释

①Yearned: wished greatly.

②Declension: falling off.

③Rampant: leaping.

④Prematurely: too early; before the proper time.

⑤Rallied: teased.

⑥Credulity: readiness of belief.

⑦Ubiquitous: being everywhere at the same time.

⑧Eked: added to; increased.

⑨Bedight: ornamented.

16

PATRICK HENRY'S SPEECH IN THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION

Patrick Henry (1736—1799): An American orator, whose impassioned eloquence and zeal for liberty inspired the colonists with determination to resist English oppression. This famous speech was delivered in the Virginia House of Burgesses, March, 1775.

Mr. President: It is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren① till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous② struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who having eyes see not, and having ears hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal③ salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth, — to know the worst, and to provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry, for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace④ themselves and the house? Is it that insidious⑤ smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports⑥ with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love?

Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation,— the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial⑦ array if its purpose be not to force us into submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? — Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain.

Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult, our supplications have been disregarded, and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne.

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, — if we mean to preserve inviolate⑧ those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, — we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely⑨ on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power.

Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible⑩ by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable; and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate⑪ the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace, peace! — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

注释

①Siren: one of three sea nymphs said to sing with such sweetness that they drew sailors to destruction.

②Arduous: difficult.

③Temporal: worldly.

④Solace: comfort.

⑤Insidious: deceitful.

⑥Comports: agrees with; suits.

⑦Martial: warlike.

⑧Inviolate: not violated; uninjured.

⑨Supinely: carelessly; idly.

⑩Invincible: not to be overcome.

⑪Extenuate: cover with excuses; make less the crime of.

17

EACH AND ALL

BY R. W. EMERSON

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803—1882): An American lecturer, poet, essayist, and philosopher. He has had greater influence ou the life and thought of people than any other American author. He wrote "Representative Men," "The Conduct of Life," "Society and Solitude," and several other volumes of essays and poems.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

All are needed by each one;

Nothing is fair or good alone.

I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,

Singing at dawn on the alder bough;

I brought him home, in his nest, at even;

He sings the song, but it cheers not now;

For I did not bring home the river and sky;

He sang to my ear—they sang to my eye.

The delicate shells lay on the shore;

The bubbles of the latest wave

Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,

And the bellowing of the savage sea

Greeted their safe escape to me.

I wiped away the weeds and foam—

I fetched my sea-born treasures home;

But the poor, unsightly, noisome① things

Had left their beauty on the shore,

With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.

————

The spacious firmament on high,

With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,

Their great Original proclaim;

The unwearied sun, from day to day,

Doth his Creator's power display,

And publishes to every land

The work of an Almighty hand.

(ADDISON)

注释

①Noisome: disagreeable; offensive.

18

MOSES GOES TO THE FAIR

BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH

Oliver Goldsmith

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): An English author. He wrote essays, histories, poems, comedies, and a novel, "The Vicar of Wakefield," from which the following selection is taken. "The Vicar of Wakefield" is an exquisite picture of domestic life, which ranks among the masterpieces of English fiction. "The Deserted Village," and "The Traveler" are Goldsmith's best poems, the first being an ideal description of English rural life.

As we were now to hold up our heads a little higher in the world, it would be proper to sell the colt, which was grown old, at a neighboring fair, and buy us a horse that would carry single or double upon an occasion, and make a pretty appearance at church or upon a visit. This I at first opposed stoutly; but it was as stoutly defended. However, as I weakened, my antagonists gained strength, till at last it was resolved to part with him.

As the fair happened on the following day, I had intentions of going myself; but my wife persuaded me that I had a cold, and nothing could prevail upon her to permit me from home.

"No, my dear," said she, "our son Moses is a discreet① boy, and can buy and sell to very good advantage; you know all our great bargains are of his purchasing. He always stands out and higgles② and actually tires them till he gets a bargain."

As I had some opinion of my son's prudence, I was willing enough to intrust him with this commission; and the next morning I perceived his sisters mighty busy in fitting out Moses for the fair; trimming his hair, brushing his buckles③, and cocking his hat with pins. The business of the toilet being over, we had at last the satisfaction of seeing him mounted upon the colt, with a box before him to bring home groceries in.

He had on a coat made of that cloth they call thunder and lightning, which, though grown too short, was much too good to be thrown away. His waistcoat was of gosling green, and his sisters had tied his hair with a broad black ribbon. We all followed him several paces from the door, bawling after him, "Good luck! good luck!" till we could see him no longer.

＊＊＊＊＊＊

As night came on, I began to wonder what could keep our son so long at the fair.

"Never mind our son," cried my wife; "depend upon it, he knows what he is about. I'll warrant we'll never see him sell his hen of a rainy day. I have seen him buy such bargains as would amaze one. I'll tell you a good story about that, that will make you split your sides with laughing. — But as I live, yonder comes Moses, without a horse, and the box at his back."

As she spoke, Moses came slowly on foot, and sweating under the box, which he had strapped round his shoulders like a peddler. "Welcome, welcome, Moses; well, my boy, what have you brought us from the fair?"

"I have brought you myself," cried Moses, with a sly look, and resting the box on the dresser.

"Aye, Moses," cried my wife, "that we know, but where is the horse?"

"I have sold him," cried Moses," for three pounds, five shillings, and twopence."

Moses starts for the fair

"Well done, my good boy," returned she. "I knew you would touch them off. Between ourselves, three pounds, five shillings, and twopence is no bad day's work. Come, let us have it, then."

"I have brought back no money," cried Moses again, "I have laid it all out in a bargain, and here it is," pulling out a bundle from his breast: "here they are: a gross of green spectacles, with silver rims and shagreen④ cases."

"A gross of green spectacles!" repeated my wife, in a faint voice. "And you have parted with the colt and brought us back nothing but a gross of green paltry⑤ spectacles!"

"Dear mother," cried the boy, "why won't you listen to reason? I had them a dead bargain, or I should not have bought them. The silver rims alone will sell for double the money."

"A fig for the silver rims!" cried my wife, in a passion: "I dare swear they won't sell for above half the money at the rate of broken silver, five shillings an ounce."

"You need be under no uneasiness," cried I, "about selling the rims, for they are not worth sixpence, for I perceive they are only copper varnished over."

"What," cried my wife, "not silver, the rims not silver!"

"No," cried I, "no more silver than your saucepan."

"And so," returned she, "we have parted with the colt, and have only got a gross of green spectacles with copper rims and shagreen cases! A murrain take⑥ such trumpery⑦! The blockhead has been imposed upon, and should have known his company better."

"There, my dear," cried I, "you are wrong, he should not have known them at all."

"Marry, hang the idiot," returned she, "to bring me such stuff! If I had them I would throw them in the fire."

"There again you are wrong, my dear," cried I; "for though they be copper, we will keep them by us, as copper spectacles, you know, are better than nothing."

By this time the unfortunate Moses was undeceived. He now saw that he had been indeed imposed upon by a prowling sharper, who, observing his figure, had marked him for an easy prey. I, therefore, asked the circumstances of his deception. He sold the horse, it seems, and walked the fair in search of another. A reverend-looking man brought him to a tent, under pretense of having one to sell.

"Here," continued Moses, "we met another man, very well dressed, who desired to borrow twenty pounds upon these, saying that he wanted money and would dispose of them for a third of the value. The first gentleman, who pretended to be my friend, whispered me to buy them, and cautioned me not to let so good an offer pass. I sent for Mr. Flamborough, and they talked him up as finely as they did me, and so at last we were persuaded to buy the two gross between us."

注释

①Discreet: prudent; careful.

②Higgles: disputes; bargains.

③Buckles: curls of hair; usually, metal frames with catches, used for fastening things together.

④Shagreen: a kind of grained, untanned leather used for covering small cases and boxes.

⑤Paltry: worthless; trifling.

⑥A murrain take, etc.: a petty evil wish. Murrain is a disease among cattle.

⑦Trumpery: things of no value; rubbish.

19

WINNING THE VICTORIA CROSS

BY RUDYARD KIPLING

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936): An English author. He was born in India and spent his childhood and early manhood there. He has written, "Plain Tales from the Hills," "Soldiers Three," "Barrack-Room Ballads," "The Seven Seas," "The Day's Work," and other volumes of stories and poems, many of them descriptive of native and army life in India. His one novel, "The Light that Failed," is less popular than his short stories. He is the author of several books for young people, "Captains Courageous," "Stalky & Co.," and the two delightful "Jungle Books."

Rudyard Kipling

The history of the Victoria Cross has been told so often that it is only necessary to say that the order was created by royal warrant on January 29, 1856.

Any officer or man of the army or navy, from a duke to a negro, can wear on his left breast the little bronze Maltese cross with the crowned lion atop and the inscription "For Valor" below, if he has only "performed some signal① act of valor" or devotion to his country "in the presence of the enemy." Nothing else makes any difference; for it is explicitly② laid down in the warrant that "neither rank nor long service nor wounds nor any other circumstance③ whatsoever, save the merit of conspicuous bravery, shall be held to establish a sufficient claim to the order."

There are many kinds of bravery, and if you look through the records of the four hundred and eleven men, living and dead, that have held the cross, out of the seven hundred thousand or so who can compete for it, you will find instances of every kind of heroism.

There is bravery in the early morning when it takes great courage merely to leave the warm blankets; on foot and on horse; empty or fed; sick or well; coolness of brain that thinks out a plan at dawn and holds to it all through the long, murderous day; bravery of mind that forces the crazy body to sit still and do nothing except show a good example; enduring spirit that wears through a long siege, never losing heart or temper; quick, flashing bravery that heaves the lighted shell overboard or rushes the stockade while others are gaping, and the calculating craftsmanship that camps alone before the sputtering rifle pit, and wipes out every living soul in it.

Within the last forty years England has dealt with many different peoples, and—excepting some foolish hill folk in a place called Sikkim④, who were misled into declaring war—they all, Zulu, Malay, Maori⑤, Burman, Boer⑥, the little hillsman of the northeast Indian frontier, the Arab of east Africa, and the Sudanese of the north country, and the rest, played a thoroughly good game.

It is in these rough-and-tumble affairs that many of the later crosses have been won; though two hundred and ninety-three of the total were given for acts of bravery in the Crimea⑦ and the Indian Mutiny⑧. That last was the worst.

In the mutiny of 1857 the Indian empire seemed to be crumbling like a sand bank in flood, and wherever there were three or four Englishmen, they had to kill or be killed till help came.

There was a lance corporal who afterward rose to be lieutenant colonel. He was an enduring kind of man, for he won the cross for taking a hand in every fight that came along through nearly seventy consecutive days.

Then there were two brothers who earned the cross about six times between them for leading forlorn hopes and such.

Then there was a little man of the Sutherland Highlanders —a private, who rose to be major general. In one attack near Lucknow he killed eleven men with his claymore⑨; and they all fought.

Another V. C. of my acquaintance once saved a trooper whose horse had been killed. His argument was rather original. The man was on foot, and the enemy—Zulus this time, and they are beautiful fighters—was coming down at a run, and he said very decently that he did not see his way to periling his officer's life by double-weighting the only horse there was.

To this his officer answered: "If you don't get up behind me I'll get off and I'll give you such a licking as you've never had in your life."

The man was more afraid of fists than assagais⑩, and the good horse pulled them both out of the scrape. Now, by the regulations, an officer who threatens with violence a subordinate of his service is liable to lose his commission, and to be declared "incapable of serving the queen in any capacity": but the trooper never reported his superior.

I have never yet come across a V. C. who had not the strictest notions about washing and shaving and keeping himself quiet and decent on his way through the civilized world. Indeed, it is very curious, after one has known hundreds of young men and officers, to sit still at a distance and watch them come forward to success in their profession. The clean and considerate man always seems to take hold of circumstances at the right end.

One of the latest and youngest of the V. C's, I used to know distantly as a beautiful being whom they called aid-de-camp⑪ to some big official in India. So far as an outsider could judge, his duties consisted in wearing a uniform faced with blue satin and in seeing that every one enjoyed himself at the dances and dinners.

A few years later his chance came and he made the most of it. We were then smoking out a nest of caravan-raiders, slave-dealers, and general thieves, who lived somewhere under the Karakoram Mountains, among glaciers about sixteen thousand feet above the sea level. The mere road to the place was too much for many mules, for it ran by precipices and around rock curves and over roaring, snow-fed rivers.

The enemy—they were called Kanjuts⑫ this time—had fortified themselves in a place as nearly impregnable⑬ as nature and man could make it. One position was on the top of a cliff about twelve hundred feet high, whence they could roll stones directly on the head of any attacking force. Our men objected to the stones much more than to the rifle fire. They were down in a river bed at the bottom of an icy pass with some three tiers of cliff-like defenses above them, and the Kanjuts were very well armed. To make all pleasant, it was December.

The ex-aid-de-camp was a good mountaineer, and he was told off with a hundred natives, Goorkhas and Dogra Sikhs⑭, to get into the top tier of fortifications, and the only way of arriving was to follow a sort of shoot in the cliff face, which the enemy had worn out by throwing rocks down. By daylight, in peace, and with guides, it would have been good mountaineering.

He went in the dark, by eye, and with some two thousand Kanjuts very much at war with him. When he had climbed eight hundred feet, almost perpendicular, he found he must come back, because even he and his cragsmen could find no way.

He returned to the river and began again in a new place, working his men up between avalanches that slid along and knocked people over. When he got to the top he had to take his men into the forts with the bayonets and the kukri, the little Goorkha knife. The thing was so bold that it broke the hearts of the enemy and practically ended the campaign; and if you could see the place you would understand why.

It was hard toe-nail and finger-nail mountaineering under fire, and the men behind him were not regulars, but men raised by the semi-independent kings and used to defend the frontier. The little aid-de-camp got a deserved Victoria Cross. The courage of Ulysses⑮ again; for he had to think as he climbed, and until he was directly under the fortifications one chance-hopping bowlder might just have planed his men off all along the line.

And when all is said and done, courage of mind is the finest thing any one can hope to attain to. A weak or undisciplined soul is apt to become reckless under strain — and this is being afraid the wrong way about—or to act for its own immediate advantage. For this reason the Victoria Cross is jealously guarded. Men are taught to volunteer for anything and everything; going out quietly after, not before, the authorities have filled their place. They are also instructed that it is cowardly, it is childish, and it is cheating to neglect the plain work immediately in front of them, the duties they are trusted and paid to do for the sake of stepping aside to snatch at what to an outsider may resemble fame or distinction.

The order itself is a personal decoration, and the honor and glory of it belong to the wearer; but he can only win it by forgetting himself, his own honor and glory, and by working for something beyond and outside and apart. And that is the only way you ever get anything in this world worth the keeping.

注释

①Signal: remarkable; notable.

②Explicitly: clearly; plainly.

③Craftsmanship: skill in one's work; knowledge of a trade.

④Sikkim: a state in Bengal, India.

⑤Maori: the inhabitants of New Zealand.

⑥Boer: a farmer people of Dutch descent in South Africa, recently at war with the British.

⑦Crimea: in the Crimean War in 1854 France and England united against Russia, to repel Russian advances in Turkey.

⑧Indian Mutiny: in 1857 the native troops in India rose against the British soldiers, whom they outnumbered eight to one, and for a time threatened the overthrow of British power in India.

⑨Claymore: a large, two-handed sword.

⑩Assagais: spears used by native tribes in South Africa.

⑪Aid-de-camp: an officer chosen by a general to carry orders and to assist and represent him in other ways.

⑫Kanjuts: a tribe in India.

⑬Impregnable: unconquerable; that cannot be taken.

⑭Goorkhas, DograSikhs: Indian tribes, loyal to the English.

⑮Ulysses or Odysseus: the wisest of the Greek heroes who fought against Troy.

20

THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE①

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of death

Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!" he said;②

Into the valley of death

Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"

Was there a man dismayed?

Not though the soldier knew

Some one had blundered;

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die:

Into the valley of death

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of death,

Into the mouth of hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flashed all their sabers bare,

Flashed as they turned in air

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

All the world wondered.

Plunged in the battery smoke,

Right through the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reeled from the saber-stroke

Shattered and sundered.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came through the jaws of death,

Back from the mouth of hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?

Oh, the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honor the charge they made,

Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!

————

A good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.

(MILTON)

注释

①Charge of the Light Brigade: in the battle of Balaklava, in the Crimean War, an English brigade was, by some mistake, ordered to charge a Russian battery. The dreadful order was obeyed, and of the six hundred and thirty men who made the attack, only one hundred and fifty returned.

②"Charge for the guns!" he said: Captain Nolan gave the command to advance. By whose authority it was done could never be ascertained, as he was the first man to fall.

21

POOR RICHARD'S SAYINGS

BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790): An American statesman and philosopher. While ambassador to France, he secured the ratification of a treaty with that country which was of inestimable value to the struggling colonists. He wrote "Poor Richard's Almanac," "Autobiography," and papers on political, scientific, and moral subjects.

These proverbs are taken from "Poor Richard's Almanac," a yearly publication full of shrewd sayings about industry and economy.

If pride leads the van, beggary brings up the rear.

He that can travel well afoot, keeps a good horse.

Some men grow mad by studying much to know; but who grows mad by studying good to grow?

Take this remark from Richard poor and lame, —Whate'er's begun in anger ends in shame.

The worst wheel of the cart makes the most noise.

He that falls in love with himself will have no rivals.

Against diseases, know the strongest fence is the defensive virtue, abstinence.

If you would have a faithful servant and one that you like, serve yourself.

A mob's a monster; with heads enough, but no brains.

The discontented man finds no easy chair.

God helps them that help themselves.

Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.

Diligence is the mother of good luck.

When Prosperity was well mounted, she let go the bridle, and soon came tumbling out of the saddle.

A little neglect may breed great mischief: for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and for want of a shoe the horse was lost, and for want of a horse the rider was lost.

A false friend and a shadow attend only while the sun shines.

Plow deep while sluggards sleep, and you shah have corn to sell and to keep.

Old boys have playthings as well as young ones: the difference is only in the price.

If you would keep your secret from an enemy, tell it not to a friend.

One to-day is worth two to-morrows.

What maintains one vice would bring up two children.

It is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance.

If you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow some: for he that goes a-borrowing goes a-sorrowing.

Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty, and supped with Contempt.

Fly pleasures and they will follow you.

Creditors have better memories than debtors: creditors are a superstitious sect, — great observers of set days and times.

Sloth makes all things difficult: industry, all easy. But after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence, though excellent things: for they may all be blasted without the blessing of Heaven.

22

THE USES OF MOUNTAINS

BY JOHN RUSKIN

John Ruskin (1819-1900): An English author. His most important works are "Modern Painters," a treatise on the principles of art, and "The Seven Lamps of Architecture," a treatise on the principles of architecture. Besides art criticisms, Ruskin wrote many books on ethical, educational, and political subjects.

This selection is from "Modern Painters."

John Ruskin

It may not be altogether profitless or unnecessary to review briefly the nature of the three 10 great offices which mountain ranges are appointed to fulfill, in order to preserve the health and increase the happiness of mankind.

Their first use is of course to give motion to water. Every fountain and river, from the inch-deep streamlet that crosses the village lane in trembling clearness, to the massy① and silent march of the everlasting multitude of waters in Amazon or Ganges, owe their play and purity and power to the ordained elevations of the earth. Gentle or steep, extended or abrupt, some determined slope of the earth's surface is of course necessary before any wave can so much as overtake one sedge in its pilgrimage.

How seldom do we enough consider, as we walk beside the margins of our pleasant brooks, how beautiful and wonderful is that ordinance②, of which every blade of grass that waves in their clear water is a perpetual sign, that the dew and the rain fallen on the face of the earth shall find no resting place; shall find, on the contrary, fixed channels, traced for them from the ravines of the central crests down which they roar in sudden ranks of foam, to the dark hollows beneath the banks of lowland pasture around which they must circle slowly among the stems and beneath the leaves of the lilies.

Paths are prepared for them, by which, at some appointed rate of journey, they must evermore descend, sometimes slow and sometimes swift, but never pausing. The daily portion of the earth they have to glide over is marked for them at each successive sunrise, the place which has known them knowing them no more; and the gateways of guarding mountains are opened for them in cleft and chasm, none letting③ them in their pilgrimage; and, from far off, the great heart of the sea calls them to itself.

It is easy to conceive how, under any less beneficent dispositions of their masses of hill, the continents of the earth might either have been covered with enormous lakes or have become wildernesses of pestiferous marsh, or lifeless plains upon which the water would have dried as it fell, leaving them for great part of the year desert. Such districts do exist, and exist in vastness: the whole earth is not prepared for the habitation of man; only certain small portions are prepared for him.

And that part which we are enabled to inhabit owes its fitness for human life chiefly to its mountain ranges, which, throwing the superfluous rain off as it falls, collect it in streams or lakes, and guide it into given places and in given directions; so that men can build their cities in the midst of fields which they know will be always fertile and establish the lines of their commerce upon streams which will not fail.

Nor is this giving of motion to water to be considered as confined only to the surface of the earth.

In the Bernese Alps, Switzerland

A no less important function of the hills is in directing the flow of the fountains and springs from subterranean④ reservoirs. There is no miraculous springing up of water out of the ground at our feet, but every fountain and well is supplied from a reservoir among the hills, so placed as to involve some slight fall or pressure, enough to secure the constant flowing of the stream.

And the incalculable blessing of the power given to us in most valleys, of reaching by excavation some point whence the water will rise to the surface of the ground in perennial⑤ flow, is entirely owing to the concave disposition of the beds of clay or rock raised from beneath the bosom of the valley into ranks of inclosing hills.

The second great use of mountains is to maintain a constant change in the currents and nature of the air. Such change would, of course, have been partly caused by differences in soils and vegetation, even if the earth had been level; but to a far less extent than it is now by the chains of hills. Exposing on one side their masses of rock to the full heat of the sun—increased by the angle at which the rays strike on the slope—and on the other casting a soft shadow for leagues over the plains at their feet, hills divide the earth not only into districts but into climates, and cause perpetual currents of air to traverse their passes, and ascend or descend their ravines, altering both the temperature and nature of the air as it passes in a thousand different ways. They moisten the air with the spray of their waterfalls; suck it down and beat it hither and thither in the pools of their torrents; close it within clefts and caves, where the sunbeams never reach till it is as cold as November mists; then send it forth again to breathe softly across the slopes of velvet fields, or be scorched among sunburnt shales⑥ and grassless crags. Then they draw it back in moaning swirls through clefts of ice, and up into dewy wreaths above the snowfields; piercing it with strange electric darts and flashes of mountain fire; and tossing it high in fantastic storm-cloud, as the dried grass is tossed by the mower, only suffering it to depart at last when chastened and pure, to refresh the faded air of the far-off plains.

The third great use of mountains is to cause perpetual change in the soils of the earth. Without such provisions the ground under cultivation would in a series of years become exhausted and require to be upturned laboriously by the hand of man. But the elevations of the earth's surface provide for it a perpetual renovation.

The higher mountains suffer their summits to be broken into fragments and to be cast down in sheets of massy rock, full of every substance necessary for the nourishment of plants; these fallen fragments are again broken by frost and ground by torrents into various conditions of sand and clay — materials which are distributed perpetually by the streams farther and farther from the mountain's base.

Every shower which swells the rivulets enables their waters to carry certain portions of earth into new positions, and exposes new banks of ground to be mined in their turn. That turbid foaming of the angry water, that tearing down of bank and rock along the flanks of its fury, are no disturbances of the kind course of nature; they are beneficent operations of laws necessary to the existence of man and to the beauty of the earth.

The process is continued more gently, but not less effectively, over all the surface of the lower undulating⑦ country; and each filtering thread of summer rain which trickles through the short turf of the uplands, is bearing its own appointed burden of earth to be thrown down on some new natural garden in the dingles⑧ below.

It is not, in reality, a degrading, but a true, large, and ennobling view of the mountain ranges of the world, to compare them to heaps of fertile and fresh earth, laid up by a prudent gardener beside his garden-beds, whence, at intervals, he casts on them some scattering of new and virgin ground. That which we so often lament as convulsion or destruction, is nothing else than the momentary shaking of the dust from the spade.

The winter floods, which inflict a temporary devastation⑨, bear with them the elements of succeeding fertility; the fruitful field is covered with sand and shingle⑩ in momentary judgment, but in enduring mercy; and the great river, which chokes its mouth with marsh and tosses terror along its shore, is but scattering the seeds of the harvest of futurity and preparing the seats of unborn generations.

The three great functions which I have just described, — those of giving motion and change to water, air, and earth, — are indispensable to human existence; they are operations to be regarded with as full a depth of gratitude as the laws which bid the tree bear fruit or the seed multiply itself in the earth.

And thus those desolate and threatening ranges of dark mountain, which, in nearly all ages of the world, men have looked upon with aversion or with terror, and shrunk back from as if they were haunted by perpetual images of death, are, in reality, sources of life and happiness far fuller and more beneficent than all the bright fruitfulness of the plain. The valleys only feed; the mountains feed and guard and strengthen us.

We take our idea of fearfulness and sublimity alternately from the mountains and the sea; but we associate them unjustly. The sea, with all its beneficence, is yet devouring and terrible; but the silent wave of the blue mountain is lifted toward heaven in a stillness of perpetual mercy. And the one surge, unfathomable in its darkness, the other, unshaken in its faithfulness, forever bear the seal of their appointed symbol: —

"Thy righteousness is like the great mountains:

Thy judgments are a great deep."

注释

①Massy: massive; forming or consisting of a large mass.

②Ordinance: law.

③Letting: delaying; hindering, — an old meaning of the word.

④Subterranean: underground.

⑤Perennial: never failing; unceasing.

⑥Shales: kind of rock.

⑦Undulating: rolling; rising and falling in wavelike forms.

⑧Dingles: narrow dales; small valleys.

⑨Devastation: ruin; destruction.

⑩Shingle: coarse gravel.

23

THE AMERICAN FLAG

BY J. R. DRAKE

Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820): An American poet. He is best known by this patriotic poem. He wrote a longer poem, "The Culprit Fay," narrating the adventures of a fairy who was guilty of loving a mortal maiden. It is graceful in fancy and gives some attractive descriptions of the scenery along the Hudson River.

When Freedom from her mountain height

Unfurled her standard to the air,

She tore the azure robe of night,

And set the stars of glory there.

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes

The milky baldric of the skies,

And striped its pure celestial white

With streakings of the morning light;

Then from his mansion in the sun

She called her eagle bearer down,

And gave into his mighty hand

The symbol of her chosen land.

Majestic monarch of the cloud,

Who rear'st aloft thy regal① form,

To hear the tempest trumpings loud

And see the lightning lances driven,

When stride the warriors of the storm,

And rolls the thunder-drum of Heaven, —

Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given

To guard the banner of the free,

To hover in the sulphur smoke,

To ward away the battle stroke,

And bid its blendings shine afar,

Like rainbows on the cloud of war,

The harbingers② of victory!

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,

The sign of hope and triumph high,

When speaks the signal trumpet tone,

And the long line comes gleaming on.

Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,

Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,

Each soldier eye shall brightly turn

To where thy sky-born glories burn;

And, as his springing steps advance,

Catch war and vengeance from the glance.

And, when the cannon-mouthings loud

Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud,

And gory sabers rise and fall

Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall,

Then shall thy meteor glances glow,

And cowering foes shall shrink beneath

Each gallant arm that strikes below

That lovely messenger of death.

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave

Thy star shall glitter o'er the brave;

When Death, careering on the gale,

Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,

And frighted waves rush wildly back

Before the broadside's reeling rack,

Each dying wanderer of the sea

Shah look at once to Heaven and thee,

And smile to see thy splendors fly

In triumph, o'er his dosing eye.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home!

By angel hands to Valor given!

Thy stars have lit the welkin③ dome,

And smile thy hues were born in Heaven.

Forever float that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us,

With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?

注释

①Regal: kingly.

②Harbingers: forerunners; messengers.

③Welkin: sky.

24

THE MARVELOUS TOWER

BY WASHINGTON IRVING

Washington Irving (1783-1859): A famous American author. The most popular of his works are the American, English, and Spanish tales in "The Sketch-Book," "Brace-bridge Hall," "Tales of a Traveler," and "The Alhambra." He wrote also "Life of Columbus," "Life of Washington," and a burlesque "History of New York," purporting to be by a Dutchman, Diedrich Knickerbocker.

This story, founded on an old Spanish legend, is from a volume of tales and sketches published after Irving's death, by his nephew, Pierre Irving.

Washington Irving

I

The morning sun shone brightly upon the cliff-built towers of Toledo, when King Roderick① issued out of the gate of the city, at the head of a numerous train of courtiers and cavaliers, and crossed the bridge that bestrides the deep rocky bed of the Tagus. The shining cavalcade② wound up the road that leads among the mountains and soon came in sight of the necromantic③ tower.

This singular tower was round, and of great height and grandeur, erected upon a lofty rock, and surrounded by crags and precipices. The foundation was supported by four brazen lions, each taller than a cavalier on horseback. The walls were built of small pieces of jasper and various colored marbles, not larger than a man's hand; so joined, however, that but for their different hues, they might be taken for one entire stone.

They were arranged with marvelous cunning, so as to represent battles and warlike deeds of times and heroes long since passed away. The whole surface was so admirably polished that the stones were as lustrous as glass, and reflected the rays of the sun with such resplendent brightness as to dazzle all beholders.

King Roderick and his courtiers arrived wondering and amazed at the foot of the rock. Here there was a narrow arched way cut through the living stone—the only entrance to the tower. It was closed by a massive iron gate covered with rusty locks of divers④ workmanship in the fashion of different centuries, which had been affixed by the predecessors of Don⑤ Roderick. On either side of the portal stood the two ancient guardians of the tower, laden with the keys belonging to the locks.

The king alighted and approaching the portals ordered the guardians to unlock the gate. The hoary-headed men drew back with terror. "Alas!" cried they, "what is it your majesty requires of us? Would you have the mischiefs of this tower unbound and let loose to shake the earth to its foundations?"

The venerable Archbishop Urbino likewise implored him not to disturb a mystery which had been held sacred from generation to generation within the memory of man, and which even Cæsar⑥ himself, when sovereign of Spain, had not ventured to invade. The youthful cavaliers, however, were eager to pursue the adventure and encouraged him in his rash curiosity.

"Come what come may," exclaimed Don Roderick, "I am resolved to penetrate the mystery of this tower." So saying, he again commanded the guardians to unlock the portal.

The ancient men obeyed with fear and trembling, but their hands shook with age, and when they applied the keys the locks were so rusted by time, or of such strange workmanship, that they resisted their feeble efforts; whereupon the young cavaliers pressed forward and lent their aid. Still the locks were so numerous and difficult that with all their eagerness and strength a great part of the day was exhausted before the whole of them could be mastered.

When the last bolt had yielded to the key, the guardians and the reverend archbishop again entreated the king to pause and reflect. "Whatever is within this tower," they said, "is as yet harmless, and lies bound under a mighty spell; venture not, then, to open a door which may let forth a flood of evil upon the land."

But the anger of the king was roused, and he ordered that the portal should be instantly thrown open. In vain, however, did one after another exert his strength; and equally in vain did the cavaliers unite their forces, and apply their shoulders to the gate: though there was neither bar nor bolt remaining, it was perfectly immovable.

The patience of the king was now exhausted, and he advanced to apply his hand; scarcely, however, did he touch the iron gate when it swung slowly open, uttering, as it were, a dismal groan as it turned reluctantly upon its hinges. A cold, damp wind issued forth, accompanied by a tempestuous sound.

The hearts of the ancient guardians quaked within them, and their knees smote together; but several of the youthful cavaliers rushed in, eager to gratify their curiosity or to signalize themselves in this redoubtable⑦ enterprise. They had scarcely advanced a few paces, however, when they recoiled, overcome by the baleful⑧ air or by some fearful vision.

Upon this the king ordered that fires should be kindled to dispel the darkness and to correct the noxious and long-imprisoned air. He then led the way into the interior; but though stout of heart he advanced with awe and hesitation.

After proceeding a short distance he entered a hall or antechamber⑨, on the opposite side of which was a door, and before it stood a gigantic figure of the color of bronze and of a terrible aspect. It held a huge mace, which it whirled incessantly⑩, giving such cruel and resounding blows upon the earth as to prevent all further entrance.

The king paused at the sight of this frightful figure; for whether it was a living being or a statue of magic artifice⑪ he could not tell. On its breast was a scroll, whereon was inscribed in large letters, "I do my duty."

After a little while Roderick plucked up heart and addressed it with great solemnity: "Whatever thou be," said he, "know that I come not to violate this sanctuary, but to inquire into the mystery it contains; I conjure thee, therefore, to let me pass in safety."

Upon this the figure paused, with uplifted mace, and the king and his train passed unharmed through the door.

They now entered a vast chamber of a rare and sumptuous architecture, difficult to be described. The walls were incrusted with the most precious gems, so joined together as to form one smooth and perfect surface. The lofty dome appeared to be self-supported, and was studded with gems lustrous as the stars of the firmament⑫. There was neither wood nor any other common or base material to be seen throughout the edifice. There were no windows or other openings to admit the day, yet a radiant light was spread throughout the place which seemed to shine from the walls and to render every object distinctly visible.

In the center of this hall stood a table of alabaster⑬ of the rarest workmanship, on which was inscribed in Greek characters⑭ that Hercules⑮, the Theban Greek, had founded this tower in the year of the world three thousand and six. Upon the table stood a golden casket richly set round with precious stones and closed with a lock of mother-of-pearl, and on the lid were inscribed the following words: "In this coffer⑯ is contained the mystery of the tower. The hand of none but a king can open it; but let him beware! for marvelous events will be revealed to him which are to take place before his death."

II

King Roderick boldly seized upon the casket. The venerable archbishop laid his hand upon his arm and made a last remonstrance. "Forbear, my son," said he, "stop while there is yet time. Look not into the mysterious decrees of Providence. God has hidden them in mercy from our sight; and it is impious to rend the veil by which they are concealed."

"What have I to dread from a knowledge of the future?" replied Roderick, with an air of haughty presumption. "If good be destined me, I shall enjoy it by anticipation; if evil, I shall arm myself to meet it." So saying he rashly broke the lock.

Within the casket he found nothing but a linen cloth folded between two tablets of copper. On unfolding it he beheld painted on it figures of men on horseback, of fierce demeanor, clad in turbans and robes of various colors, after the fashion of the Arabs, with scimeters⑰ hanging from their necks and cross-bows at their saddle-backs, and they carried banners and pennons with divers devices. Above them was inscribed in Greek characters: "Rash monarch, behold the men who are to hurl thee from thy throne and subdue thy kingdom!"

At the sight of these things the king was troubled in spirit, and dismay fell upon his attendants. While they were yet regarding the paintings it seemed as if the figures began to move, and a faint sound of warlike tumult arose from the cloth, with the clash of cymbal⑱ and bray of trumpet, the neigh of steed and shout of army; but all was heard indistinctly, as if afar off or in a reverie or dream.

The more they gazed the plainer became the motion and the louder the noise, and the linen cloth rolled forth and spread out, as it were a mighty banner, and filled the hall and mingled with the air, until its texture was no longer visible, or appeared as a transparent cloud; and the shadowy figures became all in motion, and the din and uproar became fiercer and fiercer, and whether the whole were an animated picture or a vision or an array of embodied spirits conjured up by supernatural power, no one present could tell.

They beheld before them a great field of battle where Christians and Moslems were engaged in deadly conflict. They heard the rush and tramp of steeds, the blast of trumpet, the clash of cymbal, and the stormy din of a thousand drums. There was the clash of swords and maces⑲ and battle-axes, with the whistling of arrows and the hurling of darts and lances.

The Christians gave way before the foe; the infidels pressed upon them and put them to utter rout⑳. The standard of the Cross was cast down, the banner of Spain was trodden under foot, the air resounded with shouts of triumph, with yells of fury, and with the groans of dying men. Amidst the flying squad rons King Roderick beheld a crowned warrior whose back was toward him, but whose armor and device were his own, and who was mounted on a white steed that resembled his own war-horse, Orelia. In the confusion of the flight the warrior was dismounted and was no longer to be seen, and Orelia galloped wildly through the field of battle without a rider. Roderiek stayed to see no more, but rushed from the fatal hall followed by his terrified attendants. They fled through the outer chamber, where the gigantic figure with the whirling mace had disappeared; and on issuing into the open air they found the two ancient guardians of the tower lying dead at the portal, as though they had been crushed by some mighty blow. All nature, which had been clear and serene, was now in wild uproar. The heavens were darkened by heavy clouds; loud bursts of thunder rent the air, and the earth was deluged with rain and rattling hail.

"The linen cloth rolled forth and spread out."

The king ordered that the iron portal should be closed; but the door was immovable, and the cavaliers were dismayed by the tremendous turmoil and the mingled shouts and groans that continued to prevail within. The king and his train hastened back to Toledo, pursued and pelted by the tempest. The mountains shook and echoed with the thunder, trees were uprooted and blown down, and the Tagus raged and roared and flowed above its banks. It seemed to the affrighted courtiers as if the phantom legions of the tower had issued forth and mingled with the storm; for amidst the claps of thunder and the howling of the wind, they fancied they heard the sound of the drums and trumpets, the shouts of armies, and the rush of steeds. Thus beaten by tempest and overwhelmed with horror, the king and his courtiers arrived at Toledo, clattering across the bridge of the Tagus and entering the gate in headlong confusion, as though they had been pursued by an enemy.

In the morning the heavens were again serene and all nature was restored to tranquility. The king, therefore, issued forth with his cavaliers and took the road to the tower, followed by a great multitude, for he was anxious once more to close the iron door and shut up those evils that threatened to overwhelm the land.

But lo! on coming in sight of the tower a new wonder met their eyes. An eagle appeared high in the air, seeming to descend from heaven. He bore in his beak a burning brand, and lighting on the summit of the tower fanned the fire with his wings. In a little while the edifice burst forth into a blaze, as though it had been built of rosin, and the flames mounted into the air with a brilliancy more dazzling than the sun; nor did they cease until every stone was consumed and the whole was reduced to a heap of ashes.

Then there came a vast flight of birds, small of size and sable of hue, darkening the sky like a cloud; and they descended and wheeled in circles round the ashes, causing so great a wind with their wings that the whole was borne up into the air and scattered throughout all Spain, and wherever a particle of those ashes fell it was as a stain of blood.

It is furthermore recorded by ancient men and writers of former days, that all those on whom this dust fell were afterward slain in battle when the country was conquered by the Arabs, and that the destruction of this necromantic tower was a sign and token of the coming perdition㉑ of Spain.

注释

①Roderick: the last of the Gothic kings of Spain, who was driven from his throne by the Moors.

②Cavalcade: a procession of persons on horseback.

③Necromantic: enchanted; magic.

④Divers: diverse; different in kind, — an old meaning of the word.

⑤Don: a Spanish title, formerly applied only to persons of high rank, now used in the sense of Mr. or sir.

⑥Cæsar, etc.: Caius Julius Cœsar, the greatest of Roman generals, conquered Spain 49 B. C.

⑦Redoubtable: dreadful; fearful.

⑧Baleful: hurtful; deadly.

⑨Antechamber: a small room leading into a larger one; an outer room.

⑩Incessantly: unceasingly; continually.

⑪Artifice: workmanship.

⑫Firmament: sky.

⑬Alabaster: a very hard stone.

⑭Characters: letters.

⑮Hercules: in Greek mythology a hero celebrated for great strength.

⑯Coffer: chest, especially one used for keeping valuables.

⑰Scimeters: curved swords used by Arabs and other Oriental people.

⑱Cymbal: a musical instrument.

⑲Maces: heavy war clubs.

⑳Rout: defeat; confused flight.

㉑Perdition: ruin; destruction.

25

SONNET

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This city now doth like a garment wear

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theaters, and temples lie

Open unto the fields and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill;

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

(COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802)

26

AN ACCOUNT OF INDIAN CUSTOMS

BY CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH

John Smith (1579-1632): An English adventurer, one of the founders of the Virginia colony. He also explored the northern coast and gave it the name of New England. He wrote several books about America, and his "True Account of Virginia," printed in 1608, was the first book written by an Englishman about America.

I

Within sixty miles of Jamestown there are about five thousand people, but of able men fit for war there are scarce fifteen hundred. There is a far greater number of women and children than of men. To support so many together, they have yet no means, because they derive so small a benefit from their land, be it ever so fertile. Six or seven hundred have been the most that have been seen together.

The people differ very much in stature, and especially in language. Some are very great, others very little; but generally tall and straight, of a comely proportion, and of a brown color when they are of age, but white when they are born. Their hair is generally black, and but few have any beard. The men shave one half of their hair and wear the other half long. For barbers they have the women, who with two shells will grate away the hair in any fashion they please. The hair of the women is cut in many fashions suitable to their years, but some part always remains long.

They are very strong, of an able body, and full of agility; able to endure lying in the woods under a tree by the fire in the worst of winter, or in the weeds and grasses in ambuscade① in summer. They are treacherous in everything except where fear constrains them; crafty, timorous, and quick of apprehension. Some are of fearful disposition, some are bold, most are cautious, all are savage, and generally covetous of copper, beads, and suchlike trinkets. They are soon moved to anger, and so malicious② that they seldom forget an injury.

Each household knows its own lands and gardens, and most live by their own labor. For their apparel they are sometimes covered with the skins of wild beasts, which in winter are dressed with the hair, but in summer without. The better sort use large mantles of deerskins. Some of these mantles are embroidered with white beads, some with copper, others painted after their manner. We have seen some wear mantles made of turkey feathers, so prettily wrought and woven with threads that nothing but the feathers could be discerned③. They were exceedingly warm and very handsome.

They decorate themselves mostly with copper beads and paint. Some of the women have their bodies and faces tattooed④ with pictures of beasts and serpents, wrought into their flesh with black spots. In each ear they have three great holes, from which they hang chains, bracelets, or pieces of copper. Some of the men wear in those holes a small green and yellow colored live snake, nearly half a yard in length.

Some wear on their heads the wing of a bird or some large feather, and a rattle, which they take from the tail of a snake. Many have the whole skin of a hawk or some strange fowl stuffed, with the wings spread. Their heads and shoulders are painted red with the root pocone bruised to powder and mixed with oil: this they claim will preserve them from the heat in summer and from the cold in winter.

Men, women, and children have their several names according to the humor of their parents. The women, they say, love their children very dearly. To make them hardy, they wash them in the rivers in the coldest mornings, and by painting and ointments so tan their skins that after a year or two no weather will hurt them.

The men pass their time in fishing, hunting, wars, and such manlike exercises, scorning to be seen doing any womanlike work. The women and children do all the work. They make mats, baskets, pots, mortars; pound their corn, make their bread, prepare their victuals, plant and gather their corn, and bear all kinds of burdens.

For fishing, hunting, and wars they use their bows and arrows. They bring their bows to the form of ours by scraping with a shell. Their arrows are made, some of straight young sprigs, which they head with bone two or three inches long. These they use to shoot at squirrels on trees. Another sort of arrow is made of reeds. These are pierced with wood headed with splinters of crystal or some other sharp stone, the spurs of a turkey, or the bill of some bird.

For a knife they use the splinter of a reed to cut their feathers in form. With this knife they will joint a deer or any beast, shape their shoes, buskins⑤, and mantles. To make the notch of their arrows they have the tooth of a boar set in a stick. The arrow-head they quickly make with a little bone, or with any splinter of a stone, or glass in the form of a heart. With the sinews of deer and the tops of deers' horns boiled to a jelly they make a glue that will not dissolve in cold water, and with this they glue the head to the end of their arrows.

II

For their wars they use targets⑥ that are round and made of the bark of trees, and wear a sword of wood at their backs, but oftentimes they use the horns of a deer, put through a piece of wood in the form of a pick-ax, for swords. Some have a long stone sharpened at both ends and used in the same manner. This they were wont⑦ to use for hatchets also, but now by trading they have plenty of iron.

In their hunting and fishing they take the greatest pains; and as it is their ordinary exercise from infancy, they esteem it a pleasure, and are very proud to be expert in it. By their continual ranging and travel they know all the advantages and places most frequented with deer, beasts, fish, fowl, roots, and berries. In their hunts they leave their habitations, and forming themselves into companies, go with their families to the most desert places, where they spend their time in hunting and fowling up the mountains, or by the heads of the rivers, where there is plenty of game. For betwixt the rivers the ground is so narrow that little game comes there which they do not devour. It is a marvel that they can so accurately pass three or four days' journey through these deserts without habitation.

In their hunts in the desert they commonly go two or three hundred together. Having found the deer, they surround them with many fires, and betwixt the fires they place themselves. Some take their stand in the midst. They chase the deer, thus frightened by the fires and the voices, so long within the circle that they often kill six, eight, ten, or fifteen at a hunting. They also drive them on to some narrow point of land and force them into the river, where with their boats they have ambuscades to kill them. When they have shot a deer by land, they track it like bloodhounds by the blood, and so overtake it. Hares, partridges, turkeys, fat or lean, young or old, they devour all they can catch.

One savage hunting alone uses the skin of a deer slit on one side, and so put on his arm that his hand comes to the head, which is stuffed; and the horns, head, eyes, ears, and every part are artificially counterfeited as perfectly as he can devise. Thus shrouding his body in the skin, by stalking⑧ he approaches the deer, creeping on the ground from one tree to another. If the deer chances to suspect danger, or stands to gaze, he turns the head with his hand to appear like a deer, also gazing and licking himself. So, watching his best advantage to approach, he shoots it, and chases it by the marks of its blood till he gets it.

When they intend any wars the chiefs usually have the advice of their priests and conjurers, and their allies and ancient friends; but the priests chiefly determine their resolution. They appoint some muscular fellow captain over each nation. They seldom make war for land or goods, but for women and children and especially for revenge. They have many enemies in all the western countries beyond the mountains and the heads of the rivers.

The Powhatans are constrained sometimes to fight against all their enemies. Their chief attempts are to capture by stratagem, treachery, or surprises. They do not put women and children captives to death, but keep them.

They have a method in war, and for our pleasure they showed it to us. Having painted and disguised themselves in the fiercest manner they could devise, they divided themselves into two companies, with nearly a hundred in a company——the one company called Monacans, the other Powhatans.

Each army had its captain. These as enemies took their stand a musket shot from one another, ranged themselves fifteen abreast, and in ranks four or five yards apart; not in file, but with openings between their files, so that the rear could shoot as conveniently as the front. Having thus pitched the fields, a messenger from each part went with these conditions: that the fugitives of the vanquished, upon their submission in two days after, should live, but their wives and children should be prize for the conquerors.

The messengers no sooner returned than the companies approached in order, on each rank a sergeant, and in the rear an officer for lieutenant, all duly keeping their orders, yet leaping and singing after their accustomed manner in wars. Upon the first flight of arrows they gave most horrible shouts and screeches.

When they had spent their arrows, they came together, charging and retiring, every rank following the other. As they got a chance, they caught their enemy by the hair of the head and down he came. The victor with his wooden sword seemed to beat out his enemy's brains, and yet the moment it was possible he crept to the rear to maintain the skirmish.

The Monacans decreasing, the Powhatans charged upon them in the form of a half-moon; they, unwilling to be enclosed, fled all in a troop to their ambuscades, on which they very cunningly led the Powhatans. The Monacans dispersed themselves among the fresh men hidden in ambush, whereupon the Powhatans retired with all speed. The Monacans seeing this, took advantage to retire again, and so each company returned to its own quarters. All their actions, voices, and gestures, both in charging and retreating, were so strained to the height of their quality and nature, that the strangeness of the scene made it seem very delightful.

注释

①Ambuscade: lying in wait, especially for the purpose of attacking an enemy by surprise; a place where one lies in wait.

②Malicious: mischievous; spiteful.

③Discerned: seen; distinguished.

④Tattooed: marked according to a savage custom, by pricking in coloring matter under the skin.

⑤Buskins: strong coverings for the feet coming some distance up the legs.

⑥Targets: small shields used as defensive weapons in war.

⑦Wont: accustomed; used.

⑧Stalking: moving forward stealthily under cover of a screen for the purpose of attack.

27

WORK

BY THOMAS CARLYLE

Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881): A Scotch author who exerted greater influence on life and literature than any other man of his time. His principal works are "Sartor Resartus," "The French Revolution," "Heroes and Hero Worship," and "Life of Frederick the Great."

Here is a passage from "Past and Present," in which Carlyle preaches the "gospel of work."

Admirable was that saying of the old monks, "Laborare est orare," work is worship.

All true work is sacred; in all true work, were it but true hand labor, there is something of divineness.

Labor, wide as the earth, has its summit in Heaven. Sweat of the brow; and up from that to sweat of the brai, sweat of the heart; which includes all Kepler① calculations, Newton② meditations, all sciences, all spoken epics, all acted heroisms, martyrdoms,——up to that "agony of bloody sweat③" which all men have called divine!

O brother! if this is not worship, then I say, the more pity for worship; for this is the noblest thing yet discovered under God's sky.

Who art thou that complainest of thy life of toil? Complain not! Look up, my wearied brother; see thy fellow workmen there, in God's eternity; surviving there, they alone surviving; sacred band of the Immortals, celestial bodyguard of the empire of mankind! Even in the weak human memory they survive so long, as saints, as heroes, as gods; they alone surviving; peopling, they alone, the unmeasured solitudes of Time!

To thee Heaven, though severe, is not unkind; Heaven is kind,—as a noble mother; as that Spartan mother, saying, while she gave her son his shield, "With it, my son, or upon it!" Thou, too, shalt return home in honor; to thy far-distant home in honor; doubt it not,—if in the battle thou keep s thy shield!

注释

①Johann Kepler (1571-1631): a German astronomer.

②Sir Isaac Newton (1642-1727): an English philosopher and mathematician.

③"Agony of bloody sweat": see Luke xxii. 44.

28

MR. WINKLE ON SKATES

BY CHARLES DICKENS

This selection is from "Pickwick Papers," which is considered by many people the best of Dickens's works. It is an amusing narrative of the experiences of a club of Londoners in the country.

"Now," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch had been done ample justice to, "what say you to an hour on the ice? We shall have plenty of time."

"Capital!" said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

"Prime!" ejaculated① Mr. Bob Sawyer.

"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.

"Ye—yes; oh, yes!" replied Mr. Winkle. "I—I am rather ont of practice."

"Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle!" said Arabella. "I like to see it so much!"

"Oh, it is so graceful!" said another young lady.

A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her opinion that it was "swanlike."

"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening; "but I have no skates."

This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a couple of pairs, and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more downstairs; whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked ex quisitely uncomfortable.

Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice; and, the fat boy and Mr. Weller having shoveled and swept away the snow which had fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dexterity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvelous, and described circles with his left leg, and cut agures of eight, and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, and the ladies, which reached a pitch of positive enthusiasm when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions which they called a reel.

All this time Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his skates on with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.

"Now, then, sir," said Sam, in an encouraging tone, "off with you, and show 'em how to do it."

"Stop, Sam, stop!" said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. "How slippery it is, Sam!"

"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Hold up, sir."

This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet in the air and dash the back of his head on the ice.

"These—these—are very awkward skates, aren't they, Sam?" inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering.

Mr. Pickwick shouted "Sam!"

"I'm afraid there's an awkward gentleman in them, sir," replied Sam.

"Now, Mr. Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was anything the matter, "come; the ladies are all anxiety."

"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. "I'm coming."

"Just going to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to disengage himself. "Now, sir, start off."

"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately to Mr. Weller. "I find I've got a couple of coats at home that I don't want, Sam. You may have them, Sam."

"Thank'e, sir," said Mr. Weller.

"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it you this afternoon, Sam."

"You're very good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.

"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr. Winkle. "There, that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not too fast!"

Mr. Winkle, stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swanlike manner, when Mr. Pickwick innocently shouted from the opposite bank, "Sam!"

"Sir?" said Mr. Weller.

"Here! I want you."

"Let go, sir," said Sam; "don't you hear the governor calling? Let go, sir."

With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian, and, in so doing, administered a considerable impetus② to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dexterity or practice would have insured, that unfortunate gentleman bore swiftly down into the center of the reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty.

Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind in skates. He was seated on the ice, making spasmodic③ efforts to smile; but anguish was depicted④ on every lineament⑤ of his countenance.

"Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.

"Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back.

"I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin with great eagerness.

"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle, hurriedly.

"I really think you had better," said Allen.

"Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle; "I'd rather not."

"What do you think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob Sawyer.

Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and said in a stern voice, "Take his skates off!"

"No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated Mr. Winkle.

"Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick, firmly.

The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in silence.

"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.

Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders, and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and uttered in a low but distinct and emphatic tone, these remarkable words," You're a humbug, sir."

"A what, sir?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.

"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer if you wish it: an impostor, sir."

With these words Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel and rejoined his friends.

注释

①Ejaculated: exclaimed.

②Impetus: the force with which a body is driven or impelled.

③Spasmodic: as in a spasm; shaking violently.

④Depicted: marked; painted.

⑤Lineament: feature.

29

THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS①

BY O. W. HOLMES

Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894): An American physician and author. He wrote two novels, "Elsie Venner" and "The Guardian Angel," some medical treatises, and several volumes of poems. His most popular works are, however, three series of papers contributed to the Atlantic Monthly— "The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," "The Professor at the Breakfast-Table," and "The Poet at the Breakfast-Table." These papers abound in wit and humor and shrewd insight into human character. Among the poems interspersed throughout the "Autocrat" papers is Holmes's most admired poem, "The Chambered Nautilus." "I wrote that poem," Holmes said, "at white heat. When it was finished I took it to my wife who was sewing in an adjoining room and said, 'I think I have the best poem that I have ever written,' and I have never changed my mind about it."

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,

Sails the unshadowed main,

The venturous bark that flings

On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings

In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,

And coral reefs lie bare,

Where the cold sea—maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;

Wrecked is the ship of pearl!

And every chambered cell

Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,

As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,

Before thee lies revealed,

Its iris ceiling rent, its sunless crypt② unsealed!

Year after year beheld the silent toil

That spread his lustrous coil;

Still, as the spiral grew,

He left the past year's dwelling for the new,

Stole with soft step his shining archway through,

Built up his idle door,

Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,

Child of the wandering sea,

Cast from her lap, forlorn!

From thy dead lips a clearer note is born

Than ever Triton③ blew from wreathed horn!

While on mine ear it rings,

Through the deep eaves of thought I hear a voice that sings:——

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,

As the swift seasons roll!

Leave thy low-vaulted past!

Let each new temple, nobler than the last,

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,

Till thou at length art free,

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!

注释

①The chambered or pearly nautilus: a small sea animal inhabiting a shell having many chambers or cavities, each of which is occupied in succession. As the animal increases in size, it advances, forming a larger chamber and partitioning off the one last occupied.

②Crypt: secret place; vault.

③Triton: according to Greek mythology, a sea god who raised or calmed the billows by playing on a conch shell.

30

ABOUT THE STARS

BY CAMILLE FLAMMARION

Camille Flammarion (1842-1925): A popular French writer and lecturer on astronomy and other subjects.

This selection is from "The Wonders of the Heavens."

The stars appear to be scattered at random in the heavens. On a fine starry night, when our sight rises to these heights, a great difference in their brightness is noticed, and at the same time a seeming disorder in their general arrangement. This irregular arrangement and the number of stars prevent us from giving each of them a particular name, but to recognize them and facilitate study, the heavenly sphere is divided into sections.

The astronomical knowledge or science of the ancients was very limited. They were at first contented to name the planets and a few of the most beautiful stars, and we have preserved some of the old names. They grouped together certain stars, each group being imagined to form the outlines of some animal or of some mythical① hero, whose name was given to the group. Unless the imagination is vivid enough to create images of the figures represented, just as it sees pictures in the everchanging shapes of the clouds, one need not try to find in the constellations② anything like the forms or outlines of the objects whose names they bear. The stars in each constellation are distinguished by Greek letters.

The necessity of being guided on the seas obliged man to choose in the heavens fixed points by which he could direct his course; and that need was probably the historical origin of the names of the constellations. More than three thousand years ago the constellations which we call Orion③, the Pleiades④, and the Hyades⑤, were mentioned by Job. Homer⑥, also, speaks of these constellations.

The ancients drew maps of the heavens, and from the time of Hipparchus⑦, a Greek astronomer who flourished about one hundred years before the Christian era, they were able to classify the stars, distinguishing them according to their brightness. It was necessary to have some method of finding a particular star easily, in the midst of the five or six thousand stars which may be seen with the naked eye on a clear night.

As the stars vary in brightness, in order to aid us in recognizing them they have been classed in order of magnitude⑧. The word "magnitude" is really a misnomer, as it has no relations to the dimensions of the stars; for we have been able to measure but few of these celestial bodies.

Formerly it was believed that the brightest stars were the largest, and this belief led people to rank the more brilliant stars as the larger ones. Thus, stars of the first magnitude are those which shine with the greatest brilliancy. Those of the second magnitude are less bright, and so on.

Now the brightness of a star depends not only on the size of the star but also on its light and its distance from the earth. It may be said that the brightest stars are generally the nearest, though several of the most brilliant stars are exceptions, and that those whose pale glimmer is scarcely caught by our telescopes are enormously distant from us.

We know now that the sky is not a concave sphere in which, as some of the ancients believed, bright nails are fastened—the nail-heads being the stars—and that there is no vault, but only infinite space around the earth in every direction. We know also that the stars are suns and are scattered various distances apart in the vastness of space.

When, therefore, we notice two or more stars close together, their apparent⑨ nearness does not in any way prove that they are really not far apart. They may be very distant from one another—at greater distance indeed than we are from the nearest of them.

Looking at a group of several stars, like the Pleiades, we might suppose that all the stars in it are on the same plane and equally distant from the earth. By no means. Dispersed in all directions in space, the arrangement which they display to our eyes is only an appearance caused by the position of the earth with regard to them. This is purely a matter of perspective. We see them from the earth, and this view-point is at a vast distance from even the nearest fixed star.

When we find ourselves at night in the midst of a large square in which numerous electric lights are placed, it is difficult to distinguish the most remote lights from those which are somewhat nearer. Moreover, the arrangement of the lights depends entirely on our point of view, and varies according as we ourselves retreat or advance, stand on a side of the square, or survey the lights from a point midway between the sides.

This simple comparison may help us to understand why the stars, which are lights in dark space, do not reveal the distances which really separate them, and why their arrangement on the apparent vault of the sky depends only on the spot where we place ourselves to see them.

If we could transport ourselves to Neptune, the outermost planet of the solar⑩ system, we should not perceive a different arrangement of the celestial bodies, for Neptune is not far enough away; it is less than three billion miles from our planet. To see the outlines of the constellations changed, it would be necessary to station ourselves on the nearest star, and that is so distant that even the rays of light from it require three years and a half to reach our globe, although light moves at the inconceivably swift rate of one hundred and eighty-six thousand miles a second.

The other near stars succeed each other at greater distances. All the stars, each as vast as our sun, separated from one another by such prodigious distances, succeeding each other in an endless manner in the immensity of space, are in motion in the heavens. Nothing is stationary in the universe; there is not a single atom of matter in absolute repose. The great forces with which matter is animated, regulate its action. The movements of the suns in space are imperceptible⑪ to our eyes because they are performed at too great a distance; but they are in more rapid motion than is our own globe. There are some stars which are whirling through space with a velocity of fifty miles a second. To the eye which could master time as well as space, the sky would be a moving swarm of stars—a spectacle splendid and awe-inspiring.

注释

①Mythical: fabulous.

②Constellations: groups of fixed stars.

③Orion: a large, bright star, named for the fabulous hunter, Orion.

④Pleiades: a group of seven small stars, named for the seven daughters of the fabulous hero, Atlas.

⑤Hyades: a group of five stars, supposed by the ancients to foretell rainy weather when they rose with the sun.

⑥Homer: a Greek poet supposed to have lived about 1000 B. C.

⑦Hipparchus: a Greek astronomer who lived about 150 B. C.

⑧Magnitude: size.

⑨Apparent: seeming.

⑩Solar: of or pertaining to the sun.

⑪Imperceptible: not to be seen; invisible.

31

TO THE EVENING STAR

BY WILLIAM BLAKE

William Blake (1757-1827): An English painter, engraver, and poet. His poems were written and illustrated in color entirely by his own hand. The volumes entitled "Songs of Innocence" and "Songs of Experience" include the most popular of his beautiful imaginative poems.

Thou fair-haired Angel of the Evening,

Now whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light

Thy bright torch of love—thy radiant crown

Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!

Smile on our loves; and while thou drawest the

Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew

On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes

In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on

The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes

And wash the dusk with silver,— soon, full soon,

Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,

And the lion glares through the dun forest.

The fleeces of our flocks are covered with

Thy sacred dew; protect them with thine influence!

32

HOME-THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD

BY ROBERT BROWNING

Robert Browning (1812-1889): An English poet. His poems are frequently difficult and obscure, but are marked by originality and dramatic power, and by virtue of courage, manliness, and hopefulness, appeal to young readers as well as to older ones. He wrote "Men and Women," "Dramatis Personæ," "Pippa Passes," "The Ring and the Book," and many other poems.

Robert Browning

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there,

And whoever wakes in England Sees,

some morning unaware,

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm tree bole are in tiny leaf,

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough

In England — now!

And after April, when May follows,

And the whitethroat builds and all the swallows!

Hark, where my blossomed pear tree in the hedge

Leans to the field and scatters on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops, at the bent spray's edge—

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,

Lest you should think he never could recapture

The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew

The buttercups, the little children's dower—

Far brighter than this gaudy melon—flower!

33

STORY OF A STONE

BY D. S. JORDAN

David Starr Jordan (1851—): An American scientist. Among his works are a "Manual of Vertebrates" and a "Synopsis of the Fishes of North America," besides a great number of scientific papers. This selection is from "Science Sketches," a volume for young people.

I

Once on a time, a great many years ago, in those old days when the great Northwest consisted of a few ragged and treeless hills full of copper and quartz; in the days when it would have been fun to study geography, for there were no capitals nor any products, and all the towns were seaports; in fact, an immensely long time ago, there lived in the northeastern part of Wisconsin, not far from the city of Oconto①, a little jellyfish.

It was a curious little fellow, about the shape of half an apple and the size of a pin's head; and it floated around in the water and ate little things, and opened and shut its umbrella pretty much as the jellyfishes do now on a sunny day off Nahant Beach, when the tide is coming in. It had a great many little feelers that hung down all around, like so many little snakes, and so it was named Medusa, after a queer woman who lived a long while ago, according to an old story. She wore snakes instead of hair, and used to turn people into stone images if they dared to make faces at her.

So this little Medusa floated around and opened and shut her umbrella for some time. Then one morning, down among the seaweeds, she laid a whole lot of tiny eggs, transparent as crab-apple jelly, and smaller than the dewdrop on the end of a pine leaf. That was the last thing she did; so she died, and our story henceforth concerns only one of those little eggs.

One day the sun shone down into the water and touched these eggs with life, and a little fellow whom we will call Favosites②, because that was his name, woke up inside of the egg and came out into the world. He was only a little piece of floating jelly, shaped like a cartridge pointed at both ends, or like a grain of barley, although very much smaller.

He had a great number of little paddles on his sides. These kept flapping all the time, so that he was constantly in motion. And at night all these little paddles shone with a rich green light, to show him the way through the water. It would have done you good to see them some night when all the little fellows had their lamps burning at once, and every wave as it rose and fell was all aglow with Nature's fireworks, which do not burn the fingers and leave no smell of sulphur.

So the little Favosites kept scudding along in the water, dodging from one side to the other to avoid the ugly creatures that tried to eat him. There were crabs and clams of a fashion neither you nor I shall ever see alive. There were huge animals with great eyes, savage jaws like the beak of a snapping turtle and surrounded by long feelers. They sat in the end of a long round shell, shaped like a length of stovepipe, and glowered like an owl In a hollow log, and there were smaller ones that looked like lobsters in a dinner-horn.

But none of these caught the little fellow, else I should not have had this story to tell. At last, having paddled about long enough, Favosites thought of settling in life. So he looked around till he found a flat bit of shell that just suited him. Then he sat down upon it and grew fast.

He did not go to sleep, however, but proceeded to make himself a home. He had no head, but between his shoulders he made an opening which would serve him for mouth and stomach. Then he put a whole row of feelers out, and commenced catching little worms and floating eggs and bits of jelly and bits 5 of lime—everything he could get—and cramming them into his mouth.

He had a great many curious ways, but the funniest of them all was what he did with the bits of lime. He kept taking them in, and tried to wall himself up inside with them, as a person would stone a well, or as though a man should swallow pebbles and stow them away in his feet and all around under his skin, till he had filled himself all full.

Little Favosites became lonesome there on the bottom of that old ocean, among so many outlandish③ neighbors. So one night, when he was fast asleep and dreaming as only a coral animal can dream, there sprouted out from his side somewhere near where his sixth rib might have been if he had had any ribs, another little Favosites; and this one very soon began to eat worms and to wall himself up, as if for dear life.

Then from these two another and another little bud came out, and other little Favosites were formed. They all kept growing up higher and cramming themselves fuller and fuller of stone, till at last there were so many and they were so crowded together that there was not room for them to grow round, and so they had to become six-sided, like the cells of a honeycomb.

Once in a while some one in the company would feel jealous because the others got more of the lime, or would feel uneasy at sitting still so long and swallowing stones. Such a one would secede④ from the little union without even saying "good-bye," and would put on the airs of the grandmother Medusa, and would sail around in the water opening and shutting its umbrella, and at last would lay more eggs which in time hatched out into more Favosites.

So the old Favosites died or ran away or were walled up by the younger ones, and new ones filled their places, and the colony thrived for a long while, until it had accumulated⑤ a large stock of lime. But one day there came a freshet in the Menomonee River⑥, and piles of dirt and sand and mud were brought down, and all the little Favosites' mouths were filled with it. This they did not like, so they died; but we know that the rock-house they were building was not spoiled, for we have it here.

II

But it was tumbled about a good deal in the dirt, and the rolling pebbles knocked the corners off and the mud worked into the cracks and its beautiful color was destroyed.

There it lay in the mud for ages, till the earth gave a great long heave that raised Wisconsin out of the ocean, and the mud around our little Favosites packed and dried into hard rock, and closed it in. So it became part of the dry land, and lay imbedded in the rock for centuries and centuries, while the old-fashioned ferns grew above it and whispered to it strange stories of what was going on above ground in the land where things were living.

Then the time of the first fishes came, and the other animals looked in wonder at them, as the Indians looked on Columbus. Some of them were like the little garpike of our river here, only much larger—big as a stovepipe, and with crust as hard as a turtle's. Then there were sharks of strange forms, and some of them had teeth like bowie knives, with tempers to match. The time of the old fishes came and went, and many more times came and went, but still Favosites lay in the ground at Oconto.

Then came the long, hot, wet summer, when the mists hung over the earth so thick that you would have had to cut your way through them with a knife; and great ferns and rushes big as an oak and tall as a steeple grew in the swamps of Indiana and Illinois. Their green plumes were so long and so densely interwoven that the man in the moon might have fancied that the earth was feathering out. Then huge reptiles with huge jaws and teeth like cross-cut saws, and little reptiles with wings like bats, crawled and swam and flew.

But the ferns died, and the reptiles died, and the rush trees fell in the swamps, and the Illinois and the Sangamon and the Wabash and the other rivers covered them up. They stewed away under layers of clay and sand, till at last they turned into coal and wept bitter tears of petroleum⑦. But all this while Favosites lay in the rocks in Wisconsin.

Then the mists cleared away, and the sun shone, and the grass began to grow, and strange animals came from somewhere or nowhere to feed upon it. There were queer little striped horses, which had three or four hoofs on each foot and were no bigger than Newfoundland dogs. There were great hairy elephants with teeth like sticks of wood. There were hogs with noses so long that they could sit on their hind legs and root, and there were many still stranger creatures which no man ever saw alive. But still Favosites lay in the ground and waited.

So the long, long summer passed by, and the autumn and the Indian summer. At last the winter came, and it snowed and snowed, and it was so cold that the snow did not go off till the Fourth of July. Then it snowed and snowed till the snow did not go off at all. And then it became so cold that it snowed all the time, till the snow covered the animals and then the trees and then the mountains.

Then it would thaw a little and streams of water would run over the snow. Then it would freeze again and the snow would pack into solid ice. So it went on snowing and thawing and freezing till nothing but snow-banks could be seen in Wisconsin, and most of Indiana was fit only for a skating-rink.

So it went on for a great many years. Then the spring came, the south winds blew, and the snow began to thaw. Then the ice came sliding down from the mountains and hills and from the north toward the south. It went on tearing up rocks, little and big, from the size of a chip to the size of a house, crushing forests as you would crush an eggshell and wiping out rivers as you would wipe out a chalk-mark. So it came pushing, grinding, thundering along, not very fast, but with tremendous force, like a plow drawn by a million oxen, for a thousand feet of ice is very heavy.

And the ice-plow scraped over Oconto, and little Favosites was torn from the place where he had lain so long; but by good fortune he happened to fall into a crevice of the ice where he was not much crowded, else he would have been ground to powder and I should not have had this story to tell.

And the ice melted as it slid along and it made great torrents of water, which as they swept onward covered the land with clay and pebbles. At last the ice came to a great swamp, overgrown with tamarack and balsam. It melted here, and all the rocks and stones and dirt it had carried——little Favosites and all——were dumped into one great heap.

It was a very long time after, and man had been created, and America had been discovered, and a great many things had happened, when one day a farmer living in Wisconsin was plowing up his clover field to sow his winter wheat. He picked up in the furrow a curious little bit of "petrified honeycomb," a good deal worn and dirty, still showing plainly the cells and the beebread. He gave it to one of his boys to take to his teacher to hear what he would say about it. And this is what he said.

注释

①Oconto: a city in Wisconsin.

②Favosites: a kind of fossil coral.

③Outlandish: strange.

④Secede: withdraw; separate from.

⑤Accumulated: collected; stored up.

⑥Menomonee River: a river in Wisconsin and Michigan.

⑦Petroleum: rock or natural oil.

34

TO A SKYLARK

BY P. B. SHELLEY

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822): An English poet. His poems are often wild protests against the existing order of things, but are marked by melody and great beauty of imagery. Among his longer poems are "Queen Mab," "Alastor," "The Revolt of Islam," "The Cenci," and "Adonais." He is best known by his exquisite lyrics, "Ode to the West Wind," "The Cloud," and the following ode.

Hail to thee, blithe spirit!

Bird thou never wert,

That from heaven, or near it,

Pourest thy full heart

In profuse strains of unpremeditated① art.

Higher still and higher

From the earth thou springest,

Like a cloud of fire;

The blue deep thou wingest,

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

In the golden lightning

Of the sunken sun,

O'er which clouds are brightening,

Thou dost float and run,

Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.

The pale purple even②

Melts around thy flight;

Like a star of heaven,

In the broad daylight,

Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.

Keen as are the arrows

Of that silver sphere,

Whose intense lamp narrows

In the white dawn clear,

Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.

All the earth and air

With thy voice is loud,

As, when night is bare,

From one lonely cloud

The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.

What thou art we know not;

What is most like thee?

From rainbow clouds there flow not

Drops so bright to see,

As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.

Like a poet hidden

In the light of thought,

Singing hymns unbidden,

Till the world is wrought

To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not;

Like a high-born maiden

In a palace tower,

Soothing her love-laden

Soul in secret hour

With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower;

Like a glowworm golden

In a dell of dew,

Scattering unbeholden

Its aerial③ hue

Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view;

Like a rose embowered

In its own green leaves,

By warm winds deflowered,

Till the scent it gives

Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves.

Sound of vernal④ showers

On the twinkling grass,

Rain-awakened flowers,

All that ever was

Joyous and clear and fresh thy music doth surpass.

Teach us, sprite or bird,

What sweet thoughts are thine!

I have never heard

Praise of love or wine

That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

Chorus hymeneal⑤

Or triumphal chant,

Matched with thine, would be all

But an empty vaunt⑥,—

A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.

What objects are the fountains

Of thy happy strain?

What fields or waves or mountains?

What shapes of sky or plain?

What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?

With thy clear keen joyance⑦

Languor⑧ cannot be;

Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee;

Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety⑨.

Waking or asleep,

Thou of death must deem

Things more true and deep

Than we mortals dream,

Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?

We look before and after,

And pine for what is not;

Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught⑩;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Yet if we could scorn

Hate and pride and fear;

If we were things born

Not to shed a tear,

I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.

Better than all measures

Of delightful sound,

Better than all treasures

That in books are found,

Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground.

Teach me half the gladness

That thy brain must know,

Such harmonious madness

From my lips would flow,

The world should listen then, as I am listening now!

注释

①Unpremeditated: unplanned; unthought of beforehand.

②Even: a poetic form of the word evening.

③Aerial: airy.

④Vernal: spring.

⑤Hymeneal: of a marriage song.

⑥Vaunt: boast.

⑦Joyance: a poetical word for joyfulness.

⑧Languor: weariness.

⑨Satiety: excess of gratification; surfeit

⑩Fraught: freighted; filled.

35

SIR KENNETH AND THE FLAG

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): A Scottish novelist, poet, and historian. The most popular of his novels are "Old Mortality," "Ivanhoe," "Kenilworth," "The Talisman," "Quentin Durward," and "The Heart of Midlothian." His best poems are "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," "Marmion," and "The Lady of the Lake." A sketch of Scott's life will be found in the Fifth Book of the "Graded Literature Readers."

The following selection is from "The Talisman," the scene of which is laid in Palestine during one of the Crusades undertaken by Christian nations for the recovery of the Holy Land from the Turks. Sir Kenneth was a Scottish prince in disguise, who had joined the army of Richard①, the English king. Sir Kenneth had been left to guard the English flag, but had been lured from his post, and during his absence the flag had been torn down. He went at once to King Richard's tent to report his failure in the performance of duty.

I

It was about the hour of sunrise when a slow, armed tread was heard approaching the king's pavilion; and ere De Vaux, who slumbered beside his master's bed as lightly as ever sleep sat upon the eyes of a watchdog, had time to do more than arise and say, "Who comes?" the Knight of the Leopard entered the tent, with deep and devoted gloom seated upon his manly features.

"Whence this bold intrusion, Sir Knight?" said De Vaux, sternly, yet in a tone which respected his master's slumbers.

"Hold! De Vaux," said Richard, awaking on the instant; "Sir Kenneth cometh like a good soldier to render an account of his guard; to such the general's tent is ever accessible②." Then rising from his slumbering posture and leaning on his elbow, he fixed his large bright eye upon the warrior: "Speak, Sir Scot; thou comest to tell me of a vigilant, safe, and honorable watch, dost thou not? The rustling of the folds of the banner of England were enough to guard it, even without the body of such a knight as men hold thee."

"As men will hold me no more," said Sir Kenneth; "my watch hath neither been vigilant, safe, nor honorable. The banner of England has been carried off."

"And thou alive to tell it?" said Richard. "Away, it cannot be. There is not even a scratch on thy face. Why dost thou stand thus mute? Speak the truth; it is ill jesting with a king, yet I will forgive thee if thou hast lied."

"Lied, Sir King!" returned the unfortunate knight, with fierce emphasis, and one glance of fire from his eye, bright and transient③ as the flash from the cold and stony flint. "But this also must be endured. I have spoken the truth."

"By Saint George!" said the king, bursting into fury, which, however, he instantly checked—"De Vaux, go view the spot. This fever has disturbed his brain. This cannot be. The man's courage is proof. It cannot be! Go speedily—or send, if thou wilt not go."

The king was interrupted by Sir Henry Neville, who came, breathless, to say that the banner was gone, and the knight who guarded it overpowered, and most probably murdered, as there was a pool of blood where the banner spear lay shivered.

"But whom do I see here?" said Neville, his eyes suddenly resting upon Sir Kenneth.

"A traitor," said the king, starting to his feet and seizing the battle-ax which was ever near his bed, "a traitor! whom thou shalt see die a traitor's death." And he drew back the weapon as in act to strike.

Colorless, but firm as a marble statue, the Scot stood before him, with his bare head uncovered by any protection, his eyes cast down to the earth, his lips scarcely moving, yet muttering probably in prayer. Opposite to him, and within the due reach for a blow, stood King Richard, his large person wrapt in the folds of his camescia or ample gown of linen, except where the violence of his action had flung the covering from his right arm and shoulder. He stood for an instant, prompt to strike—then sinking the head of the weapon toward the ground, he exclaimed, "But there was blood, Neville; there was blood upon the place. Hark thee, Sir Scot—brave thou wert once, for I have seen thee fight. Say thou hast slain two of the thieves in defense of the standard—say but one—say thou hast struck but a good blow in our behalf, and get thee out of the camp with thy life and thy disgrace!"

"You have called me a liar, my lord king," replied Kenneth, firmly; "and therein, at least, you have done me wrong. Know that there was no blood shed in defense of the standard save that of a poor hound, which, more faithful than his master, defended the charge which he deserted."

"Now, by Saint George!" said Richard, again heaving up his arm. But De Vaux threw himself between the king and the object of his vengeance, and spoke with the blunt truth of his character: "My liege④, this must not be—here, nor by your own hand. It is enough of folly for one night and day, to have intrusted your banner to a Scot;——said I not they were ever fair and false?"

"Thou didst, De Vaux; thou wast right, and I confess it," said Richard. "I should have known him better. And yet, De Vaux, it is strange," he added, "to see the bearing of the man. Coward or10 traitor he must be, yet he abode⑤ the blow of Richard Plantagenet, as our arm had been raised to lay knighthood on his shoulder. Had he shown the slightest sign of fear, had but a joint trembled or an eyelid quivered, I had shattered his head like a crystal goblet. But I cannot strike where there is neither fear nor resistance.—Away with him, De Vaux," he whispered, "through the back entrance of our tent; coop him up close, and answer for his safe keeping with your life. And hark ye, he is presently to die; let him have a priest—we would not kill soul and body. And stay——hark thee——we will not have him dishonored; he shall die knightlike, in his belt and spurs; for, if his treachery be black, his boldness matches it."

De Vaux, right glad, if the truth may be guessed, that the scene ended without Richard's descending to the unkingly act of himself slaying an unresisting prisoner, made haste to remove Sir Kenneth to a separate tent, where he was disarmed and put in fetters for security.

The Saracen physician, who had saved Richard's life, entered the king's pavilion soon after the Scottish knight had been dismissed.

"Ha! my learned Hakim⑥," said the king; "come. I hope, to tax our generosity. In what can I pleasure you?"

"Great king," said El Hakim, making his profound Oriental obeisance, "let thy servant speak one word and yet live. I would remind thee that thou owest—not to me, their humble instrument, but to the Intelligences whose benefits I dispense to mortals—a life—"

"And I warrant me, thou wouldst have another in requital⑦, ha?" interrupted the king.

"Such is my humble prayer," said the Hakim, "to the great Melech Ric⑧; even the life of this good knight, who is doomed to die."

"Take the freedom of a thousand captives instead," said Richard; "restore so many of thy countrymen to their tents and families, and I will give the warrant instantly. This man's life can avail thee nothing, and it is forfeited."

"All our lives are forfeited," said the Hakim, put—ting his hand to his cap. "But the great Creditor is merciful and exacts not the pledge rigorously nor untimely."

"Thou canst show me," said Richard, "no special interest thou hast to become intercessor betwixt me and the execution of justice, to which I am sworn as a crowned king."

"Thou art sworn to the dealing forth mercy as well as justice," said El Hakim; "but what thou seekest, great king, is the execution of thine own will. Bethink thee, lord king, that though thou canst 10 slay thousands, thou canst not restore one man to health. Kings have the power of Satan to torment, sages that of Allah⑨ to heal; beware how thou hinderest the good to humanity, which thou canst not thyself render. Thou canst cut off the head, but not 15 cure the aching tooth."

"This is over insolent," said the king, hardening himself, as the Hakim assumed a more lofty and almost a commanding tone. "We took thee for our leech⑩, not for our counselor or conscience-keeper."

"And is it thus the most renowned prince of Frangistan repays benefit done to his royal person?" said El Hakim, exchanging the humble and stooping posture in which he had hitherto solicited the king for an attitude lofty and commanding. "Know then," he said, "that through every court of Europe and Asia, to Moslem and Nazarene⑪, to knight and lady, wherever harp is heard and sword worn, wherever honor is loved and infamy detested, to every quarter of the world will I denounce thee, Melech Ric, as thankless and ungenerous; and even the lands, if there be any such, that never heard of thy renown, shall yet be acquainted with thy shame!"

"Are these terms to me, vile infidel!" said Richard, striding up to him in fury. "Art weary of thy life?"

"Strike!" said El Hakim; "thine own deed shall then paint thee more worthless than could my words, though each had an hornet's sting."

Richard turned fiercely from him, folded his arms, traversed the tent as before, and then exclaimed,

"Thankless and ungenerous? as well be termed coward and infidel! Hakim, thou hast chosen thy boon⑫; and though I had rather thou hadst asked my crown jewels, yet I may not kinglike refuse thee. Take this Scot, therefore, to thy keeping; the provost⑬ will deliver him to thee on this warrant." He hastily traced one or two lines and gave them to the physician. "Use him as thy bond slave, to be disposed as thou wilt, only let him beware how he comes before the eyes of Richard."

II

The physician was none other than Saladin, the Syrian monarch, in disguise. Sir Kenneth, who had won his favor as a worthy foeman, was conducted to the Saracen camp and treated with great courtesy. But he was unhappy over his disgrace and longed to rejoin the Crusaders. Saladin, therefore, instructed him how he might detect the culprit by means of his dog, which had been wounded while defending the banner; then, disguised as a Nubian slave, Sir Kenneth was sent back to the English camp. He undertook to discover the culprit for Richard, and was stationed by the king's side as the Crusading host passed before him in review.

Surrounded by his valiant peers of England and Normandy, Coeur de Lion stood on the summit of Saint George's Mount, with the banner of England by his side, borne by William with the Long Sword, Earl of Salisbury.

The powers of the various Crusading princes, arrayed under their royal and princely leaders, swept in long order around the base of the little mound; and as those of each different country passed by, their commanders advanced a step or two up the hill and made a signal of courtesy to Richard and to the standard of England.

The long files marched on, and, diminished as they were by so many causes, appeared still an iron host, to whom the conquest of Palestine might seem an easy task. The soldiers, inspired by the consciousness of united strength, sat erect in their steel saddles, while it seemed that the trumpets sounded more cheerfully shrill, and the steeds, refreshed by rest and provender⑭, chafed on the bit and trod the ground more proudly. On they passed, troop after troop, banners waving, spears glancing, plumes dancing—a host composed of different nations, complexions, languages, arms, and appearances, but all fired for the time with the holy yet romantic purpose of rescuing Jerusalem and redeeming the sacred earth, which more than mortal had trodden, from the yoke of the unbelieving pagan. And the species of courtesy rendered to the king of England by so many warriors was the willing homage which the brave paid to the bravest, in an expedition where the greatest courage was necessary to success.

The good king was seated on horseback about halfway up the mount, a helmet on his head, surmounted by a crown, which left his manly features exposed to public view, as, with cool and considerate eye, he looked on each rank as it passed him, and returned the greetings of the leaders. His tunic⑮ was of sky-colored velvet, covered with plates of silver, and his hose of crimson silk slashed with cloth of gold. By his side stood the seeming Ethiopian slave, holding the noble dog in a leash such as was used in woodcraft. It was a circumstance which attracted no notice, for many of the princes of the Crusade had introduced black slaves into their household, in imitation of the barbarous splendor of the Saracens. Over the king's head streamed the large folds of the banner, and, as he looked to it from time to time, he seemed to regard a ceremony, indifferent to himself personally, as important when considered as offered to the kingdom which he ruled. In the background and on the very summit of the mount, a wooden turret⑯, erected for the occasion, held the queen and the principal ladies of the court. To this the king looked from time to time, and often his eyes were turned on the Nubian and the dog, but only when such leaders approached, as, from circumstances of previous ill-will, he suspected of being accessory⑰ to the theft of the standard, or whom he judged capable of a crime so mean.

Thus, he did not look in that direction when Philip⑱ Augustus of France approached at the head of his splendid troops; nay, he anticipated the motions of the French king, by descending the mount as the latter came up the ascent, so that they met in the middle space, and blended their greetings so gracefully that it appeared they met in fraternal equality.

The troops of the Marquis of Montserrat next passed in order before the king of England. Before this band came Conrade, in the same garb with the troops, but of such rich stuff that he seemed to blaze with gold and silver, and the milk-white plume fastened in his cap by a clasp of diamonds, seemed tall enough to sweep the clouds. The noble steed which he reined bounded and displayed his spirit in a manner which might have troubled a less admirable horseman than the marquis, who gracefully ruled him with one hand. Yet his authority over the troops was more in show than in substance; for there paced beside him, on an ambling palfrey⑲ of soberest mood, a little old man, dressed entirely in black, without beard or mustaches, and having an appearance altogether mean and insignificant when compared with the blaze of splendor around him. But this mean-looking old man was one of those deputies whom the Venetian government sent into camps to overlook the conduct of their generals, and to maintain that jealous system of espial⑳ and control which had long been the policy of the republic.

Conrade, who had attained a certain degree of favor with Richard, no sooner was come near than the king descended a step or two to meet him, exclaiming, at the same time: "Ha, Lord Marquis, thou at the head of thy troops and thy black shadow attending thee as usual, whether the sun shines or not! May not one ask thee whether the rule of the troops remains with the shadow or the substance?"

Conrade was commencing his reply with a smile, when Roswal, the noble hound, uttering a furious and savage yell, sprang forward. The Nubian at the same time slipped the leash, and the hound rushing on leaped upon Conrade's noble charger, and, seizing the marquis by the throat, pulled him down from the saddle. The plumed rider lay rolling on the sand, and the frightened horse fled in wild career through the camp.

"Thy hound hath pulled down the right quarry, I warrant him," said the king to the Nubian. "Pluck the dog off lest he throttle him."

The Ethiopian, accordingly, though not without difficulty, disengaged the dog from Conrade, and fastened him up still highly excited and struggling in the leash. Meanwhile many crowded to the spot, especially followers of Conrade, who, as they saw their leader lie gazing wildly on the sky, raised him up amid a cry of, "Cut the slave and his hound to pieces!"

But the voice of Richard was heard clear above all other exclamations: "He dies the death who injures the hound! He hath but done his duty, after the sagacity with which God and nature have endowed the brave animal. Stand forward for a false traitor, thou Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat! I impeach㉑ thee of treason."

Several of the leaders had now come up, and Conrade, vexation and confusion struggling with passion in his manner and voice, exclaimed: "What means this?— With what am I charged? — Why this base usage and these reproachful terms?"

"Are the princes of the Crusade turned hares or deers in the eyes of King Richard, that he should25 slip hounds on them?" said the deep voice of the Grand Master of the Templars.

"It must be some singular accident, some fatal mistake," said Philip of France, who rode up at the same moment.

"A trick of the Saracens," cried Henry of Champagne. "It were well to hang up the dog and put the slave to the torture."

"Let no man lay hand upon them," said Richard, "as he loves his own life! Conrade, stand forth, if thou darest, and deny the accusation which this mute animal hath in his noble instinct brought against thee, of injury done to him and foul scorn to England."

"I never touched the banner," said Conrade, hastily.

"Thy words betray thee, Conrade!" said Richard; "for how didst thou know, save from conscious guilt, that the question is concerning the banner?"

"Hast thou then not kept the camp in turmoil on that and no other score?" answered Conrade; "and dost thou impute to a prince and an ally a crime, which, after all, was probably committed by some petty thief for the sake of the gold thread? Or wouldst thou now impeach a confederate on the credit of a dog?"

By this time the alarm was becoming general, so that Philip of France interposed.

"Princes and nobles," he said, "you speak in presence of those whose swords will soon be at the throats of each other, if they hear their leaders at such terms together. In the name of Heaven, let us draw off, each his own troops, into their separate quarters, andourselves meet an hour hence in the Pavilion of Council, to take some order in this new state of confusion."

"Content," said King Richard, "though I should have liked to have interrogated that caitiff㉒ while his gay doublet was yet besmirched㉓ with sand. But the pleasure of France shall be ours in this matter."

The council assembled at the appointed hour. Conrade had in the meanwhile laid aside his dishonored dress, and with it the shame and confusion which, in spite of his talents and promptitude, had at first overwhelmed him, owing to the strangeness of the accident and suddenness of the accusation. He was now robed like a prince, and entered the councilchamber attended by several other potentates㉔, who made a show of supporting him and defending his cause, chiefly perhaps from political motives or because they themselves nourished a personal enmity against Richard.

This appearance of union in favor of Conrade was far from influencing the king of England. He entered the council with his usual indifference of manner, and in the same dress in which he had just alighted from horseback. He cast a careless and somewhat scornful glance on the leaders who had arranged themselves around Conrade, as if owning his cause, and in the most direct terms charged Conrade of Montserrat with having stolen the banner of England, and wounded the faithful animal who stood in its defense.

Conrade arose boldly to answer, and in despite, as he expressed himself, of man and brute, king or dog, asserted his innocence of the crime charged. "Brother of England," said Philip, "this is an unusual impeachment. We do not hear you assert your own knowledge of this matter, farther than your belief resting upon the demeanor of this hound toward the Marquis of Montserrat. Surely the word of a knight and a prince should bear him out against the barking of a cur?"

"Royal brother," returned Richard, "recollect that the Almighty, who gave the dog to be companion of our pleasures and our toils, hath given him a nature noble and incapable of deceit. He forgets neither friend nor foe, remembers with accuracy both benefit and injury. He hath a share of man's intelligence, but no share of man's falsehood. You may bribe a soldier to slay a man with his sword, or a witness to take life by false accusation; but you cannot make a hound tear his benefactor,—he is the friend of man, save when man justly incurs㉕ his enmity. Dress yonder marquis in what peacock-robes you will, disguise his appearance, alter his complexion with drugs and washes, hide him amidst an hundred men— I will yet pawn my scepter that the hound detects him and expresses his resentment, as you have this day beheld. This is no new incident, although a strange one. Murderers and robbers have been ere now convicted and suffered death under such evidence, and men have said that the finger of God was in it. Credit me, royal brother, that hidden crimes have often been brought to light by the testimony even of inanimate substances, not to mention animals far inferior in instinctive sagacity to the dog who is the friend and companion of our race."

III

It was finally resolved that the matter should be decided, according to the custom of the time, by the trial of battle, Conrade on the one side and the champion of King Richard on the other. The king, who by this time had recognized in the Nubian slave the person of Sir Kenneth, relented toward him and commissioned him to find a champion in the Saracen camp, thus giving the disgraced knight an opportunity to vindicate himself.

The station called the Diamond of the Desert was assigned by Saladin for the place of conflict, as being nearly at an equal distance betwixt the Christian and Saracen camps. It was agreed that Conrade of Montserrat, the defendant㉖, should appear there on the day fixed for the combat, with an hundred armed followers and no more; that Richard of England should attend with the same number, to protect his champion; and that the sultan should bring with him a guard of five hundred chosen followers, a band considered as not more than equal to the two hundred Christian lances.

The Diamond of the Desert, so lately a solitary fountain distinguished only amid the waste by solitary groups of palm trees, was now the center of an encampment, the embroidered flags and gilded ornaments of which glittered far and wide and reflected a thousand rich tints against the setting sun. The coverings of the large pavilions were of the gayest colors, scarlet, bright yellow, pale blue, and other gaudy and gleaming hues, and the tops of their pillars, or tent-poles, were decorated with golden pomegranates and small silken flags.

It had been agreed on account of the heat of the climate that the combat should take place at one hour after sunrise. The wide lists inclosed a space of hard sand, which was one hundred and twenty yards long by forty in width. They extended in length from north to south, so as to give both parties the equal advantage of the rising sun. Saladin's royal seat was erected on the western side of the inclosure, just in the center where the combatants were expected to meet. Opposite this was a gallery for the queen of England and her ladies.

The knights rode into the lists armed at all points and mounted like men who were to do battle for a kingdom's honor. They wore their visors㉗ up, and, riding around the lists three times, showed themselves to the spectators.

Both were goodly persons and both had noble countenances. But there was an air of manly confidence on the brow of the Scot, a radiancy of hope, which amounted to cheerfulness; while, although pride and effort had recalled much of Conrade's natural courage, there lowered still on his brow a cloud of gloom. Even his steed seemed to tread less lightly and blithely to the trumpet sound than the noble Arab which was bestrode by Sir Kenneth.

An altar was erected just beneath the gallery occupied by the queen. To this altar the challenger and defender were brought forward one after the other. Dismounting before it, each knight asserted the justice of his cause, and prayed that his success might be according to his truth or falsehood. They also made oath that they came to do battle in knightly way and with the usual weapons, disclaiming the use of spells, charms, or magical devices.

The Scottish knight pronounced his vow with a firm and manly voice, and a bold and cheerful countenance. Then, loaded with armor as he was, he sprang to the saddle without the use of the stirrup.

Conrade also presented himself before the altar with boldness enough; but his voice as he took the oath sounded hollow, as if drowned in his helmet. The lips with which he appealed to Heaven to give victory to the just quarrel, grew white as he uttered the words.

The silence of suspense was now general; men breathed thicker, and their very souls seemed seated in their eyes, while not a sound was to be heard save the snorting and pawing of the good steeds, who, sensible of what was about to happen, were impatient to dash into career. They stood thus for perhaps three minutes, when, at a signal given by the sultan, o an hundred instruments rent the air with their brazen clamors, and each champion striking his horse with the spurs and slacking the rein, the horses started into full gallop, and the knights met in mid space with a shock like a thunderbolt. The victory was not in doubt— no, not one moment. Conrade, indeed, showed himself a practiced warrior; for he struck his antagonist knightly in the midst of his shield, bearing his lance so straight and true that it shivered into splinters from the steel spear-head up to the very gauntlet. The horse of Sir Kenneth recoiled two or three yards and fell on his haunches, but the rider easily raised him with hand and rein. But for Conrade there was no recovery. Sir Kenneth's lance had pierced through the shield, through a plated corselet㉘ of Milan steel, through a secret, or coat of linked mail, worn beneath the corselet, had wounded him deep in the bosom, and borne him from his saddle, leaving the truncheon㉙ of the lance fixed in his wound. The sponsors, heralds, and Saladin himself descending from his throne, crowded around the wounded man; while Sir Kenneth, who had drawn his sword ere yet he discovered that his antagonist was totally helpless, now commanded him to avows his guilt. The helmet was hastily unclosed, and the wounded man, gazing wildly on the skies, replied: "What would you more?— God hath decided justly—I am guilty!"

注释

①Richard Plantagenet (1157-1199): an English king called Coeur de Lion, the Lion Heart.

②Accessible: easy of access; approachable.

③Transient: passing quickly away; not lasting.

④Liege: king.

⑤Abode: awaited.

⑥Hakim: a wise man; a physician, especially among the Mohammedans.

⑦Requital: return for something done; reward.

⑧Melech Ric: a Saracen name for King Richard.

⑨Allah: the Mohammedan name for God.

⑩Leech: an old word for physician.

⑪Nazarene: a follower of Christ, the Nazarene; a Christian, usually in contempt.

⑫Boon: gift.

⑬Provost: keeper of the prison,—an old use of the word.

⑭Provender: food, especially for domestic animals.

⑮Tunic: a loose-fitting garment.

⑯Turret: a small tower.

⑰Accessory: connected with as a helper.

⑱Philip II. (1165-1223): king of France, called Augustus, the Imperial.

⑲Palfrey: a small saddle horse.

⑳Espial: spying.

㉑Impeach: charge; accuse.

㉒Caitiff: base fellow; wicked man.

㉓Besmirched: soiled; discolored.

㉔Potentates: princes; kings.

㉕Incurs: meets with; exposes one's self to.

㉖Defendant: a person required to make answer in a law case.

㉗Visors: movable front pieces of helmets.

㉘Corselet: armor for the whole body.

㉙Truncheon: handle.

36

SONG ON A MAY MORNING

BY JOHN MILTON

John Milton (1608-1674): One of the greatest of English authors. He is the noblest type of the Puritan. "The Defense of the English People," "Tractate on Education," Areopagitica, and his other prose pamphlets are models of stately English. "Paradise Lost," "Paradise Regained," "Comus," "L'Allegro," and "Il Penseroso" are his principal poems.

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her

The flowery May, who from her green lap throws

The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire

Mirth and youth and warm desire!

Woods and groves are of thy dressing,

Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.

Thus we salute thee with our early song,

And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

————

Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee:

Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues; be just, and fear not.

(SHAKSPERE)

37

GOOD BOOKS

BY JOHN RUSKIN

All books are divisible into two classes: the books of the hour, and the books of all time. Mark this distinction—it is not one of quality only. It is not merely the bad book that does not last, and the good one that does. It is a distinction of species. 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 whom you cannot otherwise converse with, 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; firm fact-telling, by the real agents concerned in the events of passing history;—all these books of the hour multiplying among us as education becomes more general, are a 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 today: whether worth keeping or not, is to be considered. The newspaper may be entirely proper at breakfast time, but assuredly 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 that amusing story, or gives you the real circumstances of such and such events, however valuable for occasional reference, 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 essentially not a talked thing, but a written thing; and written, not with a view of mere communication, but of permanence. The book of talk is printed only because its author cannot speak to thousands of people at once; if he could, he would — the volume is mere multiplication of his voice. You cannot talk to your friend in India; if you could, you would; you write instead; that is mere conveyance of voice. But a book is written, not to multiply the voice merely, not to carry it merely, but to perpetuate① 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 else can say it. He is bound to say it, clearly and melodiously 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 permitted him to seize. He would fain set it down forever, engrave it on 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;" it is, in his small human way, and with whatever degree of true inspiration is in him, his inscription, or scripture. That is a "book."

Now, books of this kind have been written in all ages by their greatest men,—by great readers, great statesmen, and 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 you cannot read that—that what you lose to-day you cannot gain tomorrow? Will you go and gossip with your housemaid or your stable-boy, when you may talk with queens and kings; or flatter yourselves that it is with any worthy consciousness of your own claims to respect, that you jostle with the hungry and common crowd for entree② here, and audience there, when all the while this eternal court is open to you, with its society, wide as the world, multitudinous as its days, the chosen and the mighty, of every place and time? Into that you may enter always; in that you may take fellowship and rank according to your wish; from that, once entered into it, you can never be an outcast but by your own fault; by your aristocracy of companionship there, your own inherent③ aristocracy will be assuredly tested, and the motives with which you strive to take high place in the society of the living, measured, as to all the truth and sincerity that are in them, by the place you desire to take in this company of the dead.

"The place you desire," and the place you fit yourself for, I must also say; because, observe, this court of the past differs from all living aristocracy in this:—it is open to labor and to merit, but to nothing else. No wealth will bribe, no name overawe, no artifice deceive the guardian of those Elysian④ gates. In the deep sense, no vile or vulgar person ever enters there. There is but brief question:— "Do you deserve to enter? Pass. 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. But on other terms?—no. If you will not rise to us, we cannot stoop to you. The living lord may assume courtesy, the living philosopher explain his thought to you with considerate pain; but here we neither feign⑤ nor interpret; you must rise to the level of our thoughts if you would be gladdened by them, and share our feelings if you would recognize our presence."

This, then, is what you have to do, and I admit that it is much. You must, in a word, love these people, if you are to be among them. No ambition is of any use. They scorn your ambition. You must love them, and show your love by a true desire to be taught by them, and to enter into their thoughts. To enter into theirs, observe; not to find your own expressed by them. If the person who wrote the book is not wiser than you, you need not read it; if he be, he will think differently from you in many respects.

Very ready we are to say of a book, "How good this is, —that's exactly 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 thus submissively or not, at least be sure that you go to the author to get at his meaning, not to find yours. Judge it afterward if you think yourself qualified to do so; but ascertain⑥ it first. 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 will not for a long time arrive in any wise. The wise men make themselves sure that you deserve their deeper thought before they allow you to reach it. It is the same with the physical type of wisdom, gold. There seems to you and me no reason why the electric forces of the earth should not carry whatever there is of gold within it at once to the mountain tops, so that kings and people might know that all the gold they could get was there; and without any trouble of digging or anxiety or chance or waste of time, cut it away and coin as much as they needed. But nature does not manage it so. She puts it in little fissures in the earth, nobody knows where; you may dig long and find none; you must dig painfully to find any.

And it is just the same with men's best wisdom. When you come to a good book you must ask yourself: "Am I inclined to work as an Australian miner would? Are my pickaxes and shovels in good order, and my breath good, and my temper?"

And keeping the figure⑦ a little longer, even at the cost of tiresomeness, for it is a thoroughly useful one, the metal you are in search of being the author's mind or meaning, his words are as the rock which you have to crush and smelt in order to get at it. And 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 those tools and that fire; often you will need sharpest, finest chiseling and patientest fusing, before you can gather one grain of the metal.

(FROM "SESAME AND LILIES)

注释

①Perpetuate: cause to endure; preserve for all time.

②Entree: A French word meaning entrance; the right to come in.

③Inherent: natural; inborn.

④Elysian: pertaining to Elysium, the land of the blest.

⑤Feign: pretend.

⑥Ascertain: find out; make certain.

⑦Figure: a mode of expressing ideas by words which suggest pictures.

38

SILVIA

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

William Shakspere (1564—1616): The greatest of English poets. Among his plays are "Hamlet," "Othello," "Julius Cæsar," and "The Merchant of Venice." A biographical sketch of Shakspere will be found in the Fifth Book of the "Graded Literature Readers."

This song occurs in the play of "The Two Gentlemen of Verona."

Who is Silvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her?

Holy, fair, and wise is she;

The Heaven such grace did lend her,

That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair,

For beauty lives with kindness?

Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness;

And, being helped, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing,

That Silvia is excelling;

She excels each mortal thing

Upon the dull earth dwelling:

To her let us garlands bring.

39

WONDERS OF THE DEEP SEA

BY REV. THEODORE WOOD

I

Not very many years ago, it was supposed that life was altogether absent in the deeper parts of the sea. Now we know that this is not the case. Expeditions of scientific men have been sent out by different countries to dredge in very deep water, and their discoveries have clearly proved that fishes, mollusks①, crustaceans②, and even the soft-bodied sea anemones are capable of living more than three miles below the surface of the ocean.

To those profound depths no ray of sunlight can ever penetrate; and, though many of the deep-sea creatures possess eyes, we might think that they would never have an opportunity of using them. For to see in absolute darkness is impossible. We often say, it is true, that cats can see in the dark; but the fact is, that even on the darkest night there is always some little light, while a cat's eyes are made in such a way that they can take in many more rays of light than our eyes. The animal, consequently, is able to see clearly when we ourselves can scarcely see at all. But at the bottom of the sea the darkness is almost complete, so that to the creatures of the deep, eyes would seem useless.

But that is not all. The bodies of these animals must be able to resist an almost inconceivable pressure. We ourselves, living at the bottom of the ocean of air, have to endure an atmospheric pressure of fifteen pounds to the square inch; that is to say, the weight of the air above us is so great, that it presses upon every part of our bodies with exactly that degree of force.

If, however, we dive under water, we have to bear the pressure of the water in addition to this; and as water is very much heavier than air, this pressure soon becomes so great that even a trained diver cannot descend to a depth of more than fifty fathoms.

Now, fishes and other animals have been found at a depth of over three miles. This means that they have to endure, upon every square inch of their bodies, a pressure of rather more than two tons and a half, or five-and-twenty times the force required to drive a railway train at a high rate of speed. It would seem impossible that any living creature could resist a pressure so tremendous.

Nevertheless, the inhabitants of the deep sea are somewhat numerous. More than twenty kinds of fishes alone have been found at a depth of more than two thousand fathoms; and, as only a very small portion of the ocean-bed has as yet been explored, we may feel quite certain that a great many more still remain to be discovered.

Strange to say, although these fishes live at depths so profound, they are not entirely destitute of light. The sun's rays cannot reach them, it is true; but, on the other hand, they are very frequently themselves luminous. In some cases their whole bodies glow with phosphorescent③ light, which seems to issue from the slime with which the skin is covered; in others the light proceeds from a double row of curious eyelike organs, which run along the sides from the head almost to the tail. Thus these animals are independent of sunlight. They are their own lightgivers. They dwell in the midst of absolute darkness, and yet are always able to see.

One of these luminous fishes uses its light for a very remarkable purpose.

It is a creature of prey, feeding entirely upon other fishes; and its appetite is so voracious④ that it always appears to be hungry. Yet it is so slow in its movements that it is quite unable to pursue and overtake its victims. Nature, however, has provided it with an apparatus which is admirably adapted for luring⑤ those victims to their fate. The first or front fin of the back is wanting; but its place is taken by a long, slender spine, the base of which is fastened to the bones of the back by a kind of ring-and-staple attachment, so that it can be freely moved in any5 direction. At the end of this spine is a flattened tip, which is highly luminous.

Now, fishes are extremely inquisitive creatures. Any strange object invariably rouses their curiosity, and they are especially attracted by anything that glitters or shines. Anglers, for example often catch pike and other fishes by means of a spoon bait, which is simply a piece of polished tin armed with hooks, and fastened to the line in such a manner that it revolves rapidly when drawn through the water. Now, the luminous spine of this deep-sea fish is simply a natural spoon bait, and all that its owner has to do when it feels hungry is to dangle it up and down in front of its mouth. All the small fishes in the neighborhood are sure to come and examine it, only to be snapped up by the jaws of their foe as soon as they venture within its reach.

How successful this remarkable fish is in its angling, may be judged from the number of victims sometimes captured by its near relation, the fishing frog, which is found not uncommonly in shallower water. In the stomach of one of these fishes which was killed and opened immediately after capture, were found no fewer than seventy-five herrings, while another had swallowed twenty-five flounders.

There is an eel of the deep sea, however, which can dispose of even larger meals than these, for it has actually been known to swallow fishes of greater size than itself. This may seem impossible: the fact is that its jaws, like those of a python⑥, can be separated to a surprising extent, while the flesh of its throat and body is exceedingly elastic. In one of these fishes, when brought to the surface, was found the twisted-up body of another fish three times as long as itself; from another were taken victims amounting to nearly five times its own weight; while a third had swallowed a captive so large that it had actually dislocated its own fins in doing so!

The fishing frog.

II

But how do these deep-sea fishes contrive to resist the enormous pressure which throughout their lives they have to sustain?

That is not an easy question to answer. All we can say is that the whole framework of their bodies is so flimsy, that it could not perform its functions without a great weight of water to hold it, as it were, together, and that the gases contained in their swimming-bladders, and dissolved in their blood, neutralize⑦ the pressure to some extent, and enable them to live at depths to which otherwise they could never descend.

Owing to this fact, it is very difficult indeed to obtain specimens of these fishes in perfect condition. As soon as they are raised from the bottom, the pressure begins to decrease, and the gases in their bodies to expand; and long before they reach the surface, their internal organs are generally forced out of their mouths, and their eyes from the sockets, while their bodies are so flattened and distorted that their true shape can only be guessed at.

Sometimes, too, a most curious accident befalls one of these creatures. Eagerly pursuing a victim, perhaps, it incautiously rises to too great a distance from the sea-bottom. Its swimming-bladder of course expands as the pressure upon it is reduced, and renders the fish so much lighter in proportion to its size that, when it attempts to sink to the bottom, it finds itself unable to do so. Still rising, the pressure is yet further reduced, till at last the body of the hapless creature literally bursts, and floats upward, mangled and shapeless, to the surface of the sea. These fishes, in fact, have constantly to be on their guard against the danger, not of falling downward, but of tumbling upward!

But other remarkable creatures besides fishes are found in the depths of the sea. There is a crab, for instance, which carries its young about in an odd; little pouch on the lower surface of the body, just as the kangaroo does. Thus, while they are still small and unable to defend themselves, the little creatures are protected from their many enemies. Another crab has legs nearly four times as long as its body, while the body and limbs of a third are so densely clothed with long, sharp spines, that it can only be handled with the very greatest care. Most of these deep-sea crabs are entirely blind, the curious eyestalks, on which the organs of vision are usually set, being absent.

There is a very strange hermit crab, too, which is found at a depth of three thousand fathoms, or rather more than three miles and a quarter. Like all hermit crabs, it has its long, flexible tail unprotected by the shelly armor that covers the rest of the body, and is therefore obliged in some way to guard it from the attacks of its enemies. Empty whelk-shells, however, which are generally employed for this purpose by other hermit crabs, are not to be found in the depths of the ocean; so it either forms cases for its tail of sand, fastened together in some curious way which has not been satisfactorily explained, or else makes use of pieces of bamboo, which, being saturated with water, have slowly sunk to the bottom, or of the holes in lumps of water-logged wood. On the back of this crab, strange to say, a small sea anemone is generally found to be living.

Then there are some very remarkable creatures known as sea spiders, which combine the characteristics of insects, spiders, and crabs. Their legs are very long indeed, and their bodies are very small, while the mouth is placed at the top of a long beak which runs out from the front of the head. But the strangest feature of these animals is that a branch of the stomach runs down each of the legs, almost as far as the claw at the tip!

Finally, there are stalked crinoids, or sea lilies, which may be briefly described as starfishes growing at the end of long stalks. These stalks are made up of an astonishing number of tiny joints—as many as a hundred and fifty thousand having been found in the stem of a single sea lily—while the base is fastened down to the surface of a rock by a number of spreading rootlets.

In days of old these stalked crinoids were extremely plentiful; marble, for instance, often consists of little else than the joints of their stems, and the rocks in many parts of the world are full of their fossil remains. But until the bed of the deep sea was explored, it was supposed that they had become almost entirely extinct.

A stalked crinoid, or sea lily.

1. Natural size. 2. Cup and arms. 3. Single arm. (Nos. 2 and 3 magnified.)

Now, however, we know 10 that the floor of the ocean is in many places densely clothed with them, just as it must have been almost everywhere thousands of years ago.

Such are some of the wonders of the deep sea. Many more there are which space will not allow me to describe, or even to mention. And we can have little doubt that when the great abysses of the ocean have been more thoroughly explored, our knowledge of its inmates will be very largely increased, and that even stranger creatures will be found to exist than any which have yet been discovered.

注释

①Mollusks: animals covered with shells, such as cuttlefish and snails.

②Crustaceans: shellfish, such as lobsters and crabs, so called from the crustlike shell with which they are covered.

③Phosphorescent: shining with a light like that of phosphorus, a natural light-giving substance.

④Voracious: greedy; gluttonous.

⑤Luring: attracting.

⑥Python: a large-mouthed snake, somewhat like a boa-constrictor.

⑦Neutralize: destroy the effect of.

40

SIR GALAHAD①

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

My good blade carves the casques② of men,

My tough lance thrusteth sure,

My strength is as the strength of ten,

Because my heart is pure.

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,

The hard brands③ shiver on the steel,

The splintered spear shafts crack and fly,

The horse and rider reel:

They reel, they roll in clanging lists,

And when the tide of combat stands,

Perfume and flowers fall in showers,

That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend

On whom their favors fall!

For them I battle till the end,

To save from shame and thrall:

But all my heart is drawn above,

My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine:

I never felt the kiss of love,

Nor maiden's hand in mine.

More bounteous aspects on me beam,

Me mightier transports move and thrill;

So keep I fair through faith and prayer

A virgin heart in work and will.

Sir Galahad

When down the stormy crescent goes,

A light before me swims,

Between dark stems the forest glows,

I hear a noise of hymns:

Then by some secret shrine I ride;

I hear a voice, but none are there;

The stalls④ are void⑤, the doors are wide,

The tapers burning fair.

Fair gleams the snowy altar cloth,

The silver vessels sparkle clean,

The shrill bell rings, the censer⑥ swings,

And solemn chants resound between.

Sometimes on lonely mountain meres⑦

I find a magic bark;

I leap on board: no helmsman steers:

I float till all is dark.

A gentle sound, an awful light!

Three angels bear the Holy Grail⑧:

With folded feet, in stoles⑨ of white,

On sleeping wings they sail.

Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!

My spirit beats her mortal bars,

As down dark tides the glory slides,

And starlike mingles with the stars.

When on my goodly charger borne

Through dreaming towns I go,

The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,

The streets are dumb with snow.

The tempest crackles on the leads,

And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;

But o'er the dark a glory spreads,

And gilds the driving hail.

I leave the plain, I climb the height;

No branchy thicket shelter yields;

But blessed forms in whistling storms

Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

A maiden knight— to me is given

Such hope, I know not fear;

I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven

That often meet me here.

I muse on joy that will not cease,

Pure spaces clothed in living beams,

Pure lilies of eternal peace,

Whose odors haunt my dreams;

And, stricken by an angel's hand,

This mortal armor that I wear,

This weight and size, this heart and eyes,

Are touched, are turned to finest air.

The clouds are broken in the sky,

And through the mountain walls

A rolling organ-harmony

Swells up, and shakes and falls.

Then move the trees, the copses⑩ nod,

Wings flutter, voices hover clear:

"O just and faithful knight of God!

Ride on! the prize is near."

So pass I hostel⑪, hall, and grange;

By bridge and ford, by park and pale,

All armed I ride, whate'er betide,

Until I find the Holy Grail.

注释

①Sir Galahad: a knight of King Arthur's Round Table, the only one who succeeded in the quest for the Holy Grail.

②Casques: armor for the head and neck.

③Brands: a poetic word for swords, so called from their brightness.

④Stalls: seats in the choir of a church for the clergy.

⑤Void: empty.

⑥Censer: a vessel for perfumes, used in churches for burning incense.

⑦Meres: lakes.

⑧Holy Grail: grail is an old word meaning cup or dish. According to a legend of the Middle Ages, the Holy Grail was the cup or dish used by Christ at the last supper, and could be seen only by a perfctly pure and holy person.

⑨Stoles: long, loose garments; sometimes, scarfs worn by clergymen.

⑩Copses: woods of small growth, thickets of brushwood.

⑪Hostel: an old word for inn.

41

ON AMERICAN TAXATION

BY WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM

William Pitt, Earl of Chatham (1708-1778): An English statesman and orator, "the Great Commoner." He made several brilliant speeches in defense of the American colonies. This selection is from an eloquent speech delivered in the House of Commons, January 16, 1766, in which he condemned the Stamp Act, and argued that England had no right to tax the colonies.

Gentlemen, sir, have been charged with giving birth to sedition① in America. They have spoken their sentiments with freedom against this unhappy act, and that freedom has become their crime. Sorry I am to hear the liberty of speech in this house imputed as a crime. But the imputation shall not discourage me. It is a liberty I mean to exercise. No gentleman ought to be afraid to exercise it. It is a liberty by which the gentleman who calumniates② it might have profited. He ought to have desisted from his project.

The gentleman tells us America is obstinate; America is almost in open rebellion. I rejoice that America has resisted. Three millions of people so dead to all the feelings of liberty as voluntarily to submit to be slaves would have been fit instruments to make slaves of the rest. I come not here armed at all points, with law cases and acts of Parliament, with the statute-book doubled down in dog's-ears, to defend the cause of liberty. But the defense of liberty, upon a general principle, upon a constitutional principle, is a ground on which I stand firm; on which I dare meet any man.

The gentleman tells us of many who are taxed and are not represented—the India Company, merchants, stockholders, manufacturers. Surely many of these are represented in other capacities, as owners of land, or as freemen of boroughs③. It is a misfortune that more are not equally represented. But they are all inhabitants, and as such are they not virtually④ represented? Many have it in their option⑤ to be actually represented. They have connections with those that elect, and they have influence over them. The gentleman mentioned the stockholders: I hope he does not reckon the debts of the nation as a part of the national estate.

The gentleman asks, "When were the colonies emancipated⑥?"

But I desire to know when they were made slaves? But I dwell not upon words. When I had the honor of serving his majesty, I availed myself of the means of information which I derived from my office; I speak, therefore, from knowledge. My materials were good, I was at pains to collect, to digest, to consider them; and I will be bold to affirm that the profits to Great Britain from the trade of the colonies, through all its branches, is two millions a year. This is the fund that carried you triumphantly through the last war⑦.

A great deal has been said without doors of the power, of the strength, of America. It is a topic that ought to be cautiously meddled with. In a good cause, on a sound bottom, the force of this country can crush America to atoms. I know the valor of your troops. I know the skill of your officers. There is not a company of foot that has served in America out of which you may not pick a man of sufficient knowledge and experience to make a governor of a colony there. But on this ground, on the Stamp Act⑧, when so many here will think it a crying injustice, I am one who will lift up my hands against it.

In such a cause your success would be hazardous. America, if she fell, would fall like the strong man. She would embrace the pillars of the state, and pull down the constitution along with her. Is this your boasted peace? Not to sheath the sword in its scabbard⑨, but to sheath it in the bowels of your countrymen?

Will you quarrel with yourselves now the whole House of Bourbon⑩ is united against you; while France disturbs your fisheries in Newfoundland, embarrasses your slave trade to Africa, and withholds from your subjects in Canada their property stipulated⑪ by treaty; while the ransom for the Manillas is denied by Spain, and its gallant conqueror⑫ basely traduced⑬ into a mean plunderer,—a gentleman whose noble and generous spirit would d honor to the proudest grandee⑭ of the country?

The Americans have not acted in all things with prudence and temper; they have been wronged. They have been driven to madness by injustice. Will you punish them for the madness you have occasioned? Rather let prudence and temper come first from this side. I will undertake for America that she will follow the example. There are two lines in a ballad of Prior⑮'s, of a man's behavior to his wife, so applicable to you and your colonies that I cannot help repeating them:—

"Be to her faults a little blind,

Be to her virtues very kind."

Upon the whole, I will beg leave to tell the House what is my opinion. It is, that the Stamp Act be repealed absolutely, totally, and immediately. That the reason for the repeal be assigned, because it was founded on an erroneous principle.

注释

①Sedition: rebellion; discontent against government.

②Calumniates: accuses falsely of a crime; slanders.

③Boroughs: English towns which send members to parliament.

④Virtually: practically.

⑤Option: power of choosing; choice.

⑥Emancipated: set free.

⑦The last war: the French and Indian war (1754-1763).

⑧Stamp Act: an act of the British parliament (1765) imposing a duty on all the paper and parchment used in the American colonies.

⑨Scabbard: the case in which the blade of a sword is kept.

⑩House of Bourbon: a family of French kings.

⑪Stipulated: agreed on.

⑫Its gallant conqueror, etc.: Sir William Draper (1721-1787), a British officer who commanded as colonel at the capture of Manilla from the Spaniards in 1763.

⑬Traduced: slandered.

⑭Grandee: man of high rank; nobleman.

⑮Matthew Prior (1664-1721): an English poet and diplomatist.

42

IN PRAISE OF WISDOM

PROVERBS III. 13-26

Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding:

For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.

She is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her.

Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches and honor.

Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.

She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her: and happy is every one that retaineth her.

The Lord by wisdom hath founded the earth; by understanding hath He established the heavens.

By His knowledge the depths are broken up, and the clouds drop down the dew.

My son, let not them depart from thine eyes: keep sound wisdom and discretion:

So shall they be life unto thy soul, and grace to thy neck.

Then shalt thou walk in thy way safely, and thy foot shall not stumble.

When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid: yea, thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet.

Be not afraid of sudden fear, neither of the desolation of the wicked, when it cometh.

For the Lord shall be thy confidence, and shall keep thy foot from being taken.

43

STORMING A MEXICAN TEMPLE

BY W. H. PRESCOTT

William Hickling Prescott (1795—1859): An American historian. His works, "The History of Ferdinand and Isabella," "The Conquest of Mexico," "The Conquest of Peru," and "The History of Philip II.," are all about Spain and her conquests.

William Hickling Prescott

This account of a combat between the Mexicans and the Spaniards is from "The Conquest of Mexico."

Cortes①, having cleared a way for the assault, sprang up the lower stairway, followed by the gallant cavaliers of his little band, leaving a file of his own men and a strong corps of Indian allies to hold the enemy in check at the foot of the monument. On the first landing, as well as on the several galleries above, and on the summit, the Aztec② warriors were drawn up to dispute his passage.

From their elevated position they showered down volleys of lighter missiles③, together with heavy stones, beams, and burning rafters, which, thundering along the stairway, overturned the ascending Spaniards and carried desolation through their ranks. The more fortunate, eluding④ or springing over these obstacles, succeeded in gaining the first terrace; where, throwing themselves on their enemies, they compelled them after a short resistance to fall back. The assailants pressed on, supported by a brisk fire of the soldiers from below, which so much galled⑤ the Mexicans in their exposed situations that they were glad to take shelter on the broad summit of the teocalli⑥.

Cortes and his comrades were close upon their rear, and the two parties soon found themselves face to face on this aerial battlefield, engaged in mortal⑦ combat in presence of the whole city, as well as of the troops in the courtyard, who paused as if by mutual consent from their own hostilities⑧, gazing in silent expectation on the issue of those above. The area, though somewhat smaller than the base of the teocalli, was large enough to afford a fair field of fight for a thousand combatants.

It was paved with broad, flat stones. No impediment occurred over its surface except the huge sacrificial block and the temples of stone which rose to the height of forty feet at the farther extremity of the area. One of these had been consecrated to the Cross; the other was still occupied by the Mexican war god. The Christian and the Aztec contended for their religions under the very shadow of their respective shrines; while the Indian priests, running to and fro, with their hair wildly streaming over their sable mantles, seemed hovering in mid-air, like so many demons of darkness, urging on the work of slaughter.

The parties closed with the desperate fury of men who had no hope but in victory. Quarter⑨ was neither asked nor given; and to fly was impossible. The edge of the area was unprotected by parapet⑩. The least slip would be fatal; and the combatants, as they struggled in mortal agony, were sometimes seen to roll over the sheer⑪ sides of the precipice together.

Cortes himself is said to have had a narrow escape from this dreadful fate. Two warriors, of strong, muscular frames, seized on him, and were dragging him violently toward the brink of the teocalli. Aware of their intention, he struggled with all his force, and, before they could accomplish their purpose, succeeded in tearing himself from their grasp and hurling one of them over the walls with his own arm. The story is not improbable in itself, for Cortes was a man of uncommon agility and strength.

The battle lasted with unintermitting⑫ fury for three hours. The number of the enemy was double that of the Christians; and it seemed as if it were a contest which must be determined by numbers and brute force rather than by superior science. But it was not so. The invulnerable⑬ armor of the Spaniard, his sword of matchless temper⑭, and his skill in the use of it, gave him advantages which far outweighed the odds of physical strength and numbers.

After doing all that the courage of despair could enable men to do, resistance grew fainter and fainter on the side of the Aztecs. One after another they had fallen. Two or three priests only survived to be led away in triumph by the victors. Every other combatant was stretched a corpse on the bloody arena⑮, or had been hurled from the giddy heights. Yet the loss of the Spaniards was not inconsiderable; it amounted to forty-five of their best men; and nearly all the remainder were more or less injured in the desperate conflict.

The victorious cavaliers now rushed toward the sanctuaries. The lower story was of stone, the two upper were of wood. Penetrating into their recesses, they had the mortification to find the image of the Virgin and the Cross removed. But in the other edifice they still beheld the grim figure of the Mexican war god, with his censer of smoking hearts, and the walls of his temple reeking with gore,—not improbably of their own countrymen.

With shouts of triumph the Christians tore the uncouth monster from his niche, and tumbled him, in the presence of the horror-struck Aztecs, down the steps of the teocalli. They then set fire to the accursed building. The flames speedily ran up the slender towers, sending forth an ominous light over city, lake, and valley, to the remotest hut among the mountains. It was the funeral pyre⑯ of paganism, and proclaimed the fall of that sanguinary⑰ religion which had so long, like a dark cloud, hung over the fair region of Anahuac⑱.

注释

①Hernando Cortes (1485-1547?): a Spanish adventurer, the conqueror of Mexico.

②Aztec: belonging to the Aztec race, an early North American race which the Spaniards found inhabiting the plateau of Mexico.

③Missiles: weapons intended to be thrown.

④Eluding: shunning; avoiding.

⑤Galled: injured; annoyed.

⑥Teocalli: a Mexican temple in the form of a pyramid.

⑦Mortal: deadly.

⑧Hostilities: acts of warfare.

⑨Quarter: mercy.

⑩Parapet: a low wall, especially one protecting the edge of a roof, bridge, or the like.

⑪Sheer: steep; straight up and down.

⑫Unintermitting: uninterrupted; not stopping.

⑬Invulnerable: that cannot be injured.

⑭Temper: hardness. Metal is tempered or hardened by, repeated heating and cooling.

⑮Arena: place of public contest.

⑯Pyre: heap; pile.

⑰Sanguinary: bloody; cruel.

⑱Anahuac: the plateau of Mexico.

44

THE POET

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON

The gods talk in the breath of the woods,

They talk in the shaken pine,

And fill the long reach of the old seashore

With dialogue divine;

And the poet who overhears

Some random word they say

Is the fated man of men

Whom the ages must obey.

45

THE LANDING OF COLUMBUS IN THE NEW WORLD AND HIS RETURN TO SPAIN

BY WASHINGTON IRVING

I

It was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, 1492, that Columbus first beheld the New World. As the day dawned he saw before him a level island, several leagues in extent, and covered with trees like a continual orchard. Though apparently uncultivated, it was populous, for the inhabitants were seen issuing from all parts of the woods and running to the shore. As they stood gazing at the ships, they appeared by their attitudes and gestures to be lost in astonishment.

Columbus made signal for the ships to cast anchor, and the boats to be manned and armed. He entered his own boat, richly attired in scarlet, and holding the royal standard; whilst Martin Alonzo Pinzon① and Vincent② Janez, his brother, put off in company in their boats, each with a banner of the enterprise emblazoned with a green cross, having on either side the letters F. and Y., the initials of the Castilian monarchs Fernando and Ysabel, surmounted by crowns.

As he approached the shore, Columbus, who was disposed for all kinds of agreeable impressions, was delighted with the purity and suavity③ of the atmosphere, the crystal transparency of the sea, and the extraordinary beauty of the vegetation. He beheld, also fruits of an unknown kind upon the trees which overhung the shores. On landing he threw himself upon his knees, kissed the earth, and returned thanks to God with tears of joy. His example was followed by the rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed with the same feelings of gratitude.

Columbus then rising drew his sword, displayed the royal standard, and assembling round him the rest who had landed, he took solemn possession in the name of the Castilian sovereigns, giving the island the name of San Salvador. Having complied with the necessary forms and ceremonies, he called upon all present to take the oath of obedience to him, as admiral and viceroy④, representing the persons of the sovereigns.

The feelings of the crew now burst forth in the most extravagant transports. They had recently considered themselves devoted⑤ men, hurrying forward to destruction; they now looked upon themselves as favorites of fortune, and gave themselves up to the most unbounded joy. They thronged around the admiral with overflowing zeal, some embracing him, others kissing his hands. Those who had been most mutinous and turbulent during the voyage were now most devoted and enthusiastic. Some begged favors of him, as if he had already wealth and honors in his gift. Many who had outraged him by their insolence now crouched at his feet, begging pardon for all the trouble they had caused him, and promising the blindest obedience for the future.

The natives of the island, when at the dawn of day they had beheld the ships hovering on their coasts, had supposed them monsters which had issued from the deep during the night. They had crowded to the beach, and watched their movements with awful anxiety. Their veering about, apparently without effort, and the shifting and furling of their sails, resembling huge wings, filled them with astonishment. When they beheld their boats approach the shore and a number of strange beings, clad in glittering steel or raiment of various colors, landing upon the beach, they fled in affright to the woods.

Finding, however, that there was no attempt to pursue nor molest them, they gradually recovered from their terror and approached the Spaniards with great awe, frequently prostrating themselves on the earth and making signs of adoration. During the ceremonies of taking possession, they remained gazing in timid admiration at the complexion, the beards, the shining armor, and splendid dress of the Spaniards. The admiral particularly attracted their attention, from his commanding height, his air of authority, his dress of scarlet, and the deference which was paid him by his companions,—all which pointed him out to be the commander. When they had still further recovered from their fears, they approached the Spaniards, touched their beards, and examined their hands and faces, admiring their whiteness. They now supposed that the ships had sailed out of the crystal firmament which bounded their horizon, or had descended from above on their ample wings, and that these marvelous beings were inhabitants of the skies.

The natives of the island were no less objects of curiosity to the Spaniards, differing as they did from any race of men they had ever seen. As Columbus supposed himself to have landed on an island at the extremity of India, he called the natives by the general name of Indians, which was universally adopted before the true nature of his discovery was known, and has since been extended to all the aboriginals⑥ of the New World.

The islanders were friendly and gentle. Their only arms were lances, hardened at the end by fire, or pointed with a flint or the teeth or bone of a fish. There was no iron to be seen, nor did they appear acquainted with its properties; for, when a drawn sword was presented to them, they took it by the edge.

Columbus distributed among them colored caps, glass beads, hawk's bells, and other trifles, such as the Portuguese were accustomed to trade with among the nations of the gold coast of Africa. They received them eagerly, hung the beads round their necks, and were wonderfully pleased with their finery and with the sound of the bells.

The Spaniards remained all day on shore, refreshing themselves after their anxious voyage amid the beautiful groves of the island, and returned on board late in the evening, delighted with all they had seen.

On the following morning, at break of day, the shore was thronged with the natives; some swam off to the ships, others came in light barks which they called canoes, formed of a single tree, hollowed, and capable of holding from one man to the number of forty or fifty. These they managed skillfully with paddles, and, if overturned, swam about in the water with perfect unconcern, as if in their natural element, righting their canoes with great facility⑦.

They were eager to procure more toys and trinkets, —not, apparently, from any idea of their value, but because everything from the hands of the strangers possessed a supernatural virtue in their eyes as having been brought from heaven; they even picked up fragments of glass and earthenware as valuable prizes.

The avarice of the discoverers was quickly excited by the sight of small ornaments of gold, worn by some of the natives in their noses. These the latter gladly exchanged for glass beads and hawk's bells; and both parties exulted in the bargain, no doubt admiring⑧ each other's simplicity.

Columbus inquired of the natives where this gold was procured. They answered him by signs, pointing to the south, where, he understood them, dwelt a king of such wealth that he was served in vessels of wrought gold. He understood, also, that there was land to the south, the southwest, and the northwest, and that the people from the last-mentioned quarter frequently proceeded to the southwest in quest of gold and precious stones, making in their way descents upon the islands and carrying off the inhabitants.

The island where Columbus had thus, for the first time, set his foot upon the New World was called by the natives Guana-hane. It still retains the name of San Salvador, which he gave to it, though called by the English Cat Island. The light which he had seen on the evening previous to his making land may have been on Watling's Island, which lies a few leagues to the east.

On the morning of the 14th of October, the admiral set off at daybreak with the boats of the ships to reconnoiter⑨ the island, directing his course to the northeast. The coast was surrounded by a reef of rocks, within which there was a depth of water and sufficient harbor to receive all the ships in Christendom. The entrance was very narrow; within, there were several sand banks, but the water was as still as a pool.

The island appeared throughout to be well wooded, with streams of water, and a large lake in the center. As the boats proceeded, they passed two or three villages, the inhabitants of which, men as well as women, ran to the shores, throwing themselves on the ground, lifting up their hands and eyes, either giving thanks to heaven, or worshiping the Spaniards as supernatural beings. They ran along parallel to the boats, calling after the Spaniards, and inviting them by signs to land, offering them various fruits and vessels of water.

Finding, however, that the boats continued on their course, many threw themselves into the sea and swam after them, and others followed in canoes. The admiral received them all with kindness, giving them glass beads and other trifles, which were received with transport as celestial presents, for the invariable idea of the savages was that the white men had come from the skies.

In this way they pursued their course, until they came to a small peninsula, which with two or three days' labor might be separated from the mainland and surrounded with water, and was therefore specified⑩ by Columbus as an excellent situation for a fortress. On this were six Indian cabins, surrounded by groves and gardens as beautiful as those of Castile. The sailors being wearied with rowing, the admiral returned to the ships, taking seven of the natives with him, that they might acquire the Spanish language and serve as interpreters.

Having taken a supply of wood and water, they left the island of San Salvador the same evening, the admiral being impatient to arrive at the wealthy country to the south, which he flattered himself would prove the famous island of Cipango⑪.

II

At midday on the 15th of March, Columbus entered the harbor of Palos, whence he had sailed on the 3d of August in the preceding year, having taken not quite seven months and a half to accomplish this most momentous⑫ of all maritime⑬ enterprises.

The triumphant return of Columbus was a prodigious event in the history of the little port of Palos, where everybody was more or less interested in the fate of his expedition.

Great was the agitation of the inhabitants of Palos when they beheld one of the ships standing up the river; but when they learned that she returned in triumph from the discovery of a world, the whole community broke forth into transports of joy. When Columbus landed, the multitude thronged to see and welcome him, and a grand procession was formed to the principal church, to return thanks to God for so signal a discovery made by the people of that place—forgetting, in their exultation, the thousand difficulties they had thrown in the way of the enterprise.

At the court he was treated with like honor, being addressed as "Don Christopher Columbus, our admiral of the ocean sea, and viceroy and governor of the islands discovered in the Indies."

About the middle of April Columbus arrived at Barcelona, where every preparation had been made to give him a solemn and magnificent reception. His entrance into this noble city has been compared to one of those triumphs⑭ which the Romans were accustomed to decree to conquerors. First, were paraded the Indians, painted according to their savage fashion, and decorated with their national ornaments of gold. After these, were borne various kinds of live parrots, together with stuffed birds and animals of unknown species, and rare plants supposed to be of precious qualities. Great care was taken to make a conspicuous display of Indian coronets, bracelets, and other decorations of gold, which might give an idea of the wealth of the newly discovered regions.

After this, followed Columbus on horseback, surrounded by a brilliant cavalcade of Spanish chivalry. The streets were almost impassable from the countless multitude; the windows and balconies were crowded with the fair; the very roofs were covered with spectators. It seemed as if the public eye could not be sated⑮ with gazing on these trophies⑯ of an unknown world, or on the remarkable man by whom it had been discovered.

注释

①Martin Alonzo Pinzon (1441—1493): a Spanish navigator who commanded the Pinta.

②Vincent Yanez Pinzon' (1460?—1524?): a Spanish navigator who commanded the Nina.

③Suavity: pleasantness; softness.

④Viceroy: one ruling with kingly power in the name of a king.

⑤Devoted: here, doomed; usually, zealous; loving.

⑥Aboriginals: first inhabitants; natives.

⑦Facility: ease; readiness.

⑧Admiring: wondering at, —an old use of the word.

⑨Reconnoiter: examine, especially for military purposes.

⑩Specified: named; selected.

⑪Cipango: a fabulous island, the object of search of many early navigators.

⑫Momentous: important.

⑬Maritime: marine; connected with the sea.

⑭Triumphs: magnificent processions and ceremonies held by the Romans in honor of victorious generals.

⑮Sated: satisfied.

⑯Trophies: evidences of con quest; memorials of victory.

WORD LIST

abode. Awaited.

aboriginals. First inhabitants; natives.

accessible. Easy of access; approachable.

acessory. Connected with as a helper.

accumulated. Collected; stored up.

admiring. Wondering at, an old use of the word.

aerial. Airy.

aiddecamp. An officer chosen by a general to carry orders and to assist and represent him in other ways.

alabaster. A very hard stone.

alee. On the side away from the wind.

Allah. The Mohammedan name for God.

ambuscade. Lying in wait, especially for the purposeof attacking an enemy by surprise; a place where one lies in wait.

Anahuac. The plateau of Mexico.

antechamber. A small room leading into a larger one; an outer room.

apparent. Seeming.

arbitrary. Bound by no law; possessing and abusing unlimited power.

arduous. Difficult.

arena. Place of public contest.

artifice. Workmanship.

ascertain. Find out; make certain.

assagais. Spears used by native tribes in south Africa.

Aztec. Belonging to the Aztec race, an early North American race which the Spaniards found inhabiting the plateau of Mexico.

baleful. Hurtful; deadly.

bedight. Ornamented.

Berkshire. An English county, in the southern part of which is situated the little village of Three Mile Cross, the scene of Miss Mitford's sketches.

besmirched. Soiled; discolored.

Black Hole of Calcutta. A cell in a fort at Calcutta into which 146 English prisoners were put, 123 of whom died before morning from lack of air.

blazoned. Emblazoned; adorned with a coat of arms.

Boer. A farmer people of Dutch descent in South Africa, recently at war with the British.

boltropes. Ropes stitched to the edges of sails to strengthen the sails.

boon. Gift.

boroughs. English towns which send members to parliament.

Bourbon, House of. A family of French kings.

bower, best. Large anchor.

boxhauling. Going from one tack or direction to another.

braces. Ropes by which the yards are moved horizontally.

brands. A poetic word for swords, so called from their brightness.

buckles. Curls of hair; usually, metal frames with catches, used for fastening things together.

buskins. Strong coverings for the feet, coming some distance up the legs.

Caesar, Caius Julius. The greatest of Roman generals. He conquered Spain, 49 B. C.

caitiff. Base fellow; wicked man.

calumniates. Accuses falsely of crime; slanders.

Camelot. A legendary town in Winchester, England, the seat of King Arthur's palace.

camescia. A loose robe.

casques. Armor for the head and neck.

cavalcade. A procession of persons on horseback.

censer. A vessel for perfumes, used in churches for burning incense.

characters. Letters.

Charge of the Light Brigade. In the battle of Balaklava, in the Crimean War, an English brigade was, by some mistake, ordered to charge a Russian battery, and obeying, had three-fourths of its men killed.

cheerly. Cheerily.

churls. Rough, ill-bred men; laborers.

Cipango. A fabulous island, the object of search of many early navigators.

claymore. A large two-handed sword.

coffer. Chest, especially one used for keeping valuables.

cohesion. The law of nature by which the particles of a body are held together.

combustion. State of burning.

comely. Good looking; handsome.

comports. Agrees with; suits.

constellations. Groups of fixed stars.

consummate. Of the highest quality; perfect.

copses. Woods of small growth; thickets of brushwood.

corselet. Armor for the whole body.

Cortes, Hernando (1485—1547?). A Spanish adventurer, the conqueror of Mexico.

Covert. Cover; woods or land covered with underbrush which conceals game.

craftsmanship. Skill in one's work; knowledge of a trade.

credentials. Letters of credit; testimonials showing that a person has a right to exercise official power.

credulity. Readiness of belief.

Crimean War. A war waged by France and England against Russia, to repel Russian advances in Turkey.

crustaceans. Shell fish, such as lobsters and crabs, so called from the crustlike shell with which they are covered.

crypt. A secret place; a vault, especially one under a church used as a chapel.

cymbal. A musical instrument.

declension. Falling off.

defendant. A person required to make answer in a law case.

depicted. Marked; painted.

determinate. Fixed; positive.

devastation. Ruin; destruction.

De Vaux.

devoted. Hare, doomed; usually, zealous, loving.

dexterity. Skill; cleverness.

dingles. Narrow dales; small valleys.

discerned. Seen; distinguished.

discourse. Conversation; talk.

discreet. Prudent; careful.

divers. Diverse; differing in kind, —an old meaning of the word.

Dogra Sikhs. A tribe in India.

don. A Spanish title, formerly applied only to persons of high rank, now used in the sense of Mr. or Sir.

Draper, Sir William (1721—1787). A British officer who commanded as colonel at the capture of Manilla from the Spaniards in 1763.

ejaculated. Exclaimed.

eked. Added to; increased.

eluding. Shunning; avoiding.

Elysian. Pertaining to Elysium, the land of the blest.

emancipated. Set free.

embargo. An order of government forbidding the departure of ships of commerce from certain ports.

encomiums. High praise; strong commendation.

Endicott, John (1588—1665). Colonial governor of Massachusetts.

entree. A French word meaning entrance; the right to come in.

espial. Spying.

ether. A medium in all space, through which light and heat readily pass.

even. A poetic form of the word evening.

evolution. Prescribed movement, as of a ship or a body of troops.

excess. Undue amount; too much.

expedient. Means of overcoming a difficulty.

expenditure. Laying out; spending.

explicitly. Clearly; plainly.

extenuate. Cover with excuses; make less the crime of.

facility. Ease; readiness.

favosites. A kind of fossil coral.

feign. Pretend.

figure. A mode of expressing ideas by words which suggest pictures.

firelock. An old-fashioned gun.

fire water. The Indian name for whisky.

firmament. Sky.

fraternal. Brotherly.

fraught. Freighted; filled.

fusee. An old-fashioned gun.

Galahad, Sir. A knight of King Arthur's Round Table, the only one who succeeded in the quest for the Holy Grail.

Galaxy. The Milky Way. See definition.

galled. Injured; annoyed.

gemmy. Ornamented with gems.

Goorkhas. A tribe in India.

Grail, Holy. Grail is an old word meaning cup or dish. According to a legend of the Middle Ages, the Holy Grail was the cup or dish used by Christ at the Last Supper, and could be seen only by a perfectly pure and holy person.

grandee. Man of high rank; nobleman.

greaves. Armor for the leg below the knee.

Hakim. A wise man; a physician, especially among the Mohammedans.

harangued. Addressed; made a speech to.

harbingers. Forerunners; messengers.

hazardous. Dangerous; daring.

Hercules. A fabulous Greek hero, celebrated for his great strength.

Higginson, John (1616—1708). An American clergyman and author.

higgles. Disputes; bargains.

Hipparehus. A Greek astronomer who lived about 150 B. C.

Homer. A Greek poet supposed to have lived about 1000 B. c.

hostel. An old word for inn.

hostile. Warlike; unfriendly.

hostilities. Acts of warfare.

hummock. Rounded knoll or hillock.

Hyades. A group of five stars supposed by the ancients to foretell rainy weather when they rose with the sun.

hymeneal. Of a marriage song.

illimitable. Boundless.

imaginations. Purposes; ideas; fancies.

impeach. Charge; accuse.

imperceptible. Not to be seen; invisible.

impetus. The force with which a body is driven or impelled.

impregnable. Unconquerable; that cannot be taken.

incessant. Unceasing; uninterrupted.

incessantly. Unceasingly; continually.

incurs. Meets with; exposes one's self to.

Indian Mutiny. In 1857 the native troops in India rose against the British soldiers, whom they outnumbered eight to one, and for a time threatened the overthrow of British power in India.

indispensable. Not to be spared; necessary.

inherent. Natural; inborn.

insidious. Deceitful.

insulation. The state of a body's being separated from others by nonconductors so as to prevent the passing of electricity.

invincible. Not to be overcome.

inviolate. Not violated; uninjured.

invulnerable. That cannot be injured.

jocund. Merry; gay.

joyance. A poetical word for joyfulness.

Kanjuts. A tribe in India.

Kepler, Johann (1571—1631). A German astronomer.

Khasia Hills.

Lance lot, Sir. The most famous of the knights of King Arthurs Round Table.

languor. Weariness.

leech. An old word for physician.

letting. Delaying; hindering, — an old meaning of the word.

liege. King.

ligatures. Bands.

lineament. Feature.

Loddon. A small river in southern England.

luff. Turn a vessel's head toward the wind.

luring. Attracting.

maces. Heavy warclubs.

magnitude. Size.

malicious. Mischievous; spiteful.

mall. Public walk.

maneuver. Change of position; skillful movement.

Maori. Inhabitants of New Zealand.

marge. A poetic form of the word margin.

maritime. Marine; connected with the sea.

mark. One of the bits of leather or colored bunting placed on the sounding line at distances of from two to five fathoms; the unmarked fathoms are called deeps.

martial. Warlike.

massy. Massive; forming or consisting of a large mass.

Medusa. According to Greek mythology, a woman whose hair was changed into serpents, after which all who looked upon her were turned to stone.

Meleeh Ric. A Saracen name for King Richard.

Menomonee. A river in Wisconsin and Illinois.

meres. Lakes.

Milky Way. The bright belt which is seen at night stretching across the sky. It is composed of stars so far and so blended as to be distinguishable only with the telescope.

missiles. Weapons intended to be thrown.

mollusks. Animals covered with shells, such as cuttlefish and snails.

momentous. Important.

Montser rat.

mortal. Deadly.

municipality. A town having local government.

murrain take such trumpery. A petty evil wish. Murrain is a disease among cattle.

mythical. Fabulous.

Nautilus, chambered or pearly. A small sea animal inhabiting a cell having many chambers or cavities, each of which is occupied in succession. As the animal increases in size, it advances, forming a larger chamber and partitioning off the one last occupied.

Nazarene. A follower of Christ, the Nazarene; a Christian, usually in contempt.

necromantic. Enchanted; magic.

neutralize. Destroy the effect of.

Newton, Sir Isaac (1642—1727). An English philosopher and mathematician.

noisome. Disagreeable; offensive.

noxious. Hurtful; harmful; unwholesome.

Oconto. A city in Wisconsin.

option. Power of choosing; choice.

ordinance. Law.

Orion. A large bright star named for the fabulous hunter, Orion.

outlandish. Strange.

pad. An easy-paced horse.

palfrey. A small saddlehorse.

palpably. Plainly; evidently.

paltry. Worthless; trifling.

parade. Ground where troops are drilled.

parapet. A low wall, especially one protecting the edge of a roof, bridge or the like.

perdition. Ruin; destruction.

perennial. Never failing; unceasing.

periods. Sentences.

perpetuate. Cause to endure; preserve for all time.

petroleum. Rock or natural oil.

pheasant. An English game bird.

Philip II (1165—1223). A king of France called Au gius'tus, the Imperial.

phosphorescent. Shining with a light like that of phosphorus, a natural lightgiving substance.

Pinzon, Martin Alonzo (1441—1493). A Spanishnavigator who commanded the Pinta on Columbus's first voyage.

Pinzon, Vincent Yaniez (1460?—1524?). A Spanish navigator who commanded the Nina.

plashy. Watery.

plausible. Seemingly reasonable.

Pleiades. A group of seven small stars named for the seven daughters of the fabulous hero, Atlas.

plumbed. Found out the depth; sounded.

potentates. Princes; kings.

prematurely. Too early; before the proper time.

Prior, Matthew (1664—1721). An English poet and diplomatist

prodigious. Huge; monstrous.

promulgating. Publishing; making known.

provender. Food; especially for domestic animals.

provost. Keeper of the prison, — an old use of the word.

puissant. Powerful.

pyre. Heap; funeral pile.

python. A large-mouthed snake, somewhat like a boa constrictor.

quarter. Mercy.

quarter master. An officer of low rank who attends to the helm, signals, etc., under the direction of the master of the vessel.

questing. Seeking; going in pursuit of.

quizzing. Making sport of; mocking.

rallied. Teased.

rampant. Leaping.

reconnoiter. Examine, especially for military purposes.

red-cross knight. St. George, the patron saint of England.

redoubtable. Dreadful; fearful.

regal. Kingly.

requital. Return for something done; reward.

retinue. Train of attendants.

retrograde. Moving backward.

Richard Plan tagenet (1157—1199). An English king, called Coaur de Lion, the Lion Heart.

Roderick. The last of the Gothic kings of Spain, who was driven from his throne by the Moors.

rout. Defeat; confused. flight.

sagacity. Quickness of judgment; wisdom.

sagamores. Indian chiefs.

sanguinary. Bloody; cruel.

sated. Satisfied.

satiety. Excess of gratification; surfeit.

scabbard. The case in which the blade of a sword is kept.

scimiters. Curved swords used by the Arabs and other Oriental people.

secede. Withdraw; separate from.

sedition. Rebellion; discontent against government.

seer. Prophet.

shagreen. A kind of grained, untanned leather used for covering small cases and boxes.

shales. Kind of rock.

shallop. Boat.

sheer. Steep; straight up and down.

shingle. Coarse gravel.

shoal. Shallow water; advances into shallow water.

signal. Remarkable; notable.

signet. Seal; sign.

Sikkim. A state in Bengal, India.

siren. One of three sea nymphs said to sing with such sweetness that they drew sailors to destruction.

solace. Comfort.

solar. Of or pertaining to the sun.

specified. Named; elected.

spasmodic. As in a spasm; shaking violently.

Stamp Act. An act of the British parliament (1765) imposing a duty on all paper and parchment used in the American colonies.

stalking. Moving forward stealthily, under cover of a screen, for the purpose of attack.

stalls. Seats in the choir of a church for the clergy.

stipuilated. Agreed on.

stoles. Long, loose garments; sometimes, scarfs worn by clergymen.

stratum. Layer..

suavity. Pleasantness; softness.

subterranean. Underground.

sunry. Several. All and sundry: all together and each separately.

supinely. Carelessly; idly.

tack. The direction of a vessel with regard to the position of its sails change the direction of a vessel by shifting the position of the helm and sails.

targets. Small shields used as defensive weapons in war.

tattooed. Marked, according to a savage custom, by pricking in coloring matter under the skin.

temper. Hardness. Metal is tempered or hardened by repeated heating and cooling.

temporal. Worldly.

teocalli A Mexican temple, in the form of a pyramid.

titillation. Tickling.

traduced. Slandered.

transformations. Changes.

transient. Passing quickly away; not lasting.

transmit. Send.

transmuted. Changed from one form or nature into another.

Triton. According to Greek mythology, a sea god who raised or calmed the billows by playing on a conch shell.

triumphs. Magnificent processions and ceremonies held by the Romans in honor of victorious generals.

trophies. Evidences of conquest; memorials of victory.

trumpery. Things of no value; rubbish.

truncheon. Handle.

tunic. A loose-fitting garment.

turbid. Muddy.

turret. A small tower.

ubiquitous. Being everywhere at the same time.

Ulysses or Odysseus. The wisest of the Greek heroes who fought against Troy.

undulating. Rolling; rising and failing in wave-like forms.

unintermitting. Uninterrupted; not stopping.

unpremeditated. Unplanned; unthought of beforehand.

vaunt. Boast.

velocity. Speed; quickness of motion.

vernal. Spring.

viceroy. One ruling with kingly power in the name of a king.

virtually. Practically.

visor. Movable front piece of a helmet.

void. Empty.

voracious. Greedy; gluttonous.

welkin. Sky.

Winthrop, John (1588—1649). Colonial governor of Massachusetts.

wiseacres. Persons who pretend to be very wise; dunces.

wold. Plain; low hill.

wont. Accustomed; used.

yearned. Wished greatly.

A great consideration governing the choice of all selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is to minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

— Harry Pratt Judson

(The 2nd president of the University of Chicago)

出版策划：神鸟文化

责任编辑：伍绍东

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森

为美国学生选编的经典文学读本

This series of literature readers is edited by the president of the University of Chicago Harry Pratt Judson, as to supply almost the only reading of many children, and stimulate their taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classical tales and fables are largely used. Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different part of the United States, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediated, and advanced grades.

We believe that Graded Literature Readers disclose a broader knowledge of literature, better taste and judgment in its selections.

010-62627373

第7册目录

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

1　AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES（SIR SAMUEL W. BAKER）

2　THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE（CHARLES WOLFE）

3　CATHERINE'S DISCOVERY（JANE AUSTEN）

4　THE CONFEDERATE SOLDIER（H. W. GRADY）

5　MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS（ROBERT BURNS）

6　AN ESCAPE FROM THE PRESS GANG（THOMAS HARDY）

7　ANNABEL LEE（E. A. POE）

8　THE DISCOVERY OF PERU（W. H. PRESCOTT）

9　A PERUVIAN TEMPLE（WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT）

10　WATERLOO（GEORGE, GORDON, LORD BYRON）

11　THE SKY（JOHN RUSKIN）

12　LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY（WASHINGTON IRVING）

13　BATTLE OF THE BALTIC（THOMAS CAMPBELL）

14　THE DEATH OF NELSON（ROBERT SOUTHEY）

15　YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND（THOMAS CAMPBELL）

16　THE MIGHT OF THE LORD（FROM PSALM CIV）

17　CHAMPLAIN AND THE INDIANS（FRANCIS PARKMAN）

18　COURAGE IN THE USE OF TALENT（SYDNEY SMITH）

19　ORPHEUS WITH HIS LUTE（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

20　THE POETRY IN WORDS（R. C. TRENCH）

21　THE COUNSEL OF POLONIUS TO HIS SON（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

22　QUEEN MARY'S ESCAPE FROM LOCHLEVEN（SIR WALTER SCOTT）

23　THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD（Theodore O'Hara）

24　THE PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS OF GREECE（G. S. HILLARD）

25　ATHENIAN LITERATURE（LORD MACAULAY）

26　THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB（GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON）

27　FAREWELL ADDRESS（GEORGE WASHINGTON）

28　FORTITUDE（MARCUS AURELIUS）

29　THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD（H. W. LONGFELLOW）

30　THE BATTLE OF THE ANTS（HENRY D. THOREAU）

31　RECESSIONAL A VICTORIAN ODE（RUDYARD KIPLING）

32　ON NATIONAL PREJUDICES（OLIVER GOLDSMITH）

33　OLIVER GOLDSMITH（W. M. THACKERAY）

34　SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT（WILLIAM WORDSWORTH）

35　SOME ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE（MIGUEL DE CERVANTES）

36　GETTYSBURG ADDRESS（ABRAHAM LINCOLN）

37　O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!（WALT WHITMAN）

38　THE MILKY WAY（R. A PROCTOR）

39　THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH（H. W. LONGFELLOW）

40　THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS（ROBERT WACE）

41　TO THE OCEAN（GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON）

42　THE SUN（CAMILLE FLAMMARION）

43　ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD（THOMAS GRAY）

44　A DISSERTATION UPON ROAST PIG（CHARLES LAMB）

45　THE PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE（HOMER）

46　SONNET: ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S "HOMER"（JOHN KEATS）

47　THE RENAISSANCE（M. J. GUEST）

返回总目录

Harry Pratt Judson (1849 - 1927) was an American educator and historian, born at Jamestown, New York, and educated at Williams College. He taught in the Troy High School in Troy, New York in 1870-1885 and was professor of history and lecturer on pedagogic at the University of Minnesota in 1885-1892. At the University of Chicago he became professor of political science and head dean of the colleges in 1892 and head of the political science department and dean of the faculties of arts, literature, and science in 1894. He served as the acting president of the University of Chicago between 1906 and 1907 and as the president of the University of Chicago from 1907 until 1923.

Judson became a member of the General Education Board in 1906 and of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913. He edited a series of readers for school students, and wrote some great books.

欢迎访问家庭学校微博／博客

http://weibo.com/318999618

http://blog.sina.com.cn/homeschoolnow

GRADED

LITERATURE

READERS

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森主编的经典文学读本

美国学生

文学读本

HARRY PRATT JUDSON

〔美〕哈里·P·贾德森／编

天津人民出版社

INTRODUCTION

THE selections in this Seventh Reader are a moderate, but distinct, advance over those in the Sixth Reader, in thought, in language, and in literary construction.

The teacher may continue to place emphasis on the literary side of the reading, pointing out beauties of language and thought, and endeavoring to create an interest in the books from which the selections are taken. Pupils will be glad to know something about the lives of the authors whose works they are reading, and will welcome the biographical sketches throughout the book. These can be made the basis of further biographical study at the discretion of the teacher.

The word lists at the end of the selections contain all necessary explanations of the text.

A basal series of readers can do little more than broadly outline a course in reading, relying on the teacher to carry it forward. If a public library is within reach, the children should be encouraged to use it; if not, the school should exert every effort to accumulate a school library of standard works to which the pupils may have ready access.

The primary purpose of a reading book is to give pupils the mastery of the printed page, but through oral reading it also becomes a source of valuable training of the vocal organs. Almost every one finds pleasure in listening to good reading. Many feel that the power to give this pleasure comes only as a natural gift, but an analysis of the art shows that with practice any normal child may acquire it. The qualities which are essential to good oral reading may be considered in three groups:

First—An agreeable voice and clear articulation, which, although possessed by many children naturally, may also be cultivated.

Second—Correct inflection and emphasis, with that due regard for rhetorical pauses which will appear whenever a child fully understands what he is reading and is sufficiently interested in it to lose his self-consciousness.

Third—Proper pronunciation, which can be acquired only by association or by direct teaching.

Clear articulation implies accurate utterance of each syllable and a distinct termination of one syllable before another is begun.

Frequent drill on pronunciation and articulation before or after the reading lesson will be found profitable in teaching the proper pronunciation of new words and in overcoming faulty habits of speech.

Attention should be called to the omission of unaccented syllables in such words as history (not histry), valuable (not valuble), and to the substitution of unt for ent, id for ed, iss for ess, unce for ence, in for ing, in such words as moment, delighted, goodness, sentence, walking. Pupils should also learn to make such distinctions as appear between u long, as in duty, and u after r, as in rude; between a as in hat, a as in far, and a as in ask.

The above hints are suggestive only. The experienced teacher will devise for herself exercises fitting special cases which arise in her own work. It will be found that the best results are secured when the interest of the class is sustained and when the pupil who is reading aloud is made to feel that it is his personal duty and privilege to arouse and hold this interest by conveying to his fellow-pupils, in an acceptable manner, the thought presented on the printed page.

1

AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES

BY SIR SAMUEL W. BAKER

Sir Samuel White Baker (1821—1893): An English traveler who explored the region around the sources of the White Nile. Among other works descriptive of his travels and adventures, he wrote "The Rifle and Hound in Ceylon," from which this selection is taken.

The haunts of the buffalo are in the hottest parts of Ceylon. In the neighborhood of lakes, swamps, and extensive plains, the buffalo exists in large herds; wallowing in the soft mire, and passing two thirds of his time in the water itself, he may be termed almost amphibious【1】.

He is about the size of a large ox, of immense bone and strength, very active, and his hide is almost free from hair, giving an unpleasant appearance to his india-rubberlike skin. He carries his head in a peculiar manner, the horns thrown back, and his nose projecting on a level with his forehead, thus securing himself from a front shot in a fatal part. This renders him a dangerous enemy, as he will receive any number of balls from a small gun in the throat and chest, without evincing【2】the least symptom of distress. The shoulder is the acknowledged point to aim at, but from his disposition to face the guns this is a difficult shot to obtain. Should he succeed in catching his antagonist, his fury knows no bounds, and he gores his victim to death, trampling and kneeling upon him till he is satisfied that life is extinct.

This sport would not be very dangerous in the forests, where the buffalo could be easily stalked and where escape would also be rendered less difficult in case of accident; but, as he is generally met with upon the open plains, free from a single tree, he must be killed when once brought to bay or he will soon exhibit his qualifications for mischief. There is a degree of uncertainty in their character which much increases the danger of the pursuit. A buffalo may retreat at first sight with every symptom of cowardice and thus induce a too eager pursuit, when he will suddenly become the assailant. I cannot explain their character better than by describing the first wild buffaloes that I ever saw.

I was on a shooting trip, accompanied by my brother, whom I shall designate as B. We had passed a toilsome day in pushing and dragging our ponies for twenty miles along a narrow path through a thick jungle, which half a dozen natives in advance were opening before us with billhooks.

We emerged upon an extensive plain bordered by fine forests. The principal tenants of the plain were wild buffaloes. A herd of about a hundred were lying in a swampy hollow about a quarter of a mile from us. With our two light double-barreled guns, we advanced to the attack.

We had not left the obscurity of the forest many seconds before we were observed. The herd started up from their muddy bed, and gazed at us with astonishment. It was a fair open plain of some thousand acres, bounded by the forest which we had just quitted on the one side, and by the lake on the other; thus there was no cover for our advance, and all we could do was to push on.

As we approached the herd, they ranged up in a compact body, presenting a very regular line in front. From this line, seven large bulls stepped forth, and from their vicious appearance seemed disposed to show fight. In the meantime we were running up and were soon within thirty paces of them. At this distance, the main body of the herd suddenly wheeled round and thundered across the plain in full retreat. One of the bulls at the same moment charged straight at us, but when within twenty paces of the guns, he turned to one side and instantly received two balls in the shoulder, B. and I having fired at the same moment. As luck would have it, his bladebone was thus broken and he fell upon his knees, but recovering himself in an instant, he retreated on three legs to the water.

We now received assistance from an unexpected quarter. One of the large bulls, his companion, charged after him with great fury, and soon overtaking the wounded beast, he struck him full in the side, throwing him over with a great shock on the muddy border of the lake. Here the wounded animal lay, unable to rise, and his conqueror commenced a slow retreat across the plain.

Leaving B. to finish the wounded buffalo, I gave chase to the retreating bull. At an easy canter he would gain a hundred paces, and then, turning, he would face me; throwing his nose up, and turning his head to one side with a short grunt, he would advance quickly for a few paces and then again retreat as I continued to approach.

In this manner, he led me a chase of about a mile along the banks of the lake, but he appeared determined not to bring the fight to an issue at close quarters. So I fired a long shot at him, and, reloading my last spare ball, I continued the chase, led on by ignorance and excitement.

The lake in one part stretched in a narrow creek into the plain, and the bull now directed his course into the angle formed by this turn. I thought that I had him in a corner, and, redoubling my exertions, I gained upon him considerably. He retreated slowly to the very edge of the creek, and I had gained so fast upon him that I was not thirty paces distant, when he plunged into the water and commenced swimming across the creek. This was not more than sixty yards in breadth, and I knew that I could now bring him to action.

Running round the borders of the creek as fast as I could, I arrived at the opposite side on his intended landing place just as his black form reared from the deep water and gained the shallows, into which I had waded knee-deep to meet him. I now experienced that pleasure as he stood sullenly eying me within fifteen paces.

I took a quick but steady aim at his chest, at the point of connection with the throat. The smoke of the barrel passed to one side; there he stood, he had not flinched; he literally had not moved a muscle. The only change that had taken place was in his eye; this, which had been hitherto merely sullen, was now beaming with fury; but his form was as motionless as a statue. A stream of blood poured from a wound within an inch of the spot at which I had aimed; had it not been for this fact, I should not have believed him struck.

Annoyed at the failure of the shot, I tried him with the left-hand barrel at the same hole. The report of the gun echoed over the lake, but there he stood as though he bore a charmed life; an increased flow of blood from the wound and additional luster in his eye were the only signs of his being struck.

I was unloaded and had not a single ball remaining. It was now his turn. I dared not turn to retreat, as I knew he would immediately charge, and we stared each other out of countenance.

With a short grunt he suddenly sprang forward, but fortunately, as I did not move, he halted; he had, however, decreased his distance, and we now gazed at each other within ten paces. I began to think buffalo shooting somewhat dangerous and I would have given something to have been a mile away, but ten times as much to have had my four-ounce rifle in my hand. Oh, how I longed for that rifle in this moment of suspense! Unloaded, without the power of defense, with the absolute certainty of a charge from an overpowering brute, my hand instinctively found the handle of my hunting knife, — a useless weapon against such a foe.

Knowing that B. was not aware of my situation at the distance which separated us, —about a mile, —without taking my eyes from the figure before me, I raised my hand to my mouth and gave a long and loud whistle; this was a signal that I knew would be soon answered if heard.

With a stealthy step and another short grunt, the bull again advanced a couple of paces toward me. He seemed aware of my helplessness, and he was the picture of rage and fury, pawing the water and stamping violently with his fore feet. I gave myself up for lost, but putting as fierce an expression into my features as I could possibly assume, I stared hopelessly at my maddened antagonist.

Suddenly a bright thought flashed through my mind. Without taking my eyes off the animal before me, I put a double charge of powder down the right-hand barrel, and tearing off a piece of my shirt, I took all the money from my pouch, three shillings in sixpenny pieces, and two anna【3】pieces, which I luckily had with me in this small coin for paying coolies【4】.

Quickly making them into a rouleau【5】with the piece of rag, I rammed them down the barrel, and they were hardly well home before the bull again sprang forward. So quick was it that I had no time to replace the ramrod, and I threw it into the water, bringing my gun on full cock in the same instant. However, he again halted, being now within about seven paces from me, and we again gazed fixedly at each other, but with altered feelings on my part. I had faced him hopelessly with an empty gun for more than a quarter of an hour, which seemed a century. I now had a charge in my gun, which I knew if reserved till he was within a foot of the muzzle would certainly floor him, and I awaited his onset with comparative carelessness, still keeping my eyes opposed to his gaze.

At this time I heard a splashing in the water behind me, accompanied by the hard breathing of something evidently distressed. The next moment I heard B.'s voice. He could hardly speak for want of breath, having run the whole way to my rescue, but I could understand that he had only one barrel loaded and no bullets left. I dared not turn my face from the buffalo, but I cautioned B. to reserve his fire till the bull should be close into me, and then to aim at the head.

The words were hardly uttered when, with the concentrated rage of the last twenty minutes, he rushed straight at me! It was the work of an instant. B. fired without effect. The horns were lowered, their points were on either side of me, and the muzzle of the gun barely touched his forehead when I pulled the trigger and three shillings' worth of small change rattled into his hard head. Down he went and rolled over with the suddenly checked momentum【6】of his charge, and away went B. and I as fast as our heels would carry us, through the water and over the plain, knowing that he was not dead, but only stunned. There was a large fallen tree about half a mile from us, whose whitened branches, rising high above the ground, offered a tempting asylum. To this we directed our flying steps, and, after a run of a hundred yards, we turned and looked behind us. He had regained his feet and was following us slowly. We now experienced the difference of feeling between hunting and being hunted; and fine sport we must have afforded him.

On he came, but fortunately so stunned by the collision with her Majesty's features upon the coin which he had dared to oppose that he could only reel forward at a slow canter. By degrees even this pace slackened, and he fell. We were only too glad to be able to reduce our speed likewise, but we had no sooner stopped to breathe than he was again up and after us. At length, however, we gained the tree, and we beheld him with satisfaction stretched powerless upon the ground, but not dead, within two hundred yards of us.

We retreated under cover of the forest to the spot at which we had left the horses, fortunately meeting no opposition from wild animals, and we shortly arrived at the village at which we took up our quarters.

注释

【1】Amphibious, able to live both on land and in water.

【2】Evincing, showing.

【3】Anna, an East Indian coin worth about two and a half cents.

【4】Coolies, East Indian porters or carriers.

【5】Rouleau, little roll; a roll of coins put up in paper, or something resembling such a roll.

【6】Momentum, the power of a moving body, according to its movement and weight; the force with which a body is driven or impelled.

2

THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE【1】

BY CHARLES WOLFE

Charles Wolfe (1791—1823): An Irish poet and clergyman. He was born at Dublin and took his degree of B.A. at Dublin University. The poem given below was so admired that even while its author's name was unknown, and it was ascribed to Campbell, Byron, etc., it had won for itself a secure place in the heart of the nation.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

As his corse【2】to the rampart we hurried;

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot

O'er the grave where our hero we buried..

We buried him darkly at dead of night,

The sods with our bayonets turning;

BY the struggling moonbeam's misty light,

And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin inclosed his breast,

Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest

With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we said,

And we spoke not a word of sorrow;

But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,

And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed,

And smoothed down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,

And we far away on the billow.

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, —

But little he'll reck if they let him sleep on

In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But half our weary task was done

When the clock struck the hour for retiring;

And we heard the distant and random gun

That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory;

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone —

But we left him alone with his glory.

注释

【1】Sir John Moore was an English general in command of an English army in the Peninsular War. After the capture of Madrid by Napoleon, Moore retreated before the French to Corunna in Northwest Spain, and was killed while superintending the embarkation of his troops, January 16, 1809. It was necessary to bury him on the spot.

【2】Corse, corpse.

3

CATHERINE'S DISCOVERY

BY JANE AUSTEN

Jane Austen (1775—1817): An English author. She wrote "Sense and Sensibility," "Northanger Abbey," "Pride and Prejudice," and several other novels. Her characters are drawn from the middle rank of English society, and are remarkable for their truth to human nature.

This selection is from "Northanger Abbey." Catheriue Morland, a young lady who is very fond of reading tales of mystery, has arrived on a visit at Northanger Abbey, the home of General Tilney. The general's son, Henry, has mischievously tried to alarm her with stories of haunted chambers, mysterious cabinets, and other marvels. She goes to her bedroom after a dinner party.

Ⅰ

The night was stormy; the wind had been rising at intervals the whole afternoon; and by the time the party broke up, it blew and rained violently. Catherine, as she crossed the hall, listened to the tempest with sensations of awe; and when she heard it rage round a corner of the ancient building, and close with sudden fury a distant door, felt for the first time that she was really in an abbey. Yes, these were characteristic sounds: they brought to her recollection a countless variety of dreadful situations and horrid scenes which such buildings had witnessed and such storms ushered in; and most heartily did she rejoice in the happier circumstances attending her entrance within walls so solemn! But, in a house so furnished and so guarded, she could have nothing to explore or to suffer, and might go to her bedroom as securely as if it had been her own chamber at home.

Thus wisely fortifying her mind as she proceeded upstairs, she was enabled to enter her room with a tolerably stout heart; and her spirits were immediately assisted by the cheerful blaze of a wood fire.

"How much better is this," said she, as she walked to the fender, "how much better to find a fire ready lit than to have to wait shivering in the cold till all the family are in bed, as so many poor girls have been obliged to do, and then to have a faithful old servant frightening one by coming in with a fagot!"

She looked round the room. The window curtains seemed in motion. It could be nothing but the violence of the wind penetrating through the divisions of the shutters; and she stepped boldly forward, carelessly humming a tune, to assure herself of its being so, peeped courageously behind each curtain, saw nothing on either low window seat to scare, and, on placing a hand against the shutter, felt the strongest conviction of the wind's force.

She scorned the causeless fears of an idle fancy, and began with a most happy indifference to prepare herself for bed.

"She should take her time; she should not hurry herself; she did not care if she were the last person up in the house. But she would not make up her fire; that would seem cowardly, as if she wished for the protection of light after she were in bed."

The fire, therefore, died away; and Catherine was beginning to think of stepping into bed, when, on giving a parting glance round the room, she was struck by the appearance of a high, old-fashioned black cabinet which had not caught her notice before. She took her candle and looked closely at the cabinet. It was Japan, black and yellow Japan, of the handsomest kind; and as she held her candle, the yellow had very much the effect of gold.

The key was in the door, and she had a strange fancy to look into it; not, however, with the smallest expectation of finding anything, but it was so very odd. In short, she could not sleep till she had examined it. So, placing the candle with great caution on a chair, she seized the key with a very tremulous hand and tried to turn it, but it resisted her utmost strength. Alarmed but not discouraged, she tried it another way; a bolt flew, and she believed herself successful; but, how strangely mysterious! the door was still immovable.

She paused a moment in breathless wonder. The wind roared down the chimney, the rain beat in torrents against the windows, and everything seemed to speak the awfulness of her situation. To retire to bed, however, unsatisfied on such a point, would be vain, since sleep must be impossible with the consciousness of a cabinet so mysteriously closed in her immediate vicinity【1】.

It resisted her utmost strength

Again, therefore, she applied herself to the key, and, after moving it in every possible way for some instants, with the determined celerity【2】of hope's last effort, the door suddenly yielded to her hand. Her heart leaped with exultation at such a victory; and, having thrown open each folding door, the second being secured only by bolts of less wonderful construction than the lock, though in that her eye could not discern anything unusual, a double range of small drawers appeared in view with some larger drawers above and below them, and in the center a small door, closed also with lock and key, secured in all probability a cavity of importance.

Catherine's heart beat quick, but her courage did not fail her. With a cheek flushed by hope, and an eye straining with curiosity, her fingers grasped the handle of a drawer, and drew it forth. It was entirely empty. With less alarm and greater eagerness, she seized a second, a third, a fourth—each was equally empty. Not one was left unsearched, and in not one was anything found. Well read in the art of concealing a treasure, the possibility of false linings to the drawers did not escape her, and she felt round each with anxious acuteness in vain. The place in the middle alone remained now unexplored. It was some time, however, before she could unfasten the door, the same difficulty occurring in the management of this inner lock as of the outer; but at length it did open; and not vain, as hitherto, was her search; her quick eye directly fell on a roll of paper pushed back into the farther part of the cavity, apparently for concealment, and her feelings at that moment were indescribable. Her heart fluttered, and her cheeks grew pale. She seized, with an unsteady hand, the precious manuscript, for half a glance sufficed to ascertain written characters; and she resolved instantly to peruse every line before she attempted to rest.

The dimness of the light her candle emitted made her turn to it with alarm; but there was no danger of its sudden extinction, it had yet some hours to burn; and that she might not have any greater difficulty in distinguishing the writing than what its ancient date might occasion, she hastily snuffed it. Alas! it was snuffed and extinguished in one. A lamp could not have expired with more awful effect. Catherine, for a few moments, was motionless with horror. It was done completely; not a remnant of light in the wick could give hope to the rekindling breath. Darkness impenetrable and immovable filled the room.

A violent gust of wind, rising with sudden fury, added fresh horror to the moment. Catherine trembled from head to foot. In the pause which succeeded, a sound like receding footsteps and the closing of a distant door struck on her affrighted ear. Human nature could support no more. A cold sweat stood on her forehead; the manuscript fell from her hand; and, groping her way to the bed, she jumped hastily in, and sought some suspension of agony by creeping far underneath the clothes.

Ⅱ

To close her eyes in sleep that night she felt must be entirely out of the question. With a curiosity so justly awakened and feelings in every way so agitated, repose must be absolutely impossible. The storm, too, abroad so dreadful! She had not been used to feel alarm from wind, but now every blast seemed fraught with awful intelligence. The manuscript so wonderfully found, how was it to be accounted for? What could it contain? To whom could it relate? By what means could it have been so long concealed? and how singularly strange that it should fall to her lot to discover it! Till she had made herself mistress of its contents, however, she could have neither repose nor comfort; and with the sun's first rays she was determined to peruse it.

But many were the tedious hours which must yet intervene. She shuddered, tossed about in her bed, and envied every quiet sleeper. The storm still raged, and various were the noises, more terrific even than the wind, which struck at intervals on her startled ear. The very curtains of her bed seemed at one moment in motion; and at another the lock of her door was agitated, as if by the attempt of somebody to enter. Hollow murmurs seemed to creep along the gallery, and more than once her blood was chilled by the sound of distant moans. Hour after hour passed away, and the wearied Catherine had heard three proclaimed by all the clocks in the house before the tempest subsided, or she unknowingly fell fast asleep.

The housemaid's folding back her window shutters at eight o'clock the next day was the sound which first roused Catherine; and she opened her eyes, wondering that they could ever have been closed, on objects of cheerfulness. Her fire was already burning, and a bright morning had succeeded the tempest of the night.

Instantaneously, with the consciousness of existence, returned her recollection of the manuscript; and springing from the bed in the very moment of the maid's going away, she eagerly collected every scattered sheet which had burst from the roll on its falling to the ground, and flew back to enjoy the luxury of their perusal on her pillow. She now plainly saw that she must not expect a manuscript of equal length with the generality of what she had shuddered over in books; for the roll, seeming to consist entirely of small, disjointed sheets, was altogether but of trifling size, and much less than she had supposed it to be at first.

Her greedy eye glanced rapidly over a page. She started at its import. Could it be possible, or did not her senses play her false? An inventory【3】of linen, in coarse and modern characters, seemed all that was before her! If the evidence of sight might be trusted, she held a washing bill in her hand. She seized another sheet, and saw the same articles with little variation; a third, a fourth, and a fifth presented nothing new. Shirts, stockings, cravats, and waistcoats faced her in each. Two others, penned by the same hand, marked an expenditure scarcely more interesting, in letters, hair powders, and shoe strings; and the larger sheet, which had inclosed the rest, seemed by its first cramp line, "To poultice chestnut mare," a farrier's【4】bill!

Such was the collection of papers — left, perhaps, as she could then suppose, by the negligence of a servant, in the place whence she had taken them—which had filled her with expectation and alarm, and robbed her of half her night's rest! She felt humbled to the dust. Impatient to get rid of those hateful evidences of her folly, those detestable papers scattered over the bed, she rose directly, and, folding them up as nearly as possible in the same shape as before, returned them to the same spot within the cabinet, with a very hearty wish that no untoward【5】accident might ever bring them forward again, to disgrace her even with herself.

Why the locks should have been so difficult to open, however, was still something remarkable, for she could now manage them with perfect ease. In this there seemed something mysterious. She indulged in the flattering suggestion for half a minute, till the possibility of the door having been at first unlocked, and of herself being its fastener, darted into her head and cost her another blush.

————

He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty: and he that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city.

—PROVERBS.

注释

【1】Vicinity, neighborhood.

【2】Celerity, quickness; swiftness.

【3】Inventory, list.

【4】Farrier, one who shoes and doctors horses.

【5】Untoward, unlucky; vexatious.

4

THE CONFEDERATE SOLDIER

BY H. W. GRADY

Henry Woodfin Grady (1851—1889): An American journalist and orator. He is best known by several addresses describing the condition of the South during and since the war between the states. This selection is from "The New South," an address delivered in New York at the banquet of the New England Society, December 21, 1886.

The speaker【1】has drawn for you of the North, with master's hand, the picture of your returning armies. He has told you how, in the pomp and circumstance of war,they came back to you, marching with proud and victorious tread, reading their glory in a nation's eyes! Will you bear with me while I tell you of another army that sought its home at the close of the late war—an army that marched home in defeat and not in victory, in pathos and not in splendor, but in glory that equaled yours, and to hearts as loving as ever welcomed heroes home? Let me picture to you the footsore Confederate soldier, as, buttoning up in his faded gray jacket the parole【2】which was to bear testimony to his children of his fidelity and faith, he turned his face southward from Appomattox in April, 1865. Think of him as ragged, half-starved, heavyhearted, enfeebled by want and wounds; having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders his gun, wrings the hands of his comrades in silence, and, lifting bis tear-stained and pallid face for the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginia hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and begins the slow and painful journey. What does he find—let me ask you who went to your homes eager to find in the welcome you had justly earned full payment for four years' sacrifice — what does he find when, having followed the battle-stained cross against overwhelming odds, dreading death not half so much as surrender, he reaches the home he left so prosperous and beautiful? He finds his house in ruins; his farm devastated【3】; his slaves free; his stock killed; his barns empty; his trade destroyed; his money worthless; his social system, feudal【4】in its magnificence, swept away; his people without law or legal status; his comrades slain; and the burdens of others heavy on his shoulders. Crushed by defeat, his very traditions are gone; without money, credit, employment, material, or training; and beside all this, confronted with the gravest problem that ever met human intelligence — the establishing of a status【5】for the vast body of his liberated slaves.

What does he do, this hero in gray with a heart of gold? Does he sit down in sullenness and despair? Not for a day. Surely God, who had stripped him of his prosperity, inspired him in his adversity. As ruin was never before so overwhelming, never was restoration swifter. The soldier stepped from the trenches into the furrow; horses that had charged Federal guns marched before the plow; and fields that ran red with human blood in April were green with the harvest in June. Never was nobler duty confided to human hands than the uplifting and upbuilding of the prostrate and bleeding South, misguided, perhaps, but beautiful in her suffering; and honest, brave, and generous always. In the record of her social, industrial, and political evolution we await with confidence the verdict of the world.

注释

【1】The speaker, Dr. Thomas De Witt Talmage, a distinguished clergyman and lecturer, whose speech had preceded Grady's.

【2】Parole, promise upon one's faith and honor to fulfill stated conditions, as not to bear arms against one's captors, or the like.

【3】Devastated, laid waste.

【4】Feudal, like the feudal system of the Middle Ages, by which a vassal or tenant held land, giving service to his superior and receiving service from his inferior.

【5】Status, state; position.

5

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS

BY ROBERT BURNS

Robert Burns (1759—1796): A Scotch poet. His poems are characterized by simplicity and intensity of feeling and imagination. He wrote "The Cotter's Saturday Night," "The Twa Dogs," "Tam o'Shanter," and many exquisite songs and shorter poems.

Robert Burns

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;

My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;

Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,

My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,

The birthplace of valor, the country of worth:

Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands forever I love

Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;

Farewell to the straths【1】and green valleys below;

Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;

Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;

Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,

My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

注释

【1】Straths, a Scotch name for river valleys.

6

AN ESCAPE FROM THE PRESS GANG

BY THOMAS HARDY

Thomas Hardy (1840—1928): An English novelist and architect. He has written "Far from the Madding Crowd," "The Trumpet Major," and other novels.

This selection is from "The Trumpet Major." The scene is laid in England in 1805—when England was at war with France, and was in daily expectation of a descent upon the coast by Napoleon. The English coasts were well guarded by the navy, and seamen on shore were all liable to be impressed for service. Bob Loveday, the sailor son of Miller Loveday, had given up the sea and was helping his father at the mill. One night he returned to the mill with his half-sister, Anne Garland, from a visit to the theater at the neighboring seaport of Weymouth, where they had heard that a press gang belonging to a frigate called the Black Diamond was on shore looking for hands.

Ⅰ

Having reached the privacy of her own room, Anne threw open the window, for she had not the slightest intention of going to bed just yet. The tale of the Black Diamond had disturbed her by a slow, insidious process that was worse than sudden fright. Her window looked into the court before the house, now wrapped in the shadow of the trees and the hill; and she leaned upon its sill, listening intently. She could have heard any strange sound distinctly enough in one direction, but in the other all low noises were absorbed in the patter of the mill and the rush of water down the race.

However, what she heard came from the hitherto silent side, and was intelligible in a moment as being the footsteps of men. She tried to think they were some late stragglers from Weymouth. Alas! no; the tramp was too regular for that of villagers. She hastily turned, extinguished the candle, and listened again. As they were on the main road, there was, after all, every probability that the party would pass the bridge which gave access to the mill court without turning in upon it or even noticing that such an entrance existed. In this again she was disappointed; they crossed into the front without a pause. One of the men spoke. "I am not sure that we are in the right place," he said.

"This is a mill, anyhow," said another.

"There's lots about here."

"Then come this way a moment with your light."

Two of the group went toward the cart house on the opposite side of the yard, and, when they reached it, a dark lantern was opened, the rays being directed upon the front of the miller's wagon.

"'Loveday and Son, Overcombe Mill!'" continued the man, reading from the wagon. "'Son,' you see, is lately painted in. That's our man."

He moved to turn off the light, but before he had done so, it flashed over the forms of the speakers and revealed a sergeant, a naval officer, and a file of marines【1】.

Anne waited to see no more. When Bob stayed up to grind as he was doing to-night, he often sat in his room instead of remaining all the time in the mill; and this room was an isolated【2】chamber over the bakehouse, which could not be reached without going downstairs and ascending the stepladder that served for his staircase. Anne descended in the dark, clambered up the ladder, and saw that light strayed through the chink below the door. His window faced toward the garden, and hence the light could not as yet have been seen by the press gang.

"Bob, dear Bob!" she said, through the keyhole. "Put out your light, and run out of the back door!"

"Why?" said Bob, leisurely knocking the ashes from the pipe he had been smoking.

"The press gang!"

"They have come? Who can have blown upon me? All right, dearest, I'm game."

Anne, scarcely knowing what she did, descended the ladder and ran to the back door, hastily unbolting it to save Bob's time, and gently opening it in readiness for him. She had no sooner done this than she felt hands laid upon her shoulder from without, and a voice exclaiming, "That's how we do it — quite an obliging young man!"

Though the hands held her rather roughly, Anne did not mind for herself, and turning, she cried desperately, in tones intended to reach Bob's ears, "They are at the back door; try the front!"

But inexperienced Miss Garland little knew the shrewd habits of the gentlemen she had to deal with, who, well used to this sort of pastime, had already posted themselves at every outlet from the premises.

"Bring the lantern," shouted the fellow who held her. "Why, 'tis a girl! I half thought so. Here is a way in," he continued to his comrades, hastening to the foot of the ladder which led to Bob's room.

"What d'ye want?" said Bob, quietly opening the door and showing himself still radiant in the full dress that he had worn with such effect at Weymouth at the Theater Royal, which he had been about to change for his mill suit when Anne gave the alarm.

"This gentleman can't be the right one," observed a marine, rather impressed by Bob's appearance.

"Yes, yes; that's the man," said the sergeant. "Now take it quietly, my young cock-o'-wax. You look as if you meant to, and 'tis wise of ye."

"Where are you going to take me?" said Bob.

"Only aboard the Black Diamond. If you choose to take the bounty【3】and come voluntarily, you'll be allowed to go ashore whenever your ship's in port. If you don't, and we've got to pinion ye, you will not have your liberty at all. As you must come, willy nilly【4】, you'll do the first if you've any brains whatever."

Bob's temper began to rise. "Don't talk so large about your pinioning, my man. When I've settled—"

"Now or never, young blowhard," interrupted his informant.

"Come, what jabber is this going on?" said the lieutenant, stepping forward. "Bring your man."

Ⅱ

One of the marines set foot on the ladder, but at the same moment a shoe from Bob's hand hit the lantern with well-aimed directness, knocking it clean out of the grasp of the man who held it. In spite of the darkness they began to scramble up the ladder. Bob thereupon shut the door, which, being but of slight construction, was, as he knew, only a momentary defense. But it gained him time enough to open the window, gather up his legs upon the sill, and spring across into the apple tree growing without. He alighted without much hurt beyond a few scratches from the boughs, a shower of falling apples testifying to the force of his leap.

"Here he is!" shouted several below, who had seen Bob's figure flying like a raven's across the sky.

There was stillness for a moment in the tree. Then the fugitive made haste to climb out upon a low-hanging branch toward the garden, at which the men beneath all rushed in that direction to catch him as he dropped, saying: "You may as well come down, old boy. 'Twas a spry jump and we give you credit for it."

The latter movement of Loveday had been a mere feint【5】. Partly hidden by leaves, he glided back to the other part of the tree, from whence it was easy to jump upon a thatch-covered outhouse. This intention they did not appear to suspect, which gave him the opportunity of sliding down the slope and entering the back door of the mill.

"He's here, he's here!" the men exclaimed, running back from the tree.

BY this time they had obtained another light, and pursued him closely along the back quarters of the mill. Bob had entered the lower room, seized hold of the chain by which the flour sacks were hoisted from story to story by connection with the mill wheel, and pulled the rope that hung alongside for the purpose of throwing it into gear. The foremost pursuers arrived just in time to see Captain Bob's legs and shoe buckles vanishing through the trap-door overhead, his person having been whirled up by the machinery like any bag of flour, and the trap falling to behind him.

"He's gone up by the hoist!" said the sergeant, running up the ladder in the corner to the next floor, and elevating the light just in time to see Bob's suspended figure ascending in the same way through the same sort of trap into the second floor. The second trap also fell together behind him, and he was lost to view as before.

It was more difficult to follow now; there was only a flimsy little ladder, and the men ascended cautiously. When they stepped out upon the loft it was empty.

"He must have let go here," said one of the marines, who knew more about mills than the others. "If he had held fast a moment longer, he would have been dashed against that beam."

They looked up. The hook by which Bob had held on had ascended to the roof, and was winding around the cylinder. Nothing was visible elsewhere but boarded divisions like the stalls of a stable, on each side of the stage they stood upon, these compartments being more or less heaped up with wheat and barley in the grain.

"Perhaps he's buried himself in the corn."

The whole crew jumped into the corn bins and stirred about their yellow contents; but neither arm, leg, nor coat-tail was uncovered. They removed sacks, peeped among the rafters of the roof, but to no purpose. The lieutenant began to fume at the loss of time.

"What fools to let the man go! Why, look here! What's this?" He had opened the door by which sacks were taken in from wagons without, and dangling from the cathead【6】projecting above it was the rope used in lifting them. "There's the way he went down," the officer continued. "The man's gone."

Amidst mumblings and growls the gang descended the pair of ladders and came into the open air; but Captain Bob was nowhere to be seen. They turned from the door, and leaving four of the marines to keep watch round the house, the remainder of the party marched into the lane as far as where another road branched off. While they were pausing to decide which course to take, one of the soldiers held up the light. A black object was discernible upon the ground before them, and they found it to be a hat — the hat of Bob Loveday.

"We are on the track," cried the sergeant, deciding for this direction.

The rays of the candle fell upon Anne

They tore on rapidly, and footsteps previously heard became audible again, increasing in clearness, which told that they gained upon the fugitive, who in another five minutes stopped and turned. The rays of the candle fell upon Anne.

"What do you want?" she said, showing her frightened face.

They made no reply, but wheeled round and left her. She sank down on the bank to rest, having done all she could. It was she who had taken down Bob's hat from a nail and dropped it at the turning, with the view of misleading them till he should have got clear off.

But Anne Garland was too anxious to remain long away from the center of operations. When she got back, she found that the press gang were standing in the court discussing their next move.

"Waste no more time here," the lieutenant said. "Two more villages to visit to-night, and the nearest three miles off. There's nobody else in this place, and we can't come back again."

When they were moving away, one of the marines, who had kept his eye on Anne and noticed her distress, contrived to say in a whisper, as he passed her: "We are coming back again as soon as it begins to get light; that's only said to deceive ye. Keep the young man out of the way."

They went as they had come; and the little household then met together, Mrs. Loveday having by this time dressed herself and come down. Anne mentioned what the friendly marine had told her; and fearing lest Bob was in the house, and would be discovered there when daylight came, they searched and called for him everywhere.

"Well," said Loveday, "you two go and lie down now, and I'll bide【7】up; and as soon as he comes in, which he'll do most likely in the course of the night, I'll let him know that they are coming again."

Anne and Mrs. Loveday went to their bedrooms, and the miller entered the mill as if he were simply staying up to grind. But he continually left the flour chute to go outside and walk round. Each time he could see no living being near the spot.

Ⅲ

At length the curtains of Anne's bed began to reveal their pattern, and day dawned. But while the light was no more than a suffusion【8】of pallor, she arose, put on her hat, and determined to explore the surrounding premises before the men arrived. Emerging into the raw loneliness of the daybreak, she went upon the bridge and looked up and down the road. It was as she had left it, empty, and the solitude was rendered yet more insistent by the silence of the mill wheel, which was now stopped, the miller having given up expecting Bob and retired to bed about three o'clock. The footprints of the marines still remained in the dust on the bridge, all the heelmarks toward the house, showing that the party had not as yet returned.

While she lingered she heard a slight noise in the other direction, and, turning, saw a woman approaching. The woman came up quickly, and, to her amazement, Anne recognized Matilda, an old friend of Bob's. She had plainly walked all the way from Weymouth, for her shoes were covered with dust.

"Have the press gang been here?" she gasped. "If not, they are coming!"

"They have been."

"And got him — I am too late!"

"No; they are coming back again. Why did you—"

"I came to try to save him. Can we save him? Where is he?"

Anne looked the woman in the face, and it was impossible to doubt that she was in earnest.

"I don't know," she answered. "I am trying to find him before they come."

"Will you not let me help you?" cried the repentant Matilda. She had quarreled with Bob, and it was she who, out of spite, had given the press gang information as to his whereabouts. She had risen before day and hastened thitherward to know the worst, and, if possible, hinder consequences which she had been the first to set in train.

After going hither and thither in the adjoining field, Anne entered the garden. The walks were bathed in gray dew, and, as she passed observantly along them, it appeared as if they had been brushed by some foot at a much earlier hour. At the end of the garden, bushes of broom, laurel, and yew formed a constantly encroaching shrubbery that had come there almost by chance and was never trimmed.

Behind these bushes was a garden seat, and upon it lay Bob, sound asleep.

The ends of his hair were clotted with damp, and there was a foggy film upon the mirror-like buttons of his coat and upon the buckles of his shoes. His bunch of new gold seals was dimmed by the same insidious dampness; his shirt frill and muslin neckcloth were limp as seaweed. It was plain that he had been there a long time. Anne shook him, but he did not awake, his breathing being low and stertorous【9】.

"Shake him again," said Matilda.

Anne shook him again, but he slept on. Then she noticed that his forehead bore the mark of a heavy wound.

"I fancy I hear something!" said her companion, starting forward, and endeavoring to wake Bob herself. "He is stunned or drugged!" she said; "there's no rousing him."

Anne raised her head and listened. From the direction of the eastern road came the sound of a steady tramp. "They are coming back!" she said, clasping her bands. "They will take him, ill as he is! He won't open his eyes—no, it is no use! Oh, what shall we do?"

Matilda did not reply, but running to the end of the seat on which Bob lay, tried its weight in her arms.

"It is not too heavy," she said. "You take that end, and I'll take this. We'll carry him away to some place of hiding."

Anne instantly seized the other end, and they proceeded with their burden at a slow pace to the lower garden gate, which they reached as the tread of the press gang resounded over the bridge that gave access to the mill court, now hidden from view by the hedge and the trees of the garden.

"We will go down inside this field," said Anne, faintly.

"No," said the other, "they will see our foot tracks in the dew. We must go into the road."

"It is the very road they will come down when they leave the mill."

"It cannot be helped; it is neck or nothing with us now."

So they emerged upon the road, and staggered along without speaking, occasionally resting for a moment to ease their arms; then, shaking him to arouse him, and finding it useless, seizing the seat again. When they had gone about two hundred yards, Matilda betrayed signs of exhaustion, and she asked, "Is there no shelter near?"

"When we get to that little field of corn," said Anne.

"It is so very far. Surely there is some place near?"

She pointed to a few scrubby bushes overhanging a little stream which passed under the road near this point.

"They are not thick enough," said Anne.

"Let us take him under the bridge," said Matilda. "I can go no farther."

Entering the opening by which cattle descended to drink, they waded into the weedy water, which here rose a few inches above their ankles. To ascend the stream, stoop under the arch, and reach the center of the roadway, was the work of a few minutes.

"If they look under the arch we are lost," murmured Anne.

"There is no parapet to the bridge, and they may pass over without heeding."

They waited, their heads almost in contact with the reeking arch and their feet encircled by the stream, which was at its summer lowness now. A quarter of an hour dragged by, and then indications reached their ears that the reexamination of the mill had begun and ended. The well-known tramp drew nearer.

The gang passed the arch

The gang passed the arch, and the noise regularly diminished as if no man among them had thought of looking aside for a moment.

Matilda broke the silence. "I wonder if they have left a watch behind?" she said doubtfully.

"I will go and see," said Anne. "Wait till I return."

"No; I can do no more. When you come back I shall be gone."

Anne went out from the water and hastened toward the mill. She entered by the garden, and seeing no one, advanced and peeped in at the window. Her mother and Mr. Loveday were sitting within as usual.

"Are they all gone?" said Anne, softly.

"Yes. They did not trouble us much, beyond going into every room and searching about the garden, where they saw steps. They have been lucky to-night; they have caught fifteen or twenty men at places farther on, so the loss of Bob was no hurt to their feelings. I wonder where in the world the poor fellow is!"

"I will show you," said Anne. Explaining in a few words what had happened, she was promptly followed by Loveday along the road. Matilda was gone, and Bob lay on the seat as she had left him.

Bob was brought out and water thrown upon his face; but though he moved he did not rouse himself until some time after he had been borne into the house. Here he opened his eyes and saw them standing round, and gathered a little consciousness.

"You are all right, my boy!" said his father. "What happened to ye? Where did you get that terrible blow?"

"Ah—I can mind now," murmured Bob, with a stupefied gaze around. "I fell in slipping down the topsail halyard【10】— the rope, that is, was too short—and I fell upon my head. And then I went away. When I came back I thought I wouldn't disturb ye; so I lay down out there to sleep out the watch; but the pain in my head was so great that I couldn't get to sleep. So I picked some of the poppy heads in the border, which I once heard was a good thing for sending folks to sleep when they are in pain. So I munched up all I could find and dropped off quite nicely."

"Why, you might never have woke again!" said Mrs. Loveday, holding up her hands. "How is your head now? "

"I hardly know," replied the young man, putting his hand to his forehead and beginning to doze again. "Where be those fellows that boarded us? With this —smooth water and—fine breeze we ought to get away from'em. Haul in—the larboard braces, and— bring her to the wind."

"You are at home, dear Bob," said Anne, bending over him, "and the men are gone."

"Come along upstairs; thou art hardly awake now," said his father; and Bob was assisted to bed.

注释

【1】Marines, soldiers serving on shipboard.

【2】Isolated, separated from others; placed by itself.

【3】Bounty, a premium given to induce men to enlist in the public service.

【4】Willy nilly, whether one will or not; without choice.

【5】Feint, pretense; trick.

【6】Cathead, a projecting piece of timber or iron.

【7】Bide, stay; wait.

【8】Suffusion, overspreading.

【9】Stertorous, breathing hoarsely; snoring.

【10】Halyard, rope for hoisting or lowering sails.

7

ANNABEL LEE

BY E. A. POE

Edgar Allan Poe (1809—1849): An American author. His poems are remarkable for melody, and, like his stories, are weird, original, and possess a peculiar fascination. His principal poems are "The Bells," "The Raven," "Annabel Lee," and "Ulalume." Among his tales are "The Gold Bug," "The Black Cat," "A Ms. Found in a Bottle," and "The Purloned Letter."

Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

BY the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea;

But we loved with a love that was more than love,

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs【1】of heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that long ago

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her high-born kinsman came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulcher【2】

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven

Went envying her and me;

Yes! that was the reason — as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea—

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we;

And neither the angels in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling, my darling, my life, and my bride,

In her sepulcher there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

注释

【1】Seraphs, angels.

【2】Sepulcher, grave; tomb.

8

THE DISCOVERY OF PERU

BY W. H. PRESCOTT

William Hickling Prescott (1795—1859), an eminent American historian. His style is remarkable for its spirit, clearness, and grace. His works, "The Conquest of Peru," "The Conquest of Mexico," and "Ferdinand and Isabella," are about Spain and her conquests.

The following selection is from "The Conquest of Peru." Francisco Pizarro (1475—1538) was a Spanish adventurer, who had accompanied Balboa on his expedition to the New World. In 1524 Pizarro, in a small vessel with about one hundred men, set sail in search of a land of gold, said to lie to the south of Mexico. He persisted in his enterprise in spite of conflicts with the natives and the opposition and rebellion of his followers. After great hardships by both sea and land, he reached the empire of Peru.

Ⅰ

While the whole eastern coast of the American continent had been explored and the central portion of it colonized, even after the brilliant achievement of the Mexican conquest, the veil was not yet raised that hung over the golden shores of the Pacific.

Floating rumors had reached the Spaniards, from time to time, of countries in the far west, teeming【1】with the metal they so much coveted; but the first distinct notice of Peru was about the year 1511, when Vasco Nunez de Balboa, the discoverer of the Southern Sea, was weighing some gold which he had collected from the natives.

A young barbarian chieftain, who was present, struck the scales with his fist, and, scattering the glittering metal around the apartment, exclaimed, "If this is what you prize so much that you are willing to leave your distant homes, and risk even life itself for it, I can tell you of a land where they eat and drink out of golden vessels, and gold is as cheap as iron is with you."

It was not long after this startling intelligence that Balboa achieved【2】the formidable adventure of scaling the mountain rampart of the isthmus which divides the two mighty oceans from each other; when, armed with sword and buckler, he rushed into the waters of the Pacific, and cried out in the true chivalrous vein, that "he claimed this unknown sea with all that it contained for the king of Castile, and that he would make good the claim against all, Christian or infidel, who dared to gainsay【3】it." All the broad continent and sunny isles washed by the waters of the Southern Ocean! Little did the bold cavalier comprehend the full import【4】of his magnificent vaunt.

On this spot he received more explicit tidings of the Peruvian empire, heard proofs recounted of its civilization, and was shown drawings of the llama, which, to the European eye, seemed a species of the Arabian camel. But, although he steered his caravel for these golden realms and even pushed his discoveries some twenty leagues south of the Gulf of St. Michael, the adventure was not reserved for him.

Floating rumors of the wealth and civilization of a mighty nation at the south were continually reaching the ears and kindling the dreamy imaginations of the Spaniards; and it may seem astonishing that an expedition in that direction should have been so long deferred. But the exact position and distance of this fairy realm were matter of conjecture. The long tract of intervening country was occupied by rude and warlike races; and the little experience which the Spanish navigators had already had of the neighboring coast and its inhabitants, and still more the tempestuous character of the seas, —for their expeditions had taken place at the most unpropitious【5】seasons of the year, —enhanced the apparent difficulties of the undertaking, and made even their stout hearts shrink from it.

Such was the state of feeling in the little community of Panama for several years after its foundation. Meanwhile, the dazzling conquest of Mexico gave a new impulse to the ardor of discovery; and, in 1524, three men【6】were found in the colony in whom the spirit of adventure triumphed over every consideration of difficulty and danger that obstructed the prosecution of the enterprise. One among them was selected as fitted by his character to conduct it to a successful issue. That man was Francisco Pizarro.

Pizarro set forth with his comrades, and at length the adventurous vessel rounded the point of St. Helena, and glided smoothly into the waters of the beautiful Gulf of Guayaquil. The country was here studded along the shore with towns and villages, though the mighty chain of the Cordilleras【7】, sweeping up abruptly from the coast, left but a narrow strip of emerald verdure, through which numerous rivulets, spreading fertility around them, wound their way to the sea.

The voyagers were now abreast of some of the most stupendous heights of this magnificent range: Chimborazo, with its broad round summit towering like the dome of the Andes, and Cotopaxi, with its dazzling cone of silvery white, that knows no change except from the action of its own volcanic fires, — for this mountain is the most terrible of the American volcanoes, and was in formidable activity at no great distance from the period of our narrative.

Well pleased with the signs of civilization that opened on them at every league of their progress, the Spaniards at length approached the city of Tumbez. As they drew near, they beheld a town of considerable size, with many of the buildings apparently of stone and plaster, situated in the bosom of a fruitful meadow, which seemed to have been redeemed from the sterility【8】of the surrounding country by careful and minute irrigation. When at some distance from shore, Pizarro saw standing toward him several large balsas【9】, which were found to be filled with warriors going on an expedition against the island of Puna.

Running alongside of the Indian flotilla【10】, he invited some of the chiefs to come on board of his vessel. The Peruvians gazed with wonder on every object which met their eyes, and especially on their own countrymen, whom they had little expected to meet there. The latter informed them in what manner they had fallen into the hands of the strangers, whom they described as a wonderful race of beings that had come thither for no harm, but solely to be made acquainted with the country and its inhabitants.

This account was confirmed by tie Spanish commander, who persuaded the Indians to return in their balsas and report what they had learned to their townsmen, requesting them at the same time to provide his vessel with refreshments, as it was his desire to enter into a friendly intercourse with the natives.

The people of Tumbez were gathered along the shore and were gazing with unutterable amazement on the floating castle, which, now having dropped anchor, rode lazily at its moorings in their bay. They eagerly listened to the accounts of their countrymen, and instantly reported the affair to the curaca, or ruler of the district, who, conceiving that the strangers must be beings of a superior order, prepared at once to comply with their request.

It was not long before several balsas were seen steering for the vessel, laden with bananas, plantains, yucca, Indian corn, sweet potatoes, pineapples, cocoanuts, and other rich products of the bountiful vale of Tumbez. Game and fish, also, were added, with a number of llamas, of which Pizarro had seen the rude drawings belonging to Balboa, but of which, till now, he had met with no living specimen. He examined this curious animal, the Peruvian sheep, or, as the Spaniards called it, the "little camel" of the Indians, with much interest, greatly admiring the mixture of wool and hair which supplied the natives with the material for their fabrics.

Ⅱ

On the day following, the Spanish captain sent one of his own men, named Alonzo de Molina, on shore, accompanied by a negro who had come in the vessel from Panama, together with a present for the curaca, of some swine and poultry, neither of which was indigenous【11】to the New World. Toward evening his emissary【12】returned with a fresh supply of fruits and vegetables that the friendly people sent to the vessel. Molina had a wondrous tale to tell.

On landing he was surrounded by the natives, who expressed the greatest astonishment at his dress, his fair complexion, and his long beard. The women, especially, manifested great curiosity in respect to him, and Molina seemed to be entirely won by their charms and captivating manners. He probably intimated his satisfaction by his demeanor, since they urged him to stay among them, promising in that case to provide him with a beautiful wife.

Their surprise was equally great at the complexion of his sable companion. They could not believe it was natural, and tried to rub off the imaginary dye with their hands. As the African bore all this with characteristic good humor, displaying at the same time his rows of ivory teeth, they were prodigiously delighted. The animals were no less above their comprehension; and, when the cock crew, the simple people clapped their hands and inquired what he was saying. Their intellects were so bewildered by sights so novel, that they seemed incapable of distinguishing between man and brute.

Molina was then escorted to the residence of the curaca, whom he found living in much state, with porters stationed at his doors, and with a quantity of gold and silver vessels, from which he was served. He was then taken to different parts of the Indian city, saw a fortress built of rough stone, and, though low, spreading over a large extent of ground. Near this was a temple; and the Spaniard's description of its decorations, blazing with gold and silver, seemed so extravagant that Pizarro, distrusting his whole account, resolved to send a more discreet and trustworthy emissary on the following day.

The person selected was Pedro de Candia, a Greek cavalier who had joined the expedition. He was sent on shore, dressed in complete mail, as became a good knight, with his sword by his side and his arquebus on his shoulder. The Indians were even more dazzled by his appearance than by Molina's, as the sun fell brightly on his polished armor and glanced from his military weapons. They had heard much of the formidable arquebus from their townsmen who had come in the vessel, and they besought Candia "to let it speak to them."

He accordingly set up a wooden board as a target, and, taking deliberate aim, fired off the musket. The flash of the powder and the startling report of the piece, as the board, struck by the ball, was shivered into splinters, filled the natives with dismay. Some fell on the ground, covering their faces with their hands, and others approached the cavalier with feelings of awe, which were gradually dispelled by the assurance they received from the smiling expression of his countenance.

They then showed him the same hospitable attentions which they had paid to Molina; and his description of the marvels of the place, on his return, fell nothing short of his predecessor's. The fortress, which was surrounded by a triple row of wall, was strongly garrisoned. The temple he described as literally tapestried with plates of gold and silver. Adjoining this structure was a sort of convent appropriated to the Inca's【13】destined brides, who manifested great curiosity to see him. Whether this was gratified is not clear; but Candia described the gardens of the convent, which he entered, as glowing with imitations of fruits and vegetables, all in pure gold and silver! He had seen a number of artisans at work, whose sole business seemed to be to furnish these gorgeous decorations for the religious houses.

But the cupidity【14】of the Spaniards, after the conquest, was not slow in despoiling the place of its glories; and the site of its proud towers and temples, in less than half a century after that fatal period, was to be traced only by the huge mass of ruins that encumbered the ground.

The Spaniards were nearly mad with joy, says an old writer, at receiving these brilliant tidings of the Peruvian city. All their fond dreams were now to be realized, and they had at length reached the realm which had so long flitted in visionary splendor before them.

注释

【1】Teeming, filled to overflowing.

【2】Achieved, accomplished.

【3】Gainsay, deny; dispute.

【4】Import, importance; meaning.

【5】Unpropitious, unfavorable.

【6】Three men, Diego de Al magro (1465—1538), a Spanish adventurer; Her-nando de Lu'que (died 1532), a Spanish priest; and Francisco Pizarro.

【7】Cordilleras, the Andes. Cordillera is a Spanish word meaning rope, and the name is applied to an extended mountain range, especially one near the border of a continent.

【8】Sterility, barrenness; unfruitfulness.

【9】Balsas, rafts or floats, used principally on the Pacific coast of South America.

【10】Flotilla, a fleet of small ships.

【11】Indigenous, native.

【12】Emissary, one sent as an agent.

【13】Inca, a monarch of Peru before the Spanish conquest.

【14】Cupidity, greed of gain; eager desire for wealth.

9

A PERUVIAN TEMPLE

BY WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT

The worship of the sun constituted the peculiar care of the Incas and was the object of their lavish【1】expenditure. The most ancient of the many temples dedicated to this divinity was in the island of Titicaca, whence the royal founders of the Peruvian line were said to have proceeded. From this circumstance this sanctuary was held in peculiar veneration. Everything which belonged to it, even the broad fields of maize which surrounded the temple and formed part of its domain, imbibed a portion of its sanctity. The yearly produce was distributed among the different public magazines, in small quantities to each, as something that would sanctify the remainder of the store. Happy was the man who could secure even an ear of the blessed harvest for his own granary!

But the most renowned of the Peruvian temples, the pride of the capital and the wonder of the empire, was at Cuzco, where, under the munificence of successive sovereigns, it had become so enriched that it received the name of "The Place of Gold." It consisted of a principal building and several chapels and inferior edifices, covering a large extent of ground in the heart of the city, and completely encompassed by a wall, which, with the edifices, was all constructed of stone. The work was so finely executed that a Spaniard, who saw it in its glory, assures us that he could call to mind only two edifices in Spain which for their workmanship were at all to be compared with it. Yet this substantial and in some respects magnificent structure was thatched with straw!

The interior of the temple was the most worthy of admiration. It was literally a mine of gold. On the western wall was emblazoned a representation of the deity, consisting of a human countenance, looking forth from amidst innumerable rays of light which emanated【2】from it in every direction, in the same manner as the sun is often personified with us. The figure was engraved on a massive plate of gold of enormous dimensions, thickly powdered with emeralds and precious stones. It was so situated in front of the great eastern portal that the rays of the morning sun fell directly upon it at its rising, lighting up the whole apartment with an effulgence【3】that seemed more than natural, and which was reflected back from the golden ornaments with which the walls and ceilings were everywhere incrusted. Gold, in the figurative language of the people, was "the tears wept by the sun," and every part of the interior of the temple glowed with burnished plates and studs of the precious metal. The cornices which surrounded the walls of the sanctuary were of the same costly material; and a broad belt or frieze of gold, let into the stonework, encompassed the whole exterior of the edifice.

Adjoining the principal structure were several chapels of smaller dimensions. One of them was consecrated to the moon, the deity held next in reverence, as the mother of the Incas. Her effigy was delineated【4】in the same manner as that of the sun, on a vast plate that nearly covered one side of the apartment. But this plate, as well as all the decorations of the building, was of silver, as suited to the pale, silvery light of the moon.

There were three other chapels, one of which was dedicated to the host of stars, that formed the bright court of the sister of the sun; another was consecrated to his dread ministers of vengeance, the thunder and the lightning; and a third to the rainbow, whose many-colored arch spanned the walls of the edifice with hues almost as radiant as its own. There were, besides, several other buildings or insulated【5】apartments for the accommodation of the numerous priests who officiated in the services of the temple.

All the plate, the ornaments, the utensils of every description, appropriated to the uses of religion, were of gold or silver. Twelve immense vases of the latter metal stood on the floor of the great saloon, filled with grain of the Indian corn; the censers for the perfumes, the ewers which held the water for sacrifice, the pipes which conducted it through subterraneous channels into the buildings, the reservoirs that received it, even the agricultural implements used in the gardens of the temple, were all of the same rich materials.

The gardens, like those described belonging to the royal palaces, sparkled with flowers of gold and silver, and various imitations of the vegetable kingdom. Animals, also, were to be found there, among which the llama, with its golden fleece, was most conspicuous, executed in the same style and with a degree of skill which in this instance probably did not surpass the excellence of the material.

If the reader sees in this fairy picture only the romantic coloring of some fabulous El Dorado, he must recall what has been said before in references to the palaces of the Incas, and consider that these "houses of the sun," as they were styled, were the common reservoir into which flowed all the streams of public and private benefaction【6】throughout the empire.

Some of the statements, through credulity【7】, and others in the desire of exciting admiration, may be greatly exaggerated; but in the coincidence of contemporary testimony, it is not easy to determine the exact line which should mark the measure of our skepticism【8】. Certain it is that the glowing picture I have given is warranted by those who saw these buildings in their pride, or shortly after they had been despoiled by the cupidity of their countrymen.

FROM THE "CONQUEST OF PERU,"

————

Reader, attend — whether thy soul

Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,

Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,

In low pursuit;

Know, prudent, cautious self-control

Is wisdom's root.

—BURNS.

注释

【1】Lavish, wasteful; extravagant.

【2】Emanated, issued; flowed from.

【3】Effulgence, brightness; splendor.

【4】Delineated, pictured; represented.

【5】Insulated, separated; unconnected.

【6】Benefaction, gift.

【7】Credulity, readiness of belief.

【8】Skepti cism, doubt; a questioning state of mind.

10

WATERLOO

BY GEORGE, GORDON, LORD BYRON

George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788—1824): An English poet. His first work which attracted attention was a poetical satire, entitled "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," expressing his resentment at the harsh criticism of a volume of his youthful verse. On the publication of "Childe Harold" in 1812, he became the popular poet of the day. He wrote a number of other poems, including "Mazeppa," "The Prisoner of Chillon," "Don Juan," "The Giaour," and several dramatic poems.

Lord Byron

There was a sound of revelry by night,

And Belgium's capital【1】had gathered then

Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage-bell:

But hush! hark! —a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Did ye not hear it? — No; 'twas but the wind,

Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;

No sleep till morn when youth and pleasure meet,

To chase the glowing hours with flying feet:

But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,

As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!—

Arm! arm! it is—it is—the cannon's opening roar!

Within a windowed niche of that high hall

Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain【2】: he did hear

That sound the first amidst the festival,

And caught its tone with death's prophetic ear;

And when they smiled because he deemed it near,

His heart more truly knew that peal too well

Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,

And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell:

He rushed into the field, and foremost fighting fell.

Napoleon's flight from Waterloo

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,

And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,

And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago

Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness;

And there were sudden partings, such as press

The life from out young hearts; and choking sighs

Which ne'er might be repeated; — who could guess

If ever more should meet those mutual eyes?

Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise.

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,

The mustering squadron, and the clattering car

Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,

And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;

And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar;

And near, the beat of the alarming drum

Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;

While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips —"The foe! They come! they come!"

And wild and high the "Camerons' gathering【3】" rose!

The war note of Lochiel【4】, which Albyn's【5】hills

Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes【6】—

How in the noon of night that pibroch【7】thrills,

Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills

Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers

With the fierce native daring which instills

The stirring memory of a thousand years:

And Evan's, Donald's fame【8】, rings in each clansman's ears!

And Ardennes【9】waves above them her green leaves,

Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,

Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,

Over the unreturning brave—alas!

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow

In its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valor, rolling on the foe,

And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low.

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,

Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay,

The midnight brought the signal sound of strife—

The morn, the marshaling in arms—the day,

Battle's magnificently stern array!

The thunder-clouds【10】close o'er it; which when rent,

The earth is cover'd thick with other clay;

Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent,

Rider and horse—friend, foe—in one red burial blent!

————

Our grand business is, not to see what lies dimly at a distance, but to do what lies clearly at hand.

—CARLYLE.

注释

【1】Belgium's capital,on June 15, 1815, the Duchess of Richmond gave a ball in Brussels. During the evening news arrived that Napoleon was marching on the town, so that the officers present had hurriedly to leave the ballroom to get their men under arms. Next day an engagement was fought at Quatre Bras. The great battle of Waterloo did not take place till Sunday, the 18th.

【2】Brunswick's fated chieftain, the Duke of Brunswick, an officer under Wellington. He was killed in the battle of Quatre Bras. His father, who is referred to, was killed in the battle of Jena, 1806.

【3】Cameron's gathering, the "war note" of the bagpipes of the Cameron Highlanders (79th Regiment).

【4】Lochiel, the chief of the Cameron clan.

【5】Albyn, Scotland.

【6】Saxon foes, the English.

【7】Pibroch, the wild martial music of the Scotch bagpipe.

【8】Evan's, Donald's fame, Sir Evan Cameron and his grandson Donald were well-known Highland chiefs.

【9】Ardennes, a forest between Brussels and Waterloo.

【10】Thunder-clouds, on the morning of the battle a thunder-storm broke over both armies.

11

THE SKY

BY JOHN RUSKIN

John Ruskin (1819—1900). An English author best known as an art critic, though he wrote much on political economy and other subjects. Among his works are "Modern Painters," "The Stones of Venice," "The Seven Lamps of Architecture," "Sesame and Lilies," "The Crown of Wild Olive," and "Queen of the Air."

"Modern Painters," from which this selection is taken, is a treatise on landscape painting, which contains many eloquent passages on art, nature, and other subjects.

It is a strange thing how little in general people know about the sky. It is the part of creation in which nature has done more for the sake of pleasing man, more for the sole and evident purpose of talking to him and teaching him, than in any other of her works, and it is just the part in which we least attend to her.

There are not many of her other works in which some more material or essential purpose than the mere pleasing of man is not answered by every part of their organization; but every essential purpose of the sky might, so far as we know, be answered, if once in three days, or thereabouts, a great ugly black rain cloud were brought up over the blue and everything well watered, and so all left blue again till next time, with perhaps a film of morning and evening mist for dew. And instead of this, there is not a moment of any day in our lives, when nature is not producing scene after scene, picture after picture, glory after glory, and working still upon such exquisite and constant principles of the most perfect beauty, that it is quite certain it is all done for us, and intended for our perpetual pleasure.

And every man, wherever placed, however far from other sources of interest or of beauty, has this doing for him constantly. The noblest scenes of the earth can be seen and known but by few; it is not intended that man should live always in the midst of them—he injures them by his presence, he ceases to feel them if he be always with them, — but the sky is for all, bright as it is, it is not "too bright, nor good for human nature's daily food;" it is fitted in all its functions for the perpetual comfort and exalting of the heart, for the soothing it and purifying it from its dross and dust. Sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious【1】, sometimes awful, never the same for two moments together; almost human in its passions, almost spiritual in its tenderness, almost divine in its infinity, its appeal to what is immortal in us is as distinct as its ministry of chastisement【2】or of blessing to what is mortal is essential.

And yet we never attend to it, we never make it a subject of thought, but as it has to do with our animal sensations; we look upon all by which it speaks to us more clearly than to brutes, upon all which bears witness to the intention of the Supreme, that we are to receive more from the covering vault than the light and the dew which we share with the weed and the worm, only as a succession of meaningless and monotonous accident, too common and too vain to be worthy of a moment of watchfulness or a glance of admiration.

If in our moments of utter idleness and insipidity【3】, we turn to the sky as a last resource, which of its phenomena do we speak of? One says it has been wet; and another, it has been windy; and another, it has been warm. Who, among the whole chattering crowd, can tell me of the forms and the precipices of the chain of tall white mountains that girded the horizon at noon yesterday? Who saw the narrow sunbeam that came out of the south, and smote upon their summits until they melted and moldered away in a dust of blue rain? Who saw the dance of the dead clouds when the sunlight left them last night, and the west wind blew them before it like withered leaves?

All has passed, unregretted as unseen; or if the apathy【4】be ever shaken off, even for an instant, it is only by what is gross or what is extraordinary; and yet it is not in the broad and fierce manifestations of the elemental energies, not in the clash of the hail, nor the drift of the whirlwind, that the highest characters of the sublime are developed. God is not in the earthq uake nor in the fire; but in the still small voice. They are but the blunt and the low faculties of our nature, which can only be addressed through lampblack and lightning. It is in quiet and subdued passages of unobtrusive【5】majesty, the deep, and the calm, and the perpetual, —that which must be sought ere it is seen, and loved ere it is understood, —things which the angels work out for us daily, and yet vary eternally, which are never wanting, and never repeated, which are to be found always, yet each found but once; it is through these that the lesson of devotion is chiefly taught and the blessing of beauty given.

These are what the artist of highest aim must study; it is these, by the combination of which his ideal is to be created; these, of which so little notice is ordinarily taken by common observers, that I fully believe, little as people in general are concerned with art, more of their ideas of sky are derived from pictures than from reality, and that if we could examine the conception formed in the minds of most educated persons when we talk of clouds, it would frequently be found composed of fragments of blue and white reminiscences of the old masters.

注释

【1】Capricious, fanciful; changeable.

【2】Chastisement, punishment.

【3】Insipidity, dullness; weakness.

【4】Apathy, indifference; want of feeling.

【5】Unobtrusive, not forward or intrusive.

12

LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY

BY WASHINGTON IRVING

Washington Irving (1783—1859): An American author. He wrote several biographies, of which the best are the "Life of Washington," and "Life of Columbus." Irving is best known by the charming sketches and stories comprised in the volumes entitled, "The Sketch Book," and "Tales of a Traveler," "Bracebridge Hall," and "The Alhambra." The "Legend of the Moor's Legacy" is one of the Spanish tales in "The Alhambra."

Ⅰ

Just within the fortress of the Alhambra【1】, in front of the royal palace, is a broad, open esplanade【2】, called the Place or Square of the Cisterns, so called from being undermined by reservoirs of water, hidden from sight, which have existed from the time of the Moors. At one corner of this esplanade is a Moorish well, cut through the living rock to a great depth, the water of which is cold as ice and clear as crystal. The wells made by the Moors are always in repute, for it is well known what pains they took to penetrate to the purest and sweetest springs and fountains. The one of which we now speak is famous throughout Granada, insomuch that water carriers, some bearing great water jars on their shoulders, others driving donkeys before them laden with earthen vessels, are ascending and descending the steep, woody avenues of the Alhambra, from early dawn until a late hour of the night.

Among the water carriers who once resorted to this well, there was a sturdy, strong-backed, bandy-legged, little fellow, named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for shortness. Being a water carrier he was a Gallego, or native of Galicia, for in Spain the carriers of water and bearers of burdens are all sturdy little natives of Galicia.

Peregil, the Gallego, had begun business with merely a great earthen jar which he carried upon his shoulder; by degrees he rose in the world, and was able to purchase an assistant of a correspondent class of animals, being a stout, shaggy-haired donkey. On each side of this, his long-eared aid-de-camp, in a kind of pannier, were slung his water jars, covered with fig leaves to protect them from the sun. There was not a more industrious water carrier in all Granada, nor one more merry withal. The streets rang with his cheerful voice as he trudged after his donkey, singing forth the usual summer note that resounds through the Spanish towns: "Who wants water—water, coller than snow? Who wants water from the well of the Alhambra, cold as ice and clear as crystal?"

When he served a customer with a sparkling glass, it was always with a pleasant word that caused a smile; and if, perchance, it was a comely dame or dimpling damsel, it was always with a sly leer and a compliment to her beauty that was irresistible. Thus, Peregil, the Gallego, was noted throughout all Granada for being one of the civiest, pleasantest, and happiest of mortals. Yet it is not he who sings loudest and jokes most that has the lightest heart. Under all this air of merriment, honest Peregil had his cares and troubles. He had a large family of ragged children to support who were hungry and clamorous as a nest of young swallows, and beset him with their outcries for food whenever he came home of an evening. He had a helpmate too, who was anything but a help to him. She had been a village beauty before marriage, noted for her skill at dancing the bolero【3】and rattling the castanets【4】; and she still retained her early propensities【5】, spending the hard earnings of honest Peregil in frippery, and laying the very donkey under requisition for junketing【6】parties into the country on Sundays, and saints' days, and those innumerable holidays which are rather more numerous in Spain than the days of the week. With all this she was a little of a slattern, something more of a lie-abed, and, above all, a gossip of the first water; neglecting house, household, and everything else to loiter slipshod in the houses of her gossip neighbors.

He, however, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, accommodates the yoke of matrimony to the submissive neck. Peregil bore all the heavy dispensations【7】of wife and children with as meek a spirit as his donkey bore the water jars; and however he might shake his ears in private, never ventured to question the household virtues of his slattern spouse.

He loved his children, too, even as an owl loves its owlets, seeing in them his own image multiplied and perpetuated; for they were a sturdy, long-backed, bandylegged little brood. The great pleasure of honest Peregil was, whenever he could afford himself a scanty holiday, and had a handful of maravedis【8】to spare, to take the whole of them forth with him, some in his arms, some tugging at his skirts, and some trudging at his heels, and to treat them to a gambol among the orchards of the Vega, while his wife was dancing with her holiday friends.

It was a late hour one summer night, and most of the water carriers had desisted from their toils. The day had been uncommonly sultry; the night was one of those delicious moonlights which tempt the inhabitants of southern climes to indemnify【9】themselves for the heat and inaction of the day, by lingering in the open air and enjoying its tempered sweetness until after midnight. Customers for water were, therefore, still abroad. Peregil, like a considerate, painstaking father, thought of his hungry children.

"One more journey to the well," said he to himself, "to earn a Sunday's treat for the little ones." So saying, he trudged manfully up the steep avenue of the Alhambra, singing as he went.

When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by every one, except a solitary stranger in Moorish garb seated on a stone bench in the moonlight. Peregil paused at first and regarded him in surprise not unmixed with awe, but the Moor feebly beckoned him to approach. "I am faint and ill," said he; "aid me to return to the city, and I will pay thee double what thou couldst gain by thy jars of water."

The honest heart of the little water carrier was touched with compassion at the appeal of the stranger. "God forbid," said he, "that I should ask fee or reward for doing a common act of humanity."

He accordingly helped the Moor on his donkey and set off slowly for Granada, the poor Moslem being so weak that it was necessary to hold him on the animal to keep him from falling to the earth.

When they entered the city, the water carrier demanded whither he should conduct him.

"Alas!" said the Moor, faintly, "I have neither home nor habitation; I am a stranger in the land. Suffer me to lay my head this night beneath thy roof, and thou shalt be amply repaid."

Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled with an infidel【10】guest, but he was too humane to refuse a night's shelter to a fellow-being in so forlorn a plight, so he conducted the Moor to his dwelling. The children, who had sallied forth open-mouthed as usual, on hearing the tramp of the donkey, ran back with affright when they beheld the turbaned stranger, and hid themselves behind their mother. The latter stepped forth intrepidly, like a ruffling hen before her brood when a vagrant dog approaches.

"What infidel companion," cried she, "is this you have brought home at this late hour, to draw upon us the eyes of the Inquisition【11】?"

"Be quiet, wife," replied the Gallego; "here is a poor sick stranger without friend or home; wouldst thou turn him forth to perish in the streets?"

The wife would still have remonstrated; for, although she lived in a hovel, she was a furious stickler for the credit of her house; the little water carrier, however, for once was stiff-necked, and refused to bend beneath the yoke. He assisted the poor Moslem to alight, and spread a mat and a sheepskin for him on the ground in the coolest part of the house, being the only kind of bed that his poverty afforded.

In a little while the Moor was seized with violent convulsions which defied all the ministering skill of the simple water carrier. The eye of the poor patient acknowledged his kindness.

During an interval of his fits he called him to his side, and, addressing him in a low voice, "My end," said he, "I fear is at hand. If I die, I bequeath you this box as a reward for your charity."

So saying, he opened his albornoz, or cloak, and showed a small box of sandalwood, strapped round his body. "God grant, my friend," replied the worthy little Gallego, "that you may live many years to enjoy your treasure, whatever it may be." The Moor shook his head; he laid his hand upon the box and would have said something more concerning it, but his convulsions returned with increasing violence, and in a little while he expired.

The water carrier's wife was now as one distracted. "This comes," said she, "of your foolish good nature, always running into scrapes to oblige others. What will become of us when this corpse is found in our house? We shall be sent to prison as murderers; and if we escape with our lives, we shall be ruined by notaries and alguazils【12】."

Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost repented himself of having done a good deed. At length a thought struck him. "It is not yet day," said he; "I can convey the dead body out of the city, and bury it in the sands on the banks of the Xenil. No one saw the Moor enter our dwelling, and no one will know anything of his death."

So said, so done. The wife aided him; they rolled the body of the unfortunate Moslem in the mat on which he had expired, laid it across the donkey, and Peregil set out with it for the banks of the river.

Ⅱ

As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite to the water carrier a barber named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of the most prying, tattling, and mischief-making of his gossip tribe. He was a weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet【13】, supple and insinuating; the famous barber of Seville【14】could not surpass him for his universal knowledge of the affairs of others, and he had no more power of retention than a sieve. It was said that he slept with but one eye at a time, and kept one ear uncovered, so that even in his sleep he might see and hear all that was going on. Certain it is, he was a sort of a scandalous chronicle for the quidnuncs【15】of Granada, and had more customers than all the rest of his fraternity.

This meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an unusual hour at night, and the exclamations of his wife and children. His head was instantly popped out of a little window which served as a lookout, and he saw his neighbor assist a man in Moorish garb into his dwelling. This was so strange an occurrence that Pedrillo Pedrugo slept not a wink that night. Every five minutes he was at his loophole, watching the lights that gleamed through the chinks of his neighbor's door, and before daylight he beheld Peregil sally forth with his donkey unusually laden.

The inquisitive barber was in a fidget; he slipped on his clothes and stealing forth silently, followed the water carrier at a distance, until he saw him dig a hole in the sandy bank of the Xenil, and bury something that had the appearance of a dead body.

The barber hied him home and fidgeted about his shop, setting everything upside down, until sunrise. He then took a basin under his arm, and sallied forth to the house of his daily customer the alcalde【16】.

The alcalde was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated him in a chair, threw a napkin round his neck, put a basin of hot water under his chin, and began to mollify his beard with his fingers.

"Strange doings!" said Pedrugo, who played barber and newsmonger at the same time. "Strange doings! Robbery and murder and burial all in one night!"

"Hey! how! what is that you say?" cried the alcalde.

"I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece of soap over the nose and mouth of the dignitary—for a Spanish barber distains to employ a brush— "I say that Peregil, the Gallego, has robbed and murdered a Moorish Mussul-man【17】, and buried him this blessed night. Accursed be the night for the same!"

"But how do you know all this?" demanded the alcalde.

"Be patient, senor【18】, and you shall hear all about it," replied Pedrillo, taking him by the nose and sliding a razor over his cheek. He then recounted all that he had seen.

Now it so happened that this alcalde was one of the most overbearing and at the same time most griping and corrupt curmudgeons in all Granada. It could not be denied, however, that he set a high value upon justice, for he sold it at its weight in gold. He presumed the case in point to be one of murder and robbery; doubtless, there must be a rich spoil; how was it to be secured into the legitimate hands of the law? For as to merely entrapping the delinquent, that would be feeding the gallows; but entrapping the booty, that would be enriching the judge, and such, according to his creed, was the great end of justice. So thinking he summoned to his presence his trustiest alguazil, a gaunt, hungry-looking varlet, clad according to the custom of his order in the ancient Spanish garb — a broad, black beaver turned up at its sides; a quaint ruff; a small black cloak dangling from his shoulders; rusty black underclothes, that set off his spare, wiry frame; while in his hand he bore a slender white wand, the dreaded insignia of his office. Such was the legal bloodhound of the ancient Spanish breed that he put upon the traces of the unlucky water carrier, and such was his speed and certainty that he was upon the haunches of poor Peregil before he had returned to his dwelling, and brought both him and his donkey before the dispenser of justice.

The alcalde bent upon him one of the most terrific frowns. "Hark ye, culprit!" roared he, in a voice that made the knees of the little Gallego smite together. "Hark ye, culprit! there is no need of denying thy guilt; everything is known to me. A gallows is the proper reward for the crime thou hast committed, but I am merciful, and readily listen to reason. The man that has been murdered in thy house was a Moor, an infidel, the enemy of our faith. It was doubtless in a fit of religious zeal that thou hast slain him. I will be indulgent, therefore; render up the property of which thou hast robbed him, and we will hush the matter up."

The poor water carrier related the whole story of the dying Moor, with the straightforward simplicity of truth, but it was all in vain. "Wilt thou persist in saying," demanded the judge, "that this Moslem had neither gold nor jewels which were the object of thy cupidity?"

"As I hope to be saved, your worship," replied the water carrier, "he had nothing but a small box of sandalwood, which he bequeathed to me in reward for my services."

"A box of sandalwood! a box of sandalwood!" exclaimed the alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea of precious jewels. "And where is this box? Where have you concealed it?"

"An it please your grace," replied the water carrier, "it is in one of the panniers of my mule, and heartily at the service of your worship."

He had hardly spoken the words when the keen alguazil darted off, and reappeared in an instant with the mysterious box of sandalwood. The alcalde opened it with an eager and trembling hand; all pressed forward to gaze upon the treasure it was expected to contain; when, to their disappointment, nothing appeared within but a parchment scroll covered with Arabic characters, and an end of a waxen taper.

When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction of a prisoner, justice, even in Spain, is apt to be impartial. The alcalde, having recovered from his disappointment, and found that there was really no booty in the case, now listened dispassionately to the explanation of the water carrier, which was corroborated by the testimony of his wife. Being convinced, therefore, of his innocence, he discharged him from arrest; nay, more, he permitted him to carry off the Moor's legacy, the box of sandalwood and its contents, as the well-merited reward of his humanity; but he retained his donkey in payment of costs and charges.

Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once more to the necessity of being his own water carrier, and trudging up to the well of the Alhambra with a great earthen jar upon his shoulder.

As he toiled up the hill in the heat of the summer noon, his usual good humor forsook him. "Dog of an alcalde!" would he cry, "to rob a poor man of the means of his subsistence, of the best friend he had in the world!" And then at the remembrance of the beloved companion of his labors, all the kindness of his nature would break forth. "Ah, donkey of my heart!" would he exclaim, resting his burden on a stone, and wiping the sweat from his brow. "Ah, donkey of my heart! I warrant me thou thinkest of thy old master! I warrant me thou missest the water jars——poor beast!"

To add to his afflictions, his wife received him, on his return home, with whimperings and repinings; she had clearly the vantage ground of him, having warned him not to commit the egregious【19】act of hospitality which had brought on him all these misfortunes; and, like a knowing woman, she took every occasion to throw her superior sagacity in his teeth. If ever her children lacked food or needed a new garment, she would answer with a sneer: "Go to your father; he is heir to King Chico【20】of the Alhambra; ask him to help you out of the Moor's strong box."

Was ever poor mortal so soundly punished for having done a good action? The unlucky Peregil was grieved in flesh and spirit, but still he bore meekly with the railings of his spouse. At length, one evening, when, after a holiday's toil, she taunted him, in the usual manner, he lost all patience. He did not venture to retort upon her, but his eye rested upon the box of sandalwood which lay on a shelf, with lid half open, as if laughing in mockery at his vexation. Seizing it up, he dashed it with indignation to the floor.

"Unlucky was the day that I ever set eyes on thee," he cried, "or sheltered thy master beneath my roof!"

As the box struck the floor, the lid flew wide open, and the parchment scroll rolled forth.

Peregil sat regarding the scroll for some time in moody silence. At length rallying his ideas, "Who knows," thought he, "but this writing may be of some importance, as the Moor seems to have guarded it with such care?"

Picking it up, therefore, he put it in his bosom, and the next morning as he was crying water through the streets he stopped at the shop of a Moor, a native of Tangiers, who sold trinkets and perfumery in the Zacatin, and asked him to explain the contents.

The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his beard and smiled. "This manuscript," said he, "is a form of incantation【21】for the recovery of hidden treasure that is under the power of enchantment. It is said to have such virtue that the strongest bolts and bars, —nay, the adamantine rock itself, — will yield before it!"

"Bah!" cried the little Gallego. "What is all that to me? I am no enchanter, and I know nothing of buried treasure." So saying he shouldered the water jar, left the scroll in the hands of the Moor, and trudged forward on his daily rounds.

Ⅲ

That evening, however, as he rested himself about twilight at the well of the Alhambra, he found a number of gossips assembled at the place, and their conversation, as is not unusual at that shadowy hour, turned upon old tales and traditions of a supernatural nature. Being all poor as rats, they dwelt with peculiar fondness upon the popular theme of enchanted riches left by the Moors in various parts of the Alhambra. Above all, they concurred in the belief that there were great treasures buried deep in the earth under the tower of the seven floors.

These stories made an unusual impression on the mind of the honest Peregil, and they sank deeper and deeper into his thoughts, as he returned alone down the darkling avenues.

"If, after all, there should be treasure hid beneath that tower, and if the scroll I left with the Moor should enable me to get at it!" In the sudden ecstasy of the thought he had well-nigh let fall his water jar.

That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely get a wink of sleep for the thoughts that were bewildering his brain. Bright and early he repaired to the shop of the Moor, and told him all that was passing in his mind.

"You can read Arabic," said he; "suppose we go together to the tower and try the effect of the charm; if it fails, we are no worse off than before; but if it succeeds, we will share equally all the treasure we may discover."

"Hold," replied the Moslem, "this writing is not sufficient of itself; it must be read at midnight by the light of a taper singularly compounded and prepared, the ingredients of which are not within my reach. Without such a taper the scroll is of no avail."

"Say no more!" cried the little Gallego; "I have such a taper at hand, and will bring it here in a moment."

So saying, he hastened home, and soon returned with the end of a yellow wax taper that he had found in the box of sandalwood.

The Moor felt it and smelt it.

"Here are rare and costly perfumes," said he, "combined with this yellow wax. This is the kind of taper specified in the scroll. While this burns, the strongest walls and most secret caverns will remain open. Woe to him, however, who lingers within until it be extinguished. He will remain enchanted with the treasure."

It was now agreed between them to try the charm that very night. At a late hour, therefore, when nothing was stirring but bats and owls, they ascended the woody hill of the Alhambra and approached the awful tower, shrouded by trees and rendered formidable by so many traditionary tales. By the light of a lantern they groped their way through bushes and over fallen stones to the door of the vault beneath the tower. With fear and trembling they descended a flight of steps cut into the rock. It led to an empty chamber, damp and drear, from which another flight of steps led to a deeper vault. In this way they descended four several flights, leading into as many vaults, one below the other, but the floor of the fourth was solid; and though, according to tradition, there remained three vaults still below, it was said to be impossible to penetrate farther, the residue【22】being shut up by strong enchantment. The air of this vault was damp and chilly, and had an earthy smell, and the light scarce cast forth any rays. They paused here for a time in breathless suspense, until they faintly heard the clock of the watch tower strike midnight; upon this, they lit the waxen taper, which diffused an odor of myrrh and frankincense and storax【23】.

The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had scarce finished when there was a noise as of subterraneous thunder. The earth shook, and the floor, yawning open, disclosed a flight of steps. Trembling with awe, they descended, and by the light of the lantern found themselves in another vault covered with Arabic inscriptions. In the center stood a great chest, secured with seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat an enchanted Moor in armor, but motionless as a statue, being controlled by the power of the incantation. Before the chest were several jars filled with gold and silver and precious stones. In the largest of these they thrust their arms up to the elbow, and at every dip hauled forth handfuls of broad yellow pieces of Moorish gold, or bracelets and ornaments of the same precious metal, while occasionally a necklace of Oriental pearl would stick to their fingers. Still they trembled and breathed short while cramming their pockets with the spoils, and cast many a fearful glance at the two enchanted Moors, who sat grim and motionless, glaring upon them with unwinking eyes. At length, struck with a sudden panic at some fancied noise, they both rushed up the staircase, tumbled over one another into the upper apartment, overturned and extinguished the waxen taper, and the pavement again closed with a thundering sound.

Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they had groped their way out of the tower and beheld the stars shining through the trees. Then, seating themselves upon the grass, they divided the spoil, determining to content themselves for the present with this mere skimming of the jars, but to return on some future night and drain them to the bottom. To make sure of each other's good faith, also, they divided the talismans between them, one retaining the scroll and the other the taper; this done, they set off with light hearts and well-lined pockets for Granada.

As they wended【24】their way down the hill, the shrewd Moor whispered a word of counsel in the ear of the simple little water carrier.

"Friend Peregil," said he, "all this affair must be kept a profound secret until we have secured the treasure, and conveyed it out of harm's way. If a whisper of it gets to the ears of the alcalde we are undone!"

"Certainly," replied the Gallego; "nothing can be more true."

"Friend Peregil," said the Moor, "you are a discreet man, and I make no doubt can keep a secret; but you have a wife."

"She shall not know a word of it," replied the little water carrier, sturdily.

"Enough," said the Moor; "I depend upon thy discretion and thy promise."

Never was promise more positive and sincere; but, alas! what man can keep a secret from his wife? Certainly not such a one as Peregil the water carrier, who was one of the most loving and tractable of husbands. On his return home he found his wife moping in a corner.

"Mighty well," cried she as he entered; "you've come at last, after rambling about until this hour of the night. I wonder you have not brought home another Moor as a house-mate." Then bursting into tears, she began to wring her hands and smite her breast. "Unhappy woman that I am!" exclaimed she, "what will become of me? My house stripped and plundered by lawyers and alguazils; my husband a do-no-good that no longer brings home bread to his family, but goes rambling about day and night, with infidel Moors! Oh, my children! my children! what will become of us? We shall all have to beg in the streets!"

Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his spouse, that he could not help whimpering also. His heart was as full as his pocket, and not to be restrained. Thrusting his hand into the latter, he hauled forth three or four broad gold pieces, and slipped them into her dress. The poor woman stared with astonishment, and could not understand the meaning of this golden shower. Before she could recover from her surprise, the little Gallego drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it before her, capering with exultation, his mouth distended from ear to ear.

"Holy Virgin, protect us!" exclaimed the wife. "What hast thou been doing, Peregil? Surely thou hast not been committing murder and robbery!"

The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman, than it became a certainty with her. She saw a prison and a gallows in the distance, and a little bandy-legged Gallego hanging pendant from it; and, overcome by the horrors conjured up by her imagination, fell into violent hysterics.

What could the poor man do? He had no other means of pacifying his wife, and dispelling the phantoms of her fancy, than by relating the whole story of his good fortune. This, however, he did not do until he had exacted from her the most solemn promise to keep it a profound secret from every living being.

To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung her arms round the neck of her husband, and almost strangled him with her caresses.

"Now, wife," exclaimed the little man with honest exultation, "what say you now to the Moor's legacy? Henceforth never abuse me for helping a fellow-creature in distress."

The honest Gallego retired to his sheepskin mat and slept as soundly as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife; she emptied the whole contents of his pockets upon the mat, and sat counting gold pieces of Arabic coin, trying on necklaces and earrings, and fancying the figure she should one day make when permitted to enjoy her riches.

IV

On the following morning the honest Gallego took a broad golden coin and repaired with it to a jeweler's shop in the Zacatin to offer it for sale, pretending to have found it among the ruins of the Alhambra. The jeweler saw that it had an Arabic inscription and was of the purest gold; he offered, however, but a third of its value, with which the water carrier was perfectly content. Peregil now bought new clothes for his little flock, and all kinds of toys, with ample provisions for a hearty meal, and returning to his dwelling set all his children dancing around him, while he capered in the midst, the happiest of fathers.

The wife of the water carrier kept her promise of secrecy with surprising strictness. For a whole day and a half she went about with a look of mystery and a heart swelling almost to bursting, yet she held her peace, though surrounded by her gossips. It is true she could not help giving herself a few airs, apologized for her ragged dress, and talked of ordering a new basquina【25】all trimmed with gold lace and bugles【26】, and a new lace mantilla. She threw out hints of her husband's intention of leaving off his trade of water carrying, as it did not altogether agree with his health. In fact, she thought they should all retire to the country for the summer, that the children might have the benefit of the mountain air, for there was no living in the city in this sultry season.

The neighbors stared at each other and thought that the poor woman had lost her wits; and her airs and graces and elegant pretensions were the theme of universal scoffing and merriment among her friends the moment her back was turned.

If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indemnified herself at home, and putting a string of rich Oriental pearls round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms, and an aigrette【27】of diamonds on her head, sailed backward and forward in her slattern rags about the room, now and then stopping to admire herself in a broken mirror. Nay, in the impulse of her simple vanity she could not resist on one occasion showing herself at the window to enjoy the effect of her finery on the passers-by.

As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the meddlesome barber, was at this moment sitting idly in his shop on the opposite side of the street, when his ever watchful eye caught the sparkle of a diamond. In an instant he was at his loophole reconnoitering the slattern spouse of the water carrier decorated with the splendor of an Eastern bride. No sooner had he taken an accurate inventory of her ornaments than he posted off with all speed to the alcalde. In a little while the hungry alguazil was again on the scent, and before the day was over the unfortunate Peregil was once more dragged into the presence of the judge.

"How is this, villain?" cried the alcalde, in a furious voice. "You told me that the infidel who died in your house left nothing behind but an empty coffer, and now I hear of your wife flaunting in her rags decked out with pearls and diamonds. Wretch that thou art! prepare to render up the spoils of thy miserable victim and to swing on the gallows that is already tired of waiting for thee!"

The terrified water carrier fell on his knees and made a full relation of the marvelous manner in which he had gained his wealth. The alcalde, the alguazil, and the inquisitive barber listened with greedy ears to this Arabian tale of enchanted treasure. The alguazil was dispatched to bring the Moor who had assisted in the incantation. The Moslem entered, half frightened out of his wits at finding himself in the hands of the harpies of the law. When he beheld the water carrier standing with sheepish looks and downcast countenance, he comprehended the whole matter.

"Miserable animal," said he, as he passed near him, "did I not warn thee against babbling to thy wife?"

The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his colleague【28】; but the alcalde affected to be slow of belief, and threw out menaces of imprisonment and rigorous investigation.

"Softly, good Senor Alcalde," said the Mussulman, who by this time had recovered his usual shrewdness and self-possession. "Let us not mar fortune's favors in the scramble for them. Nobody knows anything of this matter but ourselves; let us keep the secret. There is wealth enough in the cave to enrich us all. Promise a fair division, and all shall be produced; refuse, and the cave shall remain forever closed."

The alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The latter was an old fox in his profession.

"Promise anything," said he, "until you get possession of the treasure. You may seize upon the whole, and if he and his accomplice dare to murmur, threaten them with the fagot and the stake as infidels and sorcerers."

The alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing his brow, and turning to the Moor, "This is a strange story," said he, "and may be true, but I must have ocular proof of it. This very night you must repeat the incantation in my presence. If there be really such treasure, we will share it amicably between us, and say nothing further of the matter; if you have deceived me, expect no mercy at my hands. In the meantime you must remain in custody."

The Moor and the water carrier cheerfully agreed to these conditions, satisfied that the event would prove the truth of their words.

Toward midnight the alcalde sallied forth secretly, attended by the alguazil and the meddlesome barber, all strongly armed. They conducted the Moor and the water carrier as prisoners, and were provided with the stout donkey of the latter, to bear off the expected treasure. They arrived at the tower without being observed, and tying the donkey to a fig tree descended into the fourth vault of the tower.

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted, and the Moor read the form of incantation. The earth trembled as before, and the pavement opened with a thundering sound, disclosing the narrow flight of steps. The alcalde, the alguazil, and the barber were struck aghast, and could not summon courage to descend. The Moor and the water carrier entered the lower vault, and found the two Moors seated as before, silent and motionless. They removed two of the great jars filled with golden coin and precious stones. The water carrier bore them up one by one upon his shoulders, but, though a strong-backed little man and accustomed to carry burdens, he staggered beneath their weight, and found, when slung on each side of his donkey, they were as much as the animal could bear.

"Let us be content for the present," said the Moor; "here is as much treasure as we can carry off without being perceived, and enough to make us all wealthy to our heart's desire."

"Is there more treasure remaining behind?" demanded the alcalde.

"The greatest prize of all," said the Moor, "a huge coffer bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls and precious stones."

"Let us have up the coffer, by all means," cried the grasping alcalde.

"I will descend for no more," said the Moor, doggedly; "enough is enough for a reasonable man; more is superfluous."

"And I," said the water carrier, "will bring up no further burden to break the back of my poor donkey."

Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally vain, the alcalde turned to his two adherents. "Aid me," said he, "to bring up the coffer, and its contents shall be divided between us." So saying, he descended the steps, followed, with trembling reluctance, by the alguazil and the barber.

No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed than he extinguished the yellow taper; the pavement closed with its usual crash, and the three worthies remained buried in the tomb.

He then hastened up the different flights of steps, nor stopped until in the open air. The little water carrier followed him fast as his short legs would permit.

"What hast thou done?" cried Peregil, as soon as he could recover breath. "The alcalde and the other two are shut up in the vault."

"It is the will of Allah!" said the Moor, devoutly.

"And will you not release them?" demanded the Gallego.

"Allah forbid!" replied the Moor, smoothing his beard. "It is written in the book of fate that they shall remain enchanted until some future adventurer arrive to break the charm. The will of God be done." So saying, he hurled the end of the waxen taper far among the gloomy thickets of the glen.

There was now no remedy; so the Moor and the water carrier proceeded with the richly laden donkey toward the city, nor could honest Peregil refrain from hugging and kissing his long-eared fellow-laborer, thus restored to him from the clutches of the law; and in fact it is doubtful which gave the simple-hearted little man most joy at the moment, the gaining of the treasure or the recovery of the donkey.

The two partners in good luck divided their spoil, and took care not to linger within reach of accidents, but made off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other countries. The Moor returned to Africa, to his native city of Tangiers, and the Gallego, with his wife, his children, and his donkey, made the best of his way to Portugal. Here, under the admonition and tuition of his wife, he became a personage of some consequence; for she made the worthy little man array his long body and short legs in doublet and hose, with a feather in his hat and a sword by his side, and laying aside his familiar appellation of Peregil, assume the more sonorous title of Don Pedro Gil. His progeny grew up a thriving and merry-hearted, though short and bandy-legged generation, while Senora Gil, befringed, belaced, and betasseled from her head to her heels, with glittering rings on every finger, became a model of slattern fashion and finery.

As to the alcalde and his adjuncts, they remained shut up under the great tower of the seven floors and there they remain spellbound at the present day. Whenever there shall be a lack in Spain of shrewd barbers, sharking alguazils, and corrupt alcaldes, they may be sought after; but if they have to wait until such time for their deliverance, there is danger of their enchantment until doomsday.

注释

【1】Alhambra, the palace of the Moorish kings at Granada.

【2】Esplanade, a clear, level space.

【3】Bolero, a Spanish dance.

【4】Castanets, a musical instrument consisting of two pieces of ivory or hard wood, which are beaten together. The Spaniards and Moors used them as an accompaniment to their dances.

【5】Propensities, inclination; disposition.

【6】Junketing, feasting; reveling.

【7】Dispensations, things dispensed, or given out, especially things given by God.

【8】Maravedis, small copper coins of Spain, worth about three mills of our money.

【9】Indemnify, compensate; reward.

【10】Infidel, unbelieving; said of one who does not accept Christianity.

【11】Inquisition, a court, once powerful in Spain, for the examination and punishment of persons who professed doctrines contrary to those of the Roman Catholic Church.

【12】Alguazils, inferior officers of justice in Spain; constables.

【13】Varlet, low fellow; rascal.

【14】Barber of Seville, Figaro, the principal character in the play "Le Barbier de Seville" of the French author Beaumarchais (1732—1799).

【15】Quidnuncs, persons curious to know everything that passes.

【16】Alcalde, a Spanish magistrate or judge.

【17】Mussul man, Mohammedan.

【18】Senor, a Spanish title corresponding to the English Mr. or Sir.

【19】Egregious, surpassing; extraordinary, — in a bad sense.

【20】King Chico, King Boabdil, called El Chico, the last Moorish king of Spain.

【21】Incantation, a charm used to effect magical results. Tal'is mans: charms.

【22】Residue, remainder.

【23】Myrrh, frankincense, storax, fragrant gums.

【24】Wended, went.

【25】Basquina, a garment worn by Spanish women.

【26】Bugles, glass beads.

【27】Aigrette, a plume or tuft for the head, composed of feathers or of gems, etc.

【28】Colleague, companion.

13

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC【1】

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL

Thomas Campbell (1777—1844): A Scotch poet. He is best known by his spirited lyrics, "Hohenlinden," "The Battle of the Baltic," "Ye Mariners of England," and a few others. His longer poems, "The Pleasures of Hope," "Gertrude of Wyoming," and "O'Connor's Child," now little read, were once very popular.

Of Nelson and the North

Sing the glorious day's renown,

When to battle fierce came forth

All the might of Denmark's crown,

And her arms along the deep proudly shone;

By each gun the lighted brand

In a bold, determined hand,

And the prince of all the land

Led them on.

Like leviathans【2】afloat

Lay their bulwarks【3】on the brine;

While the sign of battle flew

On the lofty British line:

It was ten of April morn by the chime:

As they drifted on their path,

There was silence deep as death,

And the boldest held his breath

For a time.

But the might of England flushed

To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rushed

O'er the deadly space between.

"Hearts of oak!" our captains cried: when each gun

From its adamantine【4】lips

Spread a death-shade round the ships

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

Again! again! again!

And the havoc did not slack

Till a feeble cheer the Dane

To our cheering sent us back; —

Their shots along the deep slowly boom;

Then cease— and all is wail,

As they strike the shattered sail;

Or, in conflagration pale,

Light the gloom.

Out spoke the victor then,

As he hailed them o'er the wave:

"Ye are brothers, ye are men!

And we conquer but to save;

So peace instead of death let us bring;

But yield, proud foe, thy fleet,

With the crews at England's feet, —

And make submission meet

To our king."

Then Denmark blessed our chief

That he gave her wounds repose;

And the sounds of joy and grief

From her people wildly rose,

As death withdrew his shades from the day:

While the sun looked smiling bright

O'er a wide and woeful sight,

Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

Now joy, Old England, raise!

For the tidings of thy might

By the festal【5】cities' blaze

Whilst the wine cup shines in light;

And yet amidst that joy and uproar

Let us think of them that sleep

Full many a fathom deep

By thy wild and stormy steep,

Elsinore【6】!

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride

Once so faithful and so true,

On the deck of fame that died

With the gallant good Riou【7】:

Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave

While the billow mournful rolls

And the mermaid's song condoles,

Singing, "Glory to the souls

Of the brave."

注释

【1】Battle of the Baltic, The battle of the Baltic was one of the great naval battles won by Lord Nelson. He was second in command of the armament sent against Copenhagen in 1801. Being told that his superior officer had made a signal to retreat, Lord Nelson, putting a spyglass to his blind eye, exclaimed, "I really don't see the signal!" and continued to fight. By this disregard of orders he won the victory.

【2】Leviathans, huge water animals described in Job xli.

【3】Bulwarks, sides of ships above the upper deck.

【4】Adamantine, very hard.

【5】Festal, joyous; festive.

【6】Elsinore, a town on the Sound, Denmark. The name is sometimes given, as by Shakspere in "Hamlet," to the celebrated castle of Kronborg which commands the entrance to the Sound.

【7】Riou (1758—1801), Edward Riou, a brave commander.

14

THE DEATH OF NELSON

BY ROBERT SOUTHEY

Robert Southey (1774—1843): An English author best known in his own day as a poet, but now most valued for his prose works, especially his biographies. These are the lives of Nelson, Cowper, Wesley, and Kirk White. Among his long poems are "Joan of Arc," "Madoc," "The Curse of Kehama," "Thalaba," and "Roderick." The most popular of his poems are the earlier, shorter ones, such as "The Battle of Blenheim," "Father William," and "The Abbot of Aberbrothok."

Robert Southey

This selection is from "The Life of Nelson." Horatio, Lord Nelson (1758—1805), the greatest of the English naval commanders, won many signal victories over the French and Spanish. He was killed in the battle of Trafalgar, in which the English defeated the combined French and Spanish fleets, October 21, 1805. This victory gave England absolute mastery over the ocean, the French and Spanish fleets being so completely destroyed that Admiral Villeneuve committed suicide on account of shame and grief at his defeat.

Ⅰ

Nelson, certain of a triumphant issue to the day, asked Blackwood what he should consider as a victory. That officer answered, that, considering the handsome way in which battle was offered by the enemy, their apparent determination for a fair trial of strength, and the situation of the land, he thought it would be a glorious result if fourteen were captured. He replied, "I shall not be satisfied with less than twenty."

Soon afterward he asked him if he did not think there was a signal wanting. Captain Blackwood made answer that he thought the whole fleet seemed very clearly to understand what they were about. These words were scarcely spoken before that signal was made which will be remembered as long as the language or even the memory of England shall endure—Nelson's last signal: "England expects that every man will do his duty!" It was received throughout the fleet with a shout of acclamation, made sublime by the spirit which it breathed and the feeling which it expressed.

"Now," said Lord Nelson, "I can do no more. We must trust to the great Disposer of all events and the justice of our cause. I thank God for this great opportunity of doing my duty."

He wore that day, as usual, his admiral's frock coat, bearing on the left breast four stars of the different orders【1】with which he was invested. Ornaments which rendered him so conspicuous a mark for the enemy were beheld with ominous apprehension by his officers. It was known that there were riflemen on board the French ships, and it could not be doubted that his life would be particularly aimed at. They communicated their fears to each other; and the surgeon, Mr. Beatty, spoke to the chaplain, Dr. Scott, and to Mr. Scott, the public secretary, desiring that some person would entreat him to change his dress or cover the stars; but they knew that such a request would highly displease him.

"In honor I gained them," he had said when such a thing had been hinted to him formerly, "and in honor I will die with them."

This was a point upon which Nelson's officers knew that it was hopeless to remonstrate or reason with him; but both Blackwood and his own captain, Hardy, represented to him how advantageous to the fleet it would be for him to keep out of action as long as possible; and he consented at last to let the Leviathan and the Temeraire, which were sailing abreast of the Victory, be ordered to pass ahead. Yet even here the last infirmity of his noble mind was indulged, for these ships could not pass ahead if the Victory continued to carry all her sail; and so far was Nelson from shortening sail, that it was evident he took pleasure in pressing on and rendering it impossible for them to obey his own orders.

A long swell was setting into the Bay of Cadiz. Our ships, crowding all sail, moved majestically before it, with light winds from the southwest. The sun shone on the sails of the enemy, and their well-formed line with their numerous three-deckers【2】made an appearance which any other assailants would have thought formidable; but the British sailors only admired the beauty and the splendor of the spectacle; and, in full confidence of winning what they saw, remarked to each other what a fine sight yonder ships would make at Spithead!

The French admiral, from the Bucentaure, beheld the new manner in which his enemy were advancing— Nelson and Collingwood each leading his line; and pointing them out to his officers, he is said to have exclaimed that such conduct could not fail to be successful. Yet Villeneuve【3】had made his own dispositions with the utmost skill, and the fleets under his command waited for the attack with perfect coolness. Ten minutes before twelve they opened their fire. Eight or nine of the ships, immediately ahead of the Victory and across her bows, fired single guns at her to ascertain whether she was yet within their range.

The enemy continued to fire a gun at a time at the Victory, till they saw that a shot had passed through her main topgallant sail; then they opened their broadsides, aiming chiefly at her rigging, in the hope of disabling her before she could close with them. Nelson, as usual, had hoisted several flags, lest one should be shot away. The enemy showed no colors till late in the action, when they began to feel the necessity of having them to strike. For this reason the Santissima Trinidad, Nelson's old acquaintance, as he used to call her, was distinguishable only by her four decks, and to the bow of this opponent he ordered the Victory to be steered. Meantime an incessant raking fire was kept up upon the Victory.

The Victory had not yet returned a single gun; fifty of her men had been by this time killed or wounded, and her main topmast, with all her studding sails【4】and her booms, shot away. Nelson declared that, in all his battles, he had seen nothing which surpassed the cool courage of his crew on this occasion. At four minutes after twelve, she opened her fire from both sides of her deck. It was not possible to break the enemy's line without running on board one of their ships. Hardy informed him of this, and asked which he would prefer.

Nelson replied, "Take your choice, Hardy; it does not signify much."

The master was ordered to put the helm to port, and the Victory ran on board the Redoubtable just as her tiller ropes were shot away. The French ship received her with a broadside, then instantly let down her lower deck ports for fear of being boarded through them, and never afterward fired a great gun during the action. Her tops, like those of all the enemy's ships, were filled with riflemen. Nelson never placed musketry in his tops; he had a strong dislike to the practice, not merely because it endangers setting fire to the sails, but also because it is a murderous sort of warfare, by which individuals may suffer, and a commander now and then be picked off, but which can never decide the fate of a general engagement.

Captain Harvey, in the Temeraire, fell on board the Redoubtable on the other side; another enemy was in like manner on board the Temeraire; so that these four ships formed as compact a tier as if they had been moored together, their heads all lying the same way. The lieutenants of the Victory, seeing this, depressed the guns of the middle and lower decks, and fired with a diminished charge, lest the shot should pass through and injure the Temeraire; and because there was danger that the Redoubtable might take fire from the lower deck guns, the muzzles of which touched her side when they were run out, the fireman of each gun stood ready with a bucket of water, which, as soon as the gun was discharged, he dashed into the hole made by the shot. An incessant fire was kept up from the Victory from both sides; her larboard guns playing upon the Bucentaure and the huge Santissima Trinidad.

Ⅱ

It had been a part of Nelson's prayer that the British fleet might be distinguished by humanity in the victory which he expected. Setting an example himself, he twice gave orders to cease firing upon the Redoubtable, supposing that she had struck, because her great guns were silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means of instantly ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his death. A ball fired from her mizzen top, which in the then situation of the two vessels was not more than fifteen yards from that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulette【5】on his left shoulder, about a quarter after one, just in the heat of action. Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three men raising him up.

"They have done for me at last, Hardy!" said he.

"I hope not," cried Hardy.

"Yes," he replied, "my backbone is shot through!"

Yet, even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller ropes which had been shot away were not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones should be rove【6】immediately. Then, that he might not be seen by the crew, he took out his handkerchief and covered his face and his stars. Had he but concealed these badges of honor from the enemy, England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar. The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies he was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the midshipmen's berth.

It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all except Captain Hardy, the chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself being certain, from the sensation in his back, and the gush of blood he felt momentarily in his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful; "For," said he, "you can do nothing for me." All that could be done was to fan him with paper and frequently to give him lemonade to alleviate【7】his intense thirst. He was in great pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the Victory hurrahed, and at every hurrah a visible expression of joy gleamed in the eyes and marked the countenance of the dying hero.

But he became impatient to see Captain Hardy, and as that officer, though often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried: "Will no one bring Hardy to me? He must be killed! he is surely dead!"

An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nelson received his wound before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in silence; Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful and yet sublimest moment.

"Well, Hardy," said Nelson, "how goes the day with us?"

"Very well," replied Hardy; "ten ships have struck, but five of their van【8】have tacked, and show an intention to bear down upon the Victory. I have called two or three of our fresh ships round and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing."

"I hope," said Nelson, "none of our ships have struck."

Hardy answered, "There was no fear of them."

Then, and not till then, Nelson spoke of himself. "I am a dead man, Hardy," said he; "I am going fast; it will be all over with me soon."

Hardy observed that he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out some prospect of life.

"Oh, no!" he replied; "it is impossible; my back is shot through. Beatty will tell you so."

Captain Hardy then once more shook hands with him, and with a heart almost bursting, hastened upon deck.

Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, returned, and again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them distinctly; but fourteen or fifteen at least.

"That's well!" cried Nelson; "but I bargained for twenty." And then in a stronger voice he said, "Anchor, Hardy, anchor."

Hardy upon this hinted that Admiral Collingwood【9】would take upon himself the direction of affairs.

"Not while I live, Hardy," said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavoring to raise himself from the bed. "Do you anchor." Presently, calling Hardy back, he said to him in a low voice, "Don't throw me overboard," and he desired that he might be buried by his parents, unless it should please the king to order otherwise.

"Kiss me, Hardy," said he. Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek, and Nelson said: "Now I am satisfied. Thank God I have done my duty!"

Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again and kissed his forehead.

"Who is that?" said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "God bless you, Hardy." And Hardy then left him forever.

Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said, "I wish I had not left the deck, for I shall soon be gone." Death was indeed rapidly approaching. His articulation now became difficult, but he was distinctly heard to say, "Thank God I have done my duty!" These words he repeatedly pronounced, and they were the last words which he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four, three hours and a quarter after he had received his wound.

The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a public calamity; men started at the intelligence and turned pale, as if they had heard of the loss of a dear friend. An object of our admiration and affection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly taken from us; and it seemed as we had never till then known how deeply we loved and reverenced him. What the country had lost in its great naval hero—the greatest of our own and of all former times—was scarcely taken into the account of grief. So perfectly indeed had be performed his part that the maritime war after the battle of Trafalgar was considered at an end; the fleets of the enemy were not merely defeated, but destroyed; new navies must be built, and a new race of seamen reared for them, before the possibility of their invading our shores could again be contemplated. It was not, therefore, from any selfish reflection upon the magnitude of our loss that we mourned for him; the general sorrow was of a higher character. The people of England grieved that funeral ceremonies and public monuments and posthumous【10】rewards were all which they could now bestow upon him whom the king, the legislature, and the nation would have alike delighted to honor; whom every tongue would have blessed; whose presence in every village through which he might have passed would have wakened the church bells, have given schoolboys a holiday, have drawn children from their sports to gaze on him, and "old men from the chimney corner," to look upon Nelson ere they died.

The victory of Trafalgar was celebrated, indeed, with the usual forms of rejoicing, but they were without joy; for such already was the glory of the British navy, through Nelson's surpassing genius, that it scarcely seemed to receive any addition from the most signal victory that ever was achieved upon the seas; and the destruction of this mighty fleet, by which all the maritime schemes of France were totally frustrated【11】, hardly appeared to add to our security or strength, for while Nelson was living to watch the combined squadrons of the enemy, we felt ourselves as secure as now, when they were no longer in existence.

He cannot be said to have fallen prematurely whose work was done, nor ought he to be lamented who died so full of honors, and at the height of human fame. The most triumphant death is that of the martyr; the most awful that of the martyred patriot; the most splendid that of the hero in the hour of victory; and if the chariot and the horses of fire had been vouchsafed for Nelson's translation【12】, he could scarcely have departed in a brighter blaze of glory. He has left us, not indeed his mantle of inspiration, but a name and an example which are at this hour inspiring thousands of the youth of England—a name which is our pride, and an example which will continue to be our shield and our strength. Thus it is that the spirits of the great and the wise continue to live, and to act after them.

————

They are never alone that are accompanied with noble 15 thoughts.

—SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

注释

【1】Trafalgar, Orders, ranks; offices of honor.

【2】Three-deckers, war vessels carrying guns on three decks.

【3】Pierre Baptiste Villeneuve (1763—1806), a French admiral.

【4】Studding sails, light sails set at the side of the principal or square sails of a ship to increase her speed.

【5】Epaulette, a badge worn on the shoulder by military and naval officers to indicate the rank of the wearer.

【6】Rove, twisted.

【7】Alleviate, lessen; allay.

【8】Van, front line of a fleet.

【9】Cuthbert, Lord Collingwood (1750—1810), an English admiral.

【10】Posthumous, being or continuing after death.

【11】Frustrated, defeated; brought to nothing.

【12】Translation, the act of changing to another place or position; hence, to remove as by death. The allusion here is to the translation of Elijah.

15

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL

Ye mariners of England,

That guard our native seas,

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe:

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;

While the battle rages loud and long

And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave—

For the deck it was their field of fame

And ocean was their grave:

Where Blake【1】and mighty Nelson fell,

Your manly hearts shall glow,

As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;

While the battle rages loud and long

And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia【2】needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,

Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak,

She quells the floods below—

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow;

When the battle rages loud and long

And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart

And the star of peace return.

Then, then, ye ocean warriors!

Our song and feast shall flow

To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow;

When the fiery fight is heard no more

And the storm has ceased to blow.

注释

【1】Robert Blake (1599—1657), an English admiral.

【2】Britannia, a Roman name for Great Britain. The Romans represented the island of Great Britain by the figure of a woman seated on a rock, from a fancied resemblance in the general outline of the island.

16

THE MIGHT OF THE LORD

FROM PSALM CIV

O Lord, how manifold are Thy works! in wisdom hast Thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.

So is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts.

There go the ships: there is that leviathan whom Thou hast made to play therein.

These wait all upon Thee, that Thou mayest give them their meat in due season.

That Thou givest them they gather: Thou openest Thine hand, they are filled with good.

Thou hidest Thy face, they are troubled: Thou takest away their breath, they die, and return to their dust.

Thou sendest forth Thy spirit, they are created: and Thou renewest the face of the earth.

The glory of the Lord shall endure forever: the Lord shall rejoice in His works.

He looketh on the earth, and it trembleth: He toucheth the hills, and they smoke.

I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live: I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.

My meditation of Him shall be sweet: I will be glad in the Lord.

Let the sinners be consumed out of the earth, and let the wicked be no more. Bless thou the Lord, O my soul. Praise ye the Lord.

————

So live, that when thy summons comes to join

The innumerable caravan which moves

To that mysterious realm where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave

Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

—WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

17

CHAMPLAIN AND THE INDIANS

BY FRANCIS PARKMAN

Francis Parkman (1823—1893): An American historian. His researches were chiefly into the period of French discovery and settlement in America. Among his works are "The Old Regime in Canada," "The Jesuits in North America," "Montcalm and Wolfe," and "The Pioneers of France in the New World," from which is taken this selection about Champlain. Samuel Champlain (1567—1635): one of the greatest of French discoverers, was the founder of Quebec and the first governor of Canada. This selection gives a description of one of his voyages with his Indian allies, the Algonquins, and of a skirmish with the Iroquois. This skirmish is significant as the beginning of conflict between the French and the Indians.

Ⅰ

Stand with Champlain and view the war dance; sit with him at the war feast—a close-packed company, ring within ring of ravenous feasters; then embark with him on his harebrained venture of discovery. It was in a small shallop, carrying, besides himself, eleven Frenchmen. They were armed with the arquebus, a matchlock or firelock something like the modern carbine, and from its shortness not ill-suited for use in the forest.

On the twenty-eighth of May they spread their sails and held their course against the current, while around them the river was alive with canoes, and hundreds of naked arms plied the paddle with a steady, measured sweep. They crossed the Lake of St. Peter, threaded the devious【1】channels among its many islands, and reached at last the mouth of the Riviere des Iroquois, since called the Richelieu, or the St. John.

The warriors observed a certain system in their advance. Some were in front as a vanguard; others formed the main body; while an equal number was in the forests on the flanks and rear, hunting for the subsistence of the whole; for, though they had a provision of parched maize pounded into meal, they kept it for use when, from the vicinity of the enemy, hunting should become impossible.

Late in the day they landed and drew up their canoes, ranging them closely, side by side. All was life and bustle. Some stripped sheets of bark to cover their camp-sheds; others gathered wood—the forest was full of dead, dry trees; others felled the living trees for a barricade. They seem to have had steel axes, obtained by barter from the French; for in less than two hours they had made a strong defensive work, in the form of a half circle, open on the river side, where their canoes lay on the strand, and large enough to inclose all their huts and sheds.

Some of their number had gone forward as scouts and, returning, reported no signs of an enemy. This was the extent of their precaution, for they placed no guard, but all, in full security, stretched themselves to sleep—a vicious custom, from which the lazy warrior of the forest rarely departs.

Again the canoes advanced, the river widening as they went. Great islands appeared, leagues in extent—Isle a la Motte, Long Island, Grande Isle. Channels where ships might float and broad reaches of expanding water stretched between them, and Champlain entered the lake which preserves his name to posterity. Cumberland Head was passed, and from the opening of the great channel between Grande Isle and the main he could look forth on the wilderness sea. Edged with woods, the tranquil flood spread southward beyond the sight. Far on the left the forest ridges of the Green Mountains were heaved against the sun, patches of snow still glistening on their tops; and on the right rose the Adirondacks.

The progress of the party was becoming dangerous. They changed their mode of advance, and moved only in the night. All day they lay close in the depth of the forest, sleeping, lounging, smoking tobacco of their own raising, and beguiling【2】the hours, no doubt, with the shallow banter with which knots of Indians are wont to amuse their leisure. At twilight they embarked again, paddling their cautious way till the eastern sky began to redden.

Their goal was the rocky promontory where Fort Ticonderoga was long afterward built. Thence they would pass the outlet of Lake George, and launch their canoes again on that Como【3】of the wilderness, whose waters, limpid as a fountain head, stretched far southward between their flanking mountains. Landing at the future site of Fort William Henry, they would carry their canoes through the forest to the River Hudson, and descending it, attack, perhaps, some outlying towns of the Mohawks. In the next century this chain of lakes and rivers became the grand highway of savage and civilized war, a bloody, debatable ground, linked to memories of momentous conflicts.

Ⅱ

The allies were spared so long a progress. On the morning of the twenty-ninth of July, after paddling all night, they hid as usual in the forest on the western shore, not far from Crown Point. The warriors stretched themselves to their slumbers, and Champlain, after walking till nine or ten o'clock through the surrounding woods, returned to take his repose on a pile of spruce boughs. Sleeping, he dreamed a dream, wherein he beheld the Iroquois drowning in the lake, and, essaying【4】to rescue them, he was told by his Algonquin friends that they were good for nothing and had better be left to their fate. Some time past, he had been beset every morning by his superstitious allies, eager to learn about his dreams; and to this moment his unbroken slumbers had failed to furnish the desired prognostics【5】. The announcement of this auspicious【6】 vision filled the crowd with joy, and at nightfall they embarked, flushed with anticipated victories.

It was ten o'clock in the evening when, near a projecting point of land, which was probably Ticonderoga, they descried dark objects in motion on the lake before them. These were a flotilla of Iroquois canoes, heavier and slower than theirs, for they were made of oak bark. Each party saw the other, and the mingled war cries pealed over the darkened water. The Iroquois, who were near the shore, having no stomach for an aquatic【7】battle, landed, and, making night hideous with their clamors, began to barricade themselves. Champlain could see them in the woods, laboring like beavers, hacking down trees with iron axes taken from the Canadian tribes in war, and with stone hatchets of their own making.

The allies remained on the lake, a bowshot from the hostile barricade, their canoes made fast together by poles lashed across. All night they danced with as much vigor as the frailty of their vessels would permit, their throats making amends for the enforced restraint of their limbs. It was agreed on both sides that the fight should be deferred till daybreak; but meanwhile a commerce of abuse, sarcasm, menace, and boasting, gave unceasing exercise to the lungs and fancy of the combatants, —"much," says Champlain, "like the besiegers and besieged in a beleaguered town."

As day approached, he and his two followers put on the light armor of the time. Champlain wore the doublet and long hose then in vogue【8】. Over the doublet he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a backpiece, while his thighs were protected by cuisses【9】of steel, and his head by a plumed casque. Across his shoulder hung the strap of his bandoleer or ammunition box; at his side was his sword, and in his hand his arquebus. Such was the equipment of this ancient Indian fighter, whose exploits date eleven years before the landing of the Puritans at Plymouth, and sixty-six years before King Philip's War.

Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate canoe, and, as it grew light, they kept themselves hidden, either by lying at the bottom or covering themselves with an Indian robe. The canoes approached the shore, and all landed without opposition at some distance from the Iroquois, whom they presently could see filing out of their barricade, tall, strong men, some two hundred in number, of the boldest and fiercest warriors of North America. They advanced through the forest with a steadiness which excited the admiration of Champlain. Among them could be seen three chiefs, made conspicuous by their tall plumes. Some bore shields of wood and hide, and some were covered with a kind of armor made of tough twigs interlaced with a vegetable fiber supposed by Champlain to be cotton.

The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries for their champion, and opened their ranks that he might pass to the front. He did so, and, advancing before his red companions-in-arms, stood revealed to the gaze of the Iroquois, who, beholding the warlike apparition in their path, stared in mute amazement.

"I looked at them, and they looked at me"

"I looked at them," says Champlain, "and they looked at me. When I saw them getting ready to shoot their arrows at us, I leveled my arquebus, which I had loaded with four balls, and aimed at one of the three chiefs. The shot brought down two and wounded another. On this our Indians set up such a yelling that one could not have heard a thunderclap and all the while the arrows flew thick on both sides. The Iroquois were greatly astonished and frightened to see two of their men killed so quickly, in spite of their arrowproof armor. As I was reloading, one of my companions fired a shot from the woods, which so increased their astonishment, that seeing their chiefs dead, they abandoned the field and fled into the depth of the forest."

The allies dashed after them. Some of the Iroquois were killed, and more were taken. Camp, canoes, provisions, all were abandoned, and many weapons flung down in the panic flight. The victory was complete.

Thus did New France rush into collision with the redoubted【10】warriors of the Five Nations【11】. Here was the beginning, in some measure doubtless the cause, of a long suite【12】of murderous conflicts, bearing havoc and flame to generations yet unborn. Champlain had invaded the tiger's den; and now, in smothered fury, the patient savage would lie biding his day of blood.

注释

【1】Devious, winding.

【2】Beguiling, entertaining; diverting.

【3】Como, a very beautiful lake in Italy; hence the name is applied to any beautiful lake.

【4】Essaying, attempting; trying.

【5】Prognostic, sign; token.

【6】Auspicious, favorable; giving promise of success.

【7】Aquatic, of or pertaining to the water.

【8】Vogue, fashion.

【9】Cuisses, cuishes; defensive armor for the thighs.

【10】Redoubted, formidable; feared.

【11】Five Nations, a confederacy of five Indian tribes consisting of the Mohawks, Onondagas, Cayugas, Oneidas, and Senecas, inhabiting the region which is now the state of New York. Afterward by the addition of the Tuscaroras it became the Six Nations.

【12】Suite, series.

18

COURAGE IN THE USE OF TALENT

BY SYDNEY SMITH

Rev. Sydney Smith (1771—1845): An English clergyman and writer, distinguished for his wit, humor, and conversational powers. He published among other works several volumes of sermons, and "Letters on the Subject of the Catholics," which greatly promoted the cause of Catholic emancipation. This selection is from a "Lecture on the Conduct of the Understanding."

A great deal of talent is lost to the world for the want of a little courage. Every day sends to their graves a number of obscure men who have only remained obscure because their timidity has prevented them from making a first effort; and who, if they could only have been induced to begin, would in all probability have gone great lengths in the career of fame. The fact is, that to do anything in this world worth doing, we must not stand shivering on the brink, and thinking of the cold and the danger, but jump in and scramble through as well as we can.

It will not do to be perpetually calculating risks and adjusting nice chances. It did very well before the flood, when a man could consult his friends upon an intended scheme for a hundred and fifty years, and then live to see its success for six or seven centuries afterward. But at present, a man waits and doubts and hesitates, and consults his brother and his uncle and his first cousins and particular friends, till one fine day he finds that he is sixty-five years of age; that he has lost so much time in consulting first cousins and particular friends, that he has no more time left to follow their advice.

19

ORPHEUS WITH HIS LUTE

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

Orpheus【1】with his lute made trees,

And the mountain tops that freeze,

Bow themselves when he did sing:

To his music plants and flowers

Ever sprung, as sun and showers

There had made a lasting spring.

Everything that heard him play,

Even the billows of the sea,

Hung their heads, and then lay by.

In sweet music is such art,

Killing care and grief of heart

Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

FROM "KING HENRY VIII.,"

注释

【1】Orpheus, according to Greek mythology, a musician whose lyre could charm beasts and move trees and stones.

20

THE POETRY IN WORDS

BY R. C. TRENCH

Richard Chenevix Trench (1807—1886): An English clergy-man and philologist. He was the author of several volumes of poems and religious works, and some volumes on philology. The most popular of his philological works is a series of lectures "On the Study of Words," from which this selection is taken.

Language is full of instruction, because it is the embodiment, the incarnation, if I may so speak, of the feelings and thoughts and experiences of a nation, yea, often of many nations, and of all which through long centuries they have attained to and won. It stands like the Pillars of Hercules【1】, to mark how far the moral and intellectual conquests of mankind have advanced, only not like those pillars, fixed and immovable, but ever itself advancing with the progress of these. The mighty moral instincts which have been working in the popular mind have found therein their unconscious voice; and the single kinglier spirits that have looked deeper into the heart of things have oftentimes gathered up all they have seen into some one word, which they have launched upon the world, and with which they have enriched it forever, making in that new word a new region of thought to be henceforward in some sort the common heritage of all.

Language is the amber in which a thousand precious and subtle thoughts have been safely embedded and preserved. It has arrested ten thousand lightning flashes of genius, which, unless thus fixed and arrested, might have been as bright, but would have also been as quickly passing and perishing, as the lightning. "Words convey the mental treasures of one period to the generations that follow; and laden with this, their precious freight, they sail safely across gulfs of time in which empires have suffered shipwreck, and the languages of common life have sunk into oblivion."

And for all these reasons far more and mightier in every way is a language than any one of the works which may have been composed in it. For that work, great as it may be, is but the embodying of the mind of a single man, this of a nation. The "Iliad【2】" is great, yet not so great in strength or power or beauty as the Greek language. "Paradise Lost【3】" is a noble possession for a people to have inherited, but the English tongue is a nobler heritage yet.

Great indeed will be our gains if, having these treasures of wisdom and knowledge lying round about us, so far more precious than mines of California gold, we determine that we will make what portion of them we can our own, that we will ask the words which we use to give an account of themselves, to say whence they are, and whither they tend.

Poetry, which is passion and imagination embodying themselves in words, does not necessarily demand a combination of words for this; of this passion and imagination a single word may be the vehicle. As the sun can image itself alike in a tiny dewdrop or in the mighty ocean, and can do it, though on a different scale, as perfectly in the one as in the other, so the spirit of poetry can dwell in and glorify alike a word and an "Iliad." Nothing in language is too small, as nothing is too great, for it to fill with its presence. Everywhere it can find, or, not finding, can make, a shrine for itself, which afterward it can render translucent and transparent with its own indwelling glory.

On every side we are beset with poetry. Popular language is full of it, of words used in an imaginative sense, of things called—and not merely in transient moments of high passion and in the transfer which at such moments finds place of the image to the thing imaged, but permanently—by names having immediate reference not to what they are, but to what they are like.

Let me illustrate my meaning by the word "tribulation." We all know in a general way that this word, which occurs not seldom in Scripture, means affliction, sorrow, anguish; but it is quite worth our while to know how it means this, and to question the word a little closer. It is derived from the Latin tribulum, which was the threshing instrument, or roller, whereby the Roman husbandman separated the corn from the husks; and tribulatio in its primary significance was the act of this separation. But some Latin writer of the Christian church appropriated the word and image for the setting forth of a higher truth; and sorrow, distress, and adversity being the appointed means for the separating in men of whatever in them was light, trivial, and poor from the solid and the true, their chaff from their wheat, therefore he called these sorrows and trials tribulations, — threshings, that is, of the inner spiritual man, without which there could be no fitting him for the heavenly garner.

Before leaving this part of my subject, and on the suggestion of this word "tribulation," I will quote some words from Coleridge. They bear on the matter we have in hand. He has said, "In order to get the full sense of the word, we should first present to our minds the visual image that forms its primary meaning." What admirable counsel is here. If we could but accustom ourselves to the doing of this, what vast increases of precision and force would all the language which we speak and which others speak to us, obtain; how often would that which is now obscure at once become clear; how distinct the limits and boundaries of that which is often now confused and confounded. It is difficult to measure the amount of food for the imagination, as well as gains for the intellect, which the observing of this single rule would afford us. Let me illustrate this by one or two examples.

We say of such a man that he is desultory. Do we attach any very distinct meaning to the word? Perhaps not. But get at the image on which desultory rests; take the word to pieces; learn that it is from de and salto, "to leap from one thing to another," as a man who, in the ring, technically called a desultor, riding two or three horses at once, leaps from one to the other, being never on the back of any one of them long; take, I say, the word thus to pieces, and put it together again, and what a firm and vigorous grasp will you have now of its meaning. A desultory man is one who jumps from one study to another, and never continues for any time in one.

Again, you speak of a person as capricious, as being full of caprices; but what exactly are caprices? Caprice is from capra, a goat. If ever you have watched a goat, you will have observed how sudden, how unexpected, how unaccountable are the leaps and springs, now forward, now sideward, in which it indulges. A caprice then is a movement of the mind as unaccountable, as little to be calculated on beforehand, as the springs and bounds of a goat. Is not the word so understood a far more picturesque one than it was before? and is there not some real gain in the vigor and vividness of impression which is in this way obtained?

Then, what poetry is there, as indeed there ought to be, in the names of flowers! I do not speak of those, the exquisite grace and beauty of whose names is forced on us so that we cannot miss it, such as meadowsweet, eyebright, sundew, forget-me-not, Venus's looking-glass, queen of the meadows, love-in-idleness, Reine Marguerite, and the like. Take daisy; surely this charming little English flower, which has stirred the peculiar affection of English poets from Chaucer to Wordsworth, and received the tribute of their song, becomes more charming yet, when we know, as Chaucer long ago has told us, that daisy is day's eye, the eye of day; these are his words: —

"That well by reason it men callen may The daisie, or else the eye of day."

For only consider how much is implied here. To the sun in the heavens this name, eye of day, was naturally first given; and those who transferred the title to our little field flower, meant no doubt to liken its inner yellow disk or shield to the great golden orb of the sun, and the white florets which encircle this disk to the rays which the sun spreads on all sides round him. What imagination was here, to suggest a comparison such as this, binding together as this does the smallest and the greatest! what a traveling of the poet's eye, with the power which is the privilege of that eye, from earth to heaven, and from heaven to earth, and uniting both!

注释

【1】Pillars of Hercules, two mountains, the Rock of Gibralter and Apes' Hill on the coast of Africa, which were the boundaries of the world as known to the ancients. The Greek story says that Hercules raised them to mark the limits of the world.

【2】Iliad, a celebrated Greek epic poem, by Homer, describing the destruction of Ilium or Troy.

【3】Paradise Lost, the greatest English epic poem, by John Milton.

21

THE COUNSEL OF POLONIUS TO HIS SON

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

William Shakspere (1564—1616): The greatest English dramatic poet. He wrote "Hamlet," "Macbeth," "Othello," "Julius Cæsar" and many other plays. A biographical sketch of Shakspere will be found in the Fifth Book of the "Graded Literature Readers."

Here is an often quoted passage from "Hamlet": —

Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame;

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stayed for. There, my blessing with thee!

And these few precepts in thy memory

See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Nor any unproportioned thought his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

The friends thou hast and their adoption tried,

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,

Bear't, that the opposed may beware of thee.

Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;

Take each man's censure【1】, but reserve thy judgment.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy;

For the apparel oft proclaims the man;

And they in France, of the best rank and station,

Are most select and generous, chief in that.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

This above all, —to thine own self be true,

And it must follow as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!

注释

【1】Censure, opinion, — an old use of the word.

22

QUEEN MARY'S ESCAPE FROM LOCHLEVEN

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

Sir Walter Scott (1771—1832): A Scotch novelist, poet, and historian. Some of his best novels are historical, such as "Ivanhoe," "The Talisman," "Kenilworth," and "The Abbot," from which this selection is taken. He wrote several spirited narrative poems, including "The Lady of the Lake," and "Marmion." A sketch of Scott's life will be found in the Fifth Book of the "Graded Literature Readers."

Mary, Queen of Scots, whom Scott warmly admired, is one of the characters in "The Abbot." Justly or unjustly, she had been accused by her people of great crimes, imprisoned in the castle of Lochleven, and forced to resign her royal authority to a regent, who ruled in the name of her infant son, James. Scott gives this interesting account of her escape from Lochleven.

Mary's freedom was, however, of brief duration. Seeking refuge in England, she threw herself on the mercy of Queen Elizabeth, was made prisoner, and, after being kept in close confinement many years, was finally put to death.

Ⅰ

They went to the presence chamber, where almost immediately entered supper and the lady of the castle. The queen, strong in her prudent resolutions, endured her presence with great fortitude and equanimity, until her patience was disturbed by a new form, which had hitherto made no part of the ceremonial of the castle. When the other attendant had retired, Randal entered, bearing the keys of the castle fastened upon a chain, and, announcing that the watch was set and the gates locked, delivered the keys with all reverence to the Lady of Lochleven.

The queen and her ladies exchanged a look of disappointment, anger, and vexation; and Mary said aloud: "We cannot regret the smallness of our court, when we see our hostess discharge in person so many of its offices. In addition to her charge of principal steward of our household, she has to-night done duty as captain of our guard."

"And will continue to do so in future, madam," answered the Lady of Lochleven, with much gravity; and retired from the apartment, bearing in her hand the ponderous bunch of keys.

"Now," said the queen, "how say you, girls? Here is a new difficulty. How are these keys to be come by? There is no deceiving or bribing this dragon, I trow.【1】"

"May I crave【2】to know," said Roland, "whether, if your grace were beyond the walls of the castle, you could find means of conveyance to the firm land, and protection when you are there?"

"Trust us for that, Roland," said the queen; "for to that point our scheme is well laid."

"Then, if your grace will permit me to speak my mind, I think I could be of some use in this matter."

"As how, my good youth? Speak on," said the queen, "and fearlessly."

"My patron, the knight of Avenel, used to compel the youth educated in his household to learn the use of ax and hammer, and working in wood and iron. He used to speak of old northern champions who forged their own weapons, and of the Highland captain, Donald of the Hammer, whom he himself knew, and who used to work at the anvil with a sledge hammer in each hand. Some said he praised this art because he was himself of churl's blood. However, I gained some practice in it, as the Lady Catherine Seyton partly knows; for since we were here I wrought her a silver brooch."

"Ay," replied Catherine, "but you should tell her grace that your workmanship was so indifferent that it broke to pieces next day, and I flung it away."

"Believe her not, Roland," said the queen; "she wept when it was broken. But for your scheme, — could your skill avail to forge a second set of keys?"

"No, madam, because I know not the wards【3】. But I am convinced I could make a set so like that hateful bunch which the lady bore off even now, that could they be exchanged against them by any means, she would never dream she was possessed of the wrong."

"And the good dame, thank Heaven, is somewhat blind," said the queen. "But then for a forge, my boy, and the means of laboring unobserved?"

"The armorer's forge, at which I used sometimes to work with him, is in the round vault at the bottom of the turret. He was dismissed with the warder for being supposed too much attached to George Douglas. The people are accustomed to see me busy there, and I warrant I shall find some excuse that will pass current with them for putting bellows and anvil to work."

"The scheme has a promising face," said the queen; "about it, my lad, with all speed, and beware the nature of your work is not discovered."

"Nay, I will take the liberty to draw the bolt against chance visitors, so that I will have time to put away what I am working upon before I undo the door."

"Will not that of itself attract suspicion, in a place where it is so current already?" said Catherine.

"Not a whit," replied Roland; "Gregory, the armorer, and every good hammerman, locks himself in when he is about some masterpiece of craft. Besides, something must be risked."

"Part we then to-night," said the queen, "and God bless you, my children! If Mary's head ever rises above water, you shall all rise with her."

The enterprise of Roland Graeme appeared to prosper. A trinket or two, of which the work did not surpass the substance—for the materials were silver supplied by the queen— were judiciously presented to those most likely to be inquisitive into the labors of the forge and anvil, which they thus were induced to reckon profitable to others and harmless in itself. Openly, the page was seen working about such trifles. In private, he forged a number of keys resembling so nearly in weight and in form those which were presented every evening to the Lady Lochleven, that, on a slight inspection, it would have been difficult to perceive the difference.

He brought them to the dark, rusty color by the use of salt and water; and, in the triumph of his art, presented them at length to Queen Mary in her presence chamber, about an hour before the tolling of the curfew. She looked at them with pleasure, but at the same time with doubt.

"I allow," she said, "that the Lady Lochleven's eyes, which are not of the clearest, may be well deceived, could we pass those keys on her in place of the real implements of her tyranny. But how is this to be done, and which of my little court dare attempt this juggler's trick with any chance of success?"

"With your grace's permission," said Roland, "I do not doubt being able to manage the matter; for, though, in your grace's service, I do not fear—"

"A host of old women," interrupted Catherine, "each armed with rock【4】and spindle, yet he has no fancy for pikes and partisans【5】, which might rise at the cry of ' Help! a Douglas, a Douglas!'"

"They that do not fear fair ladies' tongues," continued the page, "need dread nothing else. But, gracious liege, I am well-nigh satisfied that I could pass the exchange of these keys on the Lady Lochleven; but I dread the sentinel who is now planted nightly in the garden, which, by necessity, we must traverse."

"Our last advices from our friends on the shore have promised us assistance in that matter," replied the queen.

"And is your grace well assured of the fidelity and watchfulness of those without?"

"For their fidelity I will answer with my life, and for their vigilance I will answer with my life. I will give thee instant proof, my faithful Roland, that they are ingenuous and trusty as thyself. Come hither. Nay, Catherine, attend us. Make fast the door of the parlor, Fleming, and warn us if you hear the least step— or stay, go thou to the door, Catherine;"—in a whisper, "thy ears and thy wits are both sharper — Good Fleming, attend us thyself."

Thus speaking, they were lighted by the Lady Fleming into the queen's bedroom, a small apartment enlightened by a projecting window.

"Look from that window, Roland," she said; "see you amongst the several lights which begin to kindle and to glimmer palely through the gray of the evening from the village of Kinross—seest thou, I say, one solitary spark apart from the others, and nearer, it seems, to the verge of the water? It is no brighter at this distance than the torch of the poor glow-worm, and yet, my good youth, that light is more dear to Mary Stuart than every star that twinkles in the blue vault of heaven. By that signal I know that more than one true heart is plotting my deliverance; and without that consciousness, and the hope of freedom it gives me, I had long since stooped to my fate and died of a broken heart. Plan after plan has been formed and abandoned, but still the light glimmers, and while it glimmers my hope lives. Oh! how many evenings have I sat musing in despair over our ruined schemes, and scarce hoping that I should again see that blessed signal; when it has suddenly kindled and brought hope and consolation, where there was only dejection and despair!"

"If I mistake not," answered Roland, "the candle shines from the house of Blinkhoolie, the gardener."

"Thou hast a good eye," said the queen; "it is there where my trusty lieges—God and the saints pour blessings on them!—hold consultation for my deliverance. The voice of a wretched captive would die on these blue waters long ere it could mingle in their councils; and yet I can hold communication. I will confide the whole to thee. I am about to ask those faithful friends if the moment for the great attempt is nigh. Place the lamp in the window, Fleming."

She obeyed and immediately withdrew it. No sooner had she done so than the light in the cottage of the gardener disappeared.

"Now count," said Queen Mary, "for my heart beats so thick that I cannot count myself."

The Lady Fleming began deliberately to count one, two, three— and when she had arrived at ten, the light on the shore again showed its pale twinkle.

"Now, Our Lady【6】be praised!" said the queen; "it was but two nights since, that the absence of the light remained while I could tell thirty. The hour of deliverance approaches! May God bless those who labor in it with such truth to me! Alas! with such hazard! And bless you, too, my children! Come, we must to the audience chamber again. Our absence might excite suspicion, should they serve supper."

They returned to the presence chamber, and the evening concluded as usual.

Ⅱ

The next noon at dinner time, an unusual incident occurred. While Lady Douglas of Lochleven performed her daily duty of assistant and taster at the queen's table, she was told a man at arms had arrived, recommended by her son, but without any letter or other token than what he brought by word of mouth.

"Hath he given you that token?" demanded the lady.

"He reserved it, as I think, for your ladyship's ear," replied Randal.

"He doth well," said the lady; "tell him to wait in the hall. But no, with your permission, madam," — to the queen — "let him attend me here."

"Since you are pleased to receive your domestics in my presence," said the queen, "I cannot choose —"

"My infirmities must plead my excuse, madam," replied the lady; "the life I must lead here ill suits with the years which have passed over my head, and compels me to waive【7】ceremonial."

"Oh, my good lady," replied the queen, "I would there were naught in this your castle more strongly compulsive than the cobweb chain of ceremony; but bolts and bars are harder matters to contend with."

As she spoke, the person announced by Randal entered the room, and Roland Graeme at once recognized in him the Abbot Ambrosius.

"What is your name, good fellow?" said the lady.

"Edward Glendinning," answered the abbot, with a suitable reverence.

"Art thou of the blood of the Knight of Avenel?" said the Lady of Lochleven.

"Aye, madam, and that nearly," replied the pretended soldier.

"It is likely enough," said the lady, "for the knight has risen from obscure lineage to his present high rank in the Estate【8】. But he is of sure truth and approved worth, and his kinsman is welcome to us. You hold, unquestionably, the true faith?"

"Do not doubt of it, madam," said the disguised churchman.

"Hast thou a token to me from Sir William Douglas?" said the lady.

"I have, madam," replied he; "but it must be said in private."

"Thou art right," said the lady, moving toward the recess of a window; "say in what does it consist?"

"In the words of an old bard," replied the abbot.

"Repeat them," answered the lady; and he uttered, in a low tone, the lines from an old poem called "The Howlet,"

"'O Douglas! Douglas! Tender and true.'"

"Trusty Sir John Holland," said the Lady Douglas, apostrophizing the poet, "a kinder heart never inspired a rhyme, and the Douglas's honor was ever on thy harpstring! We receive you among our followers, Glendinning. But, Randal, see that he keep the outer yard only, till we shall hear more touching him from our son. Thou fearest not the night air, Glendinning?"

"In the cause of the lady before whom I stand, I fear nothing, madam," answered the disguised abbot.

"Our garrison, then, is stronger by one trustworthy soldier," said the matron. "Go to the buttery【9】, and let them make much of thee."

When the Lady Lochleven had retired, the queen said to Roland Graeme, who was now almost constantly in her company, "I spy comfort in that stranger's countenance; I know not why it should be so, but I am well persuaded he is a friend."

"Your grace's penetration does not deceive you," answered the page; and he informed her that the Abbot of St. Mary's himself played the part of the newly arrived soldier.

"And now for the signal from the shore," exclaimed Catherine; "my bosom tells me we shall see this night two lights instead of one gleam from the Garden of Eden. And then, Roland, do you play your part manfully, and we will dance on the greensward like midnight fairies!"

Catherine's conjecture misgave not nor deceived her. In the evening two beams twinkled from the cottage, instead of one; and the page heard, with beating heart, that the new retainer was ordered to stand sentinel on the outside of the castle. When he intimated this news to the queen, she held her hand out to him; he knelt, and when he raised it to his lips in all dutiful homage, he found it was damp and cold as marble. "For God's sake, madam, droop not now! sink not now!"

"Call upon Our Lady, my liege," said the Lady Fleming, "call upon your tutelar【10】saint."

"Call the spirits of the hundred kings you are descended from," exclaimed the page. "In this hour of need, the resolution of a monarch were worth the aid of a hundred saints."

"Oh! Roland Graeme," said Mary in a tone of deep despondency, "be true to me! Many have been false to me. Alas! I have not always been true to myself. My mind misgives me that I shall die in bondage and that this bold attempt will cost us all our lives. It was foretold me by a soothsayer【11】in France that I should die in prison and by a violent death, and here comes the hour. Oh, would to God it found me prepared!"

"Madam," said Catherine Seyton, "remember you are a queen. Better we all died in bravely attempting to gain our freedom, than remain here to be poisoned, as men rid them of the noxious vermin that haunt old houses."

"You are right, Catherine," said the queen; "and Mary will bear her like herself. But alas! your young and buoyant spirit can ill spell【12】the causes which have broken mine. Forgive me, my children, and farewell for a while. I will prepare both mind and body for this awful venture."

They separated till again called together by the tolling of the curfew. The queen appeared grave, but firm and resolved; the Lady Fleming, with the art of an experienced courtier, knew perfectly how to disguise her inward tremors; Catherine's eye was fired, as if with the boldness of the project, and the half smile which dwelt upon her beautiful mouth seemed to contemn【13】all the risk and all the consequences of discovery; Roland, who felt how much success depended on his own address and boldness, summoned together his whole presence of mind. He stood like a greyhound in the slips, with hand, heart, and eye intent upon making and seizing opportunity for the execution of their project.

The keys had, with the wonted ceremonial, been presented to the Lady Lochleven. She stood with her back to the casement, which, like that of the queen's apartment, commanded a view of Kinross, with the church, which stands at some distance from the town, and nearer to the lake, then connected with the town by straggling cottages. With her back to this casement, then, and her face to the table, on which the keys lay for an instant while she tasted the various dishes which were placed there, stood the Lady of Lochleven, more provokingly intent than usual —so at least it seemed to her prisoners — upon the huge and heavy bunch of iron, the implements of their restraint.

Just when, having finished her ceremony as taster of the queen's table, she was about to take up the keys, the page, who stood beside her, and had handed her the dishes in succession, looked sideways to the churchyard, and exclaimed he saw corpse candles in the vault. The Lady of Lochleven was not without a touch, though a slight one, of the superstitions of the time; and a corpse light, as it was called, in the family burial place, boded death. She turned her head toward the casement, saw a distant glimmering, forgot her charge for one second, and in that second were lost the whole fruits of her former vigilance. The page held the forged keys under his cloak and with great dexterity exchanged them for the real ones. His utmost address could not prevent a slight clash as he took up the latter bunch.

"Who touches the keys?" said the lady; and while the page answered that the sleeve of his cloak had stirred them, she looked round, possessed herself of the bunch which now occupied the place of the genuine keys, and again turned to gaze at the supposed corpse candles.

"I hold these gleams," she said, after a moment's consideration, "to come, not from the churchyard, but from the hut of the old gardener, Blinkhoolie. I wonder what thrift【14】that churl drives, that of late he hath ever had light in his house till the night grew deep. I thought him an industrious, peaceful man. If he turns resetter【15】of idle companions and night walkers, the place must be rid of him."

The page exchanged the keys

"He may work his baskets, perchance," said the page, desirous to stop the train of her suspicion.

"Or nets, may he not?" answered the lady.

"Aye, madam," said Roland, "for trout and salmon."

"Or for fools and knaves," replied the lady; "but this shall be looked after to-morrow. I wish your grace and your company a good evening. Randal, attend us." And Randal, who waited in the antechamber after having surrendered his bunch of keys, gave his escort to his mistress as usual, while leaving the queen's apartments, she retired to her own.

Ⅲ

"To-morrow," said the page, rubbing his hands with glee as he repeated the lady's last words. "Fools look to to-morrow, and wise folk use to-night. May I pray you, my gracious liege, to retire for one hour, until all the castle is composed to rest? I must go and rub with oil these blessed implements of our freedom. Courage and constancy, and all will go well, provided our friends on the shore fail not to send the boat you spoke of."

"Fear them not," said Catherine, "they are true as steel; if our dear mistress do but maintain her noble and royal courage."

"Doubt me not, Catherine," replied the queen; "a while since I was overborne, but I have recalled the spirit of my earlier and more sprightly days, when I used to accompany my armed nobles, and wished to be myself a man, to know what life it was to be in the fields with sword and buckler."

"Oh, the lark lives not a gayer life, nor sings a lighter and gayer song than the merry soldier," answered Catherine. "Your grace shall be in the midst of them soon, and the look of such a liege sovereign will make each of your host worth three in the hour of need; but I must to my task."

"We have but brief time," said Queen Mary; "one of the two lights of the cottage is extinguished. That shows the boat is put off."

"They will row very slow," said the page, "or kent【16】where depth permits, to avoid noise. To our several tasks. I will communicate with the good father."

At the dead hour of midnight, when all was silent in the castle, the page put the key into the lock of the wicket【17】which opened into the garden, and which was at the bottom of a staircase that descended from the queen's apartment. "Now, turn smooth and softly, thou good bolt," said he, "if ever oil softened rust!" and his precautions had been so effectual that the bolt revolved with little or no sound of resistance. He ventured not to cross the threshold, but, exchanging a word with the disguised abbot, asked if the boat were ready.

"This half hour," said the sentinel. "She lies beneath the wall, too close under the islet to be seen by the warder, but I fear she will hardly escape his notice in putting off again."

"The darkness," said the page, "and our profound silence may take her off unobserved, as she came in. Hildebrand has the watch on the tower—a heavy-headed knave, who holds a can of ale to be the best headpiece upon a night watch. He sleeps for a wager."

"Then bring the queen," said the abbot, "and I will call Henry Seyton to assist them to the boat."

On tiptoe, with noiseless step and suppressed breath, trembling at every rustle of their own apparel, one after another the fair prisoners glided down the winding stair, under the guidance of Roland Graeme, and were received at the wicket by Henry Seyton and the churchman. The former seemed instantly to take upon himself the whole direction of the enterprise.

"My lord abbot," he said, "give my sister your arm. I will conduct the queen, and that youth will have the honor to guide Lady Fleming."

This was no time to dispute the arrangement, although it was not that which Roland Graeme would have chosen. Catherine Seyton, who well knew the garden path, tripped on before like a sylph, rather leading the abbot than receiving assistance; the queen, her native spirit prevailing over female fear and a thousand painful reflections, moved steadily forward by the assistance of Henry Seyton; while the Lady Fleming encumbered with her fears and her helplessness Roland Graeme, who followed in the rear, and who bore under the other arm a packet of necessaries belonging to the queen. The door of the garden, which communicated with the shore of the islet, yielded to one of the keys of which Roland had possessed himself, although not until he had tried several, — a moment of anxious terror and expectation. The ladies were then partly led, partly carried, to the side of the lake, where a boat with six rowers attended them, the men couched along the bottom to secure them from observation.

Henry Seyton placed the queen in the stern; the abbot offered to assist Catherine, but she was seated by the queen's side before he could utter his proffer of help; and Roland Graeme was just lifting Lady Fleming over the boat side, when a thought suddenly occurred to him, and exclaiming, "Forgotten, forgotten! wait for me but one half minute," he replaced on the shore the helpless lady of the bedchamber, threw the queen's packet into the boat, and sped back through the garden with the noiseless speed of a bird on the wing.

"By Heaven, he is false at last!" said Seyton. "I ever feared it."

"He is as true," said Catherine, "as Heaven itself, and that I will maintain."

"Be silent," said her brother. "Fellows, put off, and row for your lives!"

"Help me, help me on board!" said the deserted Lady Fleming, and that louder than prudence warranted.

"Put off, put off!" cried Henry Seyton; "leave all behind, so the queen is safe."

"Will you permit this, madam?" said Catherine, imploringly. "You leave your deliverer to death."

"I will not," said the queen. "Seyton, I command you to stay at every risk."

"Pardon me, madam, if I disobey," said the intractable young man; and with one hand lifting in Lady Fleming, he began himself to push off the boat.

She was two fathoms' length from the shore, and the rowers were getting her head round, when Roland Graeme, arriving, bounded from the beach and attained the boat, overturning Seyton, on whom he lighted. The youth stopped Graeme as he stepped towards the stern, saying: "Your place is not with high-born dames. Keep at the head and trim the vessel. Now, give way, give way! Row, for God and the queen!"

The rowers obeyed, and began to pull vigorously.

"Why did you not muffle the oars?" said Roland Graeme; "the dash must awaken the sentinel. Row, lads, and get out of reach of shot; for had not old Hildebrand, the warder, supped upon poppy porridge, this whispering must have waked him."

"It was all thine own delay," said Seyton; "thou shalt reckon with me hereafter for that and other matters."

But Roland's apprehension was verified too instantly to permit him to reply. The sentinel, whose slumbering had withstood the whispering, was alarmed by the dash of the oars. His challenge was instantly heard.

"A boat, a boat! bring to or I shoot!" And as they continued to piy their oars, he called aloud, "Treason! treason!" rang the bell of the castle, and discharged his arquebus at the boat.

The ladies crowded on each other, like startled wild fowl, at the flash and report of the piece, while the men urged the rowers to the utmost speed. They heard more than one ball whiz along the surface of the lake, at no great distance from their little bark; and from the lights, which glanced like meteors from window to window, it was evident the whole castle was alarmed, and their escape discovered.

"Pull!" again exclaimed Seyton; "stretch to your oars or I will spur you to the task with my dagger. They will launch a boat immediately."

"That is cared for," said Roland; "I locked gate and wicket on them when I went back, and no boat will stir from the island this night, if doors of good oak and bolts of iron can keep men within stone walls. And now I resign my office of porter of Lochleven and give the keys to the kelpie's【18】keeping."

As the heavy keys plunged in the lake, the abbot, who till then had been repeating his prayers, exclaimed, "Now, bless thee, my son! for thy ready prudence puts shame on us all."

"I knew," said Mary, drawing her breath more freely, as they were now out of reach of the musketry, "I knew my squire's truth, promptitude, and sagacity."

The dialogue was here interrupted by a shot or two from one of those small pieces of artillery called falconets, then used in defending castles. The shot was too vague to have any effect, but it terrified and imposed silence on the liberated prisoners. The boat was alongside of a rude quay or landing place, running out from a garden of considerable extent, ere any of them again attempted to speak. They landed, and the abbot returned thanks to Heaven which had favored their enterprise.

The party of Seyton was increased to about ten by those whose attendants had remained with the horses. The queen and her ladies, with all the rest who came from the boat, were instantly mounted; and holding aloof from the village, which was already alarmed by the firing from the castle, with Douglas acting as their guide, they soon reached the open ground, and began to ride as fast as was consistent with keeping together in good order.

————

A man that is young in years may be old in hours, if he have lost no time.

—BACON.

注释

【1】Trow, believe; think.

【2】Crave, ask.

【3】Wards, notches or slits in a key corresponding to ridges in the lock which it fits.

【4】Rock, distaff, a staff around which the flax is put, and from which the thread is drawn in spinning.

【5】Partisans, weapons consisting of wooden staffs with barbed steel heads.

【6】Our Lady, the Virgin Mary.

【7】Waive, forego.

【8】Estate, an old word for state.

【9】Buttery, a room where provisions are kept.

【10】Tutelar, guardian; protecting.

【11】Soothsayer, one who foretells events.

【12】Spell, tell; measure.

【13】Contemn, despise.

【14】Thrift, business; economy.

【15】Resetter, one who receives or conceals, as stolen goods or criminals.

【16】Kent, to propel with a pole.

【17】Wicket, a small gate or door, especially one placed near a larger gate or door.

【18】Kelpie, a water fairy.

23

THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD

BY Theodore O'Hara

Theodore O'Hara (1820—1867): A southern poet born in Kentucky. He served as a soldier during the Mexican War, and wrote the following poem when the remains of the Kentucky soldiers who had fallen at the battle of Buena Vista were removed to their native state (February 22-23, 1847). This famous poem is the only one of O'Hara's that is generally known.

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat

The soldier's last tattoo【1】;

No more on life's parade shall meet

That brave and fallen few.

On Fame's eternal camping ground

Their silent tents are spread,

And glory guards, with solemn round,

The bivouac【2】of the dead.

No rumor of the foe's advance

Now swells upon the wind;

No troubled thought at midnight haunts

Of loved ones left behind;

No vision of the morrow's strife

The warrior's dream alarms;

No braying horn or screaming fife

At dawn shall call to arms.

Their shivered swords are red with rust;

Their plumed heads are bowed;

Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,

Is now their martial shroud;

And plenteous funeral tears have washed

The red stains from each brow;

And the proud forms, by battle gashed,

Are free from anguish now.

The neighing troop, the flashing blade,

The bugle's stirring blast,

The charge, the dreadful cannonade,

The din and shout, are past.

Not war's wild note, nor glory's peal,

Shall thrill with fierce delight

Those breasts that nevermore may feel

The rapture of the fight.

Like the fierce Northern hurricane

That sweeps his great plateau,

Flushed with the triumph yet to gain,

Comes down the serried foe.

Who heard the thunder of the fray

Break o'er the field beneath,

Knew well the watchword of that day

Was "Victory, or death!"

Full many a mother's breath has swept

O'er Angostura's plain【3】,

And long the pitying sky has wept

Above its moldered slain.

The raven's scream, or eagle's flight,

Or shepherd's pensive lay,

Alone now wakes each solemn height

That frowned o'er that dead fray.

Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground【4】,

Ye must not slumber there,

Where stranger steps and tongue resound

Along the heedless air!

Your own proud land's heroic soil

Shall be your fitter grave:

She claims from War its richest spoil—

The ashes of her brave.

Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest,

Far from the gory field,

Borne to a Spartan mother's【5】breast

On many a bloody shield.

The sunshine of their native sky

Smiles sadly on them here,

And kindred eyes and hearts watch by

The heroes' sepulcher.

Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead!

Dear as the blood ye gave,

No impious footstep here shall tread

The herbage of your grave.

Nor shall your glory be forgot

While Fame her record keeps,

Or Honor points the hallowed spot

Where valor proudly sleeps.

Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone

In deathless song shall tell,

When many a vanished year hath flown,

The story how ye fell;

Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight,

Nor Time's remorseless doom,

Can dim one ray of holy light

That gilds your glorious tomb.

注释

【1】Tattoo, beat of drums at night, giving notice to soldiers to retreat or to repair to their quarters.

【2】Bivouac, an encampment at night without tents.

【3】Angosturas plain, a battlefield near Buena Vista, Mexico.

【4】Dark and Bloody Ground, a translation of the Indian name Kentucky, which was the great battleground between the northern and southern Indians.

【5】Spartan mother, an allusion to the fabled advice of the Spartan mothers to their sons on sending them forth to battle, "Return with your shield or upon it."

24

THE PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS OF GREECE

BY G. S. HILLARD

George Stillman Hillard (1808—1879): An American author and orator. He was the author of "Six Months in Italy," and many orations and lectures.

This selection is from a lecture on "The Connection between Geography and History."

The peninsula of Greece is remarkable, among the countries of Europe, for those peculiarities which distinguish Europe itself from the other quarters of the globe, —for the number of its natural divisions, and its extent of seacoast compared with its surface. Though not so large as Portugal, its extent of seacoast is greater than that of Italy, and twice as great as that of France. Peloponnesus【1】is so embayed and indented by the sea that it has been aptly likened to the human hand stretched out, with the fingers apart.

Thus the voice of the sea was ever sounding in the ears of the Greek, and from every mountain height its blue waters were seen sparkling in the clear distance. It essentially contributed to the formation of that bold, active, and enterprising spirit which characterized the people. The murmur of its waves is constantly heard in the literature of Greece, as in that of England.

The poetry of Homer is full of ocean influences. Its author must have been familiar with the sea in all its moods, and from childhood "laid his hand upon its mane."

The attachment of the Greeks to the sea is illustrated by an anecdote, which has come down to us, of a Greek islander, who, when he was carried to see the beautiful Vale of Tempe, coldly remarked, "This is well; but where is the sea?"

Greece, too, was as much a land of the mountain as of the flood. It is a region of plains and hollows, lying in the laps of steep mountain ranges, which can in many places be traversed only by narrow passes where the footing is difficult and dangerous. States lying near each other were completely isolated by mountain barriers. Hence it came that Greece was occupied by many distinct communities, differing in dialect and in civil and religious institutions, whose struggles and rivalries afforded a constant excitement to the minds of the inhabitants.

This explains the fact why the history of Greece is so crowded with events, is so fruitful in political instruction, and it is also one reason of the beauty and variety of its literature. Of the various dialects of Greece, no one degenerated into a vulgar or provincial patois【2】, but each was a refined language used to express the conceptions best suited to its peculiar character.

There were other elements, common in various degrees to the whole of the Grecian peninsula, which aided in the wonderful development of the human mind which there took place. The air was remarkable for its clearness and purity, as is shown by the excellent preservation in which those monuments of art are still found, which have been so fortunate as to escape the destroying hand of man. The climate was admirably suited to develop both body and mind.

The winters were severe in some places, but, generally, there was warmth without heat, and coolness without cold. The cold of winter was tempered by the genial sea breezes, and the heats of summer mitigated【3】by the bracing winds from the mountains, many of whose peaks were covered with snow during the whole year. The soil, with very few exceptions, was of that kind which stimulates and rewards labor; not of tropical luxuriance, but richly repaying the husbandman's toil.

Thus all the influences that were around the ancient Greek were adapted to quicken, animate, and inspire; to give muscular power and nervous sensibility; to create active minds in vigorous bodies; and there is the same analogy between the energetic and practical character of the Greek intellect, and the forms and expressions of nature in Greece, which we observe between the dreamy and speculative cast of the Oriental mind and the exhausting heats and monotonous plains of the East.

注释

【1】Peloponnesus, the southern peninsula of Greece.

【2】Patois (French), a dialect used by ignorant people.

【3】Mitigated, softened; made less.

25

ATHENIAN LITERATURE

BY LORD MACAULAY

Thomas Babington, Lord Macaulay (1800—1859): An English critic and historian. His most important work is a "History of England." He published also a volume of poems, entitled "Lays of Ancient Rome," and many brilliant essays on literary and historical subjects. This selection is from a critique, "On Mitford's Greece."

Lord Macaulay

If we consider merely the subtlety of disquisition, the force of imagination, the perfect energy and elegance of expression, which characterize the great works of Athenian genius, we must pronounce them intrinsically most valuable; but what shall we say when we reflect that from hence have sprung, directly or indirectly, all the noblest creations of the human intellect; that from hence were the vast accomplishments and the brilliant fancy of Cicero【1】, the withering fire of Juvenal【2】, the plastic【3】imagination of Dante【4】, the humor of Cervantes【5】, the comprehension of Bacon, the wit of Butler, the supreme and universal excellence of Shakspere!

All the triumphs of truth and genius over prejudice and power, in every country and in every age, have been the triumphs of Athens. Wherever a few great minds have made a stand against violence and fraud, in the cause of liberty and reason, there has been her spirit in the midst of them, inspiring, encouraging, consoling, —by the lonely lamp of Erasmus【6】, by the restless bed of Pascal【7】, in the tribune of Mirabeau【8】, in the cell of Galileo【9】, on the scaffold of Sidney【10】.

But who shall estimate her influence on private happiness? Who shall say how many thousands have been made wiser, happier, and better, by those pursuits in which she has taught mankind to engage; to how many the studies which took their rise from her have been wealth in poverty, liberty in bondage, health in sickness, society in solitude? Her power is, indeed, manifested at the bar, in the senate, in the field of battle, in the schools of philosophy. But these are not her glory. Wherever literature consoles sorrow or assuages【11】pain, wherever it brings gladness to eyes which fail with wakefulness and tears and ache for the dark house and the long sleep, — there is exhibited, in its noblest form, the immortal influence of Athens.

The dervish, in the Arabian tale, did not hesitate to abandon to his comrade the camels, with their load of jewels and gold, while he retained the casket of that mysterious juice which enabled him to behold at one glance all the hidden riches of the universe.

Surely it is no exaggeration to say, that no external advantage is to be compared with that purification of the intellectual eye which gives us to contemplate the infinite wealth of the mental world, all the hoarded treasures of its primeval dynasties【12】, all the shapeless ore of its yet unexplored mines. This is the gift of Athens to man. Her freedom and her power have for more than twenty centuries been annihilated, her people have degenerated into timid slaves, her language into a barbarous jargon, her temples have been given up to the successive depredations【13】of Romans, Turks, and Scotchmen; but her intellectual empire is imperishable.

The Acropolis at Athens

And when those who have rivaled her greatness shall have shared her fate; when civilization and knowledge shall have fixed their abode in distant continents; when the scepter shall have passed away from England; when, perhaps, travelers from distant regions shall in vain labor to decipher on some moldering pedestal the name of our proudest chief; shall hear savage hymns chanted to some misshapen idol, over the ruined dome of our proudest temple; and shall see a single naked fisherman wash his nets in the river of the ten thousand masts【14】, —her influence and her glory will still survive, fresh in eternal youth, exempt from mutability【15】and decay, immortal as the intellectual principle from which they derived their origin, and over which they exercised their control.

————

Greece and her foundations are

Built below the tide of war,

Based on the crystalline sea

Of thought and its eternity.

Her citizens, imperial spirits,

Rule the present from the past;

On all this world of men inherits

Their seal is set.

— From "Hellas," by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

注释

【1】Marcus Tullius Cicero (106 B.C.-43 B.C.), a Roman orator.

【2】Decimus Julius Juvenal (38-120), a Roman poet.

【3】Plastic, having the power to give form to; forming; molding.

【4】Danteaegli Alighieri (1265—1321), the greatest of Italian poets, the author of the "Divina Commedia."

【5】Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (1547—1616), a Spanish writer, author of "Don Quixote." See page 178.

【6】Desiderius Erasmus (1467—1536), a Dutch scholar.

【7】Blaise Pascal (1623—1662), a French philosopher and mathematician.

【8】Gabriel Honore Riquetti, Count of Mirabeau (1749—1791), a French orator and revolutionist.

【9】Galileo (1564—1642), an Italian astronomer. Seepage 197.

【10】Algernon Sidney (1622?—1683), an English patriot, unjustly executed on a charge of treason.

【11】Assuages, relieves; eases.

【12】Dynasties, races or successions of kings.

【13】Depredations, plunderings; laying waste.

【14】River of the ten thousand masts, Thames.

【15】Mutability, change.

26

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB【1】

BY GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

And his cohorts【2】were gleaming in purple and gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,

That host with their banners at sunset were seen;

Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,

That host on the morrow lay withered and strewn.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,

And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;

And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,

And their hearts but once heaved and forever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,

As cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;

And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,

The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,

And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal【3】;

And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,

Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

注释

【1】Sennacherib (681 B.C.), a king of Assyria who invaded Judea in the reign of Hezekiah. His army besieged Jerusalem, but was overthrown, and Sennacherib returned in haste to his own country.

【2】Cohorts, bands of soldiers.

【3】Baal, the chief god of certain Eastern peoples.

27

FAREWELL ADDRESS

BY GEORGE WASHINGTON

George Washington (1732—1799). After having served the first two terms as President of the United States, he refused to be elected for a third term, and withdrew from public life. On this occasion he issued a "Farewell Address to the People of the United States," in which he insisted on the importance of union, and the evils of political connections with foreign nations. Here is a part of the "Farewell Address."

The unity of government, which constitutes you one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real independence, —the support of your tranquillity at home and your peace abroad, of your safety, of your prosperity, of that very liberty which you so highly prize.

But as it is easy to foresee that, from different causes and from different quarters, much pains will be taken, many artifices employed, to weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth; as this is the point in your political fortress against which the batteries of internal and external enemies will be most constantly and actively, though often covertly and insidiously, directed, — it is of infinite moment that you should properly estimate the immense value of your national union to your collective and individual happiness; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment to it; accustoming yourself to think and speak of it as of the palladium【1】of your political safety and prosperity; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it can, in any event, be abandoned; and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various parts.

To the efficacy and permanency of your union a government for the whole is indispensable. No alliances, however strict, between the parts can be an adequate substitute; they must inevitably experience the infractions and interruptions which all alliances in all times have experienced. Sensible of this momentous truth, you have improved your essay, by the adoption of the constitution of a government better calculated than your former for an intimate union, and for the efficacious management of your common concerns.

This government, the offspring of our own choice, uninfluenced and unawed, adopted upon full investigation and mature deliberation, completely free in its principles, in the distribution of its powers, uniting security with energy, and containing within itself a provision for its own amendment, has a just claim to your confidence and your support. Respect for its authority, compliance with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are duties enjoined by the fundamental maxims of true liberty. The basis of our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their constitution of government; but the constitution which at any time exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is sacredly obligatory upon all. The very idea of the power and the right of the people to establish government presupposes the duty of every individual to obey the established government.

All obstructions to the executions of the laws, all combinations and associations, under whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct, control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the constituted authorities, are destructive of this fundamental principle and of fatal tendency. They serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extraordinary force; to put, in the place of the delegated will of the nation, the will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the community; and, according to the alternate triumphs of different parties, to make the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongruous projects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome plans digested by common counsels and modified by mutual interests.

However combinations or associations of the above description may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent【2】engines by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people, and to usurp for themselves the reins of government; destroying afterward the very engines which had lifted them to unjust dominion.

Toward the preservation of your government and the permanency of your present happy state, it is requisite not only that you steadily discountenance irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, but also that you resist with care the spirit of innovation upon its principles, however specious【3】the pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect, in the forms of the constitution, alterations which will impair the energy of the system, and thus to undermine what cannot be directly overthrown.

In all the changes to which you may be invited, remember that time and habit are at least as necessary to fix the true character of governments as of other human institutions; that experience is the surest standard by which to test the real tendency of the existing constitution of a country; that facility in changes, upon the credit of mere hypothesis【4】and opinion, exposes to perpetual change, from the endless variety of hypothesis and opinion; and remember especially that for the efficient management of your common interest in a country so extensive as ours, a government of as much vigor as is consistent with the perfect security of liberty is indispensable. Liberty itself will find in such a government, with powers properly distributed and adjusted, its surest guardian. It is, indeed, little else than a name where the government is too feeble to withstand the enterprises of faction, to confine each member of the society within the limits prescribed by the laws, and to maintain all in the secure and tranquil enjoyment of the rights of person and property.

It is important, likewise, that the habits of thinking in a free country should inspire caution, in those intrusted with its administration, to confine themselves within their respective constitutional spheres, avoiding in the exercise of the powers of one department to encroach upon another. The spirit of encroachment tends to consolidate the powers of all the departments in one, and thus to create, whatever the form of government, a real despotism. A just estimate of that love of power and proneness to abuse it, which predominates in the human heart, is sufficient to satisfy us of the truth of this position. The necessity of reciprocal checks in the exercise of political power, by dividing and distributing it into different depositories, and constituting each the guardian of the public weal against invasion by the others, has been evinced by experiments ancient and modern; some of them in our country and under our own eyes. To preserve them must be as necessary as to institute them.

If, in the opinion of the people, the distribution or modification of the constitutional powers be in any particular wrong, let it be corrected by an amendment in the way which the constitution designates. But let there be no change by usurpation; for, though this, in one instance, may be the instrument of good, it is the customary weapon by which free governments are destroyed. The precedent must always greatly overbalance in permanent evil any partial or transient benefit, which the use can at any time yield.

Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with private and public felicity.

Let it simply be asked, where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the oaths which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice? And let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle.

It is substantially true that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with more or less force to every species of free government. Who, that is a sincere friend to it, can look with indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the fabric?

Promote then, as an object of primary importance, institutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In proportion as the structure of a government gives force to public opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be enlightened.

注释

【1】Palladium, the statue of Pallas, on the preservation of which the safety of Troy was said to depend; hence, as here, that which affords effectual protection or security.

【2】Potent, powerful.

【3】Specious, plausible; apparently right.

【4】Hypothesis, supposition; something not proved, but assumed to account for a fact.

28

FORTITUDE

BY MARCUS AURELIUS

Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (121—180): A Roman emperor, one of the greatest Stoic philosophers, who was celebrated for his wisdom, learning, and virtue. His "Meditations" contain many noble moral precepts. The best English version is that by George Long, from which this passage is taken.

Be like the promontory against which the waves continually break, but it stands firm and tames the fury of the water around it.

Unhappy am I, because this has happened to me? Not so; but happy am I, though this happened to me, because I continue free from pain, neither crushed by the present nor fearing the future.

Will, then, this which has happened prevent thee from being just, magnanimous, temperate, prudent, secure against inconsiderate opinions and falsehood? Remember, too, on every occasion which leads thee to vexation, to apply this principle: not that this is a misfortune, but that to bear it nobly is good fortune.

29

THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD

BY H. W. LONGFELLOW

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807—1882): The most popular of American poets. He wrote "Hiawatha," "Evangeline," "The Courtship of Miles Standish," and other poems. Many of his shorter poems are household favorites. He was also the author of two prose volumes, "Hyperion" and "Outre Mer."

This is the arsenal. From floor to ceiling,

Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;

But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing

Startles the villages with strange alarms.

Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,

When the death angel touches those swift keys!

What loud lament and dismal miserere【1】

Will mingle with their awful symphonies【2】!

I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus,

The cries of agony, the endless groan,

Which, through the ages that have gone before us,

In long reverberations【3】reach our own.

On helm and harness【4】rings the Saxon hammer【5】,

Through Cimbric【6】forest roars the Norseman's song,

And loud, amid the universal clamor,

O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong【7】.

I hear the Florentine, who from his palace

Wheels out his battle bell【8】with dreadful din,

And Aztec priests upon their teocallis

Beat the wild war drums made of serpent's skin,

The tumult of each sacked and burning village;

The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns;

The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage【9】;

The wail of famine in beleaguered【10】towns;

The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder,

The rattling musketry, the clashing blade;

And ever and anon, in tones of thunder

The diapason【11】of the cannonade.

Is it, O man, with such discordant noises,

With such accursed instruments as these,

Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices,

And jarrest the celestial harmonies?

Were half the power that fills the world with terror,

Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts,

Given to redeem the human mind from error,

There were no need of arsenals nor forts:

The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!

And every nation, that should lift again

Its hand against a brother, on its forehead

Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain【12】!

Down the dark future, through long generations,

The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease;

And like a bell with solemn, sweet vibrations,

I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!"

Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals

The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies!

But beautiful as songs of the immortals,

The holy melodies of love arise.

注释

【1】Miserere, mournful music; usually a musical composition adapted to the fifty-first Psalm, which is one of the penitential Psalms of the Roman Catholic church. The Latin version of this Psalm begins with the word miserere.

【2】Symphonies, a symphony is an elaborate musical composition. Here only solemn music is meant.

【3】Reverberations, reechoing sounds.

【4】Harness, armor.

【5】Saxon hammer, the battle-ax of the ancient Saxons.

【6】Cimbric, of the Cimbri, an ancient tribe of northern Germany.

【7】Tartar gong, the great war bells of the Tartars.

【8】Battle bell, used in the civil conflicts of Florence.

【9】Pillage, robbery; plunder, especially of enemies in war.

【10】Beleaguered, blockaded; surrounded by an enemy.

【11】Diapason, concord of notes, especially in octaves.

【12】Curse of Cain, see Genesis iv. 15.

30

THE BATTLE OF THE ANTS

BY HENRY D. THOREAU

Henry D. Thoreau (1817—1862): An American author and naturalist. He was the author of a number of works dealing with nature and its meaning, and he was the friend of Emerson. The following selection is taken from "Walden," the record of two years spent in a little cabin on the shores of Walden Pond, near Concord, Mass.

One day when I went out to my woodpile, or rather my pile of stumps, I observed two large ants, the one red, the other much larger, nearly half an inch long, and black, fiercely contending with one another. Having once got hold they never let go, but struggled and wrestled and rolled on the chips incessantly. Looking farther, I was surprised to find that the chips were covered with such combatants, that it was not a duellum【1】, but a bellum【2】, a war between two races of ants, the red always pitted against the black, and frequently two red ones to one black. The legions of these Myrmidons【3】covered all the hills and vales in my wood yard, and the ground was already strewn with the dead and dying, both red and black.

It was the only battle which I have ever witnessed, the only battlefield I ever trod while the battle was raging; internecine war【4】, the red republicans on the one hand, and the black imperialists on the other. On every side they were engaged in deadly combat, yet without any noise that I could hear, and human soldiers never fought so resolutely.

I watched a couple that were fast locked in each other's embraces, in a little sunny valley amid the chips, now at noonday prepared to fight till the sun went down or life went out. The smaller red champion had fastened himself like a vice to his adversary's front, and through all the tumblings on that field never for an instant ceased to gnaw at one of his feelers near the root, having already caused the other to go by the board; while the stronger black one dashed him from side to side, and, as I saw on looking nearer, had already divested him of several of his members. They fought with more pertinacity than bulldogs. Neither manifested the least disposition to retreat. It was evident that their battle cry was "Conquer or die."

In the meanwhile there came along a single red ant on the hillside of this valley, evidently full of excitement, who either had dispatched his foe, or had not yet taken part in the battle, —probably the latter, for he had lost none of his limbs, — whose mother had charged him to return with his shield【5】or upon it. Or perchance he was some Achilles【6】, who had nourished his wrath apart, and had now come to avenge or rescue his Patroclus【7】.

He saw this unequal combat from afar—for the blacks were nearly twice the size of the red—he drew near with rapid pace till he stood on his guard within half an inch of the combatants; then, watching his opportunity, he sprang upon the black warrior and commenced his operations near the root of his right fore leg, leaving the foe to select among his own members; and so there were three united for life, as if a new kind of attraction had been invented which put all other locks and cements to shame.

I should not have wondered by this time to find that they had their respective musical bands stationed on some eminent chip, and playing their national airs the while to excite the slow and cheer the dying combatants. I was myself excited somewhat even as if they had been men. The more you think of it, the less the difference. And certainly there is not the fight recorded, in Concord history at least, if in the history of America, that will bear a moment's comparison with this, whether for the numbers engaged in it, or for the patriotism and heroism displayed.

I took up the chip on which the three I have particularly described were struggling, carried it into my house, and placed it under a tumbler on my window sill in order to see the issue. Holding a microscope to the first-mentioned red ant, I saw that, though he was assiduously gnawing at the near fore leg of his enemy, having severed his remaining feeler, his own breast was all torn away, exposing what vitals he had there to the jaws of the black warrior, whose breastplate was apparently too thick for him to pierce; and the dark carbuncles【8】of the sufferer's eyes shone with ferocity such as war only could excite.

They struggled half an hour longer under the tumbler, and, when I looked again, the black soldier had severed the heads of his foes from their bodies, and the still living heads were hanging on either side of him like ghastly trophies at his saddlebow, still apparently as firmly fastened as ever, and he was endeavoring with feeble struggles, being without feelers and with only the remnant of a leg, and I know not how many other wounds, to divest himself of them; which at length, after half an hour more, he accomplished. I raised the glass, and he went off over the window sill in that crippled state. Whether he finally survived that combat, and spent the remainder of his days in some Hotel des Invalides【9】, I do not know; but I thought that his industry would not be worth much thereafter. I never learned which party was victorious, nor the cause of the war; but I felt for the rest of that day as if I had had my feelings excited and harrowed by witnessing the struggle, the ferocity and carnage, of a human battle before my door.

————

Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which, like a toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;

And this our life, exempt from public haunts,

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

—SHAKSPERE

注释

【1】Duellum, a Latin word for duel.

【2】Bellum, a Latin word for war.

【3】Myrmidons, warriors following some great chieftain.

【4】Internecine war, a war between two parties of the same people; here, "red republicans" and "black imperialists."

【5】With his shield, the reported advice of a mother to her son in Sparta, a warlike nation of ancient Greece.

【6】Achilles, the foremost hero of Homer's "Iliad," the great Greek poem. He remained aloof from the war because of a slight put upon him.

【7】Patroclus, a friend whose death Achilles avenged.

【8】Carbuncle, a dark red semiprecious stone.

【9】Hotel des Invalides, a home for disabled soldiers in Paris.

31

RECESSIONAL A VICTORIAN ODE

BY RUDYARD KIPLING

Rudyard Kipling (1865—1936): An English poet and novelist, one of the most popular authors of the day. He first attracted attention by his stories of army and native life in India. He has published "Plain Tales from the Hills," "The Light that Failed," "Captains Courageous," "The Seven Seas," "The Day's Work," and other volumes of poems and stories.

The "Recessional," his best-known poem, was written on the occasion of Queen Victoria's jubilee in 1897.

God of our fathers, known of old —

Lord of our far-flung battle line —

Beneath whose awful hand we hold

Dominion over palm and pine —

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies—

The captains and the kings depart —

Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

Far-called our navies melt away —

On dune【1】and headland sinks the fire —

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre【2】!

Judge of the nations, spare us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose

Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe —

Such boasting as the Gentiles use,

Or lesser breeds without the Law—

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust

In reeking tube and iron shard【3】—

All valiant dust that builds on dust,

And guarding calls not Thee to guard.

For frantic boast and foolish word,

Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord!

Amen.

注释

【1】Dune, a low hill of drifting sand, usually on the coast.

【2】Nineveh, in Assyria, and Tyre, in Phoenicia, ancient cities so completely destroyed that even their sites have been subjects of dispute.

【3】Shard, fragments; broken pieces of earthenware or of other brittle substances.

32

ON NATIONAL PREJUDICES

BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH

Oliver Goldsmith (1728—1774): An English author. He is best known by his poems, "The Deserted Village," and "The Traveler," and his one novel, "The Vicar of Wakefield." He also wrote histories of England, Greece, and Rome, several comedies, and many essays. Here is one of his essays.

Among a multiplicity of other topics, we took occasion to talk of the different characters of the several nations of Europe; when one of the gentlemen, cocking his hat and assuming such an air of importance as if he had possessed all the merit of the English nation in his own person, declared that the Dutch were a parcel of avaricious wretches; the French a set of flattering sycophants【1】; that the Germans were drunken sots and beastly gluttons; and the Spaniards proud, haughty, and surly tyrants: but that in bravery, generosity, clemency【2】, and in every other virtue, the English excelled all the world.

This very learned and judicious remark was received with a general smile of approbation by all the company— all, I mean, but your humble servant; who, endeavoring to keep my gravity as well as I could, and reclining my head upon my arm, continued for some time in a posture of affected thoughtfulness, as if I had been musing on something else, and did not seem to attend to the subject of conversation; hoping, by this means, to avoid the disagreeable necessity of explaining myself, and thereby depriving the gentleman of his imaginary happiness.

But my pseudo【3】-patriot had no mind to let me escape so easily: not satisfied that his opinion should pass without contradiction, he was determined to have it ratified by the suffrage【4】of every one in the company; for which purpose, addressing himself to me with an air of inexpressible confidence, he asked me if I was not of the same way of thinking. As I am never forward in giving my opinion, especially when I have reason to believe that it will not be agreeable; so, when I am obliged to give it, I always hold it for a maxim to speak my real sentiments. I therefore told him, that, for my own part, I should not have ventured to talk in such a peremptory strain, unless I had made the tour of Europe, and examined the manners of the several nations with great care and accuracy; that, perhaps, a more impartial judge would not scruple to affirm that the Dutch were more frugal and industrious, the French more temperate and polite, the Germans more hardy and patient of labor and fatigue, and the Spaniards more staid and sedate, than the English; who, though undoubtedly brave and generous, were at the same time rash, headstrong, and impetuous, too apt to be elated with prosperity and to despond in adversity.

Did these prejudices prevail only among the meanest and lowest of the people, perhaps they might be excused, as they have few, if any, opportunities of correcting them by reading, traveling, or conversing with foreigners; but the misfortune is, that they infect the minds, and influence the conduct, even of our gentlemen; of those, I mean, who have every title to this appellation but an exemption from prejudice, which, however, in my opinion, ought to be regarded as the characteristical mark of a gentleman: for let a man's birth be ever so high, his station ever so exalted, or his fortune ever so large, yet, if he is not free from the national and all other prejudices, I should make bold to tell him, that he had a low and vulgar mind, and had no just claim to the character of a gentleman.

Should it be alleged in defence of national prejudice, that it is the natural and necessary growth of love to our country, and that therefore the former cannot be destroyed without hurting the latter; I answer that this is a gross fallacy【5】and delusion. That it is the growth of love to our country, I will allow; but that it is the natural and necessary growth of it, I absolutely deny. Superstition and enthusiasm, too, are the growth of religion; but whoever took it in his head to affirm, that they are the necessary growth of this noble principle? They are, if you will, the sprouts of this heavenly plant; but not its natural and general branches, and may safely enough be lopped off, without doing any harm to the parent stock: nay, perhaps, till once they are lopped off, this goodly tree can never flourish in perfect health and vigor.

Is it not very possible that I may love my own country, without hating the natives of other countries? That I may exert the most heroic bravery, the most undaunted resolution, in defending its laws and liberty, without despising all the rest of the world as cowards and poltroons【6】? Most certainly it is: and if it were not—but what need I suppose what is absolutely impossible? — but if it were not, I must own I should prefer the title of the ancient philosopher, namely, a citizen of the world, to that of an Englishman, a Frenchman, a European, or to any other appellation whatever.

————

Hope, like the gleaming taper's light,

Adorns and cheers the way;

And still, as darker grows the night,

Emits a brighter ray.

—GOLDSMITH

注释

【1】Sycophants, flatterers; hangers on.

【2】Clemency, mildness; mercy.

【3】Pseudo, false; pretended.

【4】Suffrage, vote; assent.

【5】Fallacy, mistake.

【6】Poltroons, base cowards.

33

OLIVER GOLDSMITH

BY W. M. THACKERAY

William Makepeace Thackeray (1811—1863): One of the greatest of English novelists. His masterpieces are "Henry Esmond" and "Vanity Fair." This selection is from a lecture on "Sterne and Goldsmith," one of a series of lectures on "English Humorists," delivered first in England and afterward in America.

Who, of the millions whom he has amused, doesn't love him? To be the most beloved of English writers, what a title that is for a man! A wild youth, wayward, but full of tenderness and affection, quits the country village, where his boyhood has been passed in happy musing, in idle shelter, in fond longing to see the great world out of doors and achieve name and fortune: and after years of dire struggle and neglect and poverty, his heart turning back as fondly to his native place as it had longed eagerly for change when sheltered there, he writes a book and a poem, full of the recollections and feelings of home: he paints the friends and scenes of his youth, and peoples Auburn and Wakefield with remembrances of Lissoy【1】. Wander he must, but he carries away a home relic with him, and dies with it on his breast.

His nature is truant; in repose it longs for change; as on the journey it looks back for friends and quiet. He passes to-day in building an air castle for to-morrow, or in writing yesterday's elegy; and he would fly away this hour, but that a cage and necessity keep him. What is the charm of his verse, of his style, and humor? His sweet regrets, his delicate compassion, his soft smile, his tremulous sympathy, the weakness which he owns? Your love for him is half pity. You come hot and tired from the day's battle, and this sweet minstrel sings to you. Who could harm the kind vagrant harper【2】? Whom did he ever hurt? He carries no weapon, save the harp on which he plays to you; and with which be delights great and humble, young and old, the captains in the tents, or the soldiers round the fire, or the women and children in the villages, at whose porches he stops and sings his simple songs of love and beauty. With that sweet story of the "Vicar of Wakefield" he has found entry into every castle and every hamlet in Europe. Not one of us, however busy or hard, but once or twice in our lives has passed an evening with him, and undergone the charm of his delightful music.

————

Beauty is the mark God sets on virtue. Every natural action is graceful. Every heroic action is also decent, and causes the place and the bystanders to shine.

—EMERSON

注释

【1】Lissoy, a village in Ireland, Goldsmith's childhood home. It was the original of Auburn, "The Deserted Village," and Goldsmith's father was the good Doctor Primrose of "The Vicar of Wakefield."

【2】The kind vagrant harper, after leaving college, Goldsmith made a tour of Europe on foot, and often won a bed and meal from peasants by playing for them on his flute.

34

SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): An English poet. He found poetry in the simplest scenes and incidents of everyday life, and more than any other poet he has helped other people to love and appreciate nature. He wrote "The Excursion," "Ode on Intimations of Immortality," and many other poems.

She was a phantom of delight

When first she gleamed upon my sight;

A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament;

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful dawn;

A dancing shape, an image gay,

To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

I saw her upon nearer view,

A spirit, yet a woman too!

Her household motions light and free,

And steps of virgin liberty;

A countenance in which did meet

Sweet records, promises as sweet;

A creature not too bright or good

For human nature's daily food;

For transient sorrows, simple wiles,

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene

The very pulse of the machine;

A being breathing thoughtful breath,

A traveler between life and death;

The reason firm, the temperate will,

Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

A perfect woman nobly planned

To warn, to comfort, and command;

And yet a spirit still, and bright

With something of angelic light.

35

SOME ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE

BY MIGUEL DE CERVANTES

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (1547-1616): A Spanish writer. He wrote poems, tales, and dramas, but his fame rests on his romance, "Don Quixote," the masterpiece of Spanish literature.

Don Quixote was a country gentleman who read romances until his brain became crazed with ideas of chivalry, and he set forth as a knight-errant to fight in behalf of the innocent and oppressed. Sancho Panza, a shrewd but credulous country fellow, was his squire or servant. After many adventures Don Quixote was, just before his death, restored to his right mind.

Ⅰ

At a certain village in La Mancha in Spain, which I shall not name, there lived not long ago one of those oldfashioned gentlemen who are never without a lance upon a rack, an old target, a lean horse, and a greyhound. His diet consisted more of beef than mutton; and with minced meat on most nights, lentils on Friday, eggs and bacon on Saturdays, and a pigeon extraordinary on Sundays, he consumed three quarters of his revenue: the rest was laid out in a plush coat, velvet breeches, with slippers of the same, for holidays; and a suit of the very best homespun cloth, which he bestowed on himself for working days.

His whole family was a housekeeper something over forty, a niece not twenty, and a man who served him in the house and in the field, and could saddle a horse and handle the pruning hook. The master himself was nigh fifty years of age, of a hale and strong complexion, leanbodied and thinfaced, an early riser and a lover of hunting. Some say his surname was Quixada, or Quesada—for authors differ in this particular—however we may reasonably conjecture he was called Quixana—i. e. lantern jaws—though this concerns us but little, provided we keep strictly to the truth in every point of this history.

You must know, then, that when our gentleman had nothing to do — which was almost all the year round — he passed his time in reading books of knight-errantry, which he did with such application and delight, that at last he left off his country sports and even the care of his estate; nay, he grew so strangely besotted with those amusements that he sold many acres of arable land to purchase books of that kind; by which means he collected as many of them as were to be had.

In fine, he gave himself up so wholly to the reading of romances, that at night he would pore on until it was day and in the day he would read on until it was night; and thus, by sleeping little and reading much, his brain was exhausted to such a degree that at last he lost the use of his reason. A world of disorderly notions, picked out of his books, crowded into his imagination; and now his head was full of nothing but enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, wounds, complaints, torments, and abundance of stuff and impossibilities; so that all the fables and fantastical tales which he read seemed to him now as true as the most authentic histories.

He would say that the Cid【1】was a very brave knight, but not worthy to stand in competition with the Knight of the Burning Sword, who with a single back stroke had cut asunder two fierce and mighty giants. He liked yet better Bernardo del Carpio【2】, who at Roncesvalles deprived of life the enchanted Orlando, having lifted him from the ground and choked him in the air, as Hercules did Antaeus【3】, the son of the earth. As for the giant Morgante【4】, he always spoke very civil things of him; for, though he was one of that monstrous brood who were always intolerably proud and brutish, he still behaved himself like a civil and well-bred person.

Having thus lost his understanding, the old gentleman unluckily stumbled upon the oddest fancy that ever entered into a madman's brain; for now he thought it convenient and necessary, as well as for the increase of his own honor, to turn knight-errant in the service of the public and roam through the whole world, armed from head to foot and mounted on his steed, in quest of adventures; that thus imitating those knight-errants of whom he had read, following their course of life, redressing all manner of grievances, and exposing himself to danger on all occasions, —at last, after a happy conclusion of his enterprises, he might purchase everlasting honor and renown.

Transported with these agreeable delusions and hurried away by his mighty expectations, he prepared with all expedition to take the field.

The first thing that he did was to scour a suit of armor which had belonged to his great-grandfather, and had lain time out of mind carelessly rusting in a corner. But when he had cleaned and repaired it as well as he could, he perceived there was a material piece wanting, for, instead of a complete helmet, there was only a single headpiece. However, his industry supplied that defect; for with some pasteboard he made a kind of halfbeaver, or visor; which, being fitted to the headpiece, made it look like an entire helmet.

Then, to know whether it was cutlass-proof, he drew his sword and tried its edge upon the pasteboard visor; but with the first stroke he unluckily undid in a moment what he had been a whole week in making. He did not like its being broken with so much ease, and, therefore, to prevent the like accident, he made it anew and fenced it with thin plates of iron, which he fixed in the inside of it so cleverly that at last he had reason to be satisfied with the solidity of the work; and so, without any experiment, he resolved it should pass to all intents and purposes for a full and sufficient helmet.

Next, he went to view his horse, whose bones stuck out at all corners; however, his master thought that neither Alexander's Bucephalus【5】nor the Cid's Babieca【6】could be compared with him. The worthy gentleman was four days considering what name to give his horse; for, as he argued with himself, there was no reason that a horse bestrid by so famous a knight and withal so excellent in himself should not be distinguished by a particular name.

He studied therefore to select such a one as should demonstrate as well what kind of horse he had been before his master was a knight-errant as what he was now; thinking it but just, since the owner had changed his profession, that the horse also should change his title and be dignified with another; a sonorous word, such a one as should fill the mouth, and seem consonant with the quality and profession of his master.

And thus after many names which he devised, rejected, changed, liked, disliked, and pitched upon again, he concluded to call him Rocinante; a name, in his opinion, lofty sounding, and significant of what he had been before, and also of what he was now; in a word, a horse before or above all the vulgar breed of horses in the world.

When he had thus given his horse a name so much to his satisfaction, he thought of choosing one for himself; and having seriously pondered on the matter eight whole days more, at last he determined to call himself Don Quixote.

Ⅱ

These preparations being made, he found his designs ripe for action and thought it now a crime to deny himself any longer to the injured world that wanted such a deliverer; the more when he considered what grievances he was to redress, what wrongs and injuries to remove, what abuses to correct, and what duties to discharge.

So one fine morning before day, in the greatest heat of July, without acquainting any one with his design, with all the secrecy imaginable, he armed himself from head to foot, laced on his ill-contrived helmet, braced on his target, grasped his lance, mounted Rocinante, and from the private door of his back yard sallied out into the fields, wonderfully pleased to see how he had succeeded in the beginning of his enterprise.

But he had not gone far before a terrible thought alarmed him—a thought that nearly made him renounce his great undertaking; for now it came into his mind that the honor of knighthood had not yet been conferred upon him, and, therefore, according to the laws of chivalry he neither could nor ought to appear in arms against any professed knight: nay, he also considered that if he were already knighted, it would become him to wear white armor, and not to adorn his shield with any device till he had deserved one by some extraordinary demonstration of his valor.

He traveled almost all that day without meeting any adventure worth the trouble of relating, which put him into a kind of despair, for he desired nothing more than to encounter immediately some person on whom he might try the vigor of his arm.

Some authors say that his first adventure was that of the windmills; but all that I could discover of certainty in this matter is that he traveled all that day, and toward the evening, he and his horse being heartily tired and almost famished, Don Quixote looked about him, hoping to discover some castle or at least some shepherd's cottage, there to repose and refresh himself. At last, near the road which he kept, he espied an inn, as welcome a sight to his longing eyes as if he had discovered a star directing him to the gate, nay, to the palace of his redemption.

Thereupon hastening toward the inn with all the speed he could, he got thither just at the close of the evening. And as whatever our knight-errant saw, thought, or imagined, was all of a romantic kind and appeared to him altogether after the manner of the books that had perverted his imagination, he no sooner saw the inn but he fancied it to be a castle fenced with four towers and lofty pinnacles, glittering with silver, together with deep moat【7】, drawbridge【8】, and all those other appurtenances【9】peculiar to such kind of places.

Therefore when he came near it, he stopped awhile at a distance from the gate, expecting that some dwarf would appear on the battlements and sound his trumpet to give notice of the arrival of a knight; but finding that nobody came and that Rocinante was for making the best of his way to the stable, he advanced to the inn door, where, spying two young maidservants, they seemed to him two beautiful damsels or graceful ladies, taking the benefit of the fresh air at the gate of the castle.

It happened also at the very moment, that a swineherd, getting together his hogs from the stubble field, winded his horn; and Don Quixote imagined this was the wished-for signal which some dwarf gave to notify his approach. Therefore, with the greatest joy in the world, he rode up to the inn.

The girls, affrighted at the approach of a man cased in iron and armed with a lance and target, were for running into the house; but Don Quixote, perceiving their fear by their flight, lifted up the pasteboard beaver of his helmet and displaying his withered, dusty face, with comely grace and grave delivery accosted them in this manner: "I beseech ye, ladies, do not fly nor fear the least offense. The order of knighthood, which I profess, does not permit me to countenance or offer injuries to any one in the universe, and least of all to ladies of such high rank as your presence denotes."

They looked earnestly upon him, endeavoring to get a glimpse of his face which his ill-contrived beaver partly hid; but they could not forbear laughing outright, which Don Quixote resented as a great affront.

"Give me leave to tell ye, ladies," cried he, "that modesty and civility are very becoming in the fair sex; whereas laughter without ground is the highest piece of indiscretion. However," added he, "I do not presume to say this to offend you or incur your displeasure; no, ladies, I assure you I have no other design but to do you service."

This uncommon way of expression, joined to the knight's sorry figure, increased their mirth, which incensed him to such a degree that he might have carried things to an extremity had not the innkeeper luckily appeared at this juncture. He was a man whose burden of fat inclined him to peace and quietness, yet when he observed such a strange disguise of human shape in old armor and on an old horse, he could hardly forbear keeping the ladies company in their laughter; but, having the fear of such a warlike appearance before his eyes, he resolved to give him good words, and therefore accosted him civilly.

"Sir knight," said he, "if your worship be disposed to alight, you will fail of nothing here but of a bed; as for all other accommodations, you may be supplied to your mind."

Don Quixote, observing the humility of the governor of the castle—for such the innkeeper and inn seemed to him—"Sir castellan,【10】" said he, "the least thing in the world suffices me; for arms are the only things I value, and combat is my bed of repose."

With that the innkeeper went and held Don Quixote's stirrup, who, having not broken his fast that day, dismounted with no small trouble or difficulty. He immediately desired the governor—that is, the innkeeper—to take especial care of his steed, assuring him that there was not a better in the universe; upon which the innkeeper viewed him narrowly, but could not think him to be half so good as Don Quixote said.

However, having set him up in the stable, he came back to the knight to see what he wanted, and found him pulling off his armor by the help of the good-natured servants, who had already reconciled themselves to him; but, though they had eased him of his corselet and backplate, they could by no means undo his gorget nor take off his ill-contrived beaver, which he had tied so fast with green ribbons that it was impossible to get it off without cutting them. Now he would by no means permit that, and so was forced to keep on his helmet all night, which was one of the most amusing sights in the world.

Ⅲ

After suffering several misfortunes in his first quest for adventures, Don Quixote returned home and remained there quietly for a time. Then, persuading a country fellow named Sancho Panza【11】to attend him as his squire, the worthy knight again sallied forth.

As Don Quixote and his squire, Sancho Panza, were discoursing on their way, they caught sight of some thirty or forty windmills in the plain; and, as soon as the knight had spied them, "Fortune," cried he, "directs our affairs better than we ourselves could have wished! Look yonder, friend Sancho; there are at least thirty outrageous giants whom I intend to encounter; and, having deprived them of life, we will begin to enrich ourselves with their spoils. For they are lawful prize; and the extirpation【12】of that cursed brood will be an acceptable service to Heaven."

"What giants?" quoth Sancho Panza.

"Those whom thou seest yonder," answered Don Quixote, "with their long extended arms. Some of that detested race have arms of so immense a size that sometimes they reach two leagues in length."

"Pray look better, sir," quoth Sancho; "those things yonder are no giants, but windmills, and the arms you fancy are their sails, which, being whirled about by the wind, make the mill go."

"It is a sign," cried Don Quixote, "that thou art but little acquainted with adventures! I tell thee, they are giants; and, therefore, if thou art afraid, go aside and say thy prayers, for I am resolved to engage in a dreadful and unequal combat against them all."

This said, he clapped spurs to his horse Rocinante, without giving ear to his squire Sancho, who bawled out to him and assured him that they were windmills and no giants. But he was so fully possessed with a strong conceit【13】of the contrary that he did not so much as hear his squire's outcry, nor was he sensible of what they were, although he was already very near them. Far from that, —"Stand, cowards!" cried he as loud as he could; "stand your ground, ignoble creatures, and fly not basely from a single knight, who dares encounter you all."

He rushed with Rooinante's utmost speed upon the first windmill

At the same time, the wind rising, the mill sails began to move, which, when Don Quixote spied, — "Base miscreants," cried he, "though you move more arms than the giant Briareus【14】, you shall pay for your arrogance."

He then most devoutly recommended himself to his lady Dulcinea【15】, imploring her assistance in this perilous adventure; and so, covering himself with his shield and couching his lance, he rushed with Rocinante's utmost speed upon the first windmill he could come at; and, running his lance into the sail, the wind whirled about with such swiftness that the rapidity of the motion immediately broke the lance into shivers and hurled away both knight and horse along with it, till down Don Quixote fell, rolling a good way off the field.

Sancho Panza ran to help his master, whom he found lying prostrate and not able to stir, such a blow had he and Rocinante received.

"Mercy on me!" cried Sancho, "did I not give your worship fair warning? Did not I tell you they were windmills, and that nobody could think otherwise unless he had also windmills in his head!"

"Peace, friend Sancho," rejoined Don Quixote. "There is nothing so subject to the inconstancy of fortune as war. I am verily persuaded that a necromancer【16】has transformed these giants into windmills to deprive me of the honor of the victory; such is his inveterate malice against me. But, in the end, all his pernicious wiles and stratagems shall prove ineffectual against the prevailing edge of my sword."

"Amen, say I," replied Sancho; and so, heaving him up again upon his legs, once more the knight mounted poor Rocinante, who was half-shoulder-slipped【17】in his fall.

————

Oh what a tangled web we weave

When first we practice to deceive.

—SCOTT

注释

【1】Cid, the surname of Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar (1044?-1099), a renowned Spanish knight, who won many victories over the Moors.

【2】Bernardodel Carpio, a famous Spanish knight, one of the favorite subjects of the old minstrels.

【3】Antaeus, according to Greek mythology, a giant slain by Hercules.

【4】Morgante, a terrible giant, the hero of an Italian story, who is said to have performed many wonderful exploits and to have been at last killed by the bite of a crab.

【5】Bucephalus, the favorite horse of Alexander the Great. After its death, Alexander built a city called Bucephala in its honor.

【6】Babieca, the Cid's horse.

【7】Moat, a ditch or trench around a castle or fortified place, sometimes filled with water.

【8】Drawbridge, a bridge which can be raised or lowered at pleasure, placed before the gate of a town or castle, or over a river or canal.

【9】Appurtenances, things which belong to some more important thing; adjuncts.

【10】Castellan, warder or keeper of a castle.

【11】Sancho Panza, Don Quixote's servant.

【12】Extirpation, total destruction.

【13】Conceit, idea; thought.

【14】Briareus, according to Greek mythology, a giant with a hundred arms.

【15】Dulcinea del Toboso, Don Quixote's lady love.

【16】Necromancer, enchanter; magician.

【17】Half-shoulder-slipped, having almost put his shoulder out of joint.

36

GETTYSBURG ADDRESS

BY ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865): The sixteenth President of the United States. During his presidency occurred the war between the states, and soon after its close President Lincoln was assassinated.

This eloquent address was delivered at the dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery, November 19, 1863.

Abraham Lincoln

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that the government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

37

O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!

BY WALT WHITMAN

Walt Whitman (1819-1892): An American poet, whose peculiarities of style have kept his work from attaining wide popularity. His chief work is "Leaves of Grass."

"O Captain! my Captain!" written on the death of Lincoln, is the best of his shorter poems.

O captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won.

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring.

But, O heart! heart! heart!

Oh, the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells!

Rise up! for you the flag is flung, for you the bugle thrills,

For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths, for you the shores a-crowding;

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning.

Here, captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead!

My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still:

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will.

The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done:

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won.

Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

38

THE MILKY WAY

BY R. A PROCTOR

Richard A. Proctor (1837-1888): An English astronomer. His works are "Mysteries of Time and Space," "The Universe of Suns," "Familiar Science Studies," etc.

It is when the Milky Way is studied with the telescope that the true glories of this wonderful zone are seen. A large instrument is not needed. Galileo【1】saw the wonders of the galaxy【2】with his small and imperfect optic tube, —a telescope which, in our day, though invaluable as a relic of the great astronomer, would be worth but a few shillings so far as its optical performance is concerned.

The smallest telescope which opticians sell for stargazing, when turned upon certain parts of the galaxy, will reveal a scene of wonder which is calculated to fill the least thoughtful mind with a sense of the infinite power and wisdom of the Almighty. Countless stars pass into view, as the telescope is swayed by the earth's rotation athwart【3】the rich regions of the galaxy.

There are stars of all orders of brightness, from those which (seen with the telescope) resemble in luster the leading glories of the firmament, down to tiny points of light only caught by momentary twinklings. Every variety of arrangement is seen.

Here the stars are scattered as over the skies at night; there they cluster in groups, as though drawn together by some irresistible power; in one region they seem to form sprays of stars, like diamonds sprinkled over fern leaves; elsewhere they lie in streams and rows, in coronets and loops and festoons.

Nor are varieties of color wanting to render the display more wonderful and more beautiful. Many of the stars which crowd upon the view are red, orange, and yellow. Among them are groups of two and three and four (multiple stars, as they are called), amongst which blue, and green, and lilac, and purple stars appear, forming the most charming contrast to the ruddy and yellow orbs near which they are commonly seen.

But it is when we consider what it is that we are really contemplating that the true meaning of the scene is discerned, that the true lesson taught by the star depths is understood. The least of the stars seen in the galactic depths【4】—even though the telescope which reveals it be the mightiest yet made by man, so that with all other telescopes that star would be unseen—is a sun like our own.

It is a mighty mass, capable of swaying by its attraction the motion of worlds like our earth and her fellow-planets, circling in their stately courses around it. It is an orb instinct with life (if one may so speak), aglow with fiery energy, pouring out each moment supplies of life and power to these worlds. It is a mighty engine, working out the purpose of its great Creator; it is a giant heart, whose pulsations are the source whence myriad forms of life derive support.

What, then, must be our thoughts when we see thousands and thousands of stars, all suns like our own, and many probably far surpassing him in splendor, passing in stately progress across the telescopic field of view? The mind sinks appalled before the amazing meaning of the display. As we gaze at the wondrous scene an infinite significance is found in the words of the inspired Psalmist: "When I consider the heavens, the work of Thy hands, the sun and stars which Thou hast ordained, what is man that Thou art mindful of him? or the son of man that Thou regardest him?"

It has been said that with the telescopes with which the Herschels【5】have surveyed the depths of heaven, twenty millions of stars are visible. But these telescopes do not penetrate to the limits of the star system.

In certain parts of the Milky Way, Sir William Herschel not only failed to penetrate the star depths with his gauging telescope, though the mirror was eighteen inches in width; but even when he brought into action his great forty-foot telescope, with its mirror four feet across, he still saw that cloudy light which speaks of star depths as yet unfathomed. Nay, the giant telescope of Lord Rosse【6】has utterly failed to penetrate the ocean of space which surrounds us on all sides.

And even this is not all. These efforts to resolve the galaxy into its component stars have been applied to portions of the Milky Way which, there is now reason to believe, are relatively near to us. But in the survey of the heavens with powerful telescopes, streams of cloudy light have been seen, so faint as to convey the idea of infinite distance, and no telescope yet made by man has shown the separate stars which doubtless constitute these almost evanescent star regions.

We are thus brought into the presence of star clouds as mysterious to ourselves as the star clouds of the galaxy were to the astronomers of old times. After penetrating, by means of the telescope, to depths exceeding millions of times the distance of the sun, inconceivable though that distance is, we find ourselves still surrounded by the same mysteries as when we first started. Around us and before us there are still the infinite star depths, and the only certain lesson we can be said to have learned is, that those depths are and must ever remain unfathomable.

注释

【1】Galileo, Galilei (1564-1642), a famous Italian astronomer.

【2】Galaxy, the groups of stars forming the Milky Way.

【3】Athwart, across.

【4】Galactic depths, the depths of the Galaxy or Milky Way.

【5】Herschels, Sir William (1738-1822) and Sir John F. W. (1792-1871) his son. Two famous astronomers in England.

【6】Lord Rosse (1800-1867), an English astronomer who possessed a reflecting telescope with a six-foot mirror.

39

THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH

BY H. W. LONGFELLOW

Ⅰ

MILES STANDISH

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims,

To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,

Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather【1】,

Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.

Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing

Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,

Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber,—

Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus【2】,

Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,

While underneath, in a corner, were fowling piece, musket, and matchlock【3】.

Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,

Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;

Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already

Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.

Near him was seated John Alden, his friend, and household companion,

Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window;

Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,

Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives

Whom Saint Gregory【4】saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."

Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the May Flower.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,

Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.

"Look at these arms," he said, "the warlike weapons that hang here

Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!

This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,

Well I remember the day! once saved my life in a skirmish;

Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet

Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero【5】.

Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish

Would at this moment be mold, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."

Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:

"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;

He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"

Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:

"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;

That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.

Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;

So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn【6】.

Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,

Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,

Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,

And, like Caesar【7】, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"

This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams

Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.

Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:

"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer【8】planted

High on the roof of the church, a preacher who speaks to the purpose,

Steady, straightforward, and strong, with irresistible logic,

Orthodox【9】, flashing conviction right into the hearts of the heathen.

Now we are ready, I think, for any assault of the Indians;

Let them come, if they like, and the sooner they try it the better,—

Let them come if they like, be it sagamore, sachem【10】, or powwow【11】,

Aspinet, Samoset, Corbitant, Squanto, or Tokamahamon【12】!"

Long at the window he stood, and wistfully gazed on the landscape,

Washed with a cold gray mist, the vapory breath of the east wind,

Forest and meadow and hill, and the steel-blue rim of the ocean,

Lying silent and sad, in the afternoon shadows and sunshine.

Over his countenance flitted a shadow like those on the landscape,

Gloom intermingled with light; and his voice was subdued with emotion,

Tenderness, pity, regret, as after a pause he proceeded:

"Yonder there, on the hill by the sea, lies buried Rose Standish;

Beautiful rose of love, that bloomed for me by the wayside!

She was the first to die of all who came in the May Flower!

Green above her is growing the field of wheat we have sown there,

Better to hide from the Indian scouts the graves of our people,

Lest they should count them and see how many already have perished!"

Sadly his face he averted, and strode up and down, and was thoughtful.

Fixed to the opposite wall was a shelf of books, and among them

Prominent three, distinguished alike for bulk and for binding;

Bariffe's "Artillery Guide," and the "Commentaries【13】" of Caesar

Out of the Latin translated by Arthur Goldinge of London,

And, as if guarded by these, between them was standing the Bible.

Musing a moment before them, Miles Standish paused, as if doubtful

Which of the three he should choose for his consolation and comfort,

Whether the wars of the Hebrews, the famous campaigns of the Romans,

Or the Artillery practice, designed for belligerent【14】Christians.

Finally down from its shelf he dragged the ponderous Roman,

Seated himself at the window, and opened the book, and in silence

Turned o'er the well-worn leaves, where thumb marks thick on the margin,

Like the trample of feet, proclaimed the battle was hottest.

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling,

Busily writing epistles important, to go by the May Flower,

Ready to sail on the morrow, or next day, at latest, God willing!

Homeward bound with the tidings of all that terrible winter,

Letters written by Alden, and full of the name of Priscilla,

Full of the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden Priscilla!

Ⅱ

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling,

Or an occasional sigh from the laboring heart of the Captain,

Reading the marvelous words and achievements of Julius Caesar.

After a while he exclaimed, as he smote with his hand, palm downward,

Heavily on the page: "A wonderful man was this Caesar!

You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellow

Who could both write and fight, and in both was equally skillful!"

Straightway answered and spake John Alden, the comely, the youthful:

"Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with his pen and his weapons.

Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he could dictate

Seven letters at once, at the same time writing his memoirs."

"Truly," continued the Captain, not heeding or hearing the other,

"Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius Caesar!

Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian【15】village,

Than be second in Rome, and I think he was right when he said it.

Twice was he married before he was twenty, and many times after;

Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand cities he conquered;

He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself has recorded;

Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator Brutus!

Now, do you know what he did on a certain occasion in Flanders,

When the rear guard of his army retreated, the front giving way too,

And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded so closely together

There was no room for their swords? Why, he seized a shield from a soldier,

Put himself straight at the head of his troops, and commanded the captains,

Calling on each by his name, to order forward the ensigns;

Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their weapons;

So he won the day, the battle of something-or-other.

That's what I always say; if you wish a thing to be well done,

You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!"

All was silent again; the Captain continued his reading.

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling

Writing epistles important to go next day by the May Flower,

Filled with the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden Priscilla;

Every sentence began or closed with the name of Priscillia,

Till the treacherous pen, to which he confided the secret,

Strove to betray it by singing and shouting the name of Priscilla!

Finally closing his book, with a bang of the ponderous cover,

Sudden and loud as the sound of a soldier grounding his musket,

Thus to the young man spake Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth:

"When you have finished your work, I have something important to tell you.

Be not however in haste; I can wait; I shall not be impatient!"

Straightway Alden replied, as he folded the last of his letters,

Pushing his papers aside, and giving respectful attention:

"Speak; for whenever you speak, I am always ready to listen,

Always ready to hear what pertains to Miles Standish."

Thereupon answered the Captain, embarrassed, and culling【16】his phrases:

"'Tis not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures.

This I have said before, and again and again I repeat it;

Every hour in the day, I think it, feel it, and say it.

Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary;

Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friendship.

Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the maiden Priscilla.

She is alone in the world; her father and mother and brother

Died in the winter together; I saw her going and coming,

Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the dying,

Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if ever

There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven,

Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla

Holds in my desolate life the place which the other abandoned.

Long have I cherished the thought, but never have dared to reveal it,

Being coward in this, though valiant enough for the most part.

Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth,

Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words but of actions,

Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart of a soldier.

Not in these words, you know, but this in short is my meaning;

I am a maker of war, and not a maker of phrases.

You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant language,

Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers,

Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden."

When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn【17】stripling,

All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered,

Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subject with lightness,

Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand still in his bosom,

Just as a timepiece【18】stops in a house that is stricken by lightning,

Thus made answer and spake, or rather stammered than answered:

"Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it;

If you would have it well done, —I am only repeating your maxim, —

You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!"

But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from his purpose,

Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth:

"Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay it;

But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for nothing.

Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of phrases.

I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender,

But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not.

I'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon,

But a thundering 'No!' point-blank from the mouth of a woman,

That I confess I'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it!

So you must grant my request, for you are an elegant scholar,

Having the graces of speech, and skill in the turning of phrases."

Taking the hand of his friend, who still was reluctant and doubtful,

Holding it long in his own, and pressing it kindly, he added:

"Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep is the feeling that prompts me,

Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our friendship!"

Then made answer John Alden: "The name of friendship is sacred;

What you demand in that name, I have not the power to deny you!"

So the strong will prevailed, subduing and molding the gentler,

Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went on his errand.

Ⅲ

THE LOVER'S ERRAND

So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on his errand,

Out of the street of the village, and into the paths of the forest,

Into the tranquil woods, where bluebirds and robins were building

Towns in the populous trees, with hanging gardens of verdure,

Peaceful, aerial cities【19】of joy and affection and freedom.

All around him was calm, but within him commotion and conflict,

Love contending with friendship, and self with each generous impulse.

To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heaving and dashing,

As in a foundering【20】ship, with every roll of the vessel,

Washes the bitter sea, the merciless surge of the ocean!

"Must I relinquish it all," he cried with a wild lamentation, —

"Must I relinquish it all, the joy, the hope, the illusion?

Was it for this I have loved, and waited, and worshiped in silence?

Was it for this I have followed the flying feet and the shadow

Over the wintry sea, to the desolate shores of New England?

Truly the heart is deceitful, and out of its depths of corruption

Rise, like an exhalation, the misty phantoms of passion;

Angels of light they seem, but are only delusions of Satan.

All is clear to me now; I feel it, I see it distinctly!

This is the hand of the Lord; it is laid upon me in anger,

For I have followed too much the heart's desires and devices,

Worshiping Astaroth【21】blindly, and impious idols of Baal.

This is the cross I must bear; the sin and the swift retribution."

So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on his errand;

Crossing the brook at the ford, where it brawled over pebble and shallow,

Gathering still, as he went, the Mayflowers blooming around him,

Fragrant, filling the air with a strange and wonderful sweetness,

Children lost in the woods, and covered with leaves in their slumber.

"Puritan flowers," he said, "and the type of Puritan maidens,

Modest and simple and sweet, the very type of Priscilla!

So I will take them to her; to Priscilla the Mayflower of Plymouth,

Modest and simple and sweet, as a parting gift will I take them;

Breathing their silent farewells, as they fade and wither and perish,

Soon to be thrown away as is the heart of the giver."

So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on his errand;

Came to an open space, and saw the disk of the ocean,

Sailless, somber and cold with the comfortless breath of the east wind;

Saw the new-built house, and people at work in a meadow;

Heard, as he drew near the door, the musical voice of Priscilla

Singing the hundredth Psalm, the grand old Puritan anthem,

Music that Luther【22】sang to the sacred words of the Psalmist,

Full of the breath of the Lord, consoling and comforting many.

Then, as he opened the door, he beheld the form of the maiden

Seated beside her wheel, and the carded wool like a snowdrift

Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the ravenous spindle,

While with her foot on the treadle she guided the wheel in its motion.

Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm book of Ainsworth【23】,

Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the music together,

Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the wall of a churchyard,

Darkened and overhung by the running vine of the verses.

Such was the book from whose pages she sang the old Puritan anthem,

She, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the forest,

Making the humble house and the modest apparel of homespun

Beautiful with her beauty, and rich with the wealth of her being!

Over him rushed, like a wind that is keen and cold and relentless,

Thoughts of what might have been, and the weight and woe of his errand;

All the dreams that had faded, and all the hopes that had vanished,

All his life henceforth a dreary and tenantless mansion.

Haunted by vain regrets, and pallid, sorrowful faces.

Still he said to himself, and almost fiercely he said it,

"Let not him that putteth his hand to the plow look backward;

Though the plowshare cut through the flowers of life to its fountains,

Though it pass o'er the graves of the dead and the hearths of the living,

It is the will of the Lord; and his mercy endureth forever!"

So he entered the house: and the hum of the wheel and the singing

Suddenly ceased; for Priscilla, aroused by his step on the threshold,

Rose as he entered, and gave him her hand, in signal of welcome,

Saying, "I knew it was you, when I heard your step in the passage;

For I was thinking of you, as I sat there singing and spinning."

Awkward and dumb with delight, that a thought of him had been mingled

Thus in the sacred psalm, that came from the heart of the maiden,

Silent before her he stood, and gave her the flowers for an answer,

Finding no words for his thought. He remembered that day in the winter,

After the first great snow, when he broke a path from the village,

Reeling and plunging along through the drifts that encumbered the doorway,

Stamping the snow from his feet as he entered the house, and Priscilla

Laughed at his snowy locks, and gave him a seat by the fireside,

Grateful and pleased to know he had thought of her in the snowstorm.

Had he but spoken then! perhaps not in vain had he spoken;

Now it was all too late; the golden moment had vanished!

So he stood there abashed, and gave her the flowers for an answer.

Then they sat down and talked of the birds and the beautiful springtime,

Talked of their friends at home, and the May Flower that sailed on the morrow.

"I have been thinking all day," said gently the Puritan maiden,

"Dreaming all night, and thinking all day, of the hedgerows of England,—

They are in blossom now, and the country is all like a garden;

Thinking of lanes and fields, and the song of the lark and the linnet,

Seeing the village street, and familiar faces of neighbors

Going about as of old, and stopping to gossip together,

And, at the end of the street, the village church, with the ivy

Climbing the old gray tower, and the quiet graves in the churchyard.

Kind are the people I live with, and dear to me my religion;

Still my heart is so sad, that I wish myself back in Old England.

You will say it is wrong, but I cannot help it: I almost

Wish myself back in Old England, I feel so lonely and wretched."

Thereupon answered the youth: "Indeed I do not condemn you;

Stouter hearts than a woman's have quailed in this terrible winter.

Yours is tender and trusting, and needs a stronger to lean on;

So I have come to you now, with an offer and proffer of marriage

Made by a good man and true, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth!"

Thus he delivered his message, the dexterous writer of letters,—

Did not embellish the theme, nor array it in beautiful phrases,

But came straight to the point, and blurted it out like a schoolboy;

Even the Captain himself could hardly have said it more bluntly.

Mute with amazement and sorrow, Priscilla the Puritan maiden

Looked into Alden's face, her eyes dilated with wonder,

Feeling his words like a blow, that stunned her and rendered her speechless;

Till at length she exclaimed, interrupting the ominous silence:

"If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me,

Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me?

If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning!"

Then John Alden began explaining and smoothing the matter,

Making it worse as he went, by saying the Captain was busy,—

Had no time for such things; —such things! the words grating harshly

Fell on the ear of Priscilla; and swift as a flash she made answer:

"Has no time for such things, as you call it, before he is married,

Would he be likely to find it, or make it, after the wedding?

That is the way with you men; you don't understand us, you cannot.

When you have made up your minds, after thinking of this one and that one,

Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with another,

Then you make known your desire, with abrupt and sudden avowal,

And are offended and hurt, and indignant perhaps, that a woman

Does not respond at once to a love that she never suspected,

Does not attain at a bound the height to which you have been climbing.

This is not right nor just: for surely a woman's affection

Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only the asking.

When one is truly in love, one not only says it, but shows it.

Had he but waited awhile, had he only showed that he loved me,

Even this captain of yours—who knows?—at last might have won me,

Old and rough as he is; but now it never can happen."

Still John Alden went on, unheeding the words of Priscilla,

Urging the suit of his friend, explaining, persuading, expanding;

Spoke of his courage and skill, and of all his battles in Flanders,

How with the people of God he had chosen to suffer affliction,

How, in return for his zeal, they had made him Captain of Plymouth;

He was a gentleman born, could trace his pedigree plainly

Back to Hugh Standish of Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, England,

Who was the son of Ralph, and the grandson of Thurston de Standish;

Heir unto vast estates, of which he was basely defrauded,

Still bore the family arms, and had for his crest a cock argent

Combed and wattled gules, and all the rest of the blazon.

He was a man of honor, of noble and generous nature;

Though he was rough, he was kindly; she knew how during the winter

He had attended the sick, with a hand as gentle as woman's;

Somewhat hasty and hot, he could not deny it, and headstrong,

Stern as a soldier might be, but hearty, and placable always,

Not to be laughed at and scorned, because he was little of stature;

For he was great of heart, magnanimous, courtly, courageous;

Any woman in Plymouth, nay, any woman in England,

Might be happy and proud to be called the wife of Miles Standish!

But as he warmed and glowed, in his simple and eloquent language,

Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his rival,

Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with laughter,

Said, in a tremulous voice, "Why don't you speak for yourself, John?"

It is needless to say that John Alden won the heart and hand of Priscilla after all. The pupils should read the complete poem.

————

Is there for honest poverty,

Who hangs his head and a' that?

The coward slave we pass him by,

We dare be poor for a' that!

For a' that, and a' that,

Our toils obscure, and a' that,

The rank is but the guinea's stamp,

The man's the gowd for a' that.

—ROBERT BURNS

注释

【1】Cordovan leather, leather from Cordova, Spain, a city famous for this leather.

【2】Sword of Damascus, three hundred years ago swords most highly esteemed came from Damascus in Syria, and from Toledo in Spain. The Damascus swords were frequently inscribed with some fitting sentence or motto in the Arabic language.

【3】Matchlock, an old-fashioned gun discharged by means of a lighted match.

【4】St. Gregory (542-604), a priest in Rome, afterward Pope. He saw some young English captives in Rome and said of them: "They are not Angles (i. e. English), but angels."

【5】Arcabucero, a Spanish soldier armed with an old-fashioned gun.

【6】Inkhorn, a horn receptacle for ink used by scholars in bygone days.

【7】Caius Julius Cæsar (100-44 B. C.), the great Roman general and dictator.

【8】Howitzer, a small cannon.

【9】Orthodox, sound in doctrine.

【10】Sagamore—Sachem, Indian names for chieftain.

【11】Pow wow, an Indian priest or conjurer.

【12】Aspinet, Samoset, Corbitant, Squanto, Tokamahamon, names of Indian chiefs.

【13】Commentaries, Caesar's own account of the wars in which he took part.

【14】Belligerent, warlike.

【15】Iberian, a village in southwestern Europe. Iberia included Spain and Portugal.

【16】Culling, choosing.

【17】Taciturn, silent; reserved.

【18】Timepiece, clock.

【19】Aerial cities, homes of the birds high in the trees.

【20】Foundering, sinking.

【21】Astaroth—Baal, a Phoenician goddess and god.

【22】Martin Luther (1483-1546), a famous German reformer.

【23】Psalm book of Ainsworth, the Puritan hymn book.

40

THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS

BY ROBERT WACE

This vivid description of the battle of Hastings is condensed from the version of Wace's account given in Creasy's "Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World." Robert Wace (1112?-1184?) was an Anglo-Norman author, who wrote a chronicle in verse of the dukes of Normandy from the invasion of Rollo, the first Duke of Normandy, to the time of Henry I., King of England.

The battle of Hastings was fought October 14, 1066, between the Saxons under their King Harold and the Normans under Duke William. The duke claimed that Edward the Confessor, the king of England who had preceded Harold and who had died childless, had appointed him heir to the throne of England, and that Harold when on a visit to Normandy had sworn to support his claims. After Edward's death, however, Harold became king. William collected an army and invaded England. By his victory at Hastings Duke William of Normandy became king of England, and Norman institutions and civilization were introduced into Saxon England.

Ⅰ

Let us suffer the old Norman chronicler to transport our imaginations to the fair Sussex scenery northwest of Hastings, as it appeared on the morning of the fourteenth of October, 1066. The Norman host is pouring forth from its tents, and each troop and each company is forming fast under the banner of its leader. The masses have been sung, which were finished betimes in the morning; the barons have all assembled round Duke William; and the duke has ordered that the army shall be formed in three divisions, so as to make the attack upon the Saxon position in three places.

The duke stood on a hill where he could best see his men; the barons surrounded him, and he spake to them proudly. He told them how he trusted them, and how all that he gained should be theirs, and how sure he felt of conquest, for in all the world there was not so brave an army, or such good men and true as were then forming around him.

"The men on foot led the way, with serried ranks, bearing their bows. The knights rode next, supporting the archers from behind. Thus both foot and horse kept their course and order of march as they began, in close ranks at a gentle pace that the one might not pass or separate from the other. All went firmly and compactly, bearing themselves gallantly.

"Harold had summoned his men, earls, barons, and vavasors【1】, from the castles and the cities, from the ports, the villages and boroughs. The peasants were also called together from the villages, bearing such arms as they found; clubs and great picks, iron forks and stakes. Harold knew that the Normans would come and attack him hand to hand, so he had early inclosed the field in which he had placed his men. He made them arm early and range themselves for the battle, he himself having put on arms and equipments that became such a lord. The duke, as he said, ought to seek him, as he wanted to conquer England; and it became him to abide the attack who had to defend the land. He commanded the people and counseled his barons to keep themselves all together, and defend themselves in a body; for if they once separated, they would with difficulty recover themselves. 'The Normans,' said he, 'are good vassals, valiant on foot and on horseback, good knights are they on horseback, and well used to battle; all is lost if they once penetrate our ranks. They have brought long lances and swords, but you have pointed lances and keenedged bills; and I do not expect that their arms can stand against yours. Cleave whenever you can; it will be ill done if you spare aught.'

"When Harold had made all ready and given his orders, he came into the midst of the English and dismounted by the side of the standard; Leofwin and Gurth, his brothers, were with him; and around him he had barons enough, as he stood by his standard, which was, in truth, a noble one, sparkling with gold and precious stones. After the victory William sent it to the pope, to prove and commemorate his great conquest and glory. The English stood in close ranks, ready and eager for the fight; and they, moreover, made a fosse【2】which went across the field, guarding one side of their army.

"Meanwhile the Normans appeared advancing over the ridge of a rising ground, and as soon as the two armies were in full view of each other, great noise and tumult arose. You might hear the sound of many trumpets, of bugles, and of horns; and then you might see men ranging themselves in line, lifting their shields, raising their lances, bending their bows, handling their arrows, ready for assault and defense.

"Then Taillefer, who sang right well, mounted on a swift horse, before the duke, singing of Charlemagne【3】and of Roland, of Oliver【4】, and the peers who died in Roncesvalles【5】. And when they drew nigh to the English, 'A boon, sire!' cried Taillefer. 'I have long served you and you owe me for all such service. To-day, so please you, you shall repay it. I ask as my guerdon【6】, and beseech you for it earnestly, that you will allow me to strike the first blow in the battle!' And the duke answered, 'I grant it.' Then Taillefer put his horse to a gallop, charging before all the rest, and struck an Englishman dead, driving his lance below the breast into his body and stretching him upon the ground. Then he drew his sword, and struck another, crying out, 'Come on, come on! What do ye, sirs? lay on, lay on!' At the second blow he struck, the English pushed forward and surrounded and slew him. Forthwith arose the noise and cry of war, and on either side the people put themselves in motion.

"The Normans moved on to the assault, and the English defended themselves well. Some were striking, others urging onward; all were bold and cast aside fear. And now, behold, that battle was gathered whereof the fame is yet mighty.

"Loud and far resounded the bray of the horns; and the shock of the lances, the mighty strokes of maces, and the quick clashing of swords. One while the Englishmen rushed on, another while they fell back; one while the men from over sea charged onward, and again at other times retreated. Then came the cunning maneuvers, the rude shocks and strokes of the lance and blows of the swords, among the sergeants and soldiers, both English and Norman. When the English fall, the Normans shout. Each side taunts and defies the other, yet neither knoweth what the other saith; and the Normans say the English bark, because they understand not their speech.

"Some wax strong, others weak: the brave exult, but the cowards tremble, as men who are sore dismayed. The Normans press on the assault, and the English defend their post well; they pierce the hauberks【7】and cleave the shields, receive and return mighty blows. Again, some press forward, others yield; and thus in various ways the struggle proceeds.

Ⅱ

"From nine o'clock in the morning, when the combat began, till three o'clock came, the battle was up and down, this way and that, and no one knew who would conquer and win the land. Both sides stood so firm and fought so well that no one could guess which would prevail. The Norman archers with their bows shot thickly upon the English; but they covered themselves with their shields, so that the arrows could not reach their bodies, nor do any mischief, how true soever was their aim or however well they shot. Then the Normans determined to shoot their arrows upward into the air, so that they might fall on their enemies' heads and strike their faces. The archers adopted this scheme and shot up into the air toward the English; and the arrows in falling struck their heads and faces and put out the eyes of many, and all feared to open their eyes or leave their faces unguarded.

"The arrows now flew thicker than rain before the wind; fast sped the shafts that the English call 'wibetes.' Then it was that an arrow that had been thus shot upward, struck Harold above his right eye and put it out. In his agony he drew the arrow and threw it away, breaking it with his hands; and the pain to his head was so great that he leaned upon his shield.

"The Normans saw that the English defended themselves well, and were so strong in their position that they could do little against them. So they consulted together privily and arranged to draw off and pretend to flee, till the English should pursue and scatter themselves over the field; for they saw that if they could once get their enemies to break their ranks, they might be attacked and discomfited much more easily. As they said, so they did. The Normans by little and little fled, the English following them. As the one fell back, the other pressed after; and when the Frenchmen retreated, the English thought and cried out that the men of France fled and would never return.

"Thus they were deceived by the pretended flight, and great mischief thereby befell them; for if they had not moved from their position, it is not likely that they would have been conquered at all; but, like fools, they broke their lines and pursued.

"The Normans were to be seen following up their stratagem, retreating slowly so as to draw the English farther on. As they still flee, the English pursue; they push out their lances and stretch forth their hatchets, following the Normans as they go, rejoicing in the success of their scheme and scattering themselves over the plain. And the English meantime jeered and insulted their foes with words. 'Cowards,' they cried, 'you came hither in an evil hour, wanting our lands and seeking to seize our property. Fools that ye were to come! Normandy is too far off and you will not easily reach it. It is of little use to run back; unless you can cross the sea at a leap or can drink it dry, your sons and daughters are lost to you.'

"The Normans bore it all; but, in fact, they knew not what the English said: their language seemed like the baying of dogs, which they could not understand. At length they stopped and turned round, determined to recover their ranks; and the barons might be heard crying for a halt. Then the Normans resumed their former position, turning their faces toward the enemy; and their men were to be seen facing round and rushing onward to a fresh melee【8】. The combatants are many, the plain wide, the battle and the melee fierce. On every hand they fight hard, the blows are heavy, and the struggle becomes fierce.

"And now might be heard the loud clang and cry of battle, and the clashing of lances. The English stood firm in their barricades and shivered the lances, beating them into pieces with their bills and maces. The Normans drew their swords and hewed down the barricades, and the English, in great trouble, fell back upon their standard, where were collected the maimed and wounded.

"Duke William pressed close upon the English with his lance, striving hard to reach the standard with the great troop he led, and seeking earnestly for Harold, on whose account the whole war was. The Normans follow their lord and press around him, they ply their blows upon the English; and these defend themselves stoutly, striving hard with their enemies, returning blow for blow.

"Where the throng of the battle was greatest, the men of Kent and Essex fought wondrously well, and made the Normans again retreat, but without doing them much injury. And when the duke saw his men fall back, and the English triumphing over them, his spirit rose high, and he seized his shield and his lance, which a vassal handed to him, and took his post by his standard.

"Then those who kept close guard by him and rode where he rode, being about a thousand armed men, came and rushed with closed ranks upon the English, and with the weight of their good horses, and the blows the knights gave, broke the press of the enemy and scattered the crowd before them, the good duke leading them on in front. Many pursued and many fled; many were the Englishmen who fell around and were trampled under the horses, crawling upon the earth and not able to rise. Many of the richest and noblest men fell in the rout, but still the English rallied in places, smote down those whom they reached, and maintained the combat the best they could, beating down the men and killing the horses. One Englishman watched the duke, and plotted to kill him; he would have struck him with his lance, but he could not, for the duke struck him first and felled him to the earth.

"Loud was now the clamor and great the slaughter; many a soul then quitted the body it inhabited. The living marched over the heaps of dead, and each side was weary of striking. He charged on who could, and he who could no longer strike still pushed forward. The strong struggled with the strong; some failed, others triumphed; the cowards fell back, the brave pressed on; and sad was his fate who fell in the midst, for he had little chance of rising again; and many in truth fell who never rose at all, being crushed under the throng.

"And now the Normans had pressed on so far that at last they had reached the standard. There Harold had remained, defending himself to the utmost; but he was sorely wounded in his eye by the arrow and suffered grievous pain from the blow. An armed man came in the throng of the battle and struck him on the ventail【9】of his helmet and beat him to the ground; and as he sought to recover himself, a knight beat him down again, striking him on the thick of his thigh, down to the bone.

"Gurth saw the English falling around and that there was no remedy. He saw his race hastening to ruin and despaired of any aid; he would have fled, but could not, for the throng continually increased. And the duke pushed on till he reached him and struck him with great force. Whether he died of that blow I know not, but it was said that he fell under it and rose no more.

"The standard was beaten down, the golden standard was taken, and Harold and the best of his friends were slain; but there was so much eagerness and throng of so many around, seeking to kill him, that I know not who it was that slew him.

"The English were in great trouble at having lost their king, and at the duke's having conquered and beat down the standard; but they still fought on and defended themselves long, and in fact till the day drew to a close. Then it clearly appeared to all that the standard was lost, and the news had spread throughout the army that Harold, for certain, was dead; and all saw that there was no longer any hope, so they left the field and those fled who could.

"William fought well; many an assault did he lead, many a blow did he give and many receive, and many fell dead under his hand. Two horses were killed under him, and he took a third when necessary, so that he fell not to the ground, and lost not a drop of blood. But whatever any one did, and whoever lived or died, this is certain, that William conquered, and that many of the English fled from the field, and many died on the spot. Then he returned thanks to God, and in his pride ordered his standard to be brought and set up on high, where the English standard had stood; and that was the signal of his having conquered and beaten down the standard. And he ordered his tent to be raised on the spot, among the dead, and had his meat brought thither and his supper prepared there. And he ate and drank among the dead, and made his bed that night upon the field."

————

To read without reflecting is like eating without digesting.

—BURKE

注释

【1】Vavasors, vassals or tenants of a baron.

【2】Fosse, ditch; trench.

【3】Charlemagne (742-814), a French king, the hero of a legendary chronicle called "The History of Charlemagne and Roland."

【4】Roland, Oliver, two of Charlemagne's most celebrated knights, or paladins, as they are called.

【5】Roncesvalles, a pass in the Pyrenees where Rolaud and his army were destroyed after a gallant fight.

【6】Guerdon, reward.

【7】Hauberks, coats of mail made of interlinked metal rings.

【8】Melee (French), a fight in which the combatants are mixed in a confused mass.

【9】Ventail, that part of a helmet which is arranged to admit air.

41

TO THE OCEAN

BY GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee—

Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?

Thy waters wasted them while they were free,

And many a tyrant since; their shores obey

The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay

Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou,

Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play—

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow—

Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form

Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convulsed—in breeze, or gale, or storm,

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime;

The image of eternity; the throne

Of the Invisible; — even from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone

Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

—From "Childe Harold"

42

THE SUN

BY CAMILLE FLAMMARION

Camille Flammarion (1842-): A popular French writer and lecturer on astronomy and other subjects. He has written "The Wonders of the Heavens," "Popular Astronomy," and other volumes. This selection is from "Popular Astronomy."

The sun is the mighty source from which proceed all the forces which set in motion the earth and its life. It is its heat which causes the wind to blow, the clouds to ascend, the river to flow, the forest to grow, fruit to ripen, and man himself to live.

Everything which moves, circulates, and lives on our planet is the child of the sun. The most nutritious【1】foods come from the sun. The wood which warms us in winter is, again, the sun in fragments; every inch, every pound of wood, is formed by the power of the sun. The mill which turns under the impulse of wind or water revolves only by the sun. And in the black night, under the rain or snow, the blind and noisy train which darts like a flying serpent through the fields and rushes along above the valleys, this modern animal produced by human industry, is still a child of the sun; the coal from the earth which feeds its stomach is solar work stored up during millions of years in the geological strata of the globe.

As it is certain that the force which sets the watch in motion is derived from the hand which has wound it, so it is certain that all terrestrial power proceeds from the sun. It is its heat which maintains the three states of bodies—solid, liquid, and gaseous; the last two would vanish, there would be nothing but solids, water and air itself would be in massive blocks, if the solar heat did not maintain them in the fluid state. It is the sun which blows in the air, which flows in the water, which moans in the tempest, which sings in the unwearied throat of the nightingale. Thunder and lightning are in their turn a manifestation of his power. Every fire which burns and every flame which shines has received its life from the sun. And when two armies are hurled together with a crash, each charge of cavalry, each shock between two army corps, is nothing but the misuse of mechanical force from the same star. The sun comes to us in the form of heat, he leaves us in the form of heat, but between his arrival and his departure he has given birth to the varied powers of our globe.

Presented to our mind under their true aspect, the discoveries and generalizations of modern science constitute the most sublime poem which has ever been offered to the intelligence and the imagination of man. The physicist of our day, we may say with Tyndall, is incessantly in contact with marvels which eclipse those of Ariosto【2】and Milton; marvels so grand and so sublime that those who study them have need of a certain force of character to preserve them from being dazed.

And still all this is nothing, or almost nothing, in comparison with the real power of the sun! The liquid state of the ocean, the gaseous state of the atmosphere; the currents of the sea; the raising of the clouds, the rains, storms, streams, rivers; the calorific【3】value of all the forests of the globe and all the coal mines of the earth; the motion of all living beings; the heat of all humanity; the stored-up power in all human muscles, in all the manufactories, in all the guns, —all this is almost nothing compared with that of which the sun is capable.

Do we think that we have measured the solar power by enumerating the effects which it produces on the earth? Error! profound, tremendous, foolish error! This would be to believe still that this star has been created only for the purpose of illuminating terrestrial humanity. In reality, what an infinitesimal【4】fraction of the sun's total radiation the earth receives and uses! In order to appreciate it, let us consider the distance of ninety-three millions of miles which separates us from the central star, and at this distance let us see what effect our little globe produces, what heat it intercepts. Let us imagine an immense sphere traced at this distance from the sun, and entirely surrounding it. Well, on this gigantic sphere, the spot intercepted by our little earth is only equivalent to the fraction. That is to say that the dazzling solar hearth radiates all around it through immensity a quantity of light and heat two thousand, one hundred and thirty-eight million times more than that which we receive, and of which we have just now estimated the stupendous effects. The earth only stops in its passage the two thousand-millionth part of the total radiation.

It is absolutely impossible for our conception to imagine such a proportion.

注释

【1】Nutritious, nourishing.

【2】Ludovico Ariosto (1474-1533), a famous Italian poet.

【3】Calorific, producing heat.

【4】Infinitesimal, very small.

43

ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD

BY THOMAS GRAY

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): An English poet, the author of a few beautiful poems which were corrected and polished in the most painstaking manner. "The Elegy in a Country Churchyard," his most famous poem, occupied him during eight years and was rewritten many times.

Among Gray's other poems are "The Progress of Poesy," "The Bard," and "Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College."

Thomas Gray

The curfew【1】tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,

The plowman homeward plods his weary way,

And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,

And all the air a solemn stillness holds,

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,

And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower

The moping owl does to the moon complain

Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,

Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade,

Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap,

Each in his narrow cell forever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet【2】sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,

Or busy housewife ply【3】her evening care;

No children run to lisp their sire's return,

Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe【4】has broke:

How jocund did they drive their team a field!

How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;

Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile

The short and simple annals【5】of the poor

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,

Awaits alike th' inevitable【6】hour: —

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,

If Memory o'er their tombs no trophies raise,

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted【7】vault

The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn【8】or animated bust

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?

Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust

Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;

Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed,

Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page

Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;

Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,

And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village Hampden【9】, that with dauntless breast

The little tyrant of his fields withstood,

Some mute inglorious Milton【10】here may rest,

Some Cromwell【11】guiltless of his country's blood.

Th' applause of listening senates to command,

The threats of pain and ruin to despise,

To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,

And read their history in a nation's eyes,

Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed【12】alone

Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,

And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,

To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,

Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride

With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

Far from the madding【13】crowd's ignoble strife,

Their sober wishes never learned to stray;

Along the cool sequestered vale of life

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Yet even these bones from insult to protect

Some frail memorial still erected nigh,

With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse,

The place of fame and elegy supply:

And many a holy text around she strews,

That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,

This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned,

Left the warm precincts【14】of the cheerful day,

Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,

Some pious drops the closing eye requires;

Even from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,

Even in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead,

Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;

If chance, by lonely contemplation led,

Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,—

Haply some hoary-headed swain【15】may say:

"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away

To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,

That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,

His listless length at noontide would he stretch,

And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,

Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove,

Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.

"One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill,

Along the heath, and near his favorite tree;

Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he:

"The next, with dirges due in sad array

Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne.—

Approach and read—for thou canst read—the lay,

Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

THE EPITAPH

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth

A youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown;

Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,

And Melancholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,

Heaven did a recompense as largely send:

He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,

He gained from Heaven - twas all he wished - a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,

There they alike in trembling hope repose,

The bosom of his Father and his God.

注释

【1】Curfew, in early times in England, a bell rung at eight o'clock in the evening as a signal for lights and fires to be put out.

【2】Hamlet, village.

【3】Ply, work at.

【4】Glebe, turf; sod.

【5】Annals, histories; tales.

【6】Inevitable, certain; not to be shunned.

【7】Fretted, carved; ornamented with work in relief.

【8】Urn, a vessel for keeping the ashes of the dead; any place of burial.

【9】John Hampden (1594-1643), an English patriot and statesman of the Commonwealth period who opposed the despotic measures of Charles I.

【10】John Milton (1608-1674), one of the greatest of English poets.

【11】Oliver Cromwell (1599-1658), an English statesman and general who became, after the execution of Charles I., Lord Protector of the Commonwealth.

【12】Circumscribed, confined; limited.

【13】Madding, affected with madness; raging.

【14】Precincts, limits; borders.

【15】Swain, countryman; rustic.

44

A DISSERTATION UPON ROAST PIG

BY CHARLES LAMB

Mankind, says a Chinese manuscript【1】, which my friend M. was obliging enough to read and explain to me, for the first seventy thousand ages ate their meat raw, clawing or biting it from the living animal, just as they do in Abyssinia to this day. This period is not obscurely hinted at by their great Confucius【2】in the second chapter of his "Mundane Mutations," where he designates a kind of golden age by the term Chofang, literally the Cooks Holiday. The manuscript goes on to say, that the art of roasting, or rather broiling (which I take to be the elder brother) was accidentally discovered in the manner following. The swineherd, Ho-ti, having gone out into the woods one morning, as his manner was, to collect mast【3】for his hogs, left his cottage in the care of his eldest son, Bo-bo, a great lubberly boy, who being fond of playing with fire, as younkers【4】of his age commonly are, let some sparks escape into a bundle of straw which, kindling quickly, spread the conflagration over every part of their poor mansion, till it was reduced to ashes. Together with the cottage (a sorry antediluvian makeshift of a building, you may think it), what was of much more importance, a fine litter of young pigs, no less than nine in number, perished. China pigs have been esteemed a luxury all over the East, from the remotest periods that we read of. Bo-bo was in the utmost consternation, as you may think, not so much for the sake of the tenement, which his father and he could easily build up again with a few dry branches, and the labor of an hour or two, at any time, as for the loss of the pigs. While he was thinking what he should say to his father, and wringing his hands over the smoking remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, an odor assailed his nostrils, unlike any scent which he had before experienced. What could it proceed from? —not from the burnt cottage—he had smelt that smell before—indeed this was by no means the first accident of the kind which had occurred through the negligence of this unlucky young firebrand. Much less did it resemble that of any known herb, weed, or flower. A premonitory moistening at the same time overflowed his nether【5】lip. He knew not what to think. He next stooped down to feel the pig, if there were any signs of life in it. He burnt his fingers, and to cool them he applied them in his booby【6】fashion to his mouth. Some of the crumbs of the scorched skin had come away with his fingers, and for the first time in his life (in the world's life indeed, for before him no man had known it) he tasted—crackling【7】! Again he felt and fumbled at the pig. It did not burn him so much now; still he licked his fingers from a sort of habit. The truth at length broke into his slow understanding, that it was the pig that smelt so, and the pig that tasted so delicious; and, surrendering himself up to the newborn pleasure, he fell to tearing up whole handfuls of the scorched skin with the flesh next it, and was cramming it down his throat in his beastly fashion, when his sire entered amid the smoking rafters, armed with retributory cudgel, and finding how affairs stood, began to rain blows upon the young rogue's shoulders, as thick as hailstones, which Bo-bo heeded not any more than if they had been flies. The tickling pleasure, which he experienced in his lower regions, had rendered him quite callous to any inconveniences he might feel in those remote quarters. His father might lay on, but he could not beat him from his pig, till he had fairly made an end of it, when, becoming a little more sensible of his situation, something like the following dialogue ensued:—

"You graceless whelp, what have you got there devouring? Is it not enough that you have burnt me down three houses with your dog's tricks, and be hanged to you! but you must be eating fire, and I know not what — what have you got there, I say?"

"O father, the pig, the pig! do come and taste how nice the burnt pig eats."

The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed his son, and he cursed himself, that ever he should beget a son that should eat burnt pig.

Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened since morning, soon raked out another pig, and fairly rending it asunder, thrust the lesser half by main force into the fists of Ho-ti, still shouting out, "Eat, eat, eat the burnt pig, father; only taste—O Lord!" with suchlike barbarous ejaculations, cramming all the while as if he would choke.

Ho-ti trembled in every joint while he grasped the abominable thing, wavering whether he should not put his son to death for an unnatural young monster, when the crackling scorching his fingers, as it had done his son's, and applying the same remedy to them, he in his turn tasted some of its flavor, which, make what sour mouths he would for pretense, proved not altogether displeasing to him. In conclusion (for the manuscript here is a little tedious), both father and son fairly sat down to the mess, and never left off till they had dispatched all that remained of the litter.

Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret escape, for the neighbors would certainly have stoned them for a couple of abominable wretches, who could think of improving upon the good meat which God had sent them. Nevertheless, strange stories got about. It was observed that Ho-ti's cottage was burnt down now more frequently than ever. Nothing but fires from this time forward. Some would break out in broad day, others in the night-time. Ho-ti himself, which was the more remarkable, instead of chastising his son, seemed to grow more indulgent to him than ever. At length they were watched, the terrible mystery discovered, and father and son summoned to take their trial at Pekin, then an inconsiderable assize town. Evidence was given, the obnoxious food itself produced in court, and verdict about to be pronounced, when the foreman of the jury begged that some of the burnt pig, of which the culprits stood accused, might be handed into the box. He handled it, and they all handled it; and burning their fingers, as Bo-bo and his father had done before them, and nature prompting to each of them the same remedy, against the face of all the facts, and the clearest charge which judge had ever given, —to the surprise of the whole court, townsfolk, strangers, reporters, and all present—without leaving the box, or any manner of consultation whatever, they brought in a simultaneous verdict of not guilty.

The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the manifest iniquity of the decision; and when the court was dismissed, went privily, and bought up all the pigs that could be had for love or money. In a few days his Lordship's town house was observed to be on fire. The thing took wing, and now there was nothing to be seen but fires in every direction. Fuel and pigs grew enormously dear all over the district. The insurance offices one and all shut up shop. People built slighter and slighter every day, until it was feared that the very science of architecture would in no long time be lost to the world. Thus this custom of firing houses continued, till in process of time, says my manuscript, a sage arose, like our Locke, who made a discovery, that the flesh of swine, or indeed of any other animal, might be cooked (burnt, as they called it) without the necessity of consuming a whole house to dress it. Then first began the rude form of a gridiron. Roasting by the string, or spit, came in a century or two later, I forget in whose dynasty. By such slow degrees, concludes the manuscript, do the most useful, and seemingly the most obvious arts, make their way among mankind.

Without placing too implicit faith in the account above given, it must be agreed, that if a worthy pretext for so dangerous an experiment as setting houses on fire (especially in these days) could be assigned in favor of any culinary object that pretext and excuse might be found in ROAST PIG.

注释

【1】Says a Chinese manuscript, it is needless to say that this is an imaginary Chinese manuscript.

【2】Confucius, a Chinese philosopher and teacher 551-479 B. C.

【3】Mast, food such as nuts, acorns, etc.

【4】Younkers, youngsters.

【5】Nether, lower.

【6】Booby, clumsy.

【7】Crackling, the rind of roasted pork.

45

THE PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE

BY HOMER

Homer, the greatest of Greek poets, is said to have flourished about one thousand years before the Christian era. The two epic poems attributed to him are the "Iliad," describing the siege of Ilium or Troy by the Greeks, and the "Odyssey," describing the adventures of Odysseus and other Trojan heroes after the downfall of Troy. This selection is from Lang, Leaf, and Myer's prose version of the "Iliad." It describes the parting of Hector, the bravest of the Trojan heroes, from his wife Andromache as he goes forth to battle.

Hector hastened from his house back by the same way down the well-builded streets. When he had passed through the great city and was come to the Skaian gates, whereby he was minded to issue upon the plain, then came his dear-won wife, running to meet him, even Andromache, daughter of greathearted Eetion, Eetion that dwelt beneath wooded Plakos, in Thebe under Plakos, and was king of the men of Kilikia; for his daughter was wife to bronze-harnessed Hector. So she met him now, and with her went the handmaid bearing in her bosom the tender boy, the little child, Hector's loved son, like unto a beautiful star. Him Hector called Skamandrios, but all the folk Astyanax【1】; for only Hector guarded Ilios. So now he smiled and gazed at his boy silently, and Andromache stood by his side weeping, and clasped her hand in his and spake and called upon his name.

"Dear my lord, this thy hardihood will undo thee, neither hast thou any pity for thine infant boy, nor for me forlorn that soon shall be thy widow; for soon will the Achaians all set upon thee and slay thee. But it were better for me to go down to the grave if I lose thee; for nevermore will any comfort be mine, when once thou, even thou, hast met thy fate, but only sorrow.

"Moreover, I have no father or lady mother: my father was slain of goodly Achilles【2】, for he wasted the populous city of the Kilikians, even high-gated Thebe, and slew Eetion; yet he despoiled him not, for his soul had shame of that, but he burned him in his inlaid armor and raised a barrow【3】over him; and all about were elm trees planted by the mountain nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing【4】Zeus. And the seven brothers that were mine within our halls, all these on the selfsame day went within the house of Hades【5】; for fleet-footed goodly Achilles slew them all amid their kine of trailing gait and white-fleeced sheep. And my mother, that was queen beneath wooded Plakos, her brought he hither with the other spoils, but afterward took a ransom untold to set her free; but in her father's halls was she smitten by the Archer Artemis【6】.

"Nay, Hector, thou art to me father and lady mother, yea, and brother, even as thou art my goodly husband. Come now, have pity and abide here upon the tower, lest thou make thy child an orphan and thy wife a widow. And stay thy folk beside the fig tree, where best the city may be scaled and the wall is assailable. Thrice came thither the most valiant that are with the two Aiantes and famed Idomeneus【7】and the sons of Atreus【8】and Tydeus' valiant son【9】, and essayed to enter; whether one skilled in soothsaying revealed it to them, or whether their own spirit urgeth and biddeth them on."

The parting of Hector and Andromache

Then great Hector of the glancing helm answered her: "Surely I take thought for all these things, my wife; but I have very sore shame of the Trojans and Trojan dames with trailing robes, if like a coward I shrink away from battle. Moreover mine own soul forbiddeth me, seeing I have learned ever to be valiant and fight in the forefront of the Trojans, winning my father's great glory and mine own. Yea of a surety I know this in heart and soul; the day shall come for holy Ilios to be laid low, and Priam and the folk of Priam of the good ashen spear.

"Yet doth the anguish of the Trojans hereafter not so much trouble me, neither Hekabe's【10】own, neither King Priam's, neither my brethren's, the many and brave that shall fall in the dust before their foemen, as doth thine anguish in the day when some mail-clad Achaian shall lead thee weeping and rob thee of the light of freedom. So shalt thou abide in Argos and ply the loom at another woman's bidding, and bear water from the fount Messeis or Hyperia, being grievously entreated, and sore constraint shall be laid upon thee. And then shall one say that beholdeth thee weep: 'This is the wife of Hector, that was foremost in battle of the horse-taming Trojans when men fought about Ilios.' Thus shall one say hereafter, and fresh grief will be thine for lack of such a husband as thou hadst to ward off the day of thraldom【11】. But me in death may the heaped-up earth be covering, ere I hear thy crying and thy carrying into captivity."

So spake glorious Hector, and stretched out his arm to his boy. But the child shrunk crying to the bosom of his fairgirdled nurse, dismayed at his dear father's aspect, and in dread at the bronze and horsehair crest that he beheld nodding fiercely from the helmet's top.

Then his dear father laughed aloud, and his lady mother; forthwith glorious Hector took the helmet from his head, and laid it all gleaming upon the earth; then kissed he his dear son and dandled him in his arms, and spake in prayer to Zeus and all the gods: "O Zeus and all ye gods, vouchsafe ye that this my son may likewise prove even as I, preeminent amid the Trojans, and as valiant in might, and be a great king of Ilios. Then men may say of him, 'Far greater is he than his father,' as he returneth home from battle; and may he bring with him blood-stained spoils from the foemen he hath slain, and may his mother's heart be glad."

So spake he, and laid his son in his dear wife's arms; and she took him to her fragrant bosom, smiling tearfully. And her husband had pity to see her, and caressed her with his hand, and spake and called upon her name: "Dear one, I pray thee be not of oversorrowful heart; no man against my fate shall hurl me to Hades; only destiny, I ween【12】, no man hath escaped, be he coward or be he valiant, when once he hath been born. But go thou to thine house and see to thine own tasks, the loom and distaff, and bid thine handmaidens ply their work; but for war men shall provide, and I in chief of all men that dwell in Ilios."

So spake glorious Hector, and took up his horsehair crested helmet; and his dear wife departed to her home, oft looking back, and letting fall big tears. Anon she came to the well-stablished house of manslaying Hector, and found therein her many handmaidens, and stirred lamentation in them all. So bewailed they Hector, while yet he lived, within his house: for they deemed that he would no more come back to them from battle, nor escape the fury of the hands of the Achaians.

注释

【1】Astyanax, city king.

【2】Achilles, the greatest of the Greek heroes who besieged Troy.

【3】Barrow, a large mound of earth or stone raised over the remains of the dead.

【4】Aegis-bearing, shield-bearing. Zeus is represented as wearing a shield of stormcloud, made for him by Hephaestus, the god of fire.

【5】Hades, the ruler of the lower world, the place of the dead.

【6】Artemis, the moon goddess, whose arrows were said to send upon women a speedy and painless death.

【7】Idomeneus, a Greek hero, king of Crete.

【8】Sons of Atreus, Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks against Troy, and Menelaus, at whose solicitation the war was undertaken.

【9】Tydeus valiant son, Diomedes, a Greek hero second only to Achilles in heroic qualities.

【10】Hekabe or Hecuba, the wife of Priam, king of Troy.

【11】Thraldom, bondage; slavery.

【12】Ween, think.

46

SONNET: ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S "HOMER"

BY JOHN KEATS

John Keats (1795-1821): An English poet of much promise cut short by an early death. He wrote "Endymion," "Hyperion," "The Eve of St. Agnes," and other poems.

Much have I traveled in the realms of gold,

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

Round many western islands have I been

Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold,

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne【1】:

Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman【2】speak out loud and bold:

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken;

Or like stout Cortes, when with eagle eyes

He stared at the Pacific,— and all his men

Looked at each other with a wild surmise,—

Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

注释

【1】Demesne, a lord's private property kept for his own use.

【2】George Chapman (1557-1634), an English poet who made a spirited translation of Homer into English verse.

47

THE RENAISSANCE【1】

BY M. J. GUEST

The time was a most interesting one. All sorts of wonderful things were being done or thought, which excited the minds of men, opened their eyes, and stirred their hopes. The old times, which were almost worn out, were passing away, and new ones were beginning. This period at the close of the Wars of the Roses was the end of the Middle Ages, and the death of the feudal system.

But if it was the death of one order of things, it was the life and new birth of others, as is expressed by the very name which this period often bears—the Renaissance, the being born again. In some ways men now went back to very old times, which had been long buried and nearly forgotten, and, as it were, brought them to life again. And many quite new and wonderful things came to life now also, so that it was a time of great spirit and stir, full of eagerness and anticipation and wonder.

We shall first notice one or two of the quite new things which came into life, and then some of the quite old ones which were revived.

First, then, we may almost say the world itself grew larger, as if to make room for the great hopes and schemes of men, by the discovery of America. Hitherto only the three continents of Europe, Asia, and Africa had been known; but now the two great Americas were added to the map of the world. At first, of course, only small parts were touched at and discovered; but whatever was seen and gradually approached must have struck the imagination very forcibly.

In America everything seems immense; the mountains, the rivers, the lakes are all on a vast scale compared with any of those in Europe. As travelers saw more and more of these they must have been amazed. Then there was the wonderful vegetation: the infinite forests, the giant trees, the climbing plants, the flowers: the strange animals, lovely humming birds, and uncouth alligators; and, again, the curious red-hued men; some half savage, some civilized after a fashion of their own, with their religion, their temples, their arts and history and legends. In this region, too, there were great stores of gold, which has always had a fascination for the eyes of man. The alchemists【2】, with all their toil, had never succeeded in making one of those pure, shining grains; but here it was in abundance. All this was very exciting and animating. It was really a new world opening. Never, in all our lives, can we know what it was to find oneself living on the brink of such a wonderland as America seemed for the first hundred years or more after its discovery.

It would have been a great pride and pleasure to have been able to say that England had the glory of discovering, or even helping to discover, this new world beyond the sea. It was almost by chance that she did not, as Christopher Columbus, who could not find any one to help him with money or ships, though he applied to Genoa, Portugal, and Spain, one after the other, at last sent his brother Bartholomew to England, to see if its king would help him. Henry Ⅶ., notwithstanding his love of money, was a very sagacious, sensible man and was thought very highly of throughout Europe.

Unfortunately, the brother of Columbus in traveling to England fell among thieves, or pirates, who stripped him so far literally of his raiment, that when he at last got to London he was in such miserable plight as not to have even a decent coat in which he could venture to appear at court. Before doing anything else he was obliged to try and earn money; and this he did by drawing and selling maps. This in itself shows a kind of intellectual activity among the people; had they not taken some interest in geography they would not have wanted Bartholomew's maps. At last he contrived to get access to the king, laid before him all his brother's schemes and ideas, and met with a favorable reception. Henry was quite sensible enough to see, what so few others could, how likely Columbus was to prove right.

Columbus, it should be remembered, did not expect to discover a new world at all, but only to get round that way to India, and this was how the islands at which he first arrived received the name of the "West Indies." People had long been convinced that the world was not, as the ancients had thought, flat like a plate, but round like a globe; and even two or three hundred years before this had had ideas that it might be possible to sail all around it, though no one had ever dared try to do so. They were, however, learning to take long voyages now. Sometime before this the mariner's compass had been invented, by the help of which sailors might venture to cross the sea, instead of only keeping near the land as the Greeks and Romans used to do.

Henry was favorably inclined to the scheme of Columbus, and though he hesitated before making up his mind, it is quite possible that, but for Bartholomew's long delay, he would have been the one to fit out the expedition and send the discoverer on his way. But meanwhile Columbus himself, not hearing any news from his brother, had gained the favor of Queen Isabella of Castile, and it was she who had the honor of helping him to America.

Thus the discovery of the New World cannot be called part of the history of England; but a few years afterward Henry did send out an expedition to the new continent, headed by Sebastian Cabot, a Venetian, who had settled in England. He discovered many other parts of North America and the island of Newfoundland, the very parts which are now filled with Englishmen. This we may call the beginning of England's great colonial empire.

It was not very long after this that people began to understand more about the real system of the universe. In the Middle Ages, men believed that the earth was fixed in the center of all things, and that the sun and stars and planets revolved around it, each in its own sphere. But now an astronomer named Copernicus, a native of Prussia, began to understand that this was not so; that the earth was not fixed and immovable, and the center of the universe, but a planet like Mars and Venus and the others; and that they all revolved around the sun, just as we now know to be true. This was another great discovery, and was the beginning of modern astronomy.

In some other things men really made great progress by going back. One of these was learning, the other was religion.

We know that long ages ago, before Christ came, when the Germans and French and English were still wild savages, there had been a wonderfully great and civilized nation living in Greece. Up to this hour we still feel that the Greeks in many ways were far higher than ourselves. They had great poets, whose works we love to read, and the greatest of modern Englishmen still try to translate them. Others of the Greek poets wrote grand plays, both tragedies and comedies.

Again, they had philosophers, who still seem to us wiser than any one but Christ and the prophets and apostles. They had historians who wrote the most delightful and interesting histories. They had artists who could carve and sculpture marble more wonderfully than any one can do now, and from whom all modern artists learn lessons of beauty and grace. And they had architects who built magnificent temples, such as most modern architects have tried to imitate.

Besides all this, the New Testament, as we know, was in Greek. But for many centuries nobody had been able to read all those wonderful books—the poetry or the history or the philosophy. Nobody knew Greek; only learned men knew Latin【3】, and the Latin had become very bad and absurd. Mediaeval Latin is most unlike real good Latin. The clergy looked on Greek as a wicked and heathenish language; all they knew of the Bible was from a very imperfect translation into Latin called the Vulgate; all they knew of the philosophers, of Plato【4】and Aristotle【5】, was from some translations made by the Arabs into Arabic, and out of Arabic translated again into Latin, with notes added which often quite altered the sense.

But just now a great disaster befell Europe, which, as so frequently happens, brought some good after it. This was the taking of Constantinople by the Turks. The good that came out of this evil was, that numbers of learned Greeks, being driven from their homes, came into Italy, and especially to Florence, where the people were already very fond of literature and art, and taught them Greek.

Now the Italians began to read all those wonderful books which had been hidden away so long, and to take intense pleasure and delight in them. They began, too, to leave off the miserable mediaeval Latin of the monks, and to read the best books which the Romans had written in old days. And we may imagine how busy the new printing-presses were, which seemed to have been invented just at the right moment to help the busy, happy scholars.

This was called the Renaissance, or New Birth of learning. Some of the wisest and best of the scholars of England, hearing of its fame, traveled to Italy to get their share; to learn Latin and Greek, and to bring them back to England.

FROM "LECTURES ON ENGLISH HISTORY,"

注释

【1】Renaissance, the period marked by the revival of classical learning and art in Italy and in other countries.

【2】Alchemists, those who practice alchemy, an imaginary art by which baser metals were to be turned to gold.

【3】Mediaeval Latin, Latin of the Middle Ages.

【4】Plato (429-347 B. C.), a Greek philosopher who probably has contributed more than any other philosopher to the moral and intellectual culture of the human race.

【5】Aristotle (384-322 B. C.), a Greek philosopher, the pupil of Plato, "the father of inductive philosophy," and the founder of the sciences of logic and natural history.

A great consideration governing the choice of all selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is to minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

— Harry Pratt Judson

(The 2nd president of the University of Chicago)

出版策划：神鸟文化

责任编辑：伍绍东

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森

为美国学生选编的经典文学读本

This series of literature readers is edited by the president of the University of Chicago Harry Pratt Judson, as to supply almost the only reading of many children, and stimulate their taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classical tales and fables are largely used. Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different part of the United States, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediated, and advanced grades.

We believe that Graded Literature Readers disclose a broader knowledge of literature, better taste and judgment in its selections.

010-62627373

第8册目录

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 HEARTY READING（SYDNEY SMITH）

2 THE COMING OF ARTHUR（ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON）

3 KING ARTHUR AND EXCALIBUR（SIR THOMAS MALORY）

4 NORSE STORIES（THOMAS CARLYLE）

5 THE NORTHMAN（JOHN HENRY, CARDINAL NEWMAN）

6 THE FORSAKEN MERMAN（MATTHEW ARNOLD）

7 SONNET ON HIS BLINDNESS（JOHN MILTON）

8 THE VALLEY OF DESOLATION（G. W. CURTIS）

9 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE（CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE）

10 REPLY TO MARLOWE'S "THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE"（SIR WALTER RALEIGH）

11 A BRILLIANT GEOGRAPHICAL CONTRAST（JOHN RUSKIN）

12 HENRY V. BEFORE BATTLE（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

13 THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT（MICHAEL DRAYTON）

14 AGINCOURT（JULES MICHELET）

15 A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY（JOHN DRYDEN）

16 THE BIRD（JOHN RUSKIN）

17 THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER（R. L. STEVENSON）

18 LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI（JOHN KEATS）

19 FALSTAFF AND THE THIEVES（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

20 SWALLOW-TIME（RICHARD JEFFERIES）

21 SOHRAB AND RUSTUM（MATTHEW ARNOLD）

22 VINDICATION OF IRELAND（R. L. SHEIL）

23 CAIRO FIFTY YEARS AGO（E. B. G. WARBURTON）

24 SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY（GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON）

25 A FORMIDABLE VASSAL（SIR WALTER SCOTT）

26 LOUIS XI.（CHARLES WHIBLEY）

27 A DISCOURSE UPON CERTAIN VICES AND VIRTUES OF KING LOUIS THE ELEVENTH（PHILIPPE DE COMINES）

28 AN ADVENTURE OF THE RED CROSS KNIGHT（EDMUND SPENSER）

29 THE TEACHER'S VOCATION（HENRY, LORD BROUGHAM）

30 THE FAMOUS MR. JOSEPH ADDISON（W. M. THACKERAY）

31 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY（JOSEPH ADDISON）

32 TRIUMPH OF CHARIS（BEN JONSON）

33 FIRST BUNKER HILL ORATION—A SELECTION（DANIEL WEBSTER）

34 THE GREATNESS OF GOD'S WORKS（FROM THE BOOK OF JOB）

35 SONNETS（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

36 HEROES OF THE MUTINY（FLORA ANNIE STEEL）

37 THE STORMING OF DELHI（LORD ROBERTS）

38 ULYSSES（ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON）

39 TENNYSON（HENRY VAN DYKE）

40 MICHAEL ANGELO AND CELLINI（J. A. SYMONDS）

41 THE CASTING OF THE STATUE OF PERSEUS（BENVENUTO CELLINI）

42 L'ALLEGRO（JOHN MILTON）

43 A NATION IN ITS STRENGTH（FROM "AREOPAGITICA," BY JOHN MILTON）

44 JOHN MILTON（J. R. GREEN）

45 KUBLA KHAN（S. T. COLERIDGE）

返回总目录

Harry Pratt Judson (1849 - 1927) was an American educator and historian, born at Jamestown, New York, and educated at Williams College. He taught in the Troy High School in Troy, New York in 1870-1885 and was professor of history and lecturer on pedagogic at the University of Minnesota in 1885-1892. At the University of Chicago he became professor of political science and head dean of the colleges in 1892 and head of the political science department and dean of the faculties of arts, literature, and science in 1894. He served as the acting president of the University of Chicago between 1906 and 1907 and as the president of the University of Chicago from 1907 until 1923.

Judson became a member of the General Education Board in 1906 and of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913. He edited a series of readers for school students, and wrote some great books.

欢迎访问家庭学校微博／博客

http://weibo.com/318999618

http://blog.sina.com.cn/homeschoolnow

GRADED

LITERATURE

READERS

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森主编的经典文学读本

美国学生

文学读本

HARRY PRATT JUDSON

〔美〕哈里·P·贾德森／编

天津人民出版社

INTRODUCTION

THE selections in this Eighth Reader are a moderate, but distinct, advance over those in the Seventh Reader, in thought, in language, and in literary construction.

The teacher may continue to place emphasis on the literary side of the reading, pointing out beauties of language and thought, and endeavoring to create an interest in the books from which the selections are taken. Pupils will be glad to know something about the lives of the authors whose works they are reading, and will welcome the biographical sketches throughout the book. These can be made the basis of further biographical study at the discretion of the teacher.

The word lists at the end of the selections contain all necessary explanations of the text.

A basal series of readers can do little more than broadly outline a course in reading, relying on the teacher to carry it forward. If a public library is within reach, the children should be encouraged to use it; if not, the school should exert every effort to accumulate a school library of standard works to which the pupils may have ready access.

The primary purpose of a reading book is to give pupils the mastery of the printed page, but through oral reading it also becomes a source of valuable training of the vocal organs. Almost every one finds pleasure in listening to good reading. Many feel that the power to give this pleasure comes only as a natural gift, but an analysis of the art shows that with practice any normal child may acquire it. The qualities which are essential to good oral reading may be considered in three groups:

First—An agreeable voice and clear articulation, which, although possessed by many children naturally, may also be cultivated.

Second—Correct inflection and emphasis, with that due regard for rhetorical pauses which will appear whenever a child fully understands what he is reading and is sufficiently interested in it to lose his self-consciousness.

Third—Proper pronunciation, which can be acquired only by association or by direct teaching.

Clear articulation implies accurate utterance of each syllable and a distinct termination of one syllable before another is begun.

Frequent drill on pronunciation and articulation before or after the reading lesson will be found profitable in teaching the proper pronunciation of new words and in overcoming faulty habits of speech.

Attention should be called to the omission of unaccented syllables in such words as history (not histry), valuable (not valuble), and to the substitution of unt for ent, id for ed, iss for ess, unce for ence, in for ing, in such words as moment, delighted, goodness, sentence, walking. Pupils should also learn to make such distinctions as appear between u long, as in duty, and u after r, as in rude; between a as in hat, a as in far, and a as in ask.

The above hints are suggestive only. The experienced teacher will devise for herself exercises fitting special cases which arise in her own work. It will be found that the best results are secured when the interest of the class is sustained and when the pupil who is reading aloud is made to feel that it is his personal duty and privilege to arouse and hold this interest by conveying to his fellow-pupils, in an acceptable manner, the thought presented on the printed page.

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

Stories

King Arthur and Excalibur

The Flight in the Heather

A Formidable Vassal

The Famous Mr. Joseph Addison

Sir Roger de Coverley

Heroes of the Mutiny

Poems

The Coming of Arthur

The Forsaken Merman

Sonnet on his Blindness

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love

Reply to Marlowe's "The Passionate Shepherd to his Love"

Henry V. before Battle

The Battle of Agincourt

A Song for St. Cecilia's Day

La Belle Dame sans Merci

Falstaff and the Thieves

Sohrab and Rustum

She walks in Beauty

An Adventure of the Red Cross Knight

The Triumph of Charis

The Greatness of God's Works

Sonnets 29 and 73

Ulysses

Tennyson

L'Allegro

Kubla Khan

History, Adventure, and Nature Study

The Northman

The Valley of Desolation

A Brilliant Geographical Contrast

Agincourt

The Bird

Swallow-time

Louis XI.

A Discourse upon Certain Vices and Virtues of Louis the Eleventh

First Bunker Hill Oration. A Selection

The Storming of Delhi

Michael Angelo and Cellini

John Milton

Miscellaneous

Hearty Reading

Norse Stories

Vindication of Ireland

Cairo Fifty Years Ago

The Teacher's Vocation

The Casting of the Statue of Perseus

A Nation in its Strength

1

HEARTY READING

BY SYDNEY SMITH

Sydney Smith (1771-1845): An English clergyman and author. He published some volumes of sermons characterized by earnestness and moderation, but his reputation rests chiefly on his miscellaneous and critical writings. He was distinguished for his wit, humor, and conversational powers.

This advice about reading is taken from a "Lecture on the Conduct of the Understanding."

Curiosity is a passion very favorable to the love of study, and a passion very susceptible of increase by cultivation. Sound travels so many feet in a second, and light travels so many feet in a second. Nothing more probable; but you do not care how light and sound travel. Very likely: but make yourself care; get up, shake yourself well, pretend to care, make believe to care, and very soon you will care, and care so much that you will sit for hours thinking about light and sound, and be extremely angry with any one who interrupts you in your pursuits, and tolerate no other conversation but about light and sound, and catch yourself plaguing everybody to death who approaches you with the discussion of these subjects.

I am sure that a man ought to read as he would grasp a nettle: do it lightly, and you get molested; grasp it with all your strength and you feel none of its asperities.〔1〕 There is nothing so horrible as languid study; when you sit looking at the clock, wishing the time was over or that somebody would call on you and put you out of your misery. The only way to read with any efficacy is to read so heartily that dinner-time comes two hours before you expected it.

To sit with your Livy〔2〕 before you, and hear the geese cackling that saved the Capitol; and to see with your own eyes the Carthaginian sutlers〔3〕 gathering up the rings of the Roman knights after the battle of Cann? and heaping them into bushels; and to be so intimately present at the actions you are reading of that when anybody knocks at the door it will take you two or three seconds to determine whether you are in your own study, or in the plains of Lombardy, looking at Hannibal's weather-beaten face, and admiring the splendor of his single eye, —this is the only kind of study which is not tiresome, and almost the only kind which is not useless; this is the knowledge which gets into the system and which a man carries about and uses like his limbs, without perceiving that it is extraneous〔4〕, weighty, or inconvenient.

注　释

〔1〕Asperities, roughnesses; severities.

〔2〕Titus Livy (59 B. C.-18 A. D.), a Roman historian. Consult a history of Rome for an account of how the sacred geese saved the Capitol from the Gauls, of the battle of Cannœ, in which the Romans were defeated by the Car tha ginians, and of Hannibal (248-183 B. C.), the great Carthaginian general.

〔3〕Sutlers, persons who follow an army and sell provisions to the soldiers.

〔4〕Extraneous, not essential; foreign.

2

THE COMING OF ARTHUR

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892): An English poet from whose writings a number of selections have been given in earlier books of this series. This selection is a part of the poem entitled, "The Coming of Arthur," the first of the series of poems comprising Tennyson's great epic, "The Idylls of the King."

Arthur, lately made king, had sent to King Leodogran asking his daughter Guinevere in marriage. Leodogran consulted Queen Bellicent as to Arthur's kingship. This extract gives her answer.

"Bleys〔1〕, our Merlin's master, as they say,

Died but of late, and sent his cry to me,

To hear him speak before he left his life.

Shrunk like a fairy changeling〔2〕 lay the mage〔3〕;

And when I entered told me that himself

And Merlin ever served about the king,

Uther, before he died; and on the night

When Uther in Tintagil〔4〕 passed away

Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two

Left the still king, and passing forth to breathe,

Then from the castle gateway by the chasm

Descending through the dismal night—a night

In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost—

Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps

It seemed in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof

A dragon winged, and all from stem to stern

Bright with a shining people on the decks,

And gone as soon as seen. And then the two

Dropped to the cove and watched the great sea fall,

Wave after wave each mightier than the last,

Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep

And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged

Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame:

And down the wave and in the flame was borne

A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's〔5〕 feet,

Who stooped and caught the babe, and cried, 'The king

Here is an heir for Uther!' And the fringe

Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand,

Lashed at the wizard as he spake the word,

And all at once all round him rose in fire,

So that the child and he were clothed in fire.

And presently thereafter followed calm,

Free sky and stars: 'And this same child,' he said,

'Is he who reigns; nor could I part in peace

Till this were told. 'And saying this the seer

Went through the strait and dreadful pass of death.

Not ever to be questioned any more

Save on the further side; but when I met

Merlin, and asked him if these things were truth—

The shining dragon and the naked child

Descending in the glory of the seas—

He laughed as is his wont, and answered me

In riddling triplets of old time, and said:

"'Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow in the sky!

A young man will be wiser by and by;

An old man's wit may wander ere he die.

"'Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow on the lea!

And truth is this to me, and that to thee;

And truth or clothed or naked let it be.

"'Rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom blows:

Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows?

From the great deep to the great deep he goes.'

"So Merlin riddling angered me; but thou

Fear not to give this king thine only child,

Guinevere; so great bards of him will sing

Hereafter; and dark sayings from of old

Ranging and ringing through the minds of men,

And echoed by old folk beside their fires

For comfort after their wage-work is done,

Speak of the king; and Merlin in our time

Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn

Though men may wound him that he will not die,

But pass, again to come; and then or now

Utterly smite the heathen underfoot,

Till these and all men hail him for their king."

She spake and King Leodogran〔6〕 rejoiced,

But musing, "Shall I answer yea or nay?"

Doubted, and drowsed, nodded and slept, and saw,

Dreaming, a slope of land that ever grew,

Field after field, up to a height, the peak

Haze-hidden, and thereon a phantom king

Now looming and now lost; and on the slope

The sword rose, the hind〔7〕 fell, the herd was driven,

Fire glimpsed; and all the land from roof and rick,

In drifts of smoke before a rolling wind,

Streamed to the peak, and mingled with the haze

And made it thicker; while the phantom king

Sent out at times a voice; and here or there

Stood one who pointed toward the voice, the rest

Slew on and burnt, crying, "No king of ours,

No son of Uther, and no king of ours;"

Till with a wink his dream was changed, the haze

Descended, and the solid earth became

As nothing, but the king stood out in heaven,

Crowned. And Leodogran awoke, and sent

Ulfius and Brastias and Bedivere〔8〕,

Back to the court of Arthur answering yea.

注　释

〔1〕Bleys, according to British tradition, a magician, the master of Merlin. The pupil, however, so far surpassed the teacher that Bleys laid aside magic and contented himself with making a chronicle of Merlin's doings.

〔2〕Changeling, a child exchanged by fairies.

〔3〕Mage, an old or poetic form of the word magician.

〔4〕Tintagil, a castle on the coast of Cornwall, said to have been built by two giants. It was the birthplace of King Arthur.

〔5〕Merlin, a great enchanter, the friend of Arthur.

〔6〕Leodogran, king of Cameliard, father of Guinevere, who became King Arthur wife.

〔7〕Hind, peasant; rustic.

〔8〕Ulfius, Brastias, Bedivere, three of Arthur's knights of the Round Table, sent as ambassadors to King Leodogran.

3

KING ARTHUR AND EXCALIBUR

BY SIR THOMAS MALORY

Sir Thomas Malory (1430-1471): A Welsh or English knight, who compiled and translated from the French the English "Morte d'Arthur." It is a noble prose epic, giving the legends about Arthur, the semi-fabulous king of Britain, and his knights of the Round Table.

Ⅰ. THE TAKING OF EXCALIBUR

And as they rode, Arthur said, "I have no sword." "No force,〔1〕" said Merlin, "hereby is a sword that shall be yours and I may." So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite〔2〕, that held a fair sword in that hand. "Lo," said Merlin, "yonder is that sword that I spake of." With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake. "What damsel is that?" said Arthur. "That is the Lady of the Lake,〔3〕" said Merlin; "and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as any on earth and richly beseen〔4〕, nd this damsel will come to you anon, and then speak ye fair to her that she will give you that sword."

Anon withal came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he her again. "Damsel," said Arthur, "what sword is that, that yonder the arm holdeth above the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword." "Sir Arthur king," said the damsel, "that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it." "By my faith," said Arthur, "I will give you what gift ye will ask." "Well," said the damsel, "go ye into yonder barge and row yourself to the sword and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time."

So Sir Arthur and Merlin alight and tied their horses to two trees, and so they went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that the hand held, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles and took it with him.

Then Sir Arthur looked on the sword and liked it passing〔5〕 well. "Whether liketh you better," said Merlin, "the sword or the scabbard?" "Me liketh better the sword," said Arthur. "Ye are more unwise," said Merlin, "for the scabbard is worth ten of the sword, for while ye have the scabbard upon you ye shall never lose no〔6〕 blood, be ye never so sore wounded, therefore keep well the scabbard always with you."

Ⅱ. THE CASTING AWAY OF EXCALIBUR

Then were they condescended〔7〕 that King Arthur and Sir Mordred〔8〕 should meet betwixt both their hosts, and every each of them should bring fourteen persons. And they came with this word unto King Arthur. Then said he, "I am glad that this is done." And so he went into the field. And when Arthur should depart, he warned all his host that and they see any sword drawn, "Look ye come on fiercely and slay that traitor Sir Mordred, for I in no wise trust him." In like wise Sir Mordred warned his host that, "And ye see any sword drawn, look that ye come on fiercely and so slay all that ever before you standeth: for in no wise I will not trust for this treaty."

And so they met as their pointment〔9〕 was, and so they were agreed and accorded thoroughly: and wine was fetched and they drank. Right so came an adder out of a little heath bush and it stung a knight on the foot. And when the knight felt him stungen, he looked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the adder and thought of none other harm. And when the host on both parties saw that sword drawn, then they blew beames〔10〕, trumpets, and horns, and shouted grimly. And so both hosts dressed them together. And King Arthur took his horse, and said, "Alas, this unhappy day!" and so rode to his party: and Sir Mordred in likewise.

And never was there seen a more dolefuller battle in no Christian land. For there was but rushing and riding, foining〔11〕 and striking, and many a grim word was there spoken either to other and many a deadly stroke. But ever King Arthur rode throughout the battle of Sir Mordred many times and did full nobly as a noble king should; and at all times he fainted never. And Sir Mordred that day put him in devoir〔12〕 and in great peril. And thus they fought all the long day and never stinted till the noble knights were laid to the cold ground, and ever they fought still, till it was near night, and by that time was there an hundred thousand laid dead upon the down.

Then was Arthur wroth out of measure, when he saw his people so slain from him. Then the king looked about him and then was he ware of all his host and of all his good knights, were left no more on live but two knights, that was Sir Lucan de butlere and his brother Sir Bedivere; and they full were sore wounded.

"Jesu mercy," said the king, "where are all my noble knights becomen? Alas! that ever I should see this doleful day. For now," said Arthur, "I am come to mine end. But would to God that I wist〔13〕 where were that traitor, Sir Mordred, that hath caused all this mischief."

Then was King Arthur ware where Sir Mordred leaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. "Now give me my spear," said Arthur unto Sir Lucan, "for yonder I have espied the traitor that all this woe hath wrought." Then the king gat his spear in both his hands and ran towards Sir Mordred, crying, "Traitor, now is thy death day come." And when Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until him with his sword drawn in his hand. And then King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with a foin of his spear throughout the body more than a fathom. And when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death's wound, he thrust himself, with the might that he had, up to the bur of King Arthur's spear. And right so he smote his father Arthur with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan, and therewithal Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth. And the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth and there he swooned ofttimes. And Sir Lucan de butlere and Sir Bedivere ofttimes heaved him up, and so weakly they led him betwixt them both to a little chapel not far from the seaside. And when the king was there, he thought him well eased.

Then Sir Lucan took up the king the one part and Sir Bedivere the other part, and in the lifting, the king swooned, and Sir Lucan fell in a swoon with the lift. And when King Arthur came to himself again, he beheld Sir Lucan how he lay foaming at the mouth. "Alas," said the king, "this is unto me a full heavy sight to see this noble duke〔14〕 so die for my sake, for he would have holpen me that had more need of help than I. Alas, he would not complain him, his heart was so set to help me. Now Jesu have mercy upon his soul."

Then Sir Bedivere wept for the death of his brother. "Leave this mourning and weeping," said the king, "for all this will not avail me: for wit〔15〕 thou well, and I might live myself the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me evermore: but my time hieth fast," said the king. "Therefore," said Arthur, "take thou Excalibur, my good sword, and go with it to yonder water side, and when thou comest there, I charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again and tell me what thou there seest." "My lord," said Bedivere, "your commandment shall be done, and lightly bring you word again."

So Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and haft were all of precious stones, and then he said to himself, "If I throw this rich sword in the water, thereof shall never come good, but harm and loss." And 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 and had thrown the sword into the water. "What sawest thou there?" said the king. "Sir," he said, "I saw nothing but waves and winds." "That is untruly said of thee," said the king; "therefore go thou lightly again, and do my command as thou art to me lief〔16〕 and dear: spare not, but throw it in."

Then Sir Bedivere returned again and took the sword in his hand; and then him thought sin and shame to throw away that noble sword: and so eft〔17〕 he hid the sword and returned again and told to the king that he had been at the water and done his commandment. "What saw thou there?" said the king. "Sir," he said, "I saw nothing but the waters wap〔18〕 and the Waves wan〔19〕." "Ah traitor, untrue," said King Arthur, "now hast thou betrayed me twice. Who would have wend〔20〕 that thou that hast been to me so lief and dear, and thou art named a noble knight, and would betray me for the riches of the sword? But now go again lightly, for thy long tarrying putteth me in great jeopardy of my life, for I have taken cold. And but if thou do now as I bid thee, if ever I may see thee, I shall slay thee with mine own hands, for thou wouldest for my rich sword see me dead."

Then Sir Bedivere departed and went to the sword, and lightly took it up and went to the water side, and there he bound the girdle about the hilts and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he might, and there came an arm and hand above the water and met it and caught it and so shook it thrice and brandished, and then vanished away the hand with the sword in the water. So Sir Bedivere came again to the king and told him what he saw. "Alas," said the king, "help me hence, for I dread me I have tarried over long."

Then Sir Bedivere took the king upon his back, and so went with him to that water side. And when they were at the water side, even fast by the bank hoved a little barge, with many fair ladies in it and among them all was a queen, and all they had black hoods and all they wept and shrieked when they saw King Arthur. "Now put me into the barge," said the king: and so he did softly. And there received him three queens with great mourning, and so they set him down and in one of their laps King Arthur laid his head, and then that queen said, "Ah, dear brother, why have you tarried so long from me? Alas, this wound on your head hath caught over much cold." And so then they rowed from the land; and Sir Bedivere beheld all those ladies go from him. Then Sir Bedivere cried, "Ah, my Lord Arthur, what shall become of me now ye go from me and leave me here alone among mine enemies?" "Comfort thyself," said the king, "and do as well as thou mayest, for in me is no trust for to trust in. For I will into the vale of Avilion〔21〕, to heal me of my grievous wound. And if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul." But ever the queens and ladies wept and shrieked, that it was pity to hear. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and wailed.

注　释

〔1〕No force, no matter.

〔2〕Samite, silk cloth interwoven with gold.

〔3〕Lady of the Lake, Nimue or Nineve, an enchantress, the friend of Arthur. She persuaded Merlin to tell her all his secrets, and then, by the spells so learned, enclosed him in a rock, where he died.

〔4〕Beseen, decked; adorned.

〔5〕Passing, exceedingly; excessively.

〔6〕Never... no, in Old English, as in several modern languages, a second negative strengthened, instead of destroying, the first.

〔7〕Condescended, consented.

〔8〕Sir Mordred or Modred, a kinsman of King Arthur, the source of much discord among the knights of the Round Table.

〔9〕Pointment, an old form of appointment.

〔10〕Beames, an old name for a sort of trumpet.

〔11〕Foining, thrusting with a sword.

〔12〕Devoir, need; duty.

〔13〕Wist, knew.

〔14〕Duke, leader; chief.

〔15〕Wit, know.

〔16〕Lief, beloved.

〔17〕Eft, again.

〔18〕Wap, beat.

〔19〕Wan, decrease.

〔20〕Wend, thought; imagined.

〔21〕Vale of Avilion or Avalon, the "island of the blest," in Glastonbury. It was the abode of Oberon, fairies, and enchanters, and thither King Arthur was said to have been conveyed after his last great battle.

4

NORSE STORIES

BY THOMAS CARLYLE

Thomas Carlyle

Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881): A British essayist, historian, and philosopher. He protested against all forms of sham and hypocrisy, and preached the "gospel of work," truth, duty, and force, —force without which all virtues are of no avail. His chief works are "The French Revolution," "Heroes and Hero Worship," "Life of Oliver Cromwell," and "Life of Frederick the Great."

This selection, about Norse character and Norse mythology, is from "Heroes and Hero Worship."

Among the Norsemen the main practical belief a man could have was probably not much more than this: of the Valkyrs〔1〕 and the Hall of Odin〔2〕; of an inflexible destiny; and that the one thing needful for a man was to be brave. The Valkyrs are choosers of the slain; a destiny inexorable, which it is useless trying to bend or soften, has appointed who is to be slain. These choosers lead the brave to a heavenly Hall of Odin; only the base and slavish being thrust elsewhither, into the realms of Hella〔3〕, the death-goddess: I take this to have been the soul of the whole Norse belief. They understood in their heart that it was indispensable to be brave; that Odin would have no favor for them, but despise and thrust them out, if they were not brave.

Consider, too, whether there is not something in this! It is an everlasting duty, valid in our day as in that, the duty of being brave. Valor is still value. The first duty for a man is still that of subduing fear. We must get rid of fear; we cannot act at all till then. A man's acts are slavish, not true but specious; his very thoughts are false, he thinks, too, as a slave and coward, till he have got fear under his feet. Odin's creed, if We disentangle the real kernel of it, is true to this hour. A man shall and must be valiant; he must march forward and quit himself like a man, trusting imperturbably in the appointment and choice of the upper powers; and, on the whole, not fear at all. Now and always, the completeness of his victory over fear will determine how much of a man he is.

The Norsemen thought it a shame and misery not to die in battle; and if natural death seemed to be coming on, they would cut wounds in their flesh, that Odin might receive them as warriors slain. Old kings about to die, had their body laid into a ship; the ship sent forth with sails set and slow fire burning it, that once out at sea it might blaze up in flame and in such manner bury worthily the old hero, at once in the sky and in the ocean! Wild bloody valor; yet valor of its kind; better, I say, than none. In the old sea kings, too, what an indomitable, rugged energy; silent, with closed lips, as I fancy them, unconscious that they were specially brave; defying the wild ocean with its monsters, and all men and things:—progenitors〔4〕 of our own Blakes and Nelsons. Rollo, Duke of Normandy〔5〕, the wild sea king, has a share in governing England at this hour.

The old Norse heart finds its friend in Thor〔6〕, the thunder god; it is not frightened away by his thunder, but finds that summer heat, the beautiful noble summer, must and will have thunder withal. The Norse heart loves this Thor and his hammer bolt; sports with him. Thor is summer-heat; the god of peaceable industry, as well as thunder. He is the peasant's friend; his true henchman and attendant is Thialfi, manual labor. Thor himself engages in all manner of rough manual work; scorns no business for its plebianism; is ever and anon traveling to the country of the Jotuns, harrying those chaotic frost monsters.

One of Thor's expeditions to Utgard, the outer garden, central seat of Jotun-land, is remarkable. Thialfi was with him, and Loki〔7〕. After various adventures, they entered upon giant-land; wandered over plains, wild, uncultivated places, among stones and trees. At nightfall they noticed a house; and as the door, which, indeed, formed one whole side of the house, was open, they entered. It was a simple habitation; one large hall, altogether empty. They stayed there.

Suddenly, in the dead of the night, loud noises alarmed them. Thor grasped his hammer, stood in the door prepared for fight. His companions within ran hither and thither in their terror, seeking some outlet in that rude hall; they found a little closet at last, and took refuge there. Neither had Thor any battle; for, lo! in the morning it turned out that the noise had been only the snoring of a certain enormous but peaceable giant, the giant Skrymir, who lay peaceably sleeping near by, and this that they took for a house was merely his glove thrown aside there; the door was the glove-wrist; the little closet they had fled into was the thumb. Such a glove! I remark, too, that it had not fingers as ours have, but only a thumb, and the rest undivided: a most ancient, rustic glove!

Skrymir now carried their portmanteau all day; Thor, however, had his own suspicions, did not like the ways of Skrymir; determined at night to put an end to him as he slept. Raising his hammer, he struck down into the giant's face a right thunderbolt blow, of force to rend rocks. The giant merely awoke, rubbed his cheek and said, "Did a leaf fall?"

Again Thor struck, so soon as Skrymir again slept; a better blow than before, but the giant only murmured, "Was that a grain of sand?" Thor's third stroke was with both his hands, —the "knuckles white," I suppose, —and seemed to dint deep into Skrymir's visage; but he merely checked his snore, and remarked, "There must be sparrows roosting in this tree, I think; is that a feather they have dropped?"

At the gate of Utgard, a place so high that you had to strain your neck bending back to see the top of it, Skrymir went his ways. Thor and his companions were admitted, invited to share in the games going on.

To Thor, for his part, they handed a drinking horn; it was a common feat, they told him, to drink this dry at one draught. Long and fiercely, three times over, Thor drank; but made hardly any impression. He was a weak child, they told him; could he lift that cat he saw there? Small as the feat seemed, Thor with his whole godlike strength could not; he bent up the creature's back, could not raise its feet off the ground, could at the utmost raise one foot.

"Why, you are no man," said the Utgard people; 'there is an old woman that will wrestle you!" Thor, heartily ashamed, seized this haggard old woman, but could not throw her.

And now, on their quitting Utgard, the chief giant, escorting them politely a little way, said to Thor: "You are beaten, then; yet be not so much ashamed, there was deception of appearance in it. That horn you tried to drink was the sea; you did make it ebb, but who could drink that, the bottomless! The cat you would have lifted, why, that is the Midgard-snake, great world-serpent, which, tail in mouth, girds and keeps up the whole created world; had you torn that up, the world must have rushed to ruin! As for the old woman, she was time, old age, duration; with her what can wrestle? And then those three strokes you struck, look at these three valleys; your three strokes made these!"

Thor looked at his attendant Jotun; it was Skrymir; it was the old chaotic rocky earth in person, and that glove-house was some earth cavern! But Skrymir had vanished; Utgard with its sky-high gates, when Thor grasped his hammer to smite them, had gone to air; only the giant's voice was heard mocking, "Better come no more to Jotunheim〔8〕."

注　释

〔1〕Valkyrs or Valkyrias, in Norse mythology, warlike maidens whom Odin sent to the battlefield to choose the bravest who were to be slain.

〔2〕Hall of Odin, Valhalla, according to Norse belief, the most beautiful palace of the gods. Odin was the supreme Norse deity.

〔3〕Hela, the Norse goddess of death, the daughter of Loki.

〔4〕Progenitors, forefathers.

〔5〕Rollo, Duke of Normandy (860-932), first duke of Normandy. He was originally a Norse viking, or pirate.

〔6〕Thor, the Norse god of thunder, the strongest of the gods.

〔7〕Loki, the Norse god of strife, the spirit of all evil.

〔8〕Jotunheim, the home of the Jotuns, or giants.

5

THE NORTHMAN

BY JOHN HENRY, CARDINAL NEWMAN

John Henry, Cardinal Newman (1801-1890): An eminent English theologian and author. He left the Church of England for the Roman Catholic Church, and one of his chief works is the "Apologia pro Vita Sua" ("Apology for His Life"), in which he defends his religious course. He wrote many sermons, theological works, poems, and some volumes of "Historical Sketches," from one of which this extract is made.

Though of the same stock as the Saxons, the Northmen were gifted with a more heroic cast of soul. Perhaps it was the peculiar scenery and climate of their native homes which suggested to them such lofty aspirations and such enthusiastic love of dangers and hardship. The stillness of the desert may fill the fierce Arab with a rapturous enjoyment, and the interminable forests of Britain or Germany might breathe profound mystery; but the icy mountains and the hoarse resounding waves of the North nurtured warriors of a princely stature, both in mind and body, befitting the future occupants of European thrones.

Cradled in the surge and storm, they were spared the temptation of indolence and luxury; they neither worshiped the vivifying powers of nature with the Greek, nor with the Sabian did they kiss the hand to the bright stars of heaven; but while they gave a personal presence and volition to the fearful or the beautiful spirits which haunted the mountains or lay in ambush in the mists, they understood by daily experience that good could not be had by the mere wishing, and they made it a first article in their creed that their reward was future and that their present must be toil.

The most obvious and prominent point of character common to the Northman and Norman is the peculiarity of their warlike heroism. War was their life; it was almost their chief good; good in itself, though nothing came of it.

The impetuosity of the Norman relieved itself in extravagances and raises a smile from its very intensity, at one time becoming a religious fanaticism, at another a fantastic knight-errantry. His very worship was to do battle; his rite of sacrifice was a passage of arms. He couched his lance to prove the matter of fact that his lady was the beautifullest of all conceivable women; he drew his sword on the blasphemer to convince him of the sanctity of the Gospel; and he passed abruptly from demolishing churches and burning towns to the rescue of the holy sepulcher from the unclean infidel.

In the Northmen, too, this pride of demolition had been their life revel. They destroyed for destroying's sake, because it was good to destroy; it was a display of power, and power made them gods. They seemed as though they were possessed by some inward torment which needed outlet, and which degraded them to the madness of their own Berserkers in the absence of some nobler satisfaction. Their fearful activity was their mode of searching out something great, they knew not what, the idea of which haunted them. It impelled them to those sudden descents and rapid careerings about a country, which, even in modern times, has broken out in the characteristic energy of Gustavus〔1〕 and Charles Ⅻ〔2〕 of Sweden.

Hence, too, when they had advanced some steps in the path of civilization, from this nature or habit of restlessness, they could not bear neutrality; they interfered actively in the cause of right in proportion as they gave up the practice of wrong. When they began to find out that piracy was criminal, instead of having recourse to peaceful occupations, they found an occupation cognate〔3〕 to piracy itself in putting piracy down.

Kings, indeed, would naturally undertake such a mission, for piracy interfered with their sovereign power and would not die of itself. It was not wonderful that Harold〔4〕, Haco the Good, and St. Olaf〔5〕 should hang the pirates and destroy their vessels, but the point of our remark is this, that they pursued the transgressors with the same furious zeal with which they had heretofore committed the same transgressions themselves. It is sometimes said that a reformed profligate is the sternest of moralists; and these Northern rovers, on their conversion, did penance for their own piracy by a relentless persecution of pirates.

They became knight-errants on water, devoting themselves to hardship and peril in the protection of the peaceful merchant. Under Canute of Denmark, a confraternity was formed with this object. Its members characteristically began by seizing on vessels not their own for its prosecution, and imposing compulsory loans on the wealthy trader for their outfit, though they professed to indemnify their owners out of the booty ultimately secured. Before they went on board, they communicated〔6〕; they lived soberly and severely, restricting themselves to as few followers as was possible. When they found Christians in the captured ships, they set them at liberty, clothed them, and sent them home. In this way as many as eight hundred pirate vessels were destroyed.

Sometimes, in spite of their reformation, they still pursued a pirate's trade; but it was a modified piracy. They put themselves under laws in the exercise of it, and waged war against those who did not observe them. These objects of their hostility were what Turner〔7〕 calls "indiscriminate" pirates. "Their peculiar and self-chosen task," he says, "was to protect the defenceless navigator, and to seek and assail the indiscriminate plunderer. The pirate gradually became hunted down as the general enemy of the human race."

He goes on to mention some of the laws imposed by Hjalmar upon himself and some other discriminating pirates, to the effect that they would protect trade and agriculture, and that they would not eat raw flesh.

Now, in what we have been drawing out, there is enough to show both the elementary resemblance of character, and yet the vast actual dissimilitude〔8〕, between the Scandinavian and the Norman.

注　释

〔1〕Gustavus Ⅱ. or Gustavus Addolphus (1594-1632), king of Sweden, a great general and able ruler.

〔2〕Charles Ⅻ (1682-1718), a king of Sweden, celebrated for his martial genius.

〔3〕Cognate, of the same nature; kindred.

〔4〕Harold I. (-1040), king of England, the son of Canute or Knut, a Danish king who conquered England.

〔5〕Haco the Good, St. Olaf (995-1050), viking and king of Norway.

〔6〕Communicate, to participate in the Communion Service.

〔7〕Sharon Turner (1768-1847), an English historian.

〔8〕Dissimilitude, unlikeness; difference.

6

THE FORSAKEN MERMAN

BY MATTHEW ARNOLD

Matthew Arnold (1822-1888): an English poet and prose writer, one of the ablest of English critics. He was the son of Dr. Thomas Arnold of Rugby—the Dr. Arnold of "Tom Brown at Rugby" —and, like his father, did much to further the cause of education. He tried to "add to the sum of happiness by stimulating his fellow-men to find in true culture a nobler ideal for their lives." His chief prose works are "Essays in Criticism" and "Culture and Anarchy." Among his poems are "Sohrab and Rustum," "Balder Dead," "The Forsaken Merman," and "The Strayed Reveler."

Come, dear children, let us away;

Down and away below!

Now my brothers call from the bay;

Now the great winds shoreward blow;

Now the salt tides seaward flow;

Now the wild white horses play,

Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

Children dear, let us away!

This way, this way!

Call her once before you go, —

Call once yet!

In a voice that she will know:

"Margaret! Margaret!"

Children's voices should be dear—

Call once more—to a mother's ear;

Children's voices wild with pain.

Surely she will come again.

Call her once, and come away;

This way, this way!

"Mother dear, we cannot stay!"

The wild white horses foam and fret.

Margaret! Margaret!

Come, dear children, come away down.

Call no more.

One last look at the white-walled town,

And the little gray church on the windy shore

Then come down.

She will not come though you call all day.

Come away, come away!

Children dear, was it yesterday

We heard the sweet bells over the bay?

In the caverns where we lay,

Through the surf and through the swell,

The far-off sound of a silver bell?

Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,

Where the winds are all asleep;

Where the spent lights quiver and gleam;

Where the salt weed sways in the stream;

Where the sea beasts ranged all round

Feed in the ooze of their pasture ground;

Where the sea snakes coil and twine,

Dry their mail and bask in the brine;

Where great whales come sailing by,

Sail and sail, with unshut eye,

Round the world forever and aye?

When did music come this way?

Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, was it yesterday—

Call yet once—that she went away?

Once she sate with you and me,

On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,

And the youngest sate on her knee.

She combed its bright hair, and she tended it well,

When down swung the sound of the far-off bell.

She sighed, she looked up through the clear green sea,

She said: "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray

In the little gray church on the shore to-day.

'Twill be Easter-time in the world—ah, me!

And I lose my poor soul, merman, here with thee."

I said: "Go up, dear heart, through the waves:

Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea caves."

She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.

Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, were we long alone?

"The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.

Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say.

Come!" I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay.

We went up the beach by the sandy down

Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-walled town,

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still,

To the little gray church on the windy hill.

From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,

But we stood without in the cold blowing airs.

We climbed on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,

And we gazed up the aisle though the small leaded panes.

She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear.

"Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here!

Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone.

The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan."

But, ah! she gave me never a look,

For her eyes were sealed to the holy book.

"Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door."

Come away, children, call no more!

Come away, come down, call no more!

Down, down, down,

Down to the depths of the sea!

She sits at her wheel in the humming town,

Singing most joyfully.

Hark what she sings: "O joy, O joy,

For the humming street and the child with its toy,

For the priest and the bell and the holy well;

For the wheel where I spun,

And the blessed light of the sun!"

And so she sings her fill,

Singing most joyfully,

Till the shuttle falls from her hand,

And the whizzing wheel stands still.

She steals to the window and looks at the sand,

And over the sand at the sea;

And her eyes are set in a stare;

And anon there breaks a sigh,

And anon there drops a tear,

From a sorrow-clouded eye,

And a heart sorrow-laden,

A long, long sigh,

For the cold strange eyes of a little mermaiden,

And the gleam of her golden hair.

Come away, away, children,

Come, children, come down!

The salt tide rolls seaward.

Lights shine in the town.

She will start from her slumber

When gusts shake the door;

She will hear the winds howling,

Will hear the waves roar.

We shall see, while above us

The waves roar and whirl,

A ceiling of amber,

A pavement of pearl.

Singing: "Here came a mortal,

But faithless was she!

And alone dwell forever

The kings of the sea."

"But we stood without in the cold blowing airs"

But, children, at midnight,

When soft the winds blow,

When clear falls the moonlight,

When spring tides are low;

When sweet airs come seaward

From heaths starred with broom;

And high rocks throw mildly

On the blanched sands a gloom:

Up the still, glistening beaches,

Up the creeks we will hie;

Over banks of bright seaweed

The ebb tide leaves dry.

We will gaze from the sand hills

At the white sleeping town;

At the church on the hillside—

And then come back down;

Singing: "There dwells a loved one,

But cruel is she!

She left lonely forever

The kings of the sea."

7

SONNET ON HIS BLINDNESS

BY JOHN MILTON

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent, which is death to hide,

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest He, returning, chide:

"Doth God exact day labor, light denied?"

I fondly ask; but Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need

Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best

Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state

Is kingly. Thousands at His bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait."

8

THE VALLEY OF DESOLATION

BY G. W. CURTIS

George William Curtis

George William Curtis (1824-1892): A popular American author and lecturer. Among his works are "Lotus Eating," "The Potiphar Papers," and "Prue and I." He wrote two volumes descriptive of his Eastern travels, "Nile Notes of a Howadji" and "The Howadji in Syria." In the latter work he gives the following account of a journey from Jerusalem to Jericho.

You are still likely to fall among thieves, going down to Jericho, and the only safety is in being robbed before you start by purchasing permission of the Arabs. The tribes that haunt the hill country near Jerusalem are not entirely friendly toward each other; but, by retaining a sheik〔1〕 of one of the most powerful among them, you insure tolerable security for the excursion.

The Sheik Artoosh, who awaited us at the foot of the Mount of Olives, —for a Bedouin〔2〕 fears to enter the city, whose very walls his stern wilderness chafes, —was the ideal Bedouin. He had the arched brow, the large, rich, sad, and tender eyes which are peculiar to the Orient and which painters aim to give to pictures of Christ. It was the most beautiful and luminous eye I have ever seen. The other features were delicate, but full of force, and the olive transparency of his complexion set his planet-like eyes as evening light the stars. There was that extreme elegance in his face, and in the supple grace of his movement, which imagination attributes to noblemen, and which is of the same quality as the refinement of a high-bred Arabian horse.

He wore, over a white robe, a long mantle of black goat's hair cloth, and his head was covered with the true Bedouin headdress—a Mecca handkerchief, or small shawl, of cloth of gold, with red borders and a long rich fringe. This is folded once and laid smoothly upon the head. One end falls behind between the shoulders, showering the fringe about the back; and the other is carried forward over the right shoulder, and caught up upon the left cheek, so half shielding the face, like the open visor of a helmet. A double twist of goat's hair cord, binding the shawl smoothly, goes around the head, so that the top of it is covered only with the gold.

Picture under this that mystic complexion of the desert, steep it all in Syrian light, and you have what only the Eastern sun can show. Mark, too, the sheik's white mare, —valued, even there, at purses〔3〕 equal to a thousand dollars, and on whom he moves as flexibly as a sunbeam on the water.

We skirted the Mount of Olives on the way to Bethany. In a quarter of an hour we were in the hill wilderness—the mountains that separate the valley of the Jordan from the plain of the sea. Our path was a zigzag way upon the slope. There are no houses or gardens, and Bethany, lying blighted in a nook of the hills, is only beautiful because she lived there〔4〕 who loved much. A few olive trees and blossoming vines linger, like fading fancies of greenness and bloom, along the way. A few Arabs pass, with guns and rusty swords. You feel that you are in a wild country, where the individual makes his own laws.

Artoosh was accompanied by an older dignitary, a kind of grand vizier, perhaps, or genius of the army. In narrow passes of the road, throats and gorges of the hills, overhung by steep cliffs, the vizier rode forward and surveyed the position, gun in hand and finger on the trigger. Several times he rode back to Artoosh, and, after a low council, they galloped off together, and reappeared upon the hills beyond, riding around corners of the rock and into bushy places where foes might lurk. But it was quite their affair. We were only passengers, and watched their beautiful riding with unmingled delight in its grace, and went musing and singing along in the monotonous noonlight, as in the safe solitude of a city.

Sunset showed us, from the brow of the mountains, the plain of the Jordan. Far away, upon the other side, it was walled by the misty range of the Moab. Utter silence brooded over the valley—and a silence as of death. No feeling of life saluted our gaze. From the Alps, you look southward into the humming luxuriance of Italy and northward into the busy toil of Switzerland, and the Apennines are laved with teeming life. But of all valleys that I had ever beheld from mountain tops, this was the saddest. Not even the hope of regeneration into activity dawned in the mind. I was looking down into the valley of the shadow of death.

Upon the brow of the mountain where we stood tradition indicates the spot of the Temptation.

We descended rapidly into the plain, and the camp was pitched among the green shrubs and trees that overhung a stream. It was Elisha's brook〔5〕 that ran sweet and clear just behind our tent. It was a wild night. The heat was deadly, and the massive mountains rose grimly before us, as if all fair airs were forever walled away. The sky was piled with jagged clouds. Occasional showers pattered upon the tents, and keen lightning angrily flashed, while low, dull thunder was hushed and flattened in the thick air. None of us slept. It was a weird and awful night.

A lurid dawn reddened over the valley. The leaden clouds caught the gleam upon their reef-like edges, but folded over again into deeper blackness. They clung affrighted to the mountains, which were only a mysterious darkness in the dawn. A mocking rainbow spanned the blind abysses, and the east was but a vast vapor, suffused with crimson luminousness. The day was fateful and strange, and glared at us vengeful-eyed, like a maniac. We were in a valley a thousand feet below the Mediterranean. The Dead Sea had infected it with death. This was the spirit and gloom of the sea, without its substance. Thus it would compel the very landscape and atmosphere to its appalling desolation, before it overflowed it with its water.

Through the vague apprehension of that supernatural morning, I heard the gurgling song of the little brook of Elisha, flowing clear and smooth out of the dark mountain region, and threading that enchanted silence with pleasant sound. I ran to it, and leaped in and drank of the water. But the red-eyed morning scorned me as I lay in that sweet embrace, and moaning, muttered thunders rehearsed the weary day.

The tents were struck. Artoosh, sheik of sheiks, leaped into his saddle, and the beautiful mare paced slowly away from the camp and led us toward Jericho. The little stream called after me, rilling cool music through the leaves—softer ever, and farther, until I heard it no more. The path wound among the bushes upon the plain. A few large raindrops fell with heavy distinctness upon the leaves. No birds sang, as they sing all day in dead, sunny Jerusalem. There were no houses, no flocks, no men or women. We came to a grain tract that waved luxuriantly to the horses' bellies, and out of the grain, upon a little elevation, arose a solitary, ruined tower.

It was the site of Jericho—the City of Palms, as Moses called it—and, although desolate now, palms were seen in the year 700 by Bishop Arculf〔6〕, and in 1102 by Sewulf, and the Crusaders found under them singular flowers, which they called Jericho roses. We saw no roses nor palms. We saw only a cluster of sad stone hovels; waneyed men stared at us like specters from the doors, and the scene was lonely and forlorn. Yet near one hovel a group of young fig trees was blossoming, as fairly as ever the figs and roses could have blossomed in the gardens of Jericho, before the seven rams were yeaned, and Joshua was a beardless boy, in Israel's camp by the Red Sea. The elevation upon which stands the tower commands the plain, and a more memorable or remarkable landscape seen under such a sky is nowhere beheld.

The vast reach of the plain lay silent and shadowed, as in early twilight, from the gleaming level of the Dead Sea on the south to the mountains that closed the valley upon the north. Westward lay the hills of Judea, and to the east the Moab Mountains. Lower lines of nearer eastern hills rolled and curved before us. Over all hung the lurid sky. Vague thunder still shook the awed hush of morning, and far over the Dead Sea, into the dense blackness that absorbed at the south its burnished water, fiery flashes darted. Glimpses of pallid blue sky struggled overhead in the crimson vortex of vapor, and died into the clouds. Upon the tops of all the bushy trees near us sat solemn-eyed eagles and vultures, silent, with fixed stare, like birds of prey dismally expectant.

But suddenly, like those who descry life in the midst of death, we saw the green trees that fringe the Jordan, and the whole party bounded at full speed over the plain. Beautiful, bowery Jordan! Its swift, turbid stream eddied and fled through the valley, defying its death with eager motion, and with the low gurgling song of living water. It is very narrow—not more, at that season, than a hundred feet wide—and it has channeled a deep bed in the soft earth, so that you do not see it until you stand on the very verge of the bank. Balsam poplars, willows, and oleanders lean over it, shrinking from the inexorable plain behind, clustering into it with trembling foliage, and arching it with green, as if tree and river had sworn forlorn friendship in that extremity of solitude.

Beautiful, bowery Jordan! Yet you are sad as you stand dipping your feet in its water, sad as you watch this brave son of Lebanon rushing, tumultuously triumphant, like a victor in the race, rushing and reeling with terror and delight, and in a moment to be hushed and choked in the bosom of the neighboring sea. Your eyes rove from the water to the trees that overhang it, with almost a human sympathy, and those trees are figures as lithe and pensive to your imagination as the daughters of Babylon〔7〕 who wept hopelessly by other waters.

So leave it singing under trees in your memory forever. And when in after days you sit, on quiet summer Sundays, in the church, and hear the story of the baptism, the forms around you will melt in the warm air; and once more those trees will overlean, once more those waters sing, and the Jordan, a vague name to others, shall be a line of light in your memory.

Artoosh turned to the south and away from the river which bends toward the Moab Mountains. We rode for an hour over the soft, floorlike, shrub-dotted plain and to the shore of the Dead Sea.

It lay like molten lead, heavily still under the clouds, a stretch of black water gleaming under muttering thunder. Its shores are bare mountain precipices. No tree grows upon the bank; no sail shines upon the sea; no wave or ghostly ripple laps the beach, only dead driftwood is strewn along the shore. No bird flew over; even the wind had died away. Moaning thunder only was the evidence of life in nature. My horse stooped to the clear water, but did not drink. It was a spot accursed. Did Cain skulk along this valley, leaving Abel in the field?

We tasted the water; it is inconceivably bitter and salt. Sea water is mild in the comparison. None of us bathed. Not only the stickiness and saltness, but a feeling of horror, repelled me. Haply the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah〔8〕, shaped as incredible monsters, haunt those depths. I believed the quaint old legend, "And if a man cast iron therein, it will float on the surface; but if men cast a feather therein, it will sink to the bottom."

注　释

〔1〕Sheik, the head of an Arab clan or tribe.

〔2〕Bedouin, one of the nomadic, or wandering, tribes of the Arabs. They live in tents and have no fixed dwelling place.

〔3〕Purses, according to Turkish valuation, a sum of money equal to twenty or twenty-five dollars.

〔4〕She lived there, Mary, the sister of Lazarus.

〔5〕Elijah's brook, Elijah's brook, Cherith?

〔6〕Arculf, a French priest who explored the Holy Land in the eighth century.

〔7〕Daughters of Babylon, the reference here is to the Jewish seventy years' captivity in Babylon.

〔8〕Sodom and Gomorrah, two ancient cities destroyed on account of the wickedness of their inhabitants.

9

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE

BY CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Christopher Marlowe (1564—1593): The greatest of the English dramatists who preceded Shakspere. He was the first to use blank verse in the English drama. His tragedies are characterized by strength and poetic power, and their extravagances are a reflection of his own violent and unhappy life. His chief dramas are "Tamburlane," "The Jew of Malta," "Edward Ⅱ.," and "Dr. Faustus."

Come live with me, and be my love;

And we will all the pleasures prove

That hills and valleys, dales and fields,

Woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,

Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks

By shallow rivers, to whose falls

Melodious birds sing madrigals〔1〕.

And I will make thee beds of roses,

And a thousand fragrant posies;

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle

Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool

Which from our pretty lambs we pull;

Fair-lined slippers for the cold,

With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy buds,

With coral clasps and amber studs,

An if these pleasures may thee move,

Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing

For thy delight each May morning:

If these delights thy mind may move,

Then live with me, and be my love.

注　释

〔1〕Madrigals, little love poems.

10

REPLY TO MARLOWE'S "THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE"

BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH

Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618): An English navigator, commander, and author. He was a favorite with Queen Elizabeth, to whom he is said to have first commended himself by an act of gallantry. On the accession of James I., he was accused of treason and imprisoned for twelve years, during which time he wrote a "History of the World." He wrote several short poems.

If that the world and love were young,

And truth in every shepherd's tongue,

These pretty pleasures, might me move

To live with thee and be thy love.

But time drives flocks from field to fold,

When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;

And Philomel〔1〕 becometh dumb;

The rest complain of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields

To wayward winter reckoning yields;

A honey tongue, a heart of gall,

Is fancy's spring but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,

Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,

Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten—

In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,

Thy coral clasps and amber studs, —

All those in me no means can move

To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed;

Had joys no date, nor age no need;

Then those delights my mind might move

To live with thee and be thy love.

注　释

〔1〕Philomel, philomela, a poetical name for the nightingale. According to the Greek legend, Philomela was an Athenian maiden who was changed into a nightingale.

11

A BRILLIANT GEOGRAPHICAL CONTRAST

BY JOHN RUSKIN

John Ruskin (1819-1900): An English writer on art and political economy. Some of the most vivid and picturesque passages of English prose occur in his earlier writings on the subjects of art and nature. During his later life he devoted himself to working for the elevation of the social life of the people and for the rescue of the laboring classes from the evils of the modern industrial system.

Extracts from his masterpiece, "Modern Painters," have been given in preceding books of this series. Here is a selection from "The Stones of Venice."

The charts of the world which have been drawn up by modern science have thrown into a narrow space the expression of a vast amount of knowledge; but I have never yet seen any one chart pictorial enough to enable the spectator to imagine the kind of contrast in physical character which exists between northern and southern countries.

We know the differences in detail, but we have not that broad glance and grasp which would enable us to feel them in their fullness. We know that gentians grow on the Alps, and olives on the Apennines; but we do not enough conceive for ourselves that variegated mosaic of the world's surface which a bird sees in its migration, that difference between the district of the gentian and of the olive which the stork and the swallow see far off, as they lean upon the sirocco〔1〕 wind.

Let us, for a moment, try to raise ourselves even above the level of their flight, and imagine the Mediterranean lying beneath us like an irregular lake, and all its ancient promontories sleeping in the sun; here and there an angry spot of thunder, a gray stain of storm, moving upon the burning field; and here and there a fixed wreath of white volcano smoke, surrounded by its circle of ashes: but, for the most part, a great peacefulness of light, Syria and Greece, Italy and Spain, laid like pieces of a golden pavement into the sea-blue, chased, as we stoop nearer to them, with bossy beaten work of mountain chains, and glowing softly with terraced gardens and flowers heavy with frankincense, mixed among masses of laurel and orange and plumy palm, that abate with their gray-green shadows the burning of the marble rocks, and of the ledges of porphyry〔2〕 sloping under lucent sand.

Then let us pass farther toward the north, until we see the orient colors change gradually into a vast belt of rainy green, where the pastures of Switzerland and poplar valleys of France and dark forests of the Danube and Carpathians, stretch from the mouths of the Loire to those of the Volga seen through clefts in gray swirls of rain cloud and flaky veils of the mist of the brooks, spreading low along the pasture lands.

And then, farther north still, to see the earth heave into mighty masses of leaden rock and heathy moor bordering with a broad waste of gloomy purple that belt of field and wood, and splintering into irregular and grisly islands amidst the northern seas, beaten by storm and chilled by ice drift and tormented by furious pulses of contending tide, until the roots of the last forests fail from among the hill ravines and the hunger of the north wind bites their peaks into barrenness. And at last the wall of ice sets, deathlike, its white teeth against us out of the polar twilight.

And, having once traversed in thought this gradation of the zoned iris of the earth in all its material vastness, let us go down nearer to it, and watch the parallel change in the belt of animal life: the multitudes of swift and brilliant creatures that glance in the air and sea, or tread the sands of the southern zone; striped zebras and spotted leopards, glistening serpents, and birds arrayed in purple and scarlet.

Let us contrast their delicacy and brilliancy of color, and swiftness of motion, with the frost-cramped strength and shaggy covering and dusky plumage of the northern tribes; contrast the Arabian horse with the Shetland, the tiger and leopard with the wolf and bear, the antelope with the elk, the bird of paradise with the osprey: and then submissively acknowledge the great laws by which the earth and all that it bears are ruled throughout their being.

注　释

〔1〕Sirocco, an oppressive wind from the Libyan deserts, experienced chiefly in Italy, Malta, and Sicily.

〔2〕Porphyry, a valuable stone, red, purple, or blue in color.

12

HENRY V. BEFORE BATTLE

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

This scene is in the English camp just before the battle of Agincourt. Henry V., the young and warlike English king, had asserted a claim to the French crown and had invaded France with a few thousand men. In the battle of Agincourt he defeated a French force which far outnumbered his. The Earls of Westmoreland, Warwick, and Salisbury, the Dukes of Bedford, Exeter, and Gloucester or Gloster, and John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, were English noblemen in the army of King Henry. The Dukes of Bedford and Gloster were the king's brothers.

Westmoreland. Oh, that we now had here

But one ten thousand of those men in England

That do no work to-day!

King Henry. What's he that wishes so?

My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:

If we are marked to die, we are enow〔1〕

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of honor.

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;

It yearns me not if men my garments wear;

Such outward things dwell not in my desires:

But if it be a sin to covet honor,

I am the most offending soul alive.

No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:

God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor

As one man more, methinks, would share from me,

For the best hope I have. Oh, do not wish one more!

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

Let him depart; his passport shall be made

And crowns for convoy put into his purse:

We would not live in that man's company

That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day〔2〕 is called the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tiptoe when this day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,

And say, "To-morrow is Saint Crispian:"

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,

And say "These wounds I had on Crispin's day."

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,

But he'll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day: then shall our names,

Familiar in his mouth as household words,

Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.

This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition〔3〕:

And gentlemen in England now abed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

[Enter Salisbury.

Salisbury.　My sovereign Lord, bestow yourself with speed:

The French are bravely in their battles set,

And will with all expedience charge on us.

King Henry.　All things are ready, if our minds be so.

Westmoreland. Perish the man whose mind is backward now!

King Henry.　Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?

Westmoreland.　God's will! my liege, would you and I alone,

Without more help, might fight this royal battle out!

King Henry.　Why, now thou hast unwished five thousand men;

Which likes me better than to wish us one.

You know your places: God be with you all!

注　释

〔1〕Enow, enough.

〔2〕This day, the battle of Agincourt was fought October 25,1415. The saints who gave name to the day were Crispin and Crispianus, two brothers, who traveled from Rome into France to spread Christianity. In order to support themselves, they became shoemakers. Their religion was discovered, and they were put to death.

〔3〕Gentle his condition, make his condition that of a gentleman.

13

THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT

BY MICHAEL DRAYTON

Michael Drayton (1563-1631): An English poet. He published some historical poems entitled "The Baron's Wars" and "England's Heroical Epistles." His principal work is the "Poly-Olbion," a poetical description of the natural scenery of Great Britain and the legends and stories connected therewith.

Agincourt, Agincourt! know ye not Agincourt?

Where the English slew and hurt

All the French foemen.

With our guns and bills〔1〕 brown,

Oh, the French were beat down,

Morris pikes〔2〕 and bowmen!

—T. HEYWOOD〔3〕

Fair stood the wind for France

When we our sails advance,

Nor now to prove our chance

Longer will tarry;

But putting to the main,

At Kaux, the mouth of Seine,

With all his martial train,

Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort,

Furnished in warlike sort,

Marched toward Agincourt

In happy hour;

Skirmishing day by day

With those that stopped his way,

Where the French general lay

With all his power.

Which in his height of pride,

King Henry to deride,

His ransom to provide

To the king sending:

Which he neglects the while,

As from a nation vile,

Yet, with an angry smile,

Their fall portending.

And turning to his men,

Quoth our brave Henry then:

"Though they be one to ten,

Be not amazed.

Yet have we well begun,

Battles so bravely won

Have ever to the sun

By fame been raisèd.

"And for myself," quoth he,

"This my full rest shall be;

England ne'er mourn for me,

Nor more esteem me: —

Victor I will remain,

Or on this earth lie slain.

Never shall she sustain

Loss to redeem me.

"Poitiers and Crécy〔4〕 tell,

When most their pride did swell,

Under our swords they fell:

No less our skill is,

Than when our grandsire great〔5〕,

Claiming the regal seat

By many a warlike feat,

Lopped the French lilies."

The Duke of York〔6〕 so dread

The eager vanguard led,

With the main Henry sped,

Among his henchmen.

Exeter had the rear,

A braver man not there,

Heaven! how hot they were

On the false Frenchmen!

They now to fight are gone:

Armor on armor shone,

Drum now to drum did groan,

To hear was wonder;

That with the cries they make,

The very earth did shake,

Trumpet to trumpet spake,

Thunder to thunder.

Well it thine age became,

O noble Erpingham〔7〕,

Which did the signal aim

To our hid forces;

When from a meadow by,

Like a storm suddenly,

The English archery

Struck the French horses.

With Spanish yew〔8〕 so strong,

Arrows a cloth yard long,

That like to serpents stung,

Piercing the weather;

None from his fellow starts,

But playing manly parts,

And like true English hearts,

Stuck close together.

When down their bows they threw,

And forth their bilboes〔9〕 drew,

And on the French they flew;

Not one was tardy;

Arms were from shoulders sent;

Scalps to the teeth were rent,

Down the French peasants went,

Our men were hardy.

This while our noble king,

His broad sword brandishing,

Down the French host did ding,

As to o'erwhelm it;

And many a deep wound lent,

His arms with blood besprent,

And many a cruel dent

Bruisèd his helmet.

Gloucester, that duke so good,

Next of the royal blood,

For famous England stood,

With his brave brother;

Clarence〔10〕, in steel so bright,

Though but a maiden knight,

Yet in that curious fight

Scarce such another.

Warwick in blood did wade,

Oxford the foe invade,

And cruel slaughter made,

Still as they ran up;

Suffolk his ax did ply,

Beaumont and Willoughby〔11〕

Bear them right doughtily〔12〕,

Ferrers and Fanhope.

Upon Saint Crispin's day

Fought was this noble fray,

Which fame did not delay

To England to carry.

Oh, when shall Englishmen,

With such acts fill a pen,

Or England breed again

Such a King Harry!

注　释

〔1〕Bills, weapons of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, consisting of long staffs to which were attached broad, two-edged blades, with short pikes at back and top.

〔2〕Morris pikes, Moorish pikes.

〔3〕Thomas Heywood (-1650?), an English actor and dramatic poet.

〔4〕Poitiers and Crécy, King Henry encourages his soldiers by reminding them of these two great battles in which King Edward Ⅲ. and his son, the Black Prince, won signal victories over the French.

〔5〕Our grandsire great, Edward Ⅲ.

〔6〕Edward, Duke of York, killed in this battle.

〔7〕Sir Thomas Erpingham, an English leader who gave the signal for attack.

〔8〕Spanish yew, the best bows were made of yew wood from Spain.

〔9〕Bilboes, swords, named from Bilboa, in Spain.

〔10〕Thomas, Duke of Clarence, the brother of King Henry V. He is called a maiden knight because he had lately received the honor of knighthood and had not yet distinguished himself by warlike achievements.

〔11〕Oxford, Suffolk, Beaumont, Willoughby, English noblemen who fought in the battle of Agincourt.

〔12〕Doughtily, bravely.

14

AGINCOURT

BY JULES MICHELET

John Dryden

Jules Michelet (1798-1874): An eminent French historian. He wrote several historical works for schools, which led to his being appointed professor of history at the Sorbonne. He distinguished himself as an adversary of the Jesuits and Romanism. His principal works are a "History of the French Revolution" and a "History of France," brilliant in style and full of ingenious generalizations.

This account of the battle of Agincourt is from the "History of France."

The two armies were strangely contrasted. On the French side might be seen three enormous squadrons, like three forests of lances, which in this narrow plain followed one another in order and extended to a vast depth; in their front stood the constable, the princes, and a crowd of nobles, a dazzling rainbow of enameled armor, of coats of arms, of banners, of horses strangely masked in steel and gold. The French had their archers too, men of the commons these; but where were they to be set? Every place was disposed of; no one would give up his post; people such as these archers would have been a blot on so noble a gathering. There were cannons, too, but it does not seem that they were used; probably no more room could be found for them than for the bowmen. On the other side stood the English army. Its outer seeming was poor enough. The archers had no armor, often no shoes; they had wretched headpieces of boiled leather, or even of osier, guarded by a crosspiece of iron; the axes and hatchets hung at their belts gave them the look of carpenters. Many of these good workmen had loosed their belts to work the more easily, first to bend the bow, then to wield the ax, when time came for leaving behind them the line of sharpened stakes which protected their front and for hewing at the motionless masses which stood before them.

For strange, incredible as it may seem, it is certain that the French army could not move, either to fight or fly. In the after struggle the rear guard alone made its escape. At the critical moment indeed of the battle, when old Thomas of Erpingham, after putting the English army in array, threw up his staff in the air, and cried, "Now strike!" while the English replied with a shout of ten thousand men, the French army, to their great surprise, remained immovable. Horses and horsemen all seemed enchanted or dead in their armor. In reality these great war horses, under the weight of their heavy riders and of their huge caparisons of iron, had sunk deeply in the thick clay on which they stood; they were so firmly fixed that it was with difficulty that they disengaged themselves in an attempt to advance. But their advance was only step by step. The field was a mere swamp of tenacious mud. "The field was soft and cut up by the horses; it was almost impossible to draw one's feet out of the ground, so soft was it. Besides this," goes on the French historian, "the French were so loaded with harness that they could not go forward. In the first place, they were burdened with steel coats of mail long enough to reach below the knees and very heavy, and below this mail they had harness on their legs, and above it harness of weight and helmets atop of all. Then they were so crowded together that none could lift their arms to strike the enemy, save those who were in the front rank." Another historian on the English side tells us that the French were arrayed thirty-two men deep, while the English stood but four men deep. This enormous depth of the French column was useless, for almost all who composed it were knights and horsemen, and the bulk of them were so far from being able to act that they never even saw what was going on in the front; while among the English every man had his share in the action. Of the fifty thousand Frenchmen in fact but two or three thousand had the power actively to engage with the eleven thousand Englishmen; or at least might have had the power, had the horses freed themselves from the mire.

To rouse these sluggish masses to action the English archers discharged thousands of arrows right at their faces. The ironclad horsemen bowed their heads, or the arrows would have pierced the visors of their helmets. Then on either flank of the army, from Tramecourt and from Agincourt, two French squadrons, by dint of hard spurring, got clumsily into motion, and came on headed by two famous men-at-arms, Messire Cliquet de Brabant and Messire Guillaume de Sausure. But the first squadron, which came from Tramecourt, was suddenly riddled by the fire from a body of archers hidden in the wood on its flank; and neither the one squadron nor the other ever reached the English line. In fact, of twelve hundred men who charged, but a hundred and twenty managed to dash themselves against the stakes on the English front. The bulk had fallen on the road, men and horses, as they floundered in the thick mud. And well had it been had all fallen, for those whose horses were wounded could no longer govern the maddened beasts, and they turned back to rush on the French ranks. Far from being able to open them to let them pass, the advance guard was, as has been seen, so thickly massed together that not a man could move; and one may conceive the fearful confusion that fell on the serried mass, the frightened horses plunging and backing through it, flinging down their riders, or crushing them into a mass of clashing iron. It was in the midst of this turmoil that the Englishmen fell on them. Quitting their front of stakes, throwing down bow and arrow, they came on at their ease, hatchet and ax, sword or loaded club in hand, to hew at the vast confused heap of men and horses. When, in all good time, they had finally made a clearance of the advance guard, they advanced, with King Henry at their head, on the second line of battle behind it. It was perhaps at this moment that eighteen French gentlemen fell upon the English king. They had vowed, it is said, to die or to dash his crown from his head; one of them tore from it a fleurde-lis〔1〕; but all perished on the spot. It was now at any rate that the Duke of Brabant hurried up to the fight. He came late enough; but he was still in good time to die. The brave prince had left his men behind him; he had not even put on his coat of arms: in its stead he took his banner, made a hole in it, passed his head through the hole, and threw himself upon the English, who slew him in an instant. Only the rear guard now remained, and this soon melted away.

注　释

〔1〕Fleurde-lis, a French emblem of royalty.

15

A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY

BY JOHN DRYDEN

John Dryden (1631-1700): An English poet and dramatist, the most popular author of his time. His popularity was partly due to the merit of his poems and partly to the fact that they celebrated the heroes of the day. He passed with facility from one party and religion to another, as the puritan Cromwell, the restored Stuart, Charles Ⅱ., or the Catholic James Ⅱ. was in the ascendency. Dryden's style is vigorous, his command of language great. His principal poems are "Annus Mirabilis," "Religio Laici," "The Hind and the Panther," "Ode for St. Cecilia's Day," two satires, "Absalom and Achitophel" and "MacFlecknoe," and a translation of Virgil's "Aeneid."

This "Ode for St. Cecilia's Day," one of his best poems, was written at the request of a musical society for its celebration of St. Cecilia's Day, the twenty-second of November.

St. Cecilia was a Roman virgin who suffered martyrdom in the second or third century. She is the patron saint of music, and the reputed inventor of the organ. A legend says that an angel, charmed by her music, brought her each night a rose from heaven.

From harmony, from heavenly harmony

This universal frame began;

When Nature underneath a heap

Of jarring atoms lay,

And could not heave her head,

The tuneful voice was heard from high,

"Arise, ye more than dead."

Then cold and hot and moist and dry〔1〕

In order to their stations leap,

And Music's power obey.

From harmony, from heavenly harmony,

This universal frame began:

From harmony to harmony

Through all the compass of the notes it ran,

The diapason closing full in man.

What passion cannot music raise and quell!

When Jubal〔2〕 struck the corded shell,

His listening brethren stood around,

And, wondering on their faces fell

To worship that celestial sound:

Less than a god they thought there could not dwell

Within the hollow of that shell,

That spoke so sweetly and so well.

What passion cannot music raise and quell?

The trumpet's loud clangor

Excites us to arms

With shrill notes of anger

And mortal alarms.

The double double double beat

Of the thundering drum

Cries, "Hark! the foes come;

Charge, charge!' tis too late to retreat."

The soft complaining flute

In dying notes discovers

The woes of hopeless lovers,

Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute.

Sharp violins proclaim

Their jealous pangs and desperation,

Fury, frantic indignation,

Depth of pains and height of passion,

For the fair, disdainful dame.

But oh! what art can teach,

What human voice can reach

The sacred organ's praise?

Notes inspiring holy love,

Notes that wing their heavenly ways

To mend the choirs above.

Orpheus could lead the savage race,

And trees unrooted left their place,

Sequacious〔3〕 of the lyre;

But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher:

When to her organ vocal breath was given,

An angel heard and straight appeared,

Mistaking earth for heaven.

(Grand Chorus)

As from the power of sacred lays

The spheres began to move,

And sung the great Creator's praise

To all the blessed above;

So when the last and dreadful hour

This crumbling pageant shall devour,

The trumpet shall be heard on high,

The dead shall live, the living die,

And music shall untune the sky.

__________

I hold every man a debtor to his profession; from the which as men of course do seek to receive countenance and profit, so ought they of duty to endeavor themselves by way of amends to be a help and ornament thereunto.

—BACON

注　释

〔1〕Cold and hot and moist and dry, the four elemental properties. According to the doctrine of ancient physics, all things were composed of the four elements, air, fire, water, and earth. The higher natures, such as man, were made so by the preponderance of air and fire in their composition.

〔2〕Jubal, the inventor of the lyre and the flute. See Genesis iv. 19—21.

〔3〕Sequacious, following; attendant.

16

THE BIRD

BY JOHN RUSKIN

The bird is little more than a drift of the air brought into form by plumes; the air is in all its quills, it breathes through its whole frame and flesh, and glows with air in its flying, like a blown flame: it rests upon the air, subdues it, surpasses it, outraces it; is the air conscious of itself, conquering itself, ruling itself.

Also, into the throat of the bird is given the voice of the air. All that in the wind itself is weak, wild, useless in sweetness, is knit together in its song. As we may imagine the wild form of the cloud closed into the perfect form of the bird's wings, so the wild voice of the cloud into its ordered and commanded voice; unwearied, rippling through the clear heaven in its gladness, interpreting all intense passion through the soft spring nights, bursting into acclaim and rapture of choir at daybreak, or lisping and twittering among the boughs and hedges through heat of day, like little winds that only make the cowslip bells shake and ruffle the petals of the wild rose.

Also, upon the plumes of the bird are put the colors of the air: on these the gold of the cloud, that cannot be gathered by any covetousness; the rubies of the clouds, the vermilion of the cloud-bar, and the flame of the cloudcrest, and the snow of the cloud, and its shadow, and the melted blue of the deep wells of the sky—all these, seized by the creating spirit, and woven into films and threads of plume; with wave on wave following and fading along breast and throat and opened wings, infinite as the dividing of the foam and the sifting of the sea sand—even the white down of the cloud seeming to flutter up between the stronger plumes, seen, but too soft for touch.

17

THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER

BY R. L. STEVENSON

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894): A Scottish novelist and poet, several of whose charming poems for children have been given in the earlier books of this series. He was educated for an engineer, but studied law, and afterward adopted literature as his profession. Among his best-known books are "Treasure Island," "Kidnapped," "Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde," "Virginibus Puerisque," and "A Child's Garden of Verse."

This selection is from "Kidnapped," the story of the adventures of David Balfour, a Scottish lad, in the year 1751. David and his companion, Alau Breck, were suspected of murder. They were unwilling to inform against the criminal, who was known to them, and they took refuge in flight. The scenes of their flight—Glencoe, Appin, and the other places mentioned—are in the western part of Scotland, near the coast.

Ⅰ

Sometimes we walked, sometimes ran; and as it drew on to morning, walked ever the less and ran the more. Though upon its face that country appeared to be a desert, yet there were huts and houses of the people, of which we must have passed more than twenty, hidden in quiet places of the hills. When we came to one of these, Alan would leave me in the way, and go himself and rap upon the side of the house and speak awhile at the window with some sleeper awakened. This was to pass the news, which, in that country, was so much of a duty that Alan must pause to attend to it even while fleeing for his life; and so well attended to by others that in more than half of the houses where we called, they had already heard of the murder. In the others, as well as I could make out—standing back at a distance and hearing a strange tongue—the news was received with more of consternation than surprise.

For all our hurry, day began to come in while we were still far from any shelter. It found us in a prodigious valley, strewn with rocks and where ran a foaming river. Wild mountains stood around it; there grew there neither grass nor trees; and I have sometimes thought since then, that it may have been the valley called Glencoe, where the massacre was in the time of King William.

The first peep of morning, then, showed us this horrible place, and I could see Alan knit his brow.

"This is no fit place for you and me," he said. "This is a place they're bound to watch."

And with that he ran harder than ever down to the water side, in a part where the river was split in two among three rocks. It went through with a horrid thundering, and there hung over the lin〔1〕 a little mist of spray. Alan looked neither to the right nor to the left, but jumped clean upon the middle rock, and fell there on his hands and knees to check himself, for that rock was small and he might have pitched over on the far side. I had scarce time to measure the distance or to understand the peril before I had followed him, and he had caught and stopped me.

So there we stood, side by side, upon a small rock slippery with spray, a far broader leap in front of us, and the river dinning upon all sides. When I saw where I was there came on me a deadly sickness of fear, and I put my hand over my eyes. Alan took me and shook me; I saw he was speaking, but the roaring of the falls and the trouble of my mind prevented me from hearing; only I saw his face was red with anger and that he stamped upon the rock. The same look showed me the water raging by and the mist hanging in the air; and with that I covered my eyes again and shuddered.

The next minute Alan had set the brandy bottle to my lips and forced me to drink about a gill, which sent the blood to my head again. Then, putting his hands to his mouth and his mouth to my ear he shouted, "Hang or drown!" and, turning his back upon me, leaped over the further branch of the stream, and landed safe.

I was now alone upon the rock, which gave me the more room; the brandy was singing in my ears; I had this good example fresh before me, and just wit enough to see that if I did not leap at once, I should never leap at all. I bent low on my knees and flung myself forth, with that kind of anger of despair that has sometimes stood me in stead of courage. Sure enough, it was but my hands that reached the full length; these slipped, caught again, slipped again; and I was sliddering back into the lin, when Alan seized me, first by the hair, then by the collar, and with a great strain dragged me into safety.

Never a word he said, but set off running again for his life, and I must stagger to my feet and run after him. I had been weary before, but now I was sick and bruised, and partly drunken with the brandy; I kept stumbling as I ran, I had a stitch that came near to overmaster me; and when at last Alan paused under a great rock that stood there among a number of others, it was none too soon for David Balfour.

A great rock, I have said; but by rights it was two rocks leaning together at the top, both some twenty feet high, and at the first sight inaccessible. Even Alan—though you may say he had as good as four hands—failed twice in an attempt to climb them; and it was only at the third trial, and then by standing on my shoulders and leaping up with such force as I thought must have broken my collar bone, that he secured a lodgment. Once there, he let down his leathern girdle; and with the aid of that, and a pair of shallow footholds in the rock, I scrambled up beside him.

Then I saw why we had come there; for the two rocks, both being somewhat hollow on the top and sloping one to the other, made a kind of dish or saucer, where as many as three or four men might have lain hidden.

All this while, Alan had said not a word, and had run and climbed with such a savage, silent frenzy of hurry, that I knew he was in mortal fear of some miscarriage. Even now we were on the rock he said nothing, nor so much as relaxed the frowning look upon his face; but clapped fiat down, and keeping only one eye above the edge of our place of shelter, scouted all round the compass. The dawn had come quite clear; we could see the stony sides of the valley, and its bottom, which was bestrewed with rocks, and the river, which went from one side to another and made white falls; but nowhere the smoke of a house, nor any living creature but some eagles screaming round a cliff.

Then at last Alan smiled.

"Aye," said he, "now we have a chance;" and then, looking at me with some amusement, "Ye're no very gleg〔2〕 at the jumping," said he.

At this I suppose I colored with mortification, for he added at once: "Hoots! small blame to ye! To be feared of a thing and yet to do it, is what makes the prettiest〔3〕 kind of a man. And then there was water there, and water's a thing that dauntons〔4〕 even me. No, no," said Alan, "it's no you that's to blame, it's me."

I asked him why.

"Why," said he, "I have proved myself a gomeral〔5〕 this night. For first of all I take a wrong road, and that in my own country of Appin; so that the day has caught us where we should never have been; and thanks to that, we lie here in some danger and mair discomfort. And next—which is the worst of the two, for a man that has been so much among the heather as myself—I have come wanting a water bottle, and here we lie for a long summer's day with naething but neat spirit〔6〕. Ye may think that a small matter; but before it comes night, David, ye'll give me news of it."

I was anxious to redeem my character, and offered, if he would pour out the brandy, to run down and fill the bottle at the river.

"I would nae waste the good spirit either," says he. "It's been a good friend to you this night, or, in my poor opinion, ye would still be cocking on yon stone. And what's mair," says he, "ye may have observed—you that's a man of so much penetration—that Alan Breck Stewart was perhaps walking quicker than his ordinar'."

"You!" I cried, "you were running fit to burst."

"Was I so?" said he. "Well then, ye may depend upon it, there was nae time to be lost. And now here is enough said; gang you to your sleep, lad, and I'll watch."

Accordingly, I lay down to sleep; a little peaty earth had drifted in between the top of the two rocks, and some bracken〔7〕 grew there, to be a bed to me; the last thing I heard was still the crying of the eagles.

Ⅱ

I dare say it would be nine in the morning when I was roughly awakened, and found Alan's hand pressed upon my mouth.

"Wheesht!" he whispered. "You were snoring."

"Well," said I, surprised at his anxious and dark face, "and why not?"

He peered over the edge of the rock, and signed to me to do the like.

It was now high day, cloudless, and very hot. The valley was as clear as in a picture. About half a mile up the water was a camp of redcoats; a big fire blazed in their midst, at which some were cooking; and near by on the top of a rock, about as high as ours, there stood a sentry with the sun sparkling on his arms. All the way down along the river side were posted other sentries; here near together, there widelier scattered; some planted like the first, on places of command, some on the ground level, and marching and countermarching, so as to meet half way. Higher up the glen, where the ground was more open, the chain of posts was continued by horse soldiers, whom we could see in the distance riding to and fro. Lower down, the infantry continued; but as the stream was suddenly swelled by the confluence of a considerable burn〔8〕, they were more widely set, and only watched the fords and stepping-stones.

I took but one look at them and ducked again into my place. It was strange indeed to see this valley, which had lain so solitary in the hour of dawn, bristling with arms and dotted with the red coats and breeches.

"Ye see," said Alan, "this was what I was afraid of, Davie; that they would watch the burn side. They began to come in about two hours ago, and man! but ye're a grand hand at the sleeping! We're in a narrow place. If they get up the sides of the hill, they could easy spy us with a glass; but if they'll only keep in the foot of the valley, we'll do yet. The posts are thinner down the water; and come night, we'll try our hand at getting by them."

"And what are we to do till night?" I asked.

"Lie here," said he, "and birsle〔9〕."

That one good Scotch word, "birsle," was indeed the most of the story of the day that we had now to pass. You are to remember that we lay on the bare top of a rock, like scones upon a griddle; the sun beat upon us cruelly; the rock grew so heated a man could scarce endure the touch of it; and the little patch of earth and fern, which kept cooler, was only large enough for one at a time. We took turn about to lie on the naked rock, which was indeed like the position of that saint that was martyred on a gridiron.

All the while we had no water, only raw brandy for a drink, which was worse than nothing; but we kept the bottle as cool as we could, burying it in the earth, and got some relief by bathing our breasts and temples.

The soldiers kept stirring all day in the bottom of the valley, now changing guard, now in patrolling parties hunting among the rocks. These lay round in so great a number that to look for men among them was like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay; and being so hopeless a task, it was gone about with the less care. Yet we could see the soldiers pike their bayonets among the heather, which sent a cold thrill into my vitals; and they would sometimes hang about our rock, so that we scarce dared to breathe.

The tediousness and pain of these hours upon the rocks grew only the greater as the day went on; the rock getting still the hotter and the sun fiercer. There were giddiness and sickness and sharp pangs like rheumatism to be supported. I minded then, and have often minded since, on the lines in our Scotch Psalm:—

"The moon by night thee shall not smite,

Nor yet the sun by day;"

and indeed it was only by God's blessing that we were neither of us sun-smitten.

At last, about two, it was beyond men's bearing, and there was now temptation to resist as well as pain to thole〔10〕. For the sun being now got a little into the west, there came a patch of shade on the east side of our rock which was the side sheltered from the soldiers.

"As well one death as another," said Alan, and slipped over the edge and dropped on the ground on the shadowy side.

I followed him at once, and instantly fell all my length, so weak was I and so giddy with that long exposure. Here, then, we lay for an hour or two, aching from head to foot, as weak as water, and lying quite naked to the eye of any soldier who should have strolled that way. None came, however, all passing by on the other side, so that our rock continued to be our shield even in this new position.

Presently we began again to get a little strength; and as the soldiers were now lying closer along the river side, Alan proposed that we should try a start. I was by this time afraid of but one thing in the world, and that was to be set back upon the rock; anything else was welcome to me; so we got ourselves at once in marching order, and began to slip from rock to rock one after the other, now crawling, now making a run for it, heart in mouth.

The soldiers, having searched this side of the valley after a fashion and being perhaps somewhat sleepy with the sultriness of the afternoon, had now laid by much of their vigilance, and stood dozing at their posts, or only kept a lookout along the banks of the river, so that in this way, keeping down the valley and at the same time toward the mountains, we drew steadily away from their neighborhood. But the business was the most wearing I had ever taken part in. A man had need of a hundred eyes in every part of him, to keep concealed in that uneven country and within cry of so many and scattered sentries. When we must pass an open place, quickness was not all, but a swift judgment not only of the lie of the whole country but of the solidity of every stone on which we must set foot; for the afternoon was now fallen so breathless that the rolling of a pebble sounded abroad like a pistol shot, and would start the echo calling among the hills and cliffs.

By sundown, we had made some distance, even by our slow rate of progress, though to be sure the sentry on the rock was still plainly in our view. But now we came on something that put all fears out of season; and that was a deep, rushing burn that tore down, in that part, to join the glen river. At the sight of this, we cast ourselves on the ground and plunged head and shoulders in the water; and I cannot tell which was the more pleasant, the great shock as the cool stream went over us or the greed with which we drank of it.

We lay there—for the banks hid us—drank again and again, bathed our chests, let our wrists trail in the running water till they ached with the chill; and at last, being wonderfully renewed, we got out the mealbag and made drammach in the iron pot. This, though it is but cold water mingled with oatmeal, yet makes a good enough dish for a hungry man; and where there are no means of making fire, or, as in our case, good reason for not making one, it is the chief stand-by of those who have taken to the heather.

As soon as the shadow of the night had fallen, we set forth again, at first with the same caution, but presently with more boldness, standing our full height and stepping out at a good pace of walking. The way was very intricate, lying up the steep sides of mountains and along the brows of cliffs; clouds had come in with the sunset and the night was dark and cool, so that I walked without much fatigue, but in continual fear of falling and rolling down the mountains, and with no guess at our direction.

The moon rose at last and found us still on the road; it was in its last quarter and was long beset with clouds; but after a while shone out, and showed me many dark heads of mountains, and was reflected far underneath us on the narrow arm of a sea loch.

At this sight we both paused: I struck with wonder to find myself so high and walking, as it seemed to me, upon clouds; Alan to make sure of his direction.

Seemingly he was well pleased, and he must certainly have judged us out of earshot of all our enemies; for throughout the rest of our night march, he beguiled the way with whistling of many tunes, warlike, merry, plaintive; reel tunes that made the foot go faster; tunes of my own south country that made me fain to be home from my adventures; and all these, on the great, dark, desert mountains, making company upon the way.

Early as day comes in the beginning of July, it was still dark when we reached our destination, a cleft in the head of a great mountain, with a water running through the midst, and upon the one hand a shallow cave in a rock. Birches grew there in a thin, pretty wood, which a little farther on was changed into a wood of pines. The burn was full of trout; the wood of cushat doves; on the opening side of the mountain beyond, whaups would be always whistling and cuckoos were plentiful. From the mouth of the cleft we looked down upon a part of Mamore, and on the sea loch that divides that country from Appin; and this from so great a height, as made it my continual wonder and pleasure to sit and behold them.

The name of the cleft was the Heugh of Corrynakiegh; and although from its height and being so near upon the sea, it was often beset with clouds, yet it was on the whole a pleasant place, and the five days we lived in it went happily.

We slept in the cave, making our bed of heather bushes which we cut for that purpose, and covering ourselves with Alan's greatcoat. There was a low, concealed place, in a turning of the glen, where we were so bold as to make fire so that we could warm ourselves when the clouds set in, and cook hot porridge, and grill the little trouts that we caught with our hands, under the stones and overhanging banks of the burn. This was indeed our chief pleasure and business; and not only to save our meal against worse times, but with a rivalry that much amused us, we spent a great part of our days at the water side, stripped to the waist, and groping about, or, as they say, guddling for these fish. The largest we got might have been three quarters of a pound; but they were of good flesh and flavor, and when broiled upon the coals, lacked only a little salt to be delicious.

In any by-time Alan must teach me to use my sword, for my ignorance had much distressed him; and I think besides, as I had sometimes the upper hand of him in the fishing, he was not sorry to turn to an exercise where he had so much the upper hand of me. He made it some. what more of a pain than need have been, for he stormed at me all through the lessons in a very violent manner of scolding, and would push me so close that I made sure he must run me through the body. I was often tempted to turn tail, but held my ground for all that, and got some profit of my lessons; if it was but to stand on guard with an assured countenance, which is often all that is required. So, though I could never in the least please my master, I was not altogether displeased with myself.

Ⅲ

In the meanwhile, you are not to suppose that we neglected our chief business, which was to get away.

"It will be many a long day," Alan said to me on our first morning, "before the redcoats think upon seeking Corrynakiegh; so now we must get word sent to James, and he must find the siller for us."

"And how shall we send that word?" says I. "We are here in a desert place, which yet we dare not leave; and unless we get the fowls of the air to be your messengers, I see not what we shall be able to do."

"Aye?" said Alan. "Ye're a man of small contrivance, David."

Thereupon he fell in a muse, looking in the embers of the fire; and presently, getting a piece of wood, he fashioned it in a cross, the four ends of which he blackened on the coals. Then he looked at me a little shyly.

"Could ye lend me my button?" says he. "It seems a strange thing to ask a gift again, but I own I am laith〔11〕 to cut another."

I gave him the button; whereupon he strung it on a strip of his greatcoat, which he had used to bind the cross; and tying in a little sprig of birch and another of fir, he looked upon his work with satisfaction.

"Now," said he, "there is a little clachan,"—what is called a hamlet in the English—" not very far from Corrynakiegh, and it has the name of Koalisnacoan. There, there are living many friends of mine whom I could trust with my life, and some that I am no just so sure of. Ye see, David, there will be money set upon our heads; James himsel' is to set money on them; and as for the Campbells, they would never spare siller where there was a Stewart to be hurt. If it was otherwise, I would go down to Koalisnacoan whatever, and trust my life into these people's hands as lightly as I would trust another with my glove."

"But being so?" said I.

"Being so," said he, "I would as lief they didnae see me. There's bad folk everywhere, and what's far worse, weak ones. So when it comes dark again, I will steal down into that clachan, and set this that I have been making in the window of a good friend of mine, John Breck Maccoll, a bouman〔12〕 of Appin's."

"With all my heart," says I; "and if he finds it, what is he to think?"

"Well," says Alan, "I wish he was a man of more penetration, for by my troth〔13〕 I am afraid he will make little enough of it! But this is what I have in my mind. This cross is something in the nature of the cross-tarrie, or fiery cross, which is the signal of gathering in our clans; yet he will know well enough the clan is not to rise, for there it is standing in his window, and no word with it. So he will say to himsel', 'The elan is not to rise, but there is something. 'Then he will see my button, and that was Duncan Stewart's. And then he will say to himsel', 'The son of Duncan is in the heather and has need of me.'

"Well," said I, "it may be. But even supposing so, there is a good deal of heather between here and the Forth."

"And that is a very true word," says Alan. "But then John Breck will see the sprig of birch and the sprig of pine; and he will say to himsel', —if he is a man of any penetration at all, which I misdoubt, —'Alan will be lying in a wood which is both of pines and birches. 'Then he will think to himsel', 'That is not so very rife〔14〕 hereabout; 'and then he will come and give us a look up in Corrynakiegh. And if he does not, David, the devil may fly away with him, for what I care; for he will no be worth the salt to his porridge."

"Eh, man," said I, drolling with him a little, "you're very ingenious! But would it not be simpler for you to write him a few words in black and white?"

"And that is an excellent observe, Mr. Balfour of Shaws," says Alan, drolling with me; "and it would certainly be much simpler for me to write to him, but it would be a sore job for John Breck to read it. He would have to go to the school for two—three years; and it's possible we might be wearied Waiting on him."

So that night Alan carried down his fiery cross and set it in the bouman's window. He was troubled when he came back; for the dogs had barked and the folk run out from their houses; and he thought he had heard a clatter of arms and seen a redcoat come to one of the doors. On all accounts, we lay the next day in the borders of the wood, and kept a close lookout; so that if it was John Breck that came, we might be ready to guide him, and if it was the redcoats, we should have time to get away.

About noon a man was to be spied, straggling up the open side of the mountain in the sun, and looking round him as he came, from under his hand. No sooner had Alan seen him than he whistled; the man turned and came a little toward us; then Alan would give another "peep!" and the man would come still nearer; and so by the sound of whistling, he was guided to the spot where we lay.

He was a ragged, wild, bearded man, about forty, grossly disfigured with the smallpox, and looked both dull and savage. Although his English was very bad and broken, yet Alan, according to his very handsome use, whenever I was by, would suffer him to speak no Gaelic〔15〕. Perhaps the strange language made him appear more backward than he really was; but I thought he had little good will to serve us, and what he had was the child of terror.

Alan would have had him carry a message to James, but the bouman would hear of no message. "She was forget it," he said in his screaming voice, and would have either a letter or wash his hands of us.

I thought Alan would be gravelled〔16〕 at that, for we lacked the means of writing in that desert. But he was a man of more resources than I knew; he searched the wood until he found a quill of a cushat dove, which he shaped into a pen; made himself a kind of ink with gunpowder from his horn and water from the running stream; and tearing a corner from his French military commission, which he carried in his pocket, like a talisman to keep him from the gallows, he sat down and wrote as follows:—

"Dear Kinsman,—Please send the money by the bearer to the place he kens of.

"Your affectionate cousin,

"A. S."

This he intrusted to the bouman, who promised to make what manner of speed he best could, and carried it off with him down the hill.

He was three full days gone, but about five in the evening of the third, we heard a whistling in the wood, which Alan answered; and presently the bouman came up the water side, looking for us, right and left. He seemed less sulky than before, and indeed he was no doubt well pleased to have got to the end of such a dangerous commission.

He gave us the news of the country: that it was alive with redcoats; that arms were being found, and poor folk brought in trouble daily; and that James and some of his servants were already clapped in prison at Fort William, under strong suspicion of complicity. It seemed it was noised on all sides that Alan Breck had fired the shot; and there was a bill issued for both him and me, with one hundred pounds reward.

This was all as bad as could be; and the little note the bouman had carried us from Mrs. Stewart was of a miserable sadness. In it she besought Alan not to let himself be captured, assuring him, if he fell in the hands of the troops, both he and James were no better than dead men. The money she had sent was all that she could beg or borrow, and she prayed Heaven we could be doing with it.

"It's little enough," said Alan, putting the purse in his pocket, "but it'll do my business. And now, John Breck, if ye will hand me over my button, this gentleman and me will be for taking the road."

But the bouman, after feeling about in a hairy purse that hung in front of him in the Highland manner, though he wore otherwise the lowland habit, with sea trousers, began to roll his eyes strangely, and at last said, "Her nainsel will loss it," meaning he had thought he had lost it.

"What!" cried Alan, "you will lose my button, that was my father's before me? Now, I will tell you what is in my mind, John Breck: it is in my mind this is the worst day's work that ever ye did since ye were born."

And as Alan spoke he set his hands on his knees, and looked at the bouman with a smiling mouth and that dancing light in his eyes that meant mischief to his enemies.

Perhaps the bouman was honest enough; perhaps he had meant to cheat and then, finding himself alone with two of us in a desert place, cast back to honesty as being safer; at least, and all at once, he seemed to find the button and handed it to Alan.

"Well, and it is a good thing for the honor of the Maccolls," said Alan, and then to me, "Here is my button back again, and I thank you for parting with it, which is of a piece with all your friendships to me." Then he took the warmest parting of the bouman. "For," says he, "ye have done very well by me, and set your neck at a venture, and I will always give you the name of a good man."

Lastly, the bouman took himself off by one way; and Alan and I, getting our chattels〔17〕 together, struck into another to resume our flight.

注　释

〔1〕Lin, waterfall; cataract.

〔2〕Gleg, brisk.

〔3〕Prettiest, bravest.

〔4〕Dauntons, daunts; disheartens.

〔5〕Gomeral, silly fellow.

〔6〕Neat spirit, unadulterated liquor; that which is free from mixture.

〔7〕Bracken, fern.

〔8〕Burn, a small stream.

〔9〕Birsle, scorch; broil.

〔10〕Thole, bear; endure.

〔11〕Laith, loath; unwilling.

〔12〕Bouman, a tenant who takes stock from the landlord and shares with him the increase.

〔13〕Troth, truth; faith.

〔14〕Rife, prevailing; abundant.

〔15〕Gaelic, the language of the Highlanders of Scotland.

〔16〕Graveled, embarrassed; perplexed.

〔17〕Chattels, goods.

18

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI

BY JOHN KEATS

John Keats (1795-1820): An English poet whose works are characterized by melody, great powers of fancy, and vivid perception of the beautiful. The undeservedly harsh criticism of his early poems wounded his sensitive spirit, but he was cheered by the appreciation of such friends as the poet Shelley.

Among his principal works are "Hyperion," "Lamia," "Isabella," "The Eve of St. Agnes," and some shorter poems of exquisite beauty.

"Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

"Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel's granary is full,

And the harvest's done.

"I see a lily on thy brow

With anguish moist and fever dew,

And on thy check a fading rose

Fast withereth too."

"I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful,—a fairy's child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

"I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

"I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A fairy's song.

"She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna dew,

And sure in language strange she said,

'I love thee true!'

"She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept, and sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild sad eyes

With kisses four.

"And there she lulled me asleep,

And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!

The latest dream I ever dreamed

On the cold hill's side.

"I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors,—death-pale were they all;

They cried, 'La Belle Dame sans Merci

Hath thee in thrall!'

"I saw there starved lips in the gloam,

With horrid warning gaped wide,

And I awoke and found me here,

On the cold hill's side.

"And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing."

__________

Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.

——BACON

19

FALSTAFF AND THE THIEVES

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

Poins.　Welcome, Jack, where hast thou been?

Falstaff.　A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and amen!—Give me a cup of sack〔1〕, boy.—Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether stocks〔2〕 and mend them and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!—Give me a cup of sack, rogue.—Is there no virtue extant?

[He drinks.

Prince. Didst thou never see Titan〔3〕 kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted butter, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun; if thou didst, then behold that compound.

Falstaff.　You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man; yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it, a villainous coward!—Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring〔4〕. There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old; God help the while! a bad world, I say. I would I were a weaver; I could sing Psalms or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say still.

Prince.　How now, woolsack! what mutter you?

Falstaff.　A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales!

Prince.　Why, you round man, what's the matter?

Falstaff.　Are you not a coward? answer me to that, —and Poins there?

Poins.　Zounds, ye fat paunch, and ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

Falstaff.　I call thee coward! I'll see thee hanged ere I call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back; call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me.—Give me a cup of sack; I am a rogue, if I drunk today.

Prince.　O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last.

Falstaff.　All's one for that. [He drinks.] A plague of all cowards, still say I.

Prince.　What's the matter?

Falstaff.　What's the matter! there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this day morning.

Prince.　Where is it, Jack? where is it?

Falstaff.　Where is it! taken from us it is; a hundred upon poor four of us.

Prince.　What, a hundred, man?

Falstaff.　I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hacked like a handsaw! I never dealt better since I was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cowards! Let them speak; if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness.

Prince.　Speak, sirs; how was it?

Gadshill.　We four set upon some dozen—

Falstaff.　Sixteen at least, my lord.

Gadshill. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Gadshill.　As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us—

Falstaff.　And unbound the rest, and then came in the other.

Prince.　What, fought ye with them all?

Falstaff.　All! I know not what ye call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish; if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged creature.

"Thus I bore my point"

Prince.　Pray God you have not murdered some of them.

Falstaff.　Nay, that's past praying for: I have peppered two of them; two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram〔5〕 suits. I tell thee what, Hal—if I tell thee a lie, call me horse—thou knowest my old ward; here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me—

Prince.　What, four? thou saidst but two even now.

Falstaff.　Four, Hal; I told thee four.

Poins.　Aye, aye, he said four.

Falstaff.　These four came all afront and mainly thrust at me. I made no more ado but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

Prince.　Seven? why, there were but four even now.

Falstaff.　In buckram?

Poins.　Aye, four, in buckram suits.

Falstaff.　Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.

Prince.　[aside to POINS] Prithee〔6〕, let him alone; we shall have more anon.

Falstaff.　Dost thou hear me, Hal?

Prince.　Aye, and mark thee too, Jack.

Falstaff.　Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram that I told thee of—

Prince.　So, two more already.

Falstaff.　Began to give me ground: but I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid.

Prince.　Oh, monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Falstaff.　But three knaves in Kendal green〔7〕 came at my back and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.

Prince.　These lies are like their father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained, not-pated〔8〕 fool, thou greasy tallow-keech〔9〕,—

Falstaff.　What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?

Prince.　Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? come, tell us your reason; what say'st thou to this?

Poins.　Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.

Falstaff.　What, upon compulsion? Zounds, and I were at the strappado〔10〕 or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.

Prince.　I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,—

Falstaff.　Away, you starveling, you eelskin, you dried neat's tongue, you stockfish.—Oh, for breath to utter what is like thee!—you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck〔11〕,—

Prince.　Well, breathe awhile and then to it again; and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this:—

Poins.　Mark, Jack.

Prince.　We two saw you four set on four; you bound them and were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four; and with a word, out-faced you from your prize and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house: and, Falstaff, you carried yourself away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy and still run and roared, as ever I heard bull calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done and then say it was in fight! What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?

Poins.　Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick hast thou now?

Falstaff.　By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters; was it for me to kill the heir apparent? should I turn upon the true prince? why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules; but beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant lion and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money.—Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray tomorrow.—Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry? shall we have a play extempore?

Prince.　Content; and the argument shall be thy running away.

Falstaff.　Ah, no more of that, Hal, and thou lovest me!

注　释

〔1〕Sack, a name formerly given to various Spanish wines.

〔2〕Nether stocks, stockings.

〔3〕Titan, according to Roman mythology, the Titans were six giants, sons of Heaven and Earth. The name Titan was applied to various mythological persons supposed to be descended from them—among others to Helios, the sun god. Hence Titan came to be a common name for the sun, and so it is used here.

〔4〕Shotten herring, one that has discharged its spawn and is lank and lean.

〔5〕Buckram, a coarse cloth used for wearing apparel, very different from the material now bearing that name.

〔6〕Prithee, pray thee.

〔7〕Kendal green, a cloth named from Kendal in England, formerly celebrated for its cloth manufacture. Kendal green was the livery of Robin Hood and outlaws in general.

〔8〕Not-pated, having the hair cut short.

〔9〕Keech, a lump of fat rolled up by the butcher.

〔10〕Strappado, a military punishment by which the offender was drawn to the top of a beam and then let fall the length of the rope; in this way the limbs were often broken or dislocated.

〔11〕Tuck, a long narrow sword. This and the preceding terms were applied to the prince on account of his slenderness.

20

SWALLOW-TIME

BY RICHARD JEFFERIES

Richard Jefferies (1848-1887): An English journalist and essayist, best known for his books on nature. Among his works are "The Gamekeeper at Home," "Nature near London," "Life of the Fields," "Red Deer," and "The Open Air."

The eave swallows have come at last with the midsummer time, and the hay and white clover and warm winds that breathe hotly, like one that has been running uphill; with the paler hawkweeds, whose edges are so delicately trimmed and cut and balanced, almost as if made by deft human fingers to human design, whose globes of down are like geometrical circles built up of facets, instead of by one revolution of the compasses; with foxglove, and dragon fly, and yellowing wheat; with green cones of fir, and boom of distant thunder, and all things that say, "It is summer." Not many of them even now, sometimes only two in the air together, sometimes three or four, and one day eight, the very greatest number—a mere handful, for these eave swallows at such times should crowd the sky. The white bars across their backs should be seen gliding beside the dark fir copse〔1〕 a quarter of a mile away. They should be seen everywhere, over the house, and to and fro the eaves, where half last year's nest remains; over the meadows and high up in the blue ether. White breasts should gleam in the azure height, appearing and disappearing as they climb or sink, and wheel and slide through those long boomerang-like〔2〕 flights that suddenly take them a hundred yards aside. They should crowd the sky together with the ruddythroated chimney swallows, and the great swifts; but though it is haytime and the apples are set, yet eight eave swallows is the largest number I have counted in one afternoon. They did not come at all in the spring. After the heavy winter cleared away, the delicate willow wrens soon sang in the tops of the beautiful green larches, the nightingale came, and the cuckoo, the chimney swallow, the doves softly cooing as the oaks came into leaf, and the black swifts. Up to May 26 there were no eave swallows at the Sussex hillside where these notes were taken; that is more than a month later than the date of their usual arrival, which would be about the middle of April. After this they gradually came back. The chimney swallows were not so late, but even they are not so numerous as usual. The swifts seem to have come more in their accustomed numbers. Now, the swallows are, of all others, the summer birds. As well suppose the trees without leaves as the summer air without swallows. Ever since of old time the Greeks went round from house to house in spring singing the swallow song, these birds have been looked upon as the friends of man, and almost as the very givers of the sunshine.

The swallow's come, winging

His way to us here;

Fair hours is he bringing,

And a happy new year!

They had a song for everything, the mill song, the reaper's song,—just as in Somerset, the apple country, they still have a cider song, or perhaps, rather, an orchard song. Such rhymes might well be chanted about the hay and the wheat, or at the coming of the green leaf, or the yellowing of the acorns, when the cawing of the rooks is incessant, a kind of autumn festival. It seems so natural that the events of the year should be met with song. But somehow a very hard and unobservant spirit has got abroad into our rural life, and people do not note things as the old folk did. They do not mark the coming of the swallows, nor any of the dates that make the woodland an almanac. It is a pity that there should be such indifference—that the harsh ways of the modern town should press so heavily on the country. This summer, too, there seems a marked absence of bees, butterflies, and other insects in the fields. One bee will come along, calling at every head of white clover. By and by you may see one more calling at the heathbells, and nothing else, as in each journey they visit only the flower with which they began. Then there will be quite an interval before a third bee is seen, and a fourth may be found dead, perhaps, on the path, besides which you may not notice any more. For a whole hour you may not observe a humblebee, and the wasplike hover-flies, that are generally past all thought of counting, are scarcely seen. A blue butterfly we found in the dust of the road, without the spirit to fly, and lifted him into a field to let him have a chance of life; a few tortoiseshells, and so on—even the white butterflies are quite uncommon, the whites that used to drift along like snowflakes. Where are they all? Did the snow kill them? Is there any connection between the absence of insects and the absence of swallows? If so, how did the swallows know beforehand, without coming, that there were no insects for them? Yet the midsummer hum, the deep humming sound in the atmosphere above, has been loud and persistent over the hayfields, so that there must have been the usual myriads of the insects that cause this sound. While I was thinking in this way a swallow alighted on the turf, picked up a small white moth from among the short grass, and went off with it. In gloomy overcast weather the swallows at the seaside frequently alight on the pebbles of the beach to pick up the insects which will not rise and fly. Some beaches and sand banks are much frequented by insects, and black clouds of them sometimes come drifting along, striking the face like small hail.

When swallows fly low, just skimming the ground, it is supposed to be a sign of rain. During the frequent intervals of heavy, overcast weather, which have marked this summer, they might have been observed flying low for a week together without a spot of rain falling. Chilly air drives insects downward, and, indeed, paralyzes a great many of them altogether. It is a fall of temperature, and not wet, that makes the swallows chase their prey low down. Insects are not much afraid of rain if it is warm and soft, so that, in the midst of showers, if there is sunshine too, you may see the swallows high in the atmosphere. It is when they fly low, but just missing the grass, that their wonderful powers of flight appear. In the air above there are no obstacles, and, if you shoot an arrow, it travels to the end of its journey without let or hindrance; there are no streets there to turn corners, no narrow lanes, no trees or hedges. When the swallow comes down to the earth, his path is no longer that of the immortals; his way is as the way of men, constantly obstructed, and made a thousand fold more difficult by the velocity of his passage. Imagine shooting an arrow from the strongest bow in such a manner that it might travel about seven inches above the ground—how far would it go before it would strike a tall buttercup, a wiry bennet, or stick into a slight rise of the turf? You must imagine it given the power to rise over hedges, to make short angles about buildings, slip between the trunks of trees, to avoid moving objects, as men or animals, not to come in contact with other animated arrows, and by some mysterious instinct to know what is or what is not out of sight on the other side of the wall. I was sitting on a log in the narrowest of narrow lanes, a hedge at the back, in front thick fir trees, whose boughs touched the ground, almost within reach, the lane being nothing more than a broader footpath. It was one of those overcast days when the shelter of the hedge and the furze was pleasant in July. Suddenly a swallow slid by me as it seemed underneath my very hands, so close to the ground that he almost traveled in the rut; the least movement on my part would have stopped him. Ahmost before I could lift my head he had reached the end of the lane, and rose over the gate into the road—not a moment's pause before he made that leap over the gate to see if there was a wagon or not in the way; a wagon load of hay would have blocked the road entirely. How did he know that a man or a horse would not step into his course at the instant he topped the bar?

A swallow never hesitates, never looks before he leaps, threads all day the eyes of needles, and goes on from halfpast two in the morning till ten at night without so much as disturbing a feather. He is the perfection of a machine for falling. His round nest is under the eaves, he throws himself out of window and begins to fall, and keeps on fall, fall, for twenty hours together. His head is bullet-shaped, his neck short, his body all thickened up to the shoulders, tailing out to the merest streak of feather. His form is like a plummet〔3〕—he is not unlike the heavily weighted minnow used in trolling for pike. Before the bend of the firmly elastic rod the leaded minnow slides out through the air, running true and sinking without splash into the water. It is proportioned and weighted so that its flight, which is a long fall, may be smooth and perfectly under control. If wings could be put to the minnow, it would somewhat resemble the swallow. For the swallow is made to fall, and his wings to catch him, and by resisting his descent these outstretched planes lift him again into the sky. He does not fall perpendicularly; the angle of his fall is prolonged and very low, and the swifter he goes the more nearly it approximates to the horizontal. I think he goes swifter when flying just over the ground than when lounging in the easy hammock of the atmosphere. My swallow that came down the lane, in twenty yards opened his wings twenty times and checked his fall, almost grazing the earth, and imperceptibly rose a little, like a flat stone thrown by a boy, which suddenly runs up into the air at the end of its flight. He made no blow with his wings; they were simply put out to collect the air in the hollow of their curves, and to prolong his fall. Falling from morn till night, he throws himself on his way, a machine for turning gravity into a motive force. He fits to the circumstances of his flight as water fits to the circumstances of the vessel into which it is poured. No thought, no stop, no rest. If a wagon had been in the way, still he would have got left or right through the very eye of the needle. If a man had been passing, the rush of his wings would not have disturbed the light smoke from his cigar. Farther up the lane there are two gateways opposite without gates. Through these swallows are continually dashing, and I have often felt, when coming up the lane, as if I must step on them, and half checked myself.

I might as well try to step on lightning. A swallow came over the sharp ridge of a slate roof and met a slight current of wind which blew against that side of the shed, and rose up it. The bird remained there suspended with outstretched wings, resting on the up current as if the air had been solid, for some moments. He rode there at anchor in the air. So buoyant is the swallow that it is no more to him to fly than it is to the fish to swim; and, indeed, I think that a trout in a swift mountain stream needs much greater strength to hold himself in the rapid day and night without rest. The friction of the water is constant against him, and he never folds his fins and sleeps. The more I think, the more I am convinced that the buoyancy of the air is very far greater than science admits, and under certain conditions it is superior to water as a supporting medium. Swift and mobile as is the swallow's wing, how much swifter and how much more mobile must be his eye! This rapid and ever changing course is not followed for pleasure as if it were a mazy dance. The whole time as he floats, and glides, and wheels, his eye is intent on insects so small as to be invisible to us at a very short distance. These he gathers in the air, he sees what we cannot see, his eyes are to our eyes as his wings are to our limbs. If, still further, we were to consider the flow of the nerve force between the eye, the mind, and the wing, we should be face to face with problems which quite upset the ordinary ideas of matter as a solid thing. How is it that dull matter becomes thus inexpressibly sensitive? Is not the swallow's eye a miracle? Then his heart, for he sings as he flies; he makes love and converses, and all as he rushes along—his hopes, his fears, his little store of knowledge, and his wonderful journey by and by to Africa. Remember, he carries his life in his wings as we should say in our hands, for if by chance he should strike a solid object, his great speed renders the collision certain death. It stuns him, and, if he recovers from that his beak is usually broken so that he must starve. Happily such accidents are rare. The great rapidity of a bird's heart beating so fast seems to render it peculiarly susceptible to death from shock. Great fright will sometimes kill a bird, as, for instance, when they have wandered inside a room and been thoughtlessly held in some one's hand. Without visible injury, the heart, after beating excessively violently, almost as rapidly slows, the nictitating membrane〔4〕 is drawn over the eyes, the head falls to one side, and the bird becomes lifeless from nervous exhaustion. The beautiful swallows, be tender to them, for they symbol all that is best in nature and all that is best in our hearts.

注　释

〔1〕Copse, a group of young trees.

〔2〕boomerang, a curious Australian missile weapon. It is a curved stick which, when skillfully thrown, describes remarkable curves, sometimes returning to the place from which it was thrown.

〔3〕Plummet: a piece of lead attached to a line and used in sounding the depth of water.

〔4〕Nictitating membrane: a thin membrane or skin found in many animals and birds at the inner angle or beneath the lower lid of the eye. It acts as a third eyelid.

21

SOHRAB AND RUSTUM

BY MATTHEW ARNOLD

Rustum was a semi-mythical Persian hero, and Sohrab was his son, whose existence had been concealed from the hero Sohrab grew up and became a mighty warrior. Challenging the Persian champions to trial of arms, he was met by Rustum in disguise and was mortally wounded. He then proclaimed his parentage to his unhappy father, proving it by the impress of Rustum's own seal upon his arm.

"How say'st thou? Is that sign the proper sign Of Rustum's son, or of some other man's?"

He spoke: but Rustum gazed and gazed and stood Speechless; and then he uttered one sharp cry—

"O boy —thy father!" and his voice choked there.

And then a dark cloud passed before his eyes

And his head swam and he sank down to earth.

But Sohrab crawled to where he lay and cast

His arms about his neck, and kissed his lips,

And with fond faltering fingers stroked his cheeks,

Trying to call him back to life; and life

Came back to Rustum, and he oped his eyes

And they stood wide with horror; and he seized

In both his hands the dust which lay around,

And threw it on his head, and smirched his hair,

His hair and face and beard and glittering arms:

And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast,

And his sobs choked him; and he clutched his sword,

To draw it and forever let life out.

But Sohrab saw his thought and held his hands

And with a soothing voice he spake, and said:

"Father, forbear: for I but meet to-day

The doom which at my birth was written down

In Heaven, and thou art Heaven's unconscious hand.

Surely my heart cried out that it was thou,

When first I saw thee; and thy heart spoke too,

I know it: but Fate trod those promptings down

Under its iron heel; Fate, Fate engaged

The strife and hurled me on my father's spear.

But let us speak no more of this: I find

My father; let me feel that I have found.

Come, sit beside me on this sand, and take

My head betwixt thy hands, and kiss my cheeks

And wash them with thy tears, and say,' My son!'

Quick! quick! for numbered are my sands of life,

And swift; for like the lightning to this field

I came, and like the wind I go away—

Sudden and swift and like a passing wind.

But it was writ in Heaven that this should be."

So said he, and his voice released the heart

Of Rustum, and his tears broke forth; he cast

His arms round his son's neck and wept aloud

And kissed him. And awe fell on both the hosts

When they saw Rustum's grief: and Ruksh, the horse,

With his head bowing to the ground, and mane

Sweeping the dust, came near, and in mute woe

First to the one then to the other moved

His head, as if inquiring what their grief

Might mean; and from his dark compassionate eyes

The big warm tears rolled down and caked the sand.

But Rustum chid him with stern voice and said:

"Ruksh, now thou grievest; but, O Ruksh, thy feet

Should then have rotted on their nimble joints,

When first they bore thy master to this field."

But Sohrab looked upon the horse and said:

"Is this, then, Ruksh? How often in past days

My mother told me of thee, thou brave steed,

My terrible father's terrible horse! and said

That I should one day find thy lord and thee.

Come, let me lay my hand upon thy mane.

O Ruksh, thou art more fortunate than I;

For thou hast gone where I shall never go,

And snuffed the breezes of my father's home.

And thou hast trod the sands of Seistan〔1〕,

And seen the river of Helmund and the lake

Of Zirrah; and the aged Zal〔2〕 himself

Has often stroked thy neck and given thee food,

Corn in a golden platter soaked with wine,

And said,' O Ruksh! bear Rustum well!' —but I

Have never known my grandsire's furrowed face,

Nor seen his lofty house in Seistan,

Nor slaked my thirst at the clear Helmund stream:

But lodged among my father's foes, and seen

Afrasiab's〔3〕 cities only, Sarmakand,

Bokhara, and lone Khiva in the waste,

And the black Toorkmun〔4〕 tents; and only drunk

The desert rivers, Moorghab〔5〕 and Tejend,

Kohik〔6〕, and where the Kalmuks〔7〕 feed their sheep,

The northern Sir; and this great Oxus〔8〕 stream,

The yellow Oxus, by whose brink I die."

Then, with a heavy groan, Rustum bewailed:

"Oh, that its waves were flowing over me!

Oh, that I saw its grains of yellow silt

Roll tumbling in the current o'er my head!"

But, with a grave, mild voice, Sohrab replied:

"Desire not that, my father; thou must live.

For some are born to do great deeds and live,

As some are born to be obscured and die.

Do thou the deeds I die too young to do

And reap a second glory in thine age.

Thou art my father, and thy gain is mine.

But come: thou seest this great host of men

Which follow me; I pray thee, slay not these:

Let me entreat for them: what have they done?

They followed me, my hope, my fame, my star.

Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace.

But me thou must bear hence, not send with them,

But carry me with thee to Seistan,

And place me on a bed and mourn for me,—

Thou and the snow-haired Zal and all thy friends.

And thou must lay me in that lovely earth,

And heap a stately mound above my bones,

And plant a far-seen pillar over all

That so the passing horseman on the waste

May see my tomb a great way off, and cry,—

'Sohrab, the mighty Rustum's son, lies there,

Whom his great father did in ignorance kill!'—

And I be not forgotten in my grave."

And, with a mo. urnful voice, Rustum replied:

"Fear not; as thou hast said, Sohrab, my son,

So shall it be: for I will burn my tents

And quit the host, and bear thee hence with me,

And carry thee away to Seistan

And place thee on a bed and mourn for thee,

With the snow-headed Zal and all my friends.

And I will lay thee in that lovely earth,

And heap a stately mound above thy bones,

And plant a far-seen pillar over all:

And men shall not forget thee in thy grave.

And I will spare thy host; yea, let them go:

Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace.

What should I do with slaying any more?

For would that all whom I have ever slain

Might be once more alive,— my bitterest foes,

And they who were called champions, in their time,

And through whose death I won that fame I have,—

And I were nothing but a common man,

A poor, mean soldier, and without renown;

So thou mightest live too, my son, my son!

Or rather, would that I, even I myself,

Might now be lying on this bloody sand,

Near death, and by an ignorant stroke of thine,

Not thou of mine; and I might die, not thou;

And I, not thou, be borne to Seistan;

And Zal might weep above my grave, not thine;

And say, 'O son, I weep thee not too sore,

For willingly, I know, thou met'st thine end!'

But now in blood and battles was my youth,

And full of blood and battles is my age,

And I shall never end this life of blood."

Then, at the point of death, Sohrab replied:

"A life of blood indeed, thou dreadful man!

But thou shalt yet have peace; only not now,

Not yet: but thou shalt have it on that day,

When thou shalt sail in a high-masted ship,

Thou and the other peers of Kai Khosroo〔9〕,

Returning home over the salt blue sea,

From laying thy dear master in his grave."

And Rustum gazed on Sohrab's face and said:

"Soon be that day, my son, and deep that sea!

Till then, if Fate so wills, let me endure."

He spoke: an d Sohrab smiled on him, and took

The spear and drew it from his side, and eased

His wound's imperious anguish: but the blood

Came welling from the open gash, and life

Flowed with the stream: all down his cold white side

The crimson torrent ran, dim now, and soiled,

Like the soiled tissue of white violets

Left freshly gathered on their native bank,

By romping children, whom their nurses call

From the hot fields at noon: his head drooped low,

His limbs grew slack; motionless, white, he lay—

White, with eyes closed; only when heavy gasps,

Deep, heavy gasps, quivering through all his frame,

Convulsed him back to life, he opened them

And fixed them feebly on his father's face:

Till now all strength was ebbed and from his limbs

Unwillingly the spirit fled away,

Regretting the warm mansion which it left,

And youth and bloom, and this delightful world.

So, on the bloody sand, Sohrab lay dead.

And the great Rustum drew his horseman's cloak

Down o'er his face, and sat by his dead son.

As those black granite pillars, once high-reared

By Jemshid〔10〕 in Persepolis, to bear

His house, now, mid their broken flights of steps,

Lie prone, enormous, down the mountain side,

So in the sand lay Rustum by his son.

And night came down over the solemn waste,

And the two gazing hosts, and that sole pair,

And darkened all; and a cold fog with night

Crept from the Oxus. Soon a hum arose,

As of a great assembly loosed, and fires

Began to twinkle through the fog: for now

Both armies moved to camp and took their meal:

The Persians took it on the open sands

Southward; the Tartars, by the river marge:

And Rustum and his son were left alone.

注　释

〔1〕Seistan or Sistan, a province, Helmund, a river, and Zirrah, a lake, in Afghanistan, where Rustum had extensive possessions granted him by the Persian monarch.

〔2〕Zal, a Persian hero, the father of Rustum.

〔3〕Afrasiab, a semifabulous king of Persia, the enemy of Rustum.

〔4〕Toorkmun, a tribe inhabiting a region east of the Caspian Sea.

〔5〕Moorghab, Tejend,and

〔6〕Kohik, rivers of Turkestan.

〔7〕Kalmucks, nomadic tribes of the Mongolian race inhabiting parts of Russia and China.

〔8〕Sir or Syr-Daria and Oxus or Amu-Daria, rivers in Turkestan.

〔9〕Kai Khosroo, the Persian name of Cyrus the Great, the greatest of Persian kings, who lived in the sixth century before Christ.

〔10〕Jemshid, an ancient king of Persia, who greatly improved and embellished Persepolis, an ancient Persian city now in ruins.

22

VINDICATION OF IRELAND

BY R. L. SHEIL

Richard Lalor Sheil (1793-1851): An Irish orator and patriot. Besides eloquent speeches in parliament he was the author of several popular dramas and "Sketches of the Irish Bar."

This extract is from a speech on the Irish Municipal Bill, delivered in the House of Commons, February 22, 1837.

There is, however, one man〔1〕 of great abilities, not a member of this house, but whose talents and whose boldness have placed him in the topmost place in his party, who—disdaining all imposture, and thinking it the best course to appeal directly to the religious and national antipathies of the people of this country, abandoning all reserve, and flinging off the slender veil by which his political associates affect to cover, although they cannot hide, their motives—distinctly and audaciously tells the Irish people that they are not entitled to the same privilege as Englishmen; and pronounces them, in any particular which could enter his minute enumeration of the circumstances by which fellow-citizenship is created, in race, identity, and religion, to be aliens, to be aliens in race, to be aliens in country, to be aliens in religion.

Aliens! was Arthur, Duke of Wellington〔2〕, in the House of Lords, and did he not start up and exclaim, "Hold! I have seen the aliens do their duty"? The Duke of Wellington is not a man of an excitable temperament. His mind is of a cast too martial to be easily moved; but, notwithstanding his habitual inflexibility, I cannot help thinking that when he heard his Roman Catholic countrymen— for we are his countrymen—designated by a phrase as offensive as the abundant vocabulary of his eloquent confederate could supply— I cannot help thinking that he ought to have recollected the many fields of fight in which we have been contributors to his renown. "The battles, sieges, fortunes that he has passed," ought to have come back upon him. He ought to have remembered that, from the earliest achievement in which he displayed that military genius which has placed him foremost in the annals of modern warfare, down to that last and surpassing combat which has made his name imperishable, from Assaye to Waterloo〔3〕, the Irish soldiers, with whom your armies are filled, were the inseparable auxiliaries to the glory with which his unparalleled successes have been crowned. Whose were the arms that drove your bayonets at Vimiera through the phalanxes that never reeled in the shock of war before? What desperate valor climbed the steeps and filled the moats at Badajos? All his victories should have rushed and crowded back upon his memory, Vimiera, Badajos, Salamanca, Albuera, Toulouse〔4〕, and, last of all, the greatest〔5〕.

Tell me, for you were there—I appeal to the gallant soldier〔6〕 before me, from whose opinions I differ, but who bears, I know, a generous heart in an intrepid breast; tell me, for you must needs remember, — on that day when the destinies of mankind were trembling in the balance, when death fell in showers, when the artillery of France was leveled with a precision of the most deadly science, when her legions, incited by the voice and inspired by the example of their mighty leader, rushed again and again to the onset,—tell me if, for an instant, when to hesitate for an instant was to be lost, if the "aliens" blenched?

And when at length the moment for the last and decisive movement had arrived, and the valor which had so long been wisely checked was at last let loose, when, with words familiar, but immortal〔7〕, the great captain commanded the great assault, tell me, if Catholic Ireland, with less heroic valor than the natives of this your own glorious country, precipitated herself upon the foe? The blood of England, Scotland, and of Ireland, flowed in the same stream, and drenched the same field. When the chill morning dawned, their dead lay cold and stark together; in the same deep pit their bodies were deposited, the green corn of spring is now breaking from their commingled dust, the dew falls from heaven upon their union in the grave. Partakers in every peril, in the glory shall we not be permitted to participate; and shall we be told, as a requital, that we are estranged from the noble country for whose salvation our lifeblood was poured out?

注　释

〔1〕One man, Lord Lyndhurst, a celebrated English statesman, who had made a speech in the House of Lords bringing charges against the Irish which Sheil repels in this speech.

〔2〕Arthur, Duke of Wellington (1769—1846), one of the most distinguished English generals and statesmen, under whom many gallant Irish soldiers served.

〔3〕From Assaye to Waterloo, at Assaye, in India, in 1803, the Duke of Wellington, then Major General Wellesley, gained a decisive victory over the Mahrattas, and his career of victory continued through Indian, Portuguese, Spanish, and French campaigns, until it was crowned in 1815 at Waterloo by his signal defeat of the French forces under Napoleon.

〔4〕Vimiera, in Portugal; Badajos, Salamanca, and Albuera, in Spain; and Toulouse, in France, scenes of Wellingtons victories.

〔5〕The greatest, Waterloo.

〔6〕The gallant soldier, Sir Henry Hardinge, an English officer who served with distinction under Wellington.

〔7〕Words familiar, but immortal, "Up guards, and at them!"—Wellington's charge to his forces at Waterloo.

23

CAIRO FIFTY YEARS AGO

BY E. B. G. WARBURTON

Eliot Bartholomew George Warburton (1810-1852): An Irish writer. His most popular work is "The Crescent and the Cross," from which is taken this account of a visit to Cairo. Warburton wrote a history of "Prince Rupert and the Cavaliers" and "Memoirs of Horace Walpole."

Morning found us anchored off Boulak, the port of Cairo. Toward the river it is faced by factories and storehouses; within you find yourself in a labyrinth of brown, narrow streets, that resemble rather rifts in some mud mountain than anything with which architecture has had to do. Yet here and there the blankness of the walls is broken and varied by richly worked lattices and specimens of arabesque〔1〕 masonry. Gaudy bazaars strike the eye and relieve the gloom, and the picturesque population that swarms everywhere keeps the interest awake.

On emerging from the lanes of Boulak, Cairo, grand Cairo! opens on the view; and never yet did fancy flash upon the poet's eye a more superb illusion of power and beauty than the "city of victory" presents from a distance.

The bold range of the Mokattam Mountains is purpled by the rising sun; its craggy summits are cut clearly out against the glowing sky as it runs like a promontory into a sea of the richest verdure, here wavy with a breezy plantation of olives, there darkened with acacia groves.

Just where the mountain sinks into the plain the citadel stands upon its last eminence; and, widely spread beneath it, lies the city, a forest of minarets, with palm trees intermingled, and the domes of innumerable mosques rising like enormous bubbles over the sea of houses.

Here and there richly green gardens are islanded within that sea, and the whole is girt round with picturesque towers and ramparts, occasionally revealed through vistas of the wood of sycamores and fig trees that surround it. It has been said that "God the first garden made, and the first city Cain," but here they seem commingled with the happiest effect.

The approach to Cairo is a spacious avenue lined with the olive or the sycamore; here and there the white marble of a fountain gleams through the foliage or a palm tree waves its plumy head above the saint's tomb.

Along this highway a masquerading-looking crowd is swarming towards the city; ladies wrapped closely in white veils, women of the lower class carrying water on their heads and covered only with a long blue garment. There are camels perched upon by black slaves, magpied〔2〕 with white napkins round their heads and loins; there are portly merchants with turbans and long pipes, gravely smoking on their knowing-looking donkeys; here an Arab dashes through the crowd at full gallop, or a European, still more haughtily, shoves aside the pompous-looking bearded throng. Water carriers, calenders〔3〕, Armenians, barbers—all the dramatis personae〔4〕 of the Arabian Nights are there.

And now we reach the city wall, with its towers as strong as mud can make them. It must not be supposed that this mud architecture is of the same nature as one associates with the word in Europe. No! overshadowed by palm trees, and a crimsom banner with its star and crescent〔5〕 waving from the battlements, and camels couched beneath its shade, and swarthy Egyptians in many-colored robes reposing in every niche, a mud wall appears a very respectable fortification in this land of illusion.

And now we are within the city! Protean〔6〕 powers! What a change! A labyrinth of dark, filthy, intricate lanes and alleys, in which every smell and sight from which the nose and eye revolt meet one at every turn,—and one is always turning. The stateliest streets are not above twelve feet wide; and as the upper stories archover them toward one another, only a narrow serpentine seam of blue sky appears between the toppling verandas of the winding streets.

Occasionally a string of camels, bristling with fagots of firewood, sweeps the street effectually of their passengers; lean, mangy dogs are continually running between your legs, which afford a tempting passage in this petticoated place; beggars in rags are lying in every corner of the street; now a bridal or a religious procession squeezes along, with music that might madden a drummer; now the running footmen of some bey〔7〕 or pasha〔8〕 endeavor to jostle you toward the wall, unless they recognize you as an Englishman—one of that race whom they think the devil can't frighten or teach manners to.

Notwithstanding all these annoyances, however, the streets of Cairo present a source of unceasing amusement and curiosity to the stranger. It has not so purely an Oriental character as Damascus, but the intermixture of Europeans gives it a character of its own, and affords far wider scope for adventure than the secluded and solemn capital of Syria.

The bazaars are very vivid and varied, and each is devoted to a peculiar class of commodities; thus you have the Turkish, the Persian, the Frank bazaars; the armorers', the weavers', the jewelers' quarters. These bazaars are for the most part covered in, and there is a cool and quiet gloom about them which is very refreshing.

There is also an air of profound repose in the turbaned merchants as they sit cross-legged on their counters, embowered by the shawls and silks of India and Persia; they look as if they were forever sitting for their portraits, and seldom move a muscle, unless it be to breathe a cloud of smoke from their bearded lips or to turn their vivid eyes upon some expected customer—those eyes that seem to be the only living part of their countenances.

These bazaars have each a ponderous chain hung across the entrance, to prevent the precipitate departure of any thief that may presume too far upon the listlessness of the shopkeeper; each lane and alley is also terminated by a door, which is guarded at night. In passing along these narrow lanes, you might suppose yourself in a gallery or corridor, but that ever and anon you meet a file of donkeys, or a patrol of soldiers staggering along their slippery paths.

If you make a purchase of any value, your merchant will probably offer you a pipe and make room for you to seat yourself on his counter. If you are sufficiently citizen of the world to accept the hospitality, you will be repaid by a very pleased look on the part of your host and a pipe of such tobacco as only these squatters of the East can procure.

The curious and varied drama of Oriental life is acted before you, as you tranquilly puff away and add to the almost imperceptible yet fragrant cloud that fills the bazaar. Now, by your host's order, a little slave presents you with a tiny cup of rich coffee, and you raise your hand to your head as you accept it; your entertainer repeats the gesture and mutters a prayer for your health.

Let us purchase an embroidered vest or a silk scarf from the venerable Abou Habib, for the sake of his snow-white beard and turban. He makes a movement as if to rise, of which there is as little chance as of the sun at midnight; he points to the carpet on which he "hopes to Allah that your beneficent shadow may fall."

You ascend his counter, and sit down in the place in the attitude of a tailor, with perfect gravity. Your dragoman〔9〕 lounges at the door to explain the sights that pass in the streets or the sounds that issue from the lips of your entertainer. Conversation is not considered a necessary part of a visit or of agreeableness; and if you will only stay quiet and look pleased, you may pass for a very entertaining person. You have, therefore, full leisure for observation, while you are enjoying society in true Oriental style.

In the absence of any claim on our ears, let us use our eyes and look about us. A house is being rebuilt nearly opposite; masons in turbans and long blue chemises and red slippers down at the heel are engaged, as if in pantomime, with much gesticulation, but little effect. A score of children are carrying bricks and mortar in little handfuls, chanting a measured song, as if to delude themselves into the idea that they are at play.

Now, a dervish, naked except for a small cloth or a bit of sheepskin round his loins, presents himself, claiming rather than asking alms. The wild, fierce eyes, in which the gleaming of insanity conveys his title to your forbearance and to the Moslem's reverence—the long, matted, filthy hair, falling over his naked, sun-scorched shoulders, and the savage gluttony, proclaim his calling something between a friar and a saint of Islam〔10〕.

Here is a water carrier with his jar of cool sherbet, adorned with fresh flowers; he tinkles little brazen saucers to announce his progress, and receives half a farthing for each draught. There is a beggar devouring his crust, but religiously leaving a portion of it in some clean spot for the wild dogs. Now an old man stoops to pick up a piece of paper, and to put it by, "lest," savs he, "the name of God be written on it, and it be defiled."

Here is a lady mounted on her donkey and attended by her slave; she might seem to be a mere bundle of linen but that a pair of brilliant eyes relieve the ghastly appearance that would figure excellently well in a tableau as an Irish banshee〔11〕.

All these and a thousand other quaint personages are perpetually passing and repassing, with hand upon the heart as they meet an acquaintance, or on the head if they meet a superior. But it is time to return Abou Habib's richly mounted pipe, to lay our hands upon our heart, and to pursue our researches through the city.

The most interesting building in Cairo is undoubtedly the citadel, which overlooks the city. Here are the remains of Saladin's〔12〕 palace and the commencement of a magnificent mosque, from the terraced roof of which there is perhaps the finest view in the world. All Lower Egypt lies spread out, as in a map, before you—one great emerald set in the golden desert, bossed with the mountains that surround it.

注　释

〔1〕Arabesque, a style of ornamental work used in Arabic decorative art, either painted, inlaid, or carved, in which plants, fruits, foliage, and figures are curiously blended.

〔2〕Magpied, like magpies, colored black and white.

〔3〕Calenders, Eastern dervishes or monks.

〔4〕Dramatis personae, characters in a drama or play.

〔5〕Star and crescent, the national emblems of Egypt represented on its flag.

〔6〕Protean, variable; of or characteristic of Proteus, a sea god who was able to assume different shapes at will.

〔7〕Bey, a governor of a province in Turkey.

〔8〕Pasha, a Turkish officer of high rank.

〔9〕Dragoman, interpreter—so called in the East.

〔10〕Islam, the Mohammedan people or country; the Mohammedan religion. Islam is an Arabic word meaning submission, and it was applied to the Mohammedan religion because it inculcated perfect submission to the will of God.

〔11〕Banshee, a supernatural being supposed by the Scotch and Irish peasantry to warn persons of their approaching death.

〔12〕Saladin (1137-1194?), a brave and powerful sultan of Egypt and Syria, who was the opponent of the Christian powers engaged in the third crusade.

24

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY

BY GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON

George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824): An English poet. His early poems possessed little merit, and his first work of importance was "Childe Harold," published in 1812, which won instant popularity. As he said, "I awoke one morning and found myself famous." He wrote "The Giaour," "Don Juan," "Mazeppa," "The Prisoner of Chillon," several dramatic poems, and many shorter poems.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear, their dwelling place,

And on that cheek and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

25

A FORMIDABLE VASSAL

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): A Scotch novelist and poet. Several selections from his poems and historical romances have been given in former books of this series, and a sketch of his life will be found in Book Five.

This selection is from "Quentin Durward," the scene of which is laid in France during the reign of the crafty and powerful Louis XI. (1423-1483). This extract describes the banquet on the occasion of Louis's visit in 1468 to his powerful vassal, Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, and the interruption of the feast by the tidings of the insurrection of the Liegeois. Scott departs from historical fact in assigning this as the date of the murder of Louis de Bourbon, Bishop of Liege. He was made prisoner by the insurgents, but his murder did not take place until the insurrection of 1482.

Louis's agents had led the people of Liege to rebel against their lord, Duke Charles, but they rose more promptly than the king had anticipated, and thus the news of their insurrection reached Duke Charles just at the time when Louis had placed himself so unguardedly in his vassal's power. Charles, deeply resenting Louis's treachery, imprisoned him in the castle of Peronne while he deliberated whether he should put him to death. Louis remained three days in this precarious situation, and then, by the intervention of Duke Charles's courtiers, his life was spared and he was required to lead his troops against the mutineers whom he had instigated.

Ⅰ

King Louis found a banquet prepared with such a profusion of splendor and magnificence, as became the wealth of his formidable vassal, possessed as he was of almost all the Low Countries〔1〕, then the richest portion of Europe. At the head of the long board, which groaned under plate of gold and silver, filled to profusion with the most exquisite dainties, sat the duke, and on his right hand, upon a seat more elevated than his own, was placed his royal guest. Behind him stood Le Glorieux, his jester, without whom he seldom stirred.

To this personage Charles, and Louis in imitation of his host, often addressed themselves during the entertainment; and both seemed to manifest, by hearty laughter, their amusement at the answers of Le Glorieux.

"Whose seats be those that are vacant?" said Charles to the jester.

"One of those at least should be mine by right of succession, Charles," replied Le Glorieux.

"Why so, knave?" said Charles.

"Because they belong to the Sieur D'Hymbercourt and De Comines, who are gone so far to fly their falcons, that they have forgot their supper. They who would rather look at a kite on the wing than a pheasant on the board are of kin to the fool, and he should succeed to the stools as a part of their movable estate."

"That is but a stale jest, my friend Tiel," said the duke; "but, fools or wise men, here come the defaulters."

As he spoke, Comines and D'Hymbercourt entered the room, and, having made their reverence to the two princes, assumed in silence the seats which were left vacant for them.

"What ho! sirs," exclaimed the duke, addressing them, "your sport has either been very good or very bad, to lead you so far and so late. Sir Philip de Comines〔2〕, you are dejected; hath D'Hymbercourt won so heavy a wager on you? You are a philosopher, and should not grieve at bad fortune. By St. George! D'Hymbercourt looks as sad as thou dost. How now, sirs? Have you found no game? or have you lost your falcons? or has a witch crossed your way? or has the Wild Huntsman〔3〕 met you in the forest? By my honor, you seem as if you were come to a funeral, not a festival."

While the duke spoke, the eyes of the company were all directed toward D'Hymbercourt and De Comines; and the embarrassment and dejection of their countenances, neither being of that class of persons to whom such expressions of anxious melancholy were natural, became so remarkable that the mirth and laughter of the company was gradually hushed; and without being able to assign any reason for such a change in their spirits, men spoke in whispers to each other, as on the eve of expecting some strange and important tidings.

"What means this silence, messires〔4〕?" said the duke, elevating his voice, which was naturally harsh. "If you bring these strange looks and this stranger silence into festivity, we shall wish you had abode in the marshes seeking for herons, or rather for woodcocks and howlets."

"My gracious lord," said De Comines, "as we were about to return hither from the forest we met the Count of Crevecoeur."

"How!" said the duke; "already returned from Brabant? but he found all well there doubtless!"

"The count himself will presently give your grace an account of his news," said D'Hymbercourt, "which we have heard but imperfectly."

"Body of me! where is the count?" said the duke.

"He changes his dress, to wait upon your highness," answered D'Hymbercourt.

"His dress?" exclaimed the impatient prince, "what care I for his dress? I think you have conspired with him to drive me mad!"

"Or rather, to be plain," said De Comines, "he wishes to communicate these news at a private audience."

"My lord king," said Charles, "this is ever the way our counselors serve us. If they have got hold of aught which they consider as important for our ear, they look as grave upon the matter, and are as proud of their burden as an ass of a new packsaddle. Some one bid Crevecoeur come to us directly! He comes from the frontiers of Liege〔5〕, and we, at least,"—he laid some emphasis on the pronoun,—"have no secrets in that quarter which we would shun to have proclaimed before the assembled world."

All perceived that the duke had drunk so much wine as to increase the native obstinacy of his disposition; and though many would willingly have suggested that the present was neither a time for hearing news nor for taking counsel, yet all knew the impetuosity of his temper too well to venture on further interference, and sat in anxious expectation of the tidings which the count might have to communicate.

A brief interval intervened, during which the duke remained looking eagerly to the door as if in a transport of impatience, whilst the guests sat with their eyes bent on the table, as if to conceal their curiosity and anxiety. Louis alone, maintaining perfect composure, continued his conversation alternately with the grand carver and with the jester.

At length Crevecoeur entered, and was presently saluted by the hurried questions of his master. "What news from Liege and Brabant, Sir Count? The report of your arrival has chased mirth from our table, we hope your actual presence will bring it back to us."

"My liege and master," answered the count, in a firm, but melancholy tone, "the news which I bring you are fitter for the council board than the feasting table."

"Out with them, man," said the duke; "but I can guess them— the Liegeois are again in mutiny."

"They are, my lord," said Crevecoeur, very gravely.

"Look, there, man," said the duke; "I have hit at once on what you have been so much afraid to mention to me —the hair-brained burghers are again in arms. It could not be in better time, for we may at present have the advice of our own suzerain〔6〕," bowing to King Louis, with eyes which spoke the most bitter, though suppressed resentment, "to teach us how such mutineers should be dealt with. Hast thou more news in thy packet? Out with them, and then answer for yourself why you went not forward to assist the bishop."

"My lord, the further tidings are heavy for me to tell, and will be afflicting to you to hear. No aid of mine or of living chivalry could have availed the excellent prelate. William de la Marck〔7〕, united with the insurgent Liegeois, has taken his castle of Schonwaldt and murdered him in his own hall."

"Murdered him!" repeated the duke, in a deep and low tone, but which nevertheless was heard from the one end of the hall in which they were assembled to the other; "thou hast been imposed upon, Crevecoeur, by some wild report—it is impossible!"

"Alas, my lord!" said the count, "I have it from an eyewitness, an archer of the king of France's Scottish Guard〔8〕, who was in the hall when the murder was committed by William de La Marck's order."

"And who was doubtless aiding and abetting in the horrible sacrilege!" exclaimed the duke, starting up and stamping with his foot with such fury that he dashed in pieces the footstool which was placed before him. "Bar the doors of this hall, gentlemen; secure the windows: let no stranger stir from his seat, upon pain of instant death! Gentlemen of my chamber, draw your swords." And turning upon Louis, he advanced his own hand slowly and deliberately to the hilt of his weapon, while the king, without either showing fear or assuming a defensive posture, only said, "These news, fair cousin, have staggered your reason."

"No!" replied the duke, in a terrible tone, "but they have awakened a just resentment, which I have too long suffered to be stifled by trivial considerations of circumstance and place. Murderer of thy brother! rebel against thy parent! tyrant over thy subjects! treacherous ally! perjured king! dishonored gentleman! thou art in my power and I thank God for it!"

"Rather thank my folly," said the king; "for when we met on equal terms at Montl'hery〔9〕, methinks you wished yourself farther from me than we are now."

The duke still held his hand on the hilt of his sword, but refrained to draw his weapon, or to strike a foe who offered no sort of resistance which could in any wise provoke violence.

Meanwhile, wild and general confusion spread itself through the hall. The doors were now fastened and guarded by the order of the duke; but several of the French nobles, few as they were in number, started from their seats and prepared for the defense of their sovereign. The voice of Dunois was heard above the tumult addressing himself to the Duke of Burgundy: "Sir Duke, you have forgotten that you are a vassal of France and that we, your guests, are Frenchmen. If you lift a hand against our monarch, prepare to sustain the utmost effects of our despair; for, credit me, we shall feast as high with the blood of Burgundy as we have done with its wine. Courage, my lord of Orleans,—and you, gentlemen of France, form yourselves round Dunois, and do as he does!"

It was in that moment when a king might see upon what tempers he could certainly rely. The few independent nobles and knights who attended Louis, most of whom had only received from him frowns or discountenance, unappalled by the display of infinitely superior force and the certainty of destruction in case they came to blows, hastened to array themselves around Dunois, and, led by him, to press toward the head of the table where the contending princes were seated.

On the contrary, the tools and agents whom Louis had dragged forward out of their fitting and natural places into importance which was not due to them showed cowardice and cold heart, and, remaining still in their seats, seemed resolved not to provoke their fate by intermeddling, whatever might become of their benefactor.

The first of the more generous party was the venerable Lord Crawford, who, with an agility which no one would have expected at his years, forced his way through all opposition— which was the less violent as many of the Burgundians, either from a point of honor or a secret inclination to prevent Louis's impending fate, gave way to him— and threw himself boldly between the king and the duke. He then placed his bonnet, from which his white hair escaped in disheveled tresses, upon one side of his head, his pale cheek and withered brow colored, and his aged eye lightened with all the fire of a gallant who is about to dare some desperate action. His cloak was flung over one shoulder, and his action intimated his readiness to wrap it about his left arm, while he unsheathed his sword with his right.

"I have fought for his father and his grandsire," that was all he said, "and, by St. Andrew, end the matter as it will, I will not fail him at this pinch."

What has taken some time to narrate, happened, in fact, with the speed of light; for so soon as the duke assumed his threatening posture, Crawford had thrown himself betwixt him and the object of his vengeance; and the French gentlemen, drawing together as fast as they could, were crowding to the same point.

Ⅱ

The duke of Burgundy still remained with his hand on his sword, and seemed in the act of giving the signal for a general onset which must necessarily have ended in the massacre of the weaker party, when Crevecoeur rushed forward, and exclaimed, in a voice like a trumpet; "My liege lord of Burgundy, beware what you do! This is your hall, you are the king's vassal, do not spill the blood of your guest on your hearth, the blood of your sovereign on the throne you have erected for him and to which he came under your safeguard. For the sake of your house's honor, do not attempt to revenge one horrid murder by another yet worse!"

"Out of my road, Crevecoeur," answered the duke, "and let my vengeance pass! Out of my path! The wrath of kings is to be dreaded like that of Heaven."

"Only when, like that of Heaven, it is just," answered Crevecoeur, firmly. "Let me pray of you, my lord, to rein the violence of your temper, however justly offended. And for you, my lords of France, where resistance is unavailing, let me recommend you to forbear whatever may lead toward bloodshed."

"He is right," said Louis, whose coolness forsook him not in that dreadful moment, and who easily foresaw that, if a brawl should commence, more violence would be dared and done in the heat of blood than was likely to be attempted if peace was preserved. "My cousin Orleans, kind Dunois, and you, my trusty Crawford, bring not on ruin and bloodshed by taking offense too hastily. Our cousin, the duke, is chafed at the tidings of the death of a near and loving friend, the venerable bishop of Liege, whose slaughter we lament as he does. Ancient and, unhappily, recent subjects of jealousy lead him to suspect us of having abetted a crime which our bosom abhors. Should our host murder us on the spot— us, his king and his kinsman— under a false impression of our being accessory to this unhappy accident, our fate will be little lightened, but on the contrary, greatly aggravated by your stirring. Therefore, stand back, Crawford; were it my last word I speak as a king to his officer, and demand obedience. Stand back, and, if it is required, yield up your sword. I command you to do so and your oath obliges you to obey."

"True, true, my lord," said Crawford, stepping back and returning to the sheath the blade he had half drawn. "It may be all very true; but by my honor, if I were at the head of threescore and ten of my brave fellows instead of being loaded with more than the like number of years, I would try whether I could have some reason out of these fine gallants, with their golden chains and looped-up bonnets, with braw warld〔10〕 dyes and devices on them."

The duke stood with his eyes fixed on the ground for a considerable space, and then said, with bitter irony: "Crevecour, you say well; and it concerns our honor, that our obligations to this great king, our honored and loving guest, be not so hastily adjusted, as in our hasty anger we had at first proposed. We will so act that all Europe shall acknowledge the justice of our proceedings. Gentlemen of France, you must render up your arms to my officers. Your master has broken the truce, and has no title to take further benefit of it In compassion, however, to your sentiments of honor, and in respect to the rank which he hath disgraced and the race from which he hath degenerated, we ask not our cousin Louis's sword."

"Not one of us," said Dunois, "will resign our weapons or quit this hall, unless we are assured of at least our king's safety in life and limb."

"Nor will a man of the Scottish Guard," exclaimed Crawford, "lay down his arms save at the command of the king of France or his High Constable."

"Brave Dunois," said Louis, "and you, my trusty Crawford, your zeal will do me injury instead of benefit. I trust," he added with dignity, "in my rightful cause more than in a vain resistance, which would but cost the lives of my best and bravest. Give up your swords. The noble Burgundians who accept such honorable pledges will be more able than you are to protect both you and me. Give up your swords. It is I who command you."

It was thus that, in this dreadful emergency, Louis showed the promptitude of decision and clearness of judgment which alone could have saved his life. He was aware that, until actual blows were exchanged, he should have the assistance of most of the nobles present to moderate the fury of their prince; but that, were a melee once commenced, he himself and his few adherents must be instantly murdered. At the same time, his worst enemies confessed that his demeanor had in it nothing either of meanness or cowardice. He shunned to aggravate into frenzy the wrath of the duke; but he neither deprecated nor seemed to fear it, and continued to look on him with the calm and fixed attention with which a brave man eyes the menacing gestures of a lunatic, whilst conscious that his own steadiness and composure operate as an insensible and powerful check on the rage even of insanity.

Crawford, at the king's command, threw his sword to Crevecoeur, saying, "Take it! It is no dishonor to the rightful owner who yields it, for we have had no fair play."

"Hold, gentlemen," said the duke, in a broken voice, as one whom passion had almost deprived of utterance, "retain your swords; it is sufficient you promise not to use them. And you, Louis of Valois〔11〕, must regard yourself as my prisoner, until you are cleared of having abetted sacrilege and murder.—Have him to the castle, have him to Earl Herbert's Tower. Let him have six gentlemen of his train to attend him, such as he shall choose. My Lord of Crawford, your guard must leave the castle, and shall be honorably quartered elsewhere.—Up with every drawbridge and down with every portcullis; let the gates of the town be trebly guarded; draw the floating bridge to the right-hand side of the river; bring round the castle my band of Black Walloons〔12〕, and treble the sentinels on every post! You, D'Hymbercourt, look that patrols of horse and foot make the round of the town every half hour during the night, and every hour during the next day, if indeed such ward shall be necessary after daybreak, for it is like we may be sudden in this matter. Look to the person of Louis, as you love your life!"

He started from the table in fierce and moody haste, darted a glance of mortal enmity at the king, and rushed out of the apartment.

"Sirs," said the king, looking with dignity around him, "grief for the death of his ally hath made your prince frantic. I trust you know better your duty as knights and noblemen than to abet him in his treasonable violence against the person of his liege lord."

At this moment was heard in the streets the sound of drums beating and horns blowing, to call out the soldiery in every direction.

"We are," said Crevecoeur, who acted as the marshal of the duke's household, "subjects of Burgundy, and must do our duty as such. Our hopes and prayers and our efforts will not be wanting to bring about peace and union between your majesty and our liege lord. Meantime, we must obey his commands. These other lords and knights will be proud to contribute to the convenience of the illustrious duke of Orleans, of the brave Dunois, and the stout Lord Crawford. I myself must be your majesty's chamberlain, and bring you to your apartments in other guise than would be my desire, remembering the hospitality of Plessis〔13〕. You have only to choose your attendants, whom the duke's commands limit to six."

"Then," said the king, looking around him and thinking for a moment, "I desire the attendance of Oliver le Dain〔14〕, of a private of my Life Guard called Balafre〔15〕, who may be unarmed if you will, of Tristan L'Hermite〔16〕, with two of his people, and my right loyal and trusty philosopher, Martius Galeotti〔17〕."

"Your majesty's will shall be complied with in all points," said the Count de Crevecoeur.

"Forward, then, to the new abode, which the hospitality of our cousin provides for us," said the king. "We know it is strong, and have only to hope it may be in a corresponding degree safe."

"Heard you the choice which King Louis has made of his attendants? "said Le Glorieux to Count Crevecoeur apart, as they followed Louis from the hall.

"Surely, my merry gossip〔18〕," replied the count. "What hast thou to object to them?"

"Nothing, nothing, only they are a rare election! A barber, a Scottish hired cut-throat, a chief hangman and his two assistants, and a thieving charlatan. I will along with you, Crevecoeur, and take a lesson in the degrees of roguery, from observing your skill in marshaling them."

Accordingly, the all-licensed jester, seizing the count's arm familiarly, began to march along with him while, under a strong guard yet forgetting no semblance of respect, he conducted the king towards his new apartment.

Ⅲ

Forty men-at-arms carrying alternately naked swords and blazing torches served as the escort, or rather the guard, of King Louis from the town hall of Peronne to the castle; and as he entered within its darkness and gloomy strength, it seemed as if a voice screamed in his ear that warning which the Florentine〔19〕 has inscribed over the portal of the infernal regions, "Leave all hope behind!"

At that moment, perhaps, some feeling of remorse might have crossed the king's mind, had he thought on the hundreds, nay, thousands, whom, without cause or on light suspicion, he had committed to the abysses of his dungeons, deprived of all hope of liberty, and loathing even the life to which they clung by animal instinct.

The broad glare of the torches outfacing the pale moon, which was more obscured on this than on the former night, and the red smoky light which they dispersed around the ancient buildings, gave a darker shade to that huge donjon〔20〕 called the Earl Herbert's Tower.

The seneschal, hastily summoned, was turning with laborious effort the ponderous key which opened the reluctant gate of the huge Gothic keep, and was at last fain to call for the assistance of one of Crevecoeur's attendants. When they had succeeded, six men entered with torches and showed the way through a narrow and winding passage, commanded at different points by shot holes from vaults and casements constructed behind and in the thickness of the massive walls. At the end of this passage arose a stair of corresponding rudeness consisting of huge blocks of stone roughly dressed with the hammer, and of unequal height. Having mounted this ascent, a strong iron-clenched door admitted them to what had been the great hall of the donjon, lighted but very faintly even during the daytime—for the apertures, diminished in appearance by the excessive thickness of the walls, resembled slits rather than windows—and now, but for the blaze of the torches, almost perfectly dark. Two or three bats and other birds of evil presage, roused by the unusual glare, flew against the lights and threatened to extinguish them; while the seneschal formally apologized to the king that the state hall had not been put in order, such was the hurry of the notice sent to him; and adding, that, in truth, the apartment had not been in use for twenty years and rarely before that time, so far as ever he had heard, since the time of King Charles the Simple〔21〕.

"King Charles the Simple!" echoed Louis; "I know the history of the tower now. He was here murdered by his treacherous vassal, Herbert, Earl of Vermandois, so say our annals. I knew there was something concerning the castle of Peronne which dwelt on my mind, though I could not recall the circumstance. Here, then, my predecessor was slain?"

"Not here, not exactly here, and please your majesty," said the old seneschal, stepping with the eager haste of a cicerone〔22〕 who shows the curiosities of such a place; "not here, but in the side chamber a little onward, which opens from your majesty's bedchamber."

The seneschal formally apologized to the king

He hastily opened a wicket at the upper end of the hall, which led into a bedchamber, small, as is usual in such old buildings; but, even for that reason, rather more comfortable than the waste hall through which they had passed. Some hasty preparations had been here made for the king's accommodation. Arras〔23〕 had been tacked up, a fire lighted in the rusty grate, which had been long unused, and a pallet laid down for those gentlemen who were to pass the night in his chamber, as was then usual.

"We will get beds in the hall for the rest of your attendants," said the garrulous old man; "but we have had such brief notice, if it please your majesty. And if it please your majesty to look upon this little wicket behind the arras, it opens into the little old cabinet in the thickness of the wall, where Charles was slain; and there is a secret passage from below which admitted the men who were to deal with him. And your majesty, whose eyesight I hope is better than mine, may see the blood still on the oak floor, though the thing was done five hundred years ago."

While he thus spoke, he kept fumbling to open the postern of which he spoke, until the king said, "Forbear, old man, forbear but a little while, when thou mayest have a newer tale to tell, and fresher blood to show. My lord of Crevecoeur, what say you?"

"I can but answer, sire, that these two interior apartments are as much at your majesty's disposal as those in your own castle at Plessis, and that Crevecoeur, a name never blackened by treachery or assassination, has the guard of the exterior defences of it."

"But the private passage into that closet, of which the old man speaks?" This King Louis said in a low and anxious tone, holding Crevecoeur's arm fast with one hand and pointing to the wicket door with the other.

"It must be some dream of Mornay's," said Crevecoeur, "or some old and absurd tradition of the place, but we will examine."

He was about to open the closet door when Louis answered; "No, Crevecoeur, no. Your honor is sufficient warrant. But what will your duke do with me, Crevecoeur? He cannot hope to keep me long a prisoner; and —in short, give me your opinion, Crevecoeur."

"My lord and sire," said the count, "how the duke of Burgundy must resent this horrible cruelty on the person of his near relative and ally, is for your majesty to judge; and what right he may have to consider it as instigated by your majesty's emissaries, you only can know. But my master is noble in his disposition, and made incapable, even by the very strength of his passions, of any underhand practices. Whatever he does will be done in the face of day and of the two nations. And I can but add that it will be the wish of every counselor around him, excepting perhaps one, that he should behave in this matter with mildness and generosity as well as justice."

"Ah! Crevecoeur," said Louis, taking his hand as if affected by some painful recollections, "how happy is the prince who has counselors near him, who can guard him against. the effects of his own angry passions! Their names will be read in golden letters when the history of his reign is perused. Noble Crevecoeur, had it been my lot to have such as thou art about my person!"

"It had in that case been your majesty's study to have got rid of them as fast as you could," said Le Glorieux.

"Aha! Sir Wisdom, art thou there?" said Louis, turning round and instantly changing the pathetic tone in which he had addressed Crevecoeur, and adopting with facility one which had a turn of gayety in it, "hast thou followed us hither?"

"Aye, sir," answered Le Glorieux. "Wisdom must follow in motley where Folly leads the way in purple."

"How shall I construe that, Sir Solomon?" answered Louis. "Wouldst thou change conditions with me?"

"Not I, by my halidom〔24〕," quoth Le Glorieux, "if you would give me fifty crowns to boot."

"Why, wherefore so? Methinks I could be well enough contented, as princes go, to have thee for my king."

"Aye, sire," replied Le Glorieux; "but the question is, whether, judging of your majesty's wit from its having lodged you here, I should not have cause to be ashamed of having so dull a fool."

"Peace, sirrah!" said the Count of Crevecoeur, "your tongue runs too fast."

"Let it take its course," said the king; "I know of no such fair subject of raillery, as the follies of those who should know better. Here, my sagacious friend, take this purse of gold, and with it the advice never to be so great a fool as to deem yourself wiser than other people. Prithee, do me so much favor as to inquire after my astrologer, Martius Galeotti, and send him hither to me presently."

"I will, without fail, my liege," answered the jester.

"Let me pray for free entrance for this learned person through your guards, signior〔25〕 de Crevecoeur," said Louis.

"For his entrance, unquestionably," answered the count; "but it grieves me to add that my instructions do not authorize me to permit any one to quit your majesty's apartments. I wish your majesty a good night," he subjoined, "and will presently make such arrangements in the outer hall as may put the gentlemen who are to inhabit it more at their ease."

"Give yourself no trouble for them, Sir Count," replied the king; "they are men accustomed to set hardships at defiance; and, to speak truth, excepting that I wish to see Galeotti, I would desire as little further communication from without this night as may be consistent with your instructions."

"These are, to leave your majesty," replied Crevecoeur, "undisputed possession of your own apartments. Such are my master's orders."

"Your master, Count Crevecoeur," answered Louis, "whom I may also termmine, is a right gracious master. My dominions," he added, "are somewhat shrunk in compass, now that they have dwindled to an old hall and a bedchamber; but they are still wide enough for all the subjects which I can at present boast of."

The Count of Crevecoeur took his leave; and shortly after they could hear the noise of the sentinels moving to their posts, accompanied with the word of command from the officers, and the hasty tread of the guards who were relieved. At length all became still, and the only sound which filled the air was the sluggish murmur of the river Somme as it glided, deep and muddy, under the walls of the castle.

注　释

〔1〕Low Countries, the Netherlands.

〔2〕Philip or Phillippe de Comines (1445-1509), an eminent Flemish historian and statesman.

〔3〕The Wild Huntsman, a spectral hunter who, with his dogs, was said to pursue the chase in the Black Forest.

〔4〕Messires, masters; sirs.

〔5〕Liege, a city and province in Belgium.

〔6〕Suzerain, a superior lord to whom fealty is due; a feudal lord.

〔7〕William de la Marck (1446—1485), a Flemish chief so noted for ferocity that he was called "The Wild Boar of Ardennes."

〔8〕Scottish Guard, the bodyguard of the French kings. The life of Louis IX. was twice saved by a small band of Scotch soldiers, and in gratitude it was resolved that the king's bodyguard should always be composed of Scotchmen. This decree remained in force five centuries.

〔9〕Montl'hery, a battle fought in 1465 between the forces of Charles and Louis. After the battle the king and Charles, then count of Charolois, were discussing terms, and Charles, forgetful of his situation, with a few attendants, accompanied Louis back into the intrenchments of Paris. His attendants were much alarmed, but Louis acted with good faith and sent him back with a French guard.

〔10〕Braw warld, gay; fashionable.

〔11〕Valois, a dynasty or race of French kings to which Louis XI. belonged.

〔12〕Black Walloons, the duke's bodyguard.

〔13〕Pleasis, a castle which was the favorite residence of Louis XI.

〔14〕Oliver le Dain, Louis's barber and favorite.

〔15〕Balafre, an old archer whom Scott represents as belonging to the Scotch Guard.

〔16〕Tristan or Tristrem L'Hermite', provost marshal of France in the reign of Louis Ⅻ., one of the king's favorites.

〔17〕Martius Galeotti, the astrologer of Louis XI. The king's choice of attendants shows the character and rank of his favorites.

〔18〕Gossip, friend; comrade.

〔19〕The Florentine, Dante degli Alighieri (1265-1321), the greatest of Italian poets.

〔20〕Donjon, the chief tower in old castles, also called the keep.

〔21〕Charles the Simple, king of France about 900.

〔22〕Cicerone, guide; one who shows strangers the curiosities of a place.

〔23〕Arras, heavy cloth used as covering for walls.

〔24〕Halidom, sacred oath.

〔25〕Signior, sir.

26

LOUIS XI.

BY CHARLES WHIBLEY

His arduous life was wholly devoted to the profit of France and the support of the kingly ideal. With these ambitions he surrendered the splendor of courts for the pilgrim's staff, and changed his reign into a succession of journeys. Michelet calls him a "revolution in life," yet surely this "beggar king" was the sternest of conservatives, the legitimate forerunner of Louis XIV. He was called to the throne at the very moment when the nobles, proud in the exercise of chivalry, were encroaching upon the sovereign power; and it needed all his strength of purpose and his unwearying energy to confer permanence and distinction upon his office. With a marvelous intelligence he foresaw that he must invent and develop a new power to check the ambition of the cultured bandits, who would have broken France in pieces for a formula; so he turned from the nobles to the cities, chose his instruments from the people, and converted the burgess into an influence.

Not a comely figure, maybe, but a great sovereign: great in wisdom, great also in ambition of creating a vast empire and of emulating Charlemagne, whom he believed himself to resemble and whom he would strenuously imitate. Yet, with all his toil, with all his self-denial, he triumphed only at the end, and age was already upon him when he witnessed the success of his vast schemes, and when the author of the Rosier des Guerres saw the proper victory of wisdom and statecraft.

His appearance was a vivid index of his character. A slyness and contempt are mingled in the forceful superiority of his face. The doggedness which never let him rest is evident in every feature. But none of the portraits suggest the niggard temper, which has been a constant and ill-founded reproach —constant because one historian has echoed another, ill-founded because he was parsimonious only for himself. So long as his guard was perfectly equipped, what mattered it that the king, the friend of the people, went meanly clad? When he would lavish a fortune upon the purchase of a province, he could not afford to buy him a new coat, and it is solemnly recorded that he went everywhere with an empty pocket. The Earl of Lodesme, on a visit to France, crossed the river in a boat, the sail whereof was cloth of gold, and his buskins were thick incrusted with precious stones. And Louis, in the phrase of Danett, "wore his apparel very short and marvelous uncomely〔1〕, and was clad in very coarse cloth, besides that he wore an old hat, differing from all the rest of his company, and an image of lead upon it, whereat the Castilians jested, saying that this proceeded of misery〔2〕." But that was far from the truth. It was but Louis's policy, which persuaded him always to subordinate his own pleasure to the glory of France.

注　释

〔1〕Uncomely, not comely or goodlooking.

〔2〕Misery, covetousness; avarice.

27

A DISCOURSE UPON CERTAIN VICES AND VIRTUES OF KING LOUIS THE ELEVENTH

BY PHILIPPE DE COMINES

Philippe de Comines (1445-1509): An eminent Flemish historian. He was the adviser and councilor of Charles, the powerful Duke of Burgundy, but in 1472 he entered the service of Charles's rival, Louis XI., by whom he was loaded with favors. His "Memoirs" narrate the historical events from 1464 to 1498. They are characterized by candor, sound judgment, and agreeable style. Here is a short extract from his "Memoirs."

King Louis was the wisest prince in winding himself out of trouble and adversity, the humblest in words, the plainest in apparel, and the greatest traveler to win a man that might do him service or harm that ever I knew. Neither used he to relinquish his suit for the first refusal, but labored the party continually by large promises and liberal gifts, as well of great sums of money, as also of such estates and offices as he knew would content him. And as touching those whom he had banished and withdrawn his favor from in peace and prosperity: he bought them dearly again when he needed them, and employed them in his service, clean forgetting all offenses past. He loved naturally men of mean estate, and was enemy to all such as needed not to depend upon him; never prince gave audience to so many men, never prince was inquisitive of so many matters, nor desirous to be acquainted with so many strangers, as he, whereby he knew as well all that were in authority and estimation in England, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and the seniories〔1〕 of Burgundy and Britain, as his own subjects.

And by these virtues preserved he his estate which stood in great danger at his first coming to the crown, because of the enemies himself had procured to himself. But his great liberality especially served him to good purpose, for as in adversity he wisely behaved himself, so contrariwise in time of peace or truce, he lightly fell out with his servants, by picking trifling quarrels to them, and such was his disposition, that he could hardly away with peace or quietness. In his talk he spared no man, neither absent nor present, save such as he feared, which were many, for naturally he was very fearful. Further, when his talk had either turned him to displeasure, or was like to do so, he would endeavor himself to amend the matter, by using these or such like words to the party offended: "I know well that my tongue hath wrought me much displeasure, but it hath also oftentimes stood me in great stead; notwithstanding reason it is that I should repair the injury done." And when he used this familiar speech, he ever gave withal some great present to the party grieved.

Sure the knowledge of good and evil is a great gift of God to a prince, I mean when the good surmounteth the evil, as it did in the king our master, who in mine opinion was much bettered by the trouble he sustained in his youth, when he fled from his father and sojourned with Duke Philip of Burgundy the space of six years: for he was constrained there to frame himself to the humor of those whom he stood in need of, which singular virtue adversity taught him. But after his father's death, when he came first to the state, he thought only upon revenge, but soon felt the smart thereof, and therefore forthwith altered his mind, acknowledged his error, repaired the harms done, and sought to recover by large benefits those whom he had offended.

__________

Life is a leaf of paper white

Whereon each one of us may write

His word or two, and then comes night.

Muse not which way the pen to hold;

Luck hates the slow and loves the bold;

Soon come the darkness and the cold.

Greatly begin! though thou have time

But for a line, be that sublime,—

Not failure, but low aim, is crime.

—LOWELL

注　释

〔1〕Seniories, lands.

28

AN ADVENTURE OF THE RED CROSS KNIGHT

BY EDMUND SPENSER

Edmund Spenser

Edmund Spenser (1553-1599): An English poet of great imaginative power, called "the poet's poet." He wrote "The Shephearde's Calendar," "Faerie Queene," and many minor poems. His chief prose work was "A View of the State of Ireland."

The "Faerie Queene," Spenser's greatest work, is an allegorical poem of which only half was written. It was designed to consist of twelve books, each having for its hero a knight typifying a certain virtue. The queen of fairyland is represented as holding a twelve days' feast and sending forth these knights, each of whom was to engage in an adventure against an error opposed to the virtue he typified.

This selection, from Book I. of the "Faerie Queene," describes an adventure of the Red Cross Knight, the type of holiness.

A gentle knight was pricking〔1〕 on the plain

Yclad〔2〕 in mighty arms and silver shield,

Wherein old dints of deep wounds did remain,

The cruel marks of many a bloody field;

Yet arms till that time did he never wield:

His angry steed did chide his foaming bit,

As much disdaining to the curb to yield:

Full jolly〔3〕 knight he seemed, and fair did sit,

As one for knightly jousts and fierce encounters fit.

And on his breast a bloody cross he bore,

The dear remembrance of his dying Lord,

For whose sweet sake that glorious badge he wore,

And dead, as living, ever him adored:

Upon his shield the like was also scored,

For sovereign hope, which in His help he had:

Right faithful true he was in deed and word,

But of his cheer did seem too solemn sad;

Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad〔4〕.

Upon a great adventure he was bond〔5〕,

That greatest Gloriana〔6〕 to him gave,

That greatest glorious queen of faerie land,

To win him worship, and her grace to have,

Which of all earthly things he most did crave;

And ever as he rode his heart did yearn〔7〕

To prove his puissance in battle brave

Upon his foe, and his new force to learn;

Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stern.

A lovely lady rode him fair beside,

Upon a lowly ass more white than snow,

Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide

Under a veil, that wimpled〔8〕 was full low,

And over all a black stole she did throw,

As one that inly mourned; so was she sad,

And heavy sate upon her palfrey slow;

Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,

And by her in a line a milk-white lamb she led〔9〕.

Sopure and innocent, as that same lamb,

She was in life and every virtuous lore〔10〕,

And by descent from royal lineage came

Of ancient kings and queens, that had of yore

Their scepters stretched from east to western shore,

And all the world in their subjection held;

Till that infernal fiend with foul uproar

Forwasted〔11〕 all their land, and them expelled

Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far

compelled〔12〕

Behind her far away a dwarf did lag,

That lazy seemed in being ever last,

Or wearied with bearing of her bag

Of needments〔13〕 at his back. Thus as they past,

The day with clouds was sudden overcast,

And angry Jove〔14〕 an hideous storm of rain

Did pour into his leman's〔15〕 lap so fast,

That every wight to shroud〔16〕 it did constrain,

And this fair couple eke〔17〕 to shroud themselves were fain.

Enforced to seek some covert nigh at hand,

A shady grove not far away they spied,

That promised aid the tempest to withstand:

Whose lofty trees yclad with summer's pride,

Did spread so broad, that heaven's light did hide,

Not pierceable with power of any star:

And all within were paths and alleys wide,

With footing worn, and leading inward far:

Fair harbor that them seems; so in they entered are.

And forth they pass, with pleasure forward led,

Joying to hear the bird's sweet harmony,

Which therein shrouded from the tempest's dread,

Seemed in their song to scorn the cruel sky.

Much can they praise the trees so straight and high,

The sailing pine〔18〕, the cedar proud and tall,

The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry〔19〕,

The builder oak, sole king of forests all,

The aspen good for staves, the cypress funeral.

The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors

And poets sage, the fir that weepeth still〔20〕,

The willow, worn of forlorn paramours〔21〕,

The yew obedient to the bender's will〔22〕,

The birch for shafts, the sallow〔23〕 for the mill,

The myrrh, sweet bleeding in the bitter wound,

The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill,

The fruitful olive, and the platane round,

The carver holm〔24〕, the maple seldom inward sound.

Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,

Until the blustering storm is overblown;

When, weening to return whence they did stray,

They cannot find that path, which first was shown,

But wander to and fro in ways unknown,

Furthest from end then, when they nearest ween,

That makes them doubt their wits be not their own:

So many paths, so many turnings seen,

That which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.

At last resolving forward still to fare,

Till that some end they find or in or out,

That path they take, that beaten seemed most bare,

And like to lead the labyrinth about;

Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,

At length it brought them to a hollow cave,

Amidst the thickest woods. The champion stout

Eftsoons〔25〕 dismounted from his courser brave,

And to the dwarf awhile his needless spear he gave.

"Be well aware," quoth then that lady mild,

"Lest sudden mischief ye too rash provoke:

The danger hid, the place unknown and wild,

Breeds dreadful doubts. Oft fire is without smoke,

And peril without show: therefore your stroke,

Sir knight, withhold, till further trial made."

"Ah, lady," said he, "shame were to revoke

The forward footing for an hidden shade:

Virtue gives herself light, through darkness for to wade."

"Yea, but," quoth she, "the peril of this place

I better wot〔26〕 than you, though now too late,

To wish you back return with foul disgrace,

Yet wisdom warns, whilst foot is in the gate,

To stay the step, ere forced to retrate.

This is the wandering wood, this Error's den,

A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:

Therefore I rede〔27〕, beware." "Fly, fly," quoth Then.

The fearful dwarf; "this is no place for living men."

But full of fire and greedy hardiment〔28〕,

The youthful knight could not for aught be stayed,

But forth into the darksome hole he went,

And looked in: his glistering armor made

A little glooming light, much like a shade,

By which he saw the ugly monster plain,

Half like a serpent horribly displayed,

But th'other half did woman's shape retain,

Most loathsome, filthy, foul, and full of vile disdain.

His lady, sad to see his sore constraint,

Cried out, "Now, now, Sir knight, show what ye be,

Add faith unto your force, and be not faint;

Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee."

That when he heard, in great perplexity,

His gall did grate〔29〕 for grief and high disdain,

And, knitting all his force, got one hand free,

Wherewith he gripped her gorge with so great pain,

That soon to loose her wicked bands did her constrain.

As gentle shepherd in sweet eventide,

When ruddy Phoebus〔30〕 gins to welk〔31〕 in west,

High on an hill, his flock to viewen wide,

Marks which do bite their hasty supper best;

A cloud of cumbrous gnats do him molest,

All striving to infix their feeble stings,

That from their noyance〔32〕 he nowhere can rest,

But with his clownish hands their tender wings

He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.

Thus ill bestead〔33〕, and fearful more of shame

Than of the certain peril he stood in,

Half furious unto his foe he came,

Resolved in mind all suddenly to win,

Or soon to lose, before he once would lin〔34〕;

And struck at her with more than manly force,

That from her body full of filthy sin

He raft〔35〕 her hateful head without remorse;

A stream of cold black blood forth gushed from her corse

Then mounted he upon his steed again,

And with the lady backward sought to wend;

That path he kept, which beaten was most plain,

Nor ever would to any byway bend,

But still did follow one unto the end,

The which at last out of the wood them brought.

So forward on his way, with God to friend,

He passeth forth, and new adventure sought;

Long way he traveled, before he heard of aught.

注　释

〔1〕Pricking, riding.

〔2〕Yclad, clad.

〔3〕Jolly, excellent.

〔4〕Ydrad, dreaded.

〔5〕Bond, bound.

〔6〕Gloriana, the queen of fairyland, who typified in general Glory and in particular Queen Elizabeth.

〔7〕Earn, long; yearn.

〔8〕Wimpled, laid in folds; plaited.

〔9〕Lad, led.

〔10〕Lore, knowledge; wisdom.

〔11〕Forwasted, laid utterly waste; made desolate.

〔12〕Compelled, summoned; called for aid.

〔13〕Needments, necessaries.

〔14〕Jove, Jupiter; the chief god of the ancient Romans.

〔15〕Leman's, sweetheart's; lady's.

〔16〕Shroud, take shelter.

〔17〕Eke, also.

〔18〕Sailing pine, so called because it is made into ships or sailing vessels.

〔19〕Never dry, growing always in damp places.

〔20〕Weepeth still, sends forth resin.

〔21〕Paramours, lovers.

〔22〕Obedient to the bender's will, made into bows easily bended by archers.

〔23〕Sallow, willow.

〔24〕Carver holm, holly used for carving.

〔25〕Eftsoons, at once.

〔26〕Wot, know.

〔27〕Rede, advise.

〔28〕Hardiment, hardihood; courage.

〔29〕Gall did grate, became angry.

〔30〕Phoebus, Apollo, the sun god; hence, the sun.

〔31〕Welk, fade.

〔32〕Noyance, an old form of the word annoyance.

〔33〕Bestead, beset; put in peril.

〔34〕Lin, stop.

〔35〕Raft, cut off; took away by violence.

29

THE TEACHER'S VOCATION

BY HENRY, LORD BROUGHAM

Henry, Lord Brougham (1779-1868): An English statesman, orator, and author. While a member of Parliament, he warmly advocated parliamentary reform, and he afterward devoted himself to the cause of law reform. He wrote "Sketches of the Statesmen of the Time of George Ⅲ.," "Political Philosophy," and many speeches and addresses.

This extract is from an address on the establishment of the Liverpool Mechanics' Institute, delivered July 20, 1835.

There is nothing which the adversaries of improvement are more wont to make themselves merry with than what is termed the "march of intellect"; and here I will confess that I think, as far as the phrase goes, they are in the right. It is a very absurd, because a very incorrect, expression. It is little calculated to describe the operation in question.

It does not picture an image at all resembling the proceeding of the true friends of mankind. It much more resembles the progress of the enemy to all improvement. The conqueror moves in a march. He stalks onward with the "pride, pomp, and circumstance" of war; banners flying, shouts rending the air, guns thundering, and martial music pealing, to drown the shrieks of the wounded and the lamentations for the slain.

Not thus the schoolmaster in his peaceful vocation. He meditates and purposes in secret the plans which are to bless mankind; he slowly gathers round him those who are to further their execution; he quietly though firmly advances in his humble path, laboring steadily but calmly till he has opened to the light all the recesses of ignorance, and torn up by the roots all the weeds of vice. His is a progress not to be compared with anything like a march; but it leads to a far more brilliant triumph and to laurels more imperishable than the destroyer of his species, the scourge of the world, ever won.

Such men—men deserving the glorious title of teachers of mankind—I have found, laboring conscientiously, though perhaps obscurely, in their blessed vocation, wherever I have gone. I have found them among the daring, the ambitious, the ardent, the indomitably active French. I have found them among the persevering, resolute, industrious Swiss; I have found them among the laborious, the warm-hearted, the enthusiastic Germans; I have found them among the high-minded Italians; and in our own country, God be thanked, their numbers everywhere abound and are every day increasing.

Their calling is high and holy; their fame is the property of nations; their renown will fill the earth in after ages, in proportion as it sounds not far off in their own times.

Each one of these great teachers of the world, possessing his soul in peace, performs his appointed course, awaits in patience the fulfillment of the promises, and, resting from his labors, bequeaths his memory to the generation whom his works have blessed, and sleeps under the humble but not inglorious epitaph commemorating "one in whom mankind lost a friend and no man got rid of an enemy."

30

THE FAMOUS MR. JOSEPH ADDISON

BY W. M. THACKERAY

William Makepeace Thackeray

William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1863): One of the greatest of English novelists. He is powerful in his delineation of character and is a master of genial humor as well as of irony and satire. After he had dissipated his fortune by extravagance he turned to literature as a profession. His contributions to periodical literature were popular, and in 1846 the publication of "Vanity Fair" established his reputation as one of the great English novelists. He afterward wrote "Pendennis," "Henry Esmond," "The Newcomes," and other novels; he also delivered a course of lectures on "The Four Georges" and "English Humorists."

"Henry Esmond" is considered by many people Thackeray's masterpiece. It purports to be the history of the life of Henry Esmond, an English gentleman of the time of Queen Anne, written by himself.

This selection from "Henry Esmond" gives a description of Steele and Addison, two of the most famous literary men of the period.

Ⅰ

Steele shone rather than sparkled. Those famous beaux esprits〔1〕 of the coffeehouses, Mr. William Congreve〔2〕, for instance, when his gout and his grandeur permitted him to come among us, would make many brilliant hits—half a dozen in a night sometimes—but, like sharpshooters, when they had fired their shot, they were obliged to retire under cover till their pieces were loaded again, and wait till they got another chance at their enemy; whereas Dick never thought that his companion was a butt to aim at—only a friend to shake by the hand.

Quitting the Guard-table one Sunday afternoon, he and his friend Esmond were making their way down Germain Street, when Dick all of a sudden left his companion's arm and ran after a gentleman who was poring over a folio volume at the bookshop near to St. James's Church. He was a fair, tall man, in a snuff-colored suit, with a plain sword, very sober, and almost shabby in appearance—at least when compared to Captain Steele, who loved to adorn his jolly round person with the finest of clothes, and shone in scarlet and gold lace. The captain rushed up, then, to the student of the bookstall, took him in his arms, hugged him, and would have kissed him,—for Dick was always hugging and bussing his friends,—but the other stepped back with a flush on his pale face, seeming to decline this public manifestation of Steele's regard.

"My dearest Joe, where hast thou hidden thyself this age?" cries the captain, still holding both his friend's hands; "I have been languishing for thee this fortnight."

"A fortnight is not an age, Dick," says the other, very good-humoredly. He had light blue eyes, extraordinary bright, and a face perfectly regular and handsome, like a tinted statue. "And I have been hiding myself—where do you think?"

"What! not across the water, my dear Joe?" says Steele, with a look of great alarm: "thou knowest I have always —"

"No," says his friend, interrupting him with a smile; "we are not come to such straits as that, Dick. I have been hiding, sir, at a place where people never think of finding you—at my own lodgings, whither I am going now; will your honor come?"

"Harry Esmond, come hither," cries out Dick. "Thou hast heard me talk over and over again of my dearest Joe, my guardian angel?"

"Indeed," says Mr. Esmond, with a bow, "it is not from you only that I have learned to admire Mr. Addison. We loved good poetry at Cambridge as well as at Oxford; and I have some of yours by heart, though I have put on a red coat," says Mr. Esmond, who, indeed, had read and loved the charming Latin poems of Mr. Addison, as every scholar of that time knew and admired them.

"This is Captain Esmond who was at Blenheim〔3〕," says Steele.

"Lieutenant Esmond," says the other, with a low bow, "at Mr. Addison's service."

"I have heard of you," says Mr. Addison, with a smile; and adding that his lodgings were hard by, he invited the two gentlemen to his apartment in the Haymarket, whither we accordingly went.

"I shall get credit with my landlady," said he, with a smile, "when she sees two such fine gentlemen as you come up my stair." And he politely made his visitors welcome to his apartment, which was indeed but a shabby one, though no grandee of the land could receive his guests with a more perfect and courtly grace than this gentleman. A frugal dinner, consisting of a slice of meat and a penny loaf, was awaiting the owner of the lodgings.

"You see," says Mr. Addison, pointing to his writing table, whereon was a map of the action at Hochstedt, and several other gazettes and pamphlets relating to the battle, "that I, too, am busy about your affairs, captain. I am engaged as a poetical gazetteer, to say truth, and am writing a poem on the campaign."

So Esmond, at the request of his host, told him what he knew about the famous battle, drew the river on the table, and with the aid of some bits of tobacco pipe showed the advance of the left wing, where he had been engaged.

A sheet or two of the verses lay already on the table, and Dick took up the pages of manuscript, writ out with scarce a blot or correction, in the author's slim, neat handwriting, and began to read therefrom with great emphasis and volubility. At pauses of the verse, the enthusiastic reader stopped and fired off a great salvo〔4〕 of applause.

Esmond smiled at the enthusiasm of Addison's friend. "You are like the German burghers," says he, "and the princes on the Mozelle; when our army came to a halt, they always sent a deputation to compliment the chief, and fired a salute with all their artillery from their walls."

No matter what the verses were, and, to say truth, Mr. Esmond found some of them more than indifferent, Dick's enthusiasm for his chief never faltered, and in every line from Addison's pen, Steele found a masterstroke. Dick came to that part of the poem wherein the bard describes as blandly as though he were recording a dance at the opera or a harmless bout of bucolic〔5〕 cudgeling at a village fair, that bloody and ruthless part of our campaign, with the remembrance whereof every soldier who bore a part in it must sicken with shame—when we were ordered to ravage and lay waste the Elector's country; and with fire and murder, slaughter and crime, a great part of his dominions was overrun; and at last Dick came to the lines:—

"In vengeance roused the soldier fills his hand

With sword and fire, and ravages the land,

In crackling flames a thousand harvests burn,

A thousand villages to ashes turn.

To the thick woods the woolly flocks retreat,

And mixed with bellowing herds confusedly bleat.

Their trembling lords the common shade partake,

And cries of infants sound in every brake.

The listening soldier fixed in sorrow stands,

Loath to obey his leader's just commands.

The leader grieves, by generous pity swayed,

To see his just commands so well obeyed."

"I admire the license of your poets," says Esmond to Mr. Addison. Dick, after reading of the verses, was fain to go off, insisting on kissing his two dear friends before his departure. "I admire your art; the murder of the campaign is done to military music, like a battle at the opera. Do you know what a scene it was? what a triumph you are celebrating? what scenes of shame and horror were enacted, over which the commander's genius presided, as calm as though he didn't belong to our sphere? You talk of the 'listening soldier fixed in sorrow,' the 'leader's grief swayed by generous pity'; to my belief, the leader cared no more for bleating flocks than he did for infants' cries, and many of our ruffians butchered one or the other with equal alacrity. I was ashamed of my trade when I saw those horrors perpetrated, which came under every man's eyes. You hew out of your polished verses a stately image of smiling victory; I tell you 'tis an uncouth, distorted, savage idol, hideous, bloody, and barbarous. The rites performed before it are shocking to think of. You great poets should show it as it is— ugly and horrible, not beautiful and serene. Oh, sir, had you made the campaign, believe me, you never would have sung it so."

Joseph Addison

During this little outbreak, Mr. Addison was listening, smoking out of his long pipe, and smiling very placidly. "What would you have?" says he. "In our polished days and according to the rules of art, 'tis impossible that the Muse should depict tortures or begrime her hands with the horrors of war. These are indicated rather than described; as in the Greek tragedies,—that, I dare say, you have read, and sure there can be no more elegant specimens of composition,— Agamemnon〔6〕 is slain, or Medea's〔7〕 children destroyed, away from the scene, the chorus occupying the stage and singing of the action to pathetic music. Something of this I attempt, my dear sir, in my humble way; 'tis a panegyric I mean to write, and not a satire. Were I to sing as you would have me, the town would tear the poet in pieces and burn his book by the hands of the common hangman. We must paint our great duke," Mr. Addison went on, "not as a man, which no doubt he is, with weaknesses like the rest of us, but as a hero. 'Tis in a triumph, not a battle, that your humble servant is riding his sleek Pegasus〔8〕. We college poets trot, you know, on very easy nags; it hath been, time out of mind, part of the poet's profession to celebrate the actions of heroes in verse, and to sing the deeds which you men of war perform. I must follow the rules of my art, and the composition of such a strain as this must be harmonious and majestic, not familiar or too near the vulgar truth. If Virgil could invoke the divine Augustus, a humbler poet from the banks of the Isis〔9〕 may celebrate a victory and a conqueror of our own nation, in whose triumphs every Briton has a share, and whose glory and genius contributes to every citizen's individual honor. When hath there been, since our Henry's and Edward's〔10〕 days, such a great feat of arms as that from which you yourself have brought away marks of distinction? If' tis in my power to sing that song worthily, I will do so and be thankful to my Muse. If I fail as a poet, as a Briton at least I will show my loyalty, and fling up my cap and huzzah for the conqueror."

"There were as brave men on that field," says Mr. Esmond, who never could be made to love the Duke of Marlborough, nor to forget those stories which he used to hear in his youth regarding that great chief's selfishness and treachery. "There were men at Blenheim as good as the leader, whom neither knights nor senators applauded, nor voices plebeian or patrician favored, and who lie there forgotten under the clods. What poet is there to sing them?"

"To sing the gallant souls of heroes sent to Hades!" says Mr. Addison, with a smile. "Would you celebrate them all? If I may venture to question anything in such an admirable work, the catalogue of the ships in Homer hath always appeared to me as somewhat wearisome; what had the poem been, supposing the writer had chronicled the names of captains, lieutenants, rank and file? One of the greatest of a great man's qualities is success; 'tis the result of all the others; 'tis a latent power in him which compels the favor of the gods and subjugates fortune. Of all his gifts I admire that one in the great Marlborough. To be brave? every man is brave. But in being victorious, as he is, I fancy there is something divine. In presence of the occasion, the great soul of the leader shines out and the god is confessed. Death itself respects him, and passes by him to lay others low. War and carnage flee before him to ravage other parts of the field, as Hector from before the divine Achilles. You say he hath no pity; no more hath the gods, who are above it and superhuman. The fainting battle gathers strength at his aspect; and, wherever he rides, victory charges with him."

Ⅱ

A couple of days after, when Mr. Esmond revisited his poetic friend, he found this thought, struck out in the fervor of conversation, improved and shaped into those famous lines, which are in truth the noblest in the poem of the "Campaign." As the two gentlemen sat engaged in talk, Mr. Addison solacing himself with his customary pipe, the little maid-servant that waited on his lodging came up, preceding a gentleman in fine laced clothes, that had evidently been figuring at court or a great man's levee. The courtier coughed a little at the smoke of the pipe, and looked round the room curiously, which was shabby enough, as was the owner in his worn snuff-colored suit and plain tiewig.

"How goes on the magnum opus〔11〕, Mr. Addison?" says the court gentleman, on looking down at the papers that were on the table.

"We were but now over it," says Addison, — the greatest courtier in the land could not have. a more splendid politeness, or greater dignity of manner "Here is the plan," says he, "on the table: here are Tallard's〔12〕 quarters, at the bowl of this pipe, at the attack of which Captain Esmond was present. I have the honor to introduce him to Mr. Boyle; and Mr. Esmond was but now depicting the engagement when you came in." In truth, the two gentlemen had been so engaged when the visitor arrived, and Addison, in his smiling way, speaking of Mr. Webb, colonel of Esmond's regiment, who commanded a brigade in the action and greatly distinguished himself there, was lamenting that he could find never a suitable rhyme for Webb, otherwise the brigade should have had a place in the poet's verses. "And for you, you are but a lieutenant," says Addison, "and the Muse can't occupy herself with any gentleman under the rank of a field officer."

Mr. Boyle was all impatient to hear, saying that my Lord Treasurer and my Lord Halifax were equally anxious; and Addison, blushing, began reading of his verses, and, I suspect, knew their weak parts as well as the most critical hearer. When he came to the lines describing the angel, that

"Inspired repulsed battalions to engage,

And taught the doubtful battle where to rage,"

he read with great animation, looking at Esmond, as much as to say, "You know where that simile came from— from our talk the other day."

The poet's two hearers were caught with enthusiasm, and applauded the verses with all their might. The gentleman of the court sprang up in great delight. "Not a word more, my dear sir," says he. "Trust me with the papers; I'll defend them with my life. Let me read them over to my Lord Treasurer, whom I am appointed to see in half an hour. I venture to promise, the verses shall lose nothing by my reading, and then, sir, we shall see whether Lord Halifax has a right to complain that his friend's pension is no longer paid." And without more ado, the courtier in lace seized the manuscript pages, placed them in his breast with his ruffled hand over his heart, executed a most gracious wave of the hat with the disengaged hand, and smiled and bowed out of the room, leaving an odor of pomander〔13〕 behind him.

"Does not the chamber look quite dark?" says Addison, surveying it, "after the glorious appearance and disappearance of that gracious messenger? Why, he illuminated the whole room. Your scarlet, Mr. Esmond, will bear any light; but this threadbare old coat of mine, how very worn it looked under the glare of that splendor! I wonder whether they will do anything for me," he continued. "When I came out of Oxford into the world, my patrons promised me great things; and you see where their promises have landed me, in a lodging up two pair of stairs, with a sixpenny dinner from the cook's shop. Well, I suppose this promise will go after the others, and fortune will jilt me, as the jade has been doing any time these seven years. There is no hardship in poverty, Esmond, that is not bearable; no hardship even in honest dependence that an honest man may not put up with. I came out of the lap of Alma Mater〔14〕, puffed up with her praises of me, and thinking to make a figure in the world with the parts and learning which had got me no small name in our college. The world is the ocean, and Isis and Charwell are but little drops, of which the sea takes no account. My reputation ended a mile beyond Maudlin Tower〔15〕; no one took note of me; and I learned this at least, to bear up against evil fortune with a cheerful heart. Friend Dick hath made a figure in the world, and has passed me in the race long ago. What matters a little name or a little fortune? There is no fortune that a philosopher cannot endure. I have not been unknown as a scholar, and yet forced to live by turning bear-leader〔16〕 and teaching a boy how to spell. What then? The life was not pleasant, but possible—the bear was bearable. Should this venture fail, I will go back to Oxford; and some day, when you are a general, you shall find me a curate in a cassock and bands, and I shall welcome your honor to my cottage in the country and to a mug of penny ale. 'Tis not poverty that's the hardest to bear, or the least happy lot in life," says Mr. Addison, shaking the ash out of his pipe. "See, my pipe is smoked out. Let us go abroad and take a turn on the Mall, or look in at the theater and see Dick's comedy〔17〕. 'Tis not a masterpiece of wit; but Dick is a good fellow, though he doth not set the Thames on fire."

Within a month after this day, Mr. Addison's ticket had come up a prodigious prize in the lottery of life, All the town was in an uproar of admiration of his poem, the "Campaign," which Dick Steele was spouting at every coffeehouse in Whitehall and Covent Garden. The wits on the other side of Temple Bar saluted him at once as the greatest poet the world had seen for ages; the people huzzahed for Marlborough and for Addison, and, more than this, the party in power provided for the meritorious poet, and Mr. Addison got the appointment of Commissioner of Excise, which the famous Mr. Locke〔18〕 vacated, and rose from his place to other dignities and honors, his prosperity from henceforth to the end of his life being scarce ever interrupted. But I doubt whether he was not happier in his garret in the Haymarket, than ever he was in his splendid palace at Kensington; and I believe the fortune that came to him in the shape of the countess his wife was no better than a shrew and a vixen.

注　释

〔1〕Beaux esprits, men of wit.

〔2〕William Congreve (1674-1729), an English dramatic poet.

〔3〕Blenheim, a battle fought August 2, 1704, in which the English, under the Duke of Marlborough, gained a decisive victory over the French and Bavarians. It was the subject of Addison's poem, "The Campaign."

〔4〕Salvo, volley.

〔5〕Bucolic, rustic.

〔6〕Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks in the siege of Troy. On his return home he was murdered by his wife.

〔7〕Medea, the sorceress who aided Jason in getting the golden fleece. After being married to her for ten years Jason deserted her, whereupon, in revenge, she killed her two children.

〔8〕Pegasus, the winged horse of the Muses.

〔9〕Isis, a river which by its junction with the Thame forms the Thames; the name is sometimes applied to the Thames itself.

〔10〕Henry's and Edward's, Henry V. and Edward Ⅲ., two of the most warlike English kings, who won great victories in the French wars.

〔11〕Magnum opus, great work.

〔12〕Camille d'Hostun Tallard (1652-1728), a French marshal defeated and made prisoner at Blenheim.

〔13〕Pomander, a kind of perfume carried with one, often in the form of a ball.

〔14〕Alma Mater, a college where one is educated.

〔15〕Maudlin Tower, Magdalen College, Oxford.

〔16〕Bear—leader, teacher.

〔17〕Dick's comedy, "The Tender Husband" by Richard Steele.

〔18〕Mr. John Locke (1632-1704), a distinguished English philosopher and philanthropist.

31

SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY

BY JOSEPH ADDISON

Joseph Addison (1672-1719): An English author, Thackeray's interesting description of whom you have just had. Addison's tragedy, "Cato," was much admired in his own time, and he wrote graceful English and Latin verse; but he is best known to us as an essayist, one of the authors of the "Spectator" and the "Guardian." The "Spectator" was a periodical publication, represented as being under the direction of a fictitious club to which belonged, among others, Sir Roger de Coverley, an English country gentleman, and Mr. Spectator, who represents Addison himself.

Here are two of the De Coverley papers.

Ⅰ. COVERLEY HALL

Having often received an invitation from my friend Sir Roger de Coverley to pass away a month with him in the country, I last week accompanied him thither, and am settled with him for some time at his country house, where I intend to form several of my ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humor, lets me rise and go to bed when I please; dine at his own table or in my chamber, as I think fit; sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of the county come to see him, he only shows me at a distance. As I have been walking in his fields I have observed them stealing a sight of me over an hedge, and have heard the knight desiring them not to let me see them, for that I hated to be stared at.

I am the more in ease in Sir Roger's family because it consists of sober and staid persons; for as the knight is the best master in the world, he seldom changes his servants; and as he is beloved by all about him, his servants never care for leaving him. By this means his domestics are all in years, and grown old with their master. You would take his valet de chambre〔1〕 for his brother; his butler is gray-headed; his groom is one of the gravest men that I ever have seen; and his coachman has the looks of a privy councilor〔2〕. You see the goodness of the master even in the old house dog, and in a gray pad that is kept in the stable with great care and tenderness out of regard to his past services, though he has been useless for several years.

I could but observe with a great deal of pleasure the joy that appeared in the countenances of these ancient domestics upon my friend's arrival at his country seat. Some of them could not refrain from tears at the sight of their old master; every one of them pressed forward to do something for him, and seemed discouraged if they〔3〕 were not employed. At the same time, the good old knight, with a mixture of the father and the master of the family, tempered the inquiries after his own affairs with several kind questions relating to themselves. This humanity and good nature engages everybody to him, so that when he is pleasant upon any of them, all his family are in good humor, and none so much as the person whom he diverts himself with; on the contrary, if he coughs, or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy for a stander-by to observe a secret concern in the looks of all his servants.

My worthy friend has put me under the particular care of his butler, who is a very prudent man, and, as well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard their master talk of me as of his particular friend.

My chief companion, when Sir Roger is diverting himself in the woods or the fields, is a very venerable man, who is ever with Sir Roger, and has lived at his house in the nature of a chaplain above thirty years. This gentleman is a person of good sense and some learning, of a very regular life and obliging conversation; he heartily loves Sir Roger, and knows that he is very much in the old knight's esteem, so that he lives in the family rather as a relation than a dependant.

I have observed in several of my papers that my friend, Sir Roger, amidst all his good qualities, is something of an humorist〔4〕; and that his virtues as well as imperfections are, as it were, tinged by a certain extravagance, which makes them particularly his and distinguishes them from those of other men. This cast of mind, as it is generally very innocent in itself, so it renders his conversation highly agreeable and more delightful than the same degree of sense and virtue would appear in their common and ordinary colors. As I was walking with him last night, he asked me how I liked the good man whom I have just now mentioned; and, without staying for my answer, told me that he was afraid of being insulted〔5〕 with Latin and Greek at his own table, for which reason he desired a particular friend of his at the university to find him out a clergyman rather of plain sense than much learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper〔6〕, and, if possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon.

"My friend," says Sir Roger, "found me out this gentleman, who, besides the endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does not show it. I have given him the parsonage〔7〕 of the parish; and because I know his value, have settled upon him a good annuity for life. If he outlives me, he shall find that he was higher in my esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with me thirty years, and, though he does not know I have taken notice of it, has never in all that time asked anything of me for himself, though he is every day soliciting me for something in behalf of one or other of my tenants, his parishioners. There has not been a lawsuit in the parish since he has lived among them. If any dispute arises, they apply themselves to him for the decision; if they do not acquiesce in his judgment, which I think never happened above once or twice at most, they appeal to me. At his first settling with me, I made him a present of all the good sermons which have been printed in English, and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly, he has digested〔8〕 them into such a series that they follow one another naturally, and make a continued system of practical divinity."

As Sir Roger was going on with his story, the gentleman we were talking of came up to us, and upon the knight's asking him who preached to-morrow — for it was Saturday night—told us the Bishop of St. Asaph in the morning and Dr. South in the afternoon. He then showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy〔9〕, with several living authors who have published discourses of practical divinity. I no sooner saw this venerable man in the pulpit, but I very much approved of my friend's insisting upon the qualifications of a good aspect and a clear voice; for I was so charmed with the gracefulness of his figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses he pronounced, that I think I never passed any time more to my satisfaction.

Ⅱ. SIR ROGER PASSETH AWAY

We last night received a piece of ill news at our club, which very sensibly afflicted every one of us. I question not but my readers themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer in suspense, Sir Roger de Coverley is dead. He departed this life at his house in the country, after a few weeks' sickness. Sir Andrew Freeport has a letter from one of his correspondents in those parts that informs him the old man caught a cold at the county sessions as he was very warmly promoting an address of his own penning, in which he succeeded according to his wishes. But this particular comes from a Whig〔10〕 justice of peace who was always Sir Roger's enemy and antagonist. I have letters both from the chaplain and Captain Sentrey which mention nothing of it, but are filled with many particulars to the honor of the good old man. I have likewise a letter from the butler, who took so much care of me last summer when I was at the knight's house. As my friend the butler mentions, in the simplicity of his heart, several circumstances the others have passed over in silence, I shall give my reader a copy of his letter without any alteration or diminution: —

"HONORED SIR,—Knowing that you was my old master's good friend, I could not forbear sending you the melancholy news of his death, which has afflicted the whole country, as well as his poor servants, who loved him, I may say, better than we did our lives. I am afraid he caught his death the last county sessions, where he would go to see justice done to a poor widow woman and her fatherless children, that had been wronged by a neighboring gentleman; for you know, sir, my good master was always the poor man's friend. Upon his coming home, the first complaint he made was that he had lost his roast-beef stomach, not being able to touch a sirloin which was served up according to custom; and you know he used to take great delight in it. From that time forward he grew worse and worse, but still kept a good heart to the last. Indeed, we were once in great hope of his recovery, upon a kind message that was sent him from the widow lady whom he had made love to the last forty years of his life; but this only proved a lightning before his death. He has bequeathed to this lady, as a token of his love, a great pearl necklace and a couple of silver bracelets set with jewels, which belonged to my good old lady his mother; he has bequeathed the fine white gelding, that he used to ride a-hunting upon, to his chaplain, because he thought he would be kind to him; and has left you all his books. He has, moreover, bequeathed to the chaplain a very pretty tenement〔11〕 with good lands about it. It being a very cold day when he made his will, he left for mourning to every man in the parish a great frieze〔12〕 coat and to every woman a black riding-hood. It was a most moving sight to see him take leave of his poor servants, commending us all for our fidelity, whilst we were not able to speak a word for weeping. As we most of us are grown gray-headed in our dear master's service, he has left us pensions and legacies which we may live very comfortably upon the remaining part of our days. He has bequeathed a great deal more in charity which is not yet come to my knowledge, and it is peremptorily said in the parish that he has left money to build a steeple to the church; for he was heard to say some time ago that if he lived two years longer, Coverley Church should have a steeple to it. The chaplain tells everybody that he made a very good end, and never speaks of him without tears. He was buried, according to his own directions, among the family of the Coverleys, on the left hand of his father, Sir Arthur. The coffin was carried by six of his tenants, and the pall held up by six of the quorum〔13〕; the whole parish followed the corpse with heavy hearts, and in their mourning suits—the men in frieze and the women in riding-hoods. Captain Sentrey, my master's nephew, has taken possession of the Hall-house and the whole estate. When my old master saw him a little before his death, he shook him by the hand, and wished him joy of the estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to make a good use of it and to pay the several legacies and the gifts of charity which he told him he had left as quitrents〔14〕 upon the estate. The captain truly seems a courteous man, though he says but little. He makes much of those whom my master loved, and shows great kindness to the old house dog that you know my poor master was so fond of. It would have gone to your heart to have heard the moans the dumb creature made on the day of my master's death. He has never joyed himself since; no more has any of us. 'Twas the melancholiest day for the poor people that ever happened in Worcestershire. This is all from,

"Honored sir, your most sorrowful servant,

"EDWARD BISCUIT.

"P. S. — My master desired, some weeks before he died, that a book which comes up to you by the carrier should be given to Sir Andrew Freeport, in his name."

This letter, notwithstanding the poor butler's manner of writing it, gave us such an idea of our good old friend that upon the reading of it there was not a dry eye in the club. Sir Andrew, opening the book, found it to be a collection of Acts of Parliament. There was in particular, the act of Uniformity, with some passages in it marked by Sir Roger's own hand. Sir Andrew found that they related to two or three points which he had disputed with Sir Roger the last time he appeared at the club. Sir Andrew, who would have been merry at such an incident on another occasion, at the sight of the old man's handwriting burst into tears, and put the book in his pocket. Captain Sentrey informs us that the knight has left rings and mourning for every one in the club.

注　释

〔1〕valet de chambre (French), body servant or personal attendant.

〔2〕Privy councilor, a member of the privy council, the chief council composed of cabinet ministers and other persons chosen by the sovereign.

〔3〕Everyone... they, for every one... he.

〔4〕Humorist, a person who has some oddity or eccentricity of character.

〔5〕Insulted, in the time of Addison the English gentlemen made little or no pretension to learning.

〔6〕Temper, mingled in due proportion.

〔7〕Parsonage, as here used, it signifies the parson's office, not his residence.

〔8〕Digested, arranged.

〔9〕Bishop of St. Asaph, Dr. South, Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, eminent English clergymen of the seventeenth century.

〔10〕Whig, an English political party which advocated popular rights.

〔11〕Tenement, dwelling house.

〔12〕Frieze, a kind of coarse woolen cloth.

〔13〕Quorum, court of justice.

〔14〕Quitrents, rents reserved in grants of land, by the payment of which the tenant is relieved from other service.

32

TRIUMPH OF CHARIS

BY BEN JONSON

Ben Jonson (1573-1637): An English dramatic poet, who is generally ranked second to Shakspere. He wrote "Every Man in his Humor," "The Fall of Sejanus," "Cataline's Conspiracy," and many other plays.

See the chariot at hand here of Love!

Wherein my lady rideth!

Each that draws is a swan, or a dove,

And well the car Love guideth.

As she goes, all hearts do duty

Unto her beauty.

And, enamored, do wish, so they might

But enjoy such a sight,

That they still were to run by her side

Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.

Do but look on her eyes! they do light

All that Love's world compriseth;

Do but look on her hair! it is bright

As Love's star when it riseth!

Do but mark—her forehead's smoother

Than words that soothe her!

And from her arched brows such a grace

Sheds itself through the face,

As alone there triumphs to the life,

All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife.

Have you seen but a bright lily grow

Before rude hands have touched it?

Have you marked but the fall o'the snow

Before the soil hath smutched it?

Have you felt the wool of beaver?

Or swan's down ever?

Or have smelt o' the bud o' the briar?

Or the hard〔1〕 in the fire?

Or have tasted the bag of the bee?

Oh, so white, oh, so soft, oh, so sweet, is she!

注　释

〔1〕Nard, an East Indian plant used in Oriental perfumery.

33

FIRST BUNKER HILL ORATION—A SELECTION

BY DANIEL WEBSTER

Daniel Webster

Daniel Webster (1782-1852): An American statesman and orator. For forty years, as Representative, Senator, and Secretary of State, he was in public life, but he never attained the object of his ambition, the presidency. His most memorable speech in Congress was his reply to Senator Hayne of South Carolina, on the subject of nullification. Among his grandest orations are the eulogy of Adams and Jefferson, and the two Bunker Hill orations, — the first delivered at the laying of the cornerstone of the monument, and the second on its completion.

This eloquent extract is from the first Bunker Hill oration, delivered in June, 1825.

Ⅰ

Venerable men〔1〕! you have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are now where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country. Behold, how altered! The same heavens are indeed over your heads; the same ocean rolls at your feet; but all else how changed! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of smoke and flame rising from burning Charlestown. The ground strewed with the dead and the dying, the impetuous charge, the steady and successful repulse, the loud call to repeated assault, the summoning of all that is manly to repeated resistance, a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly bared in an instant to whatever of terror there may be in war and death, — all these you have witnessed, but you witness them no more. All is peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and children and countrymen in distress and terror, and looking with unutterable emotions for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day with the sight of the whole happy population, come out to welcome and greet you with a universal jubilee. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of position appropriately lying at the foot of this mount and seeming fondly to cling around it, are not means of annoyance to you, but your country's own means of distinction and defense. All is peace; and God has granted you this sight of your country's happiness, ere you slumber in the grave. He has allowed you to behold and to partake the reward of your patriotic toils; and he has allowed us, your sons and countrymen, to meet you here, and in the name of the present generation, in the name of your country, in the name of liberty, to thank you.

But, alas! you are not all here! Time and the sword have thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, Pomeroy, Bridge〔2〕! our eyes seek for you in vain amid this broken band. You are gathered to your fathers, and live only to your country in her grateful remembrance and your own bright example. But let us not too much grieve that you have met the common fate of men. You lived at least long enough to know that your work had been nobly and successfully accomplished. You lived to see your country's independence established, and to sheathe your swords from war. On the light of liberty you saw arise the light of peace, like

"another morn,

Risen on mid-ocean;"

and the sky on which you closed your eyes was cloudless.

But, ah! him! the first great martyr〔3〕 in this great cause! Him! the premature victim of his own self-devoting heart! Him! the head of our civil councils and the destined leader of our military bands, whom nothing brought hither but the unquenchable fire of his own spirit! Him! cut off by providence in the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom, falling ere he saw. the star of his country rise; pouring out his generous blood like water, before he knew whether it would fertilize a land of freedom or of bondage!—how shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle the utterance of thy name! Our poor work may perish; but thine shall endure! This monument may molder away; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to a level with the sea; but thy memory shall not fail! Wheresoever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the transports of patriotism and liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with thy spirit.

But the scene amidst which we stand does not permit to confine our thoughts or our sympathies to those fearless spirits who hazarded or lost their lives on this consecrated spot. We have the happiness to rejoice here in the presence of a most worthy representation of the survivors of the whole revolutionary army.

Veterans! you are the remnant of many a well-fought field. You bring with you marks of honor from Trenton and Monmouth, from Yorktown, Camden, Bennington, and Saratoga. Veterans of half a century! when in your youthful days you put everything at hazard in your country's cause, good as that cause was and sanguine as youth is, still your fondest hopes did not stretch onward to an hour like this! At a period to which you could not reasonably have expected to arrive, at a moment of national prosperity such as you could never have foreseen, you are now met here to enjoy the fellowship of old soldiers and to receive the overflowings of a universal gratitude.

But your agitated countenances and your heaving breasts inform me that even this is not an unmixed joy. I perceive that a tumult of contending feelings rushes upon you. The images of the dead, as well as the persons of the living, throng to your embraces. The scene overwhelms you, and I turn from it. May the Father of all mercies smile upon your declining years and bless them! And when you shall here have exchanged your embraces, when you shall have once more pressed the hands which have been so often extended to give succor in adversity or grasped in the exultation of victory, then look abroad upon this lovely land which your young valor defended, and mark the happiness with which it is filled; yea, look abroad upon the whole earth, and see what a name you have contributed to give your country and what a praise you have added to freedom, and then rejoice in the sympathy and gratitude which beam upon your last days from the improved condition of mankind.

Ⅱ

The occasion does not require of me any particular account of the battle of the 17th of June, 1775, nor any detailed narrative of the events which immediately preceded it. These are familiarly known to all. In the progress of the great and interesting controversy, Massachusetts and the town of Boston had become early and marked objects of the displeasure of the British Parliament. This had been manifested in the act for altering the government of the Province and in that for shutting up the port of Boston. Nothing sheds more honor on our early history and nothing better shows how little the feelings and sentiments of the colonies were known or regarded in England, than the impression which these measures everywhere produced in America. It had been anticipated that, while the other colonies would be terrified by the severity of the punishment inflicted on Massachusetts, the other seaports would be governed by a mere spirit of gain; and that, as Boston was now cut off from all commerce, the unexpected advantage which this blow on her was calculated to confer on other towns would be greatly enjoyed. How miserably such reasoners deceived themselves! How little they knew of the depth and the strength and the intenseness of that feeling of resistance to illegal acts of power, which possessed the whole American people. Everywhere the unworthy boon was rejected with scorn. The fortunate occasion was seized, everywhere, to show to the whole world that the colonies were swayed by no local interest, no partial interest, no selfish interest.

The temptation to profit by the punishment of Boston was strongest to our neighbors of Salem. Yet Salem was precisely the place where this miserable proffer was spurned, in a tone of the most lofty self-respect and the most indignant patriotism.

"We are deeply affected," said its inhabitants, "with the sense of our public calamities; but the miseries that are now rapidly hastening on our brethren in the capital of the Province greatly excite our commiseration. By shutting up the port of Boston some imagine that the course of trade might be turned hither and to our benefit; but we must be dead to every idea of justice, lost to every feeling of humanity, could we indulge a thought to seize on wealth and raise our fortunes on the ruin of our suffering neighbors."

These noble sentiments were not confined to our immediate vicinity. In that day of general affection and brotherhood, the blow given to Boston smote on every patriotic heart from one end of the country to the other. Virginia and the Carolinas, as well as Connecticut and New Hampshire, felt and proclaimed the cause to be their own. The Continental Congress, then holding its first session in Philadelphia, expressed its sympathy for the suffering inhabitants of Boston, and addresses were received from all quarters, assuring them that the cause was a common one and should be met by common efforts and common sacrifices. The Congress of Massachusetts responded to these assurances; and in an address to the Congress at Philadelphia, bearing the official signature, perhaps among the last, of the immortal Warren, notwithstanding the severity of its suffering and the magnitude of the dangers which threatened it, it was declared, that this colony "is ready, at all times, to spend and to be spent in the cause of America."

But the hour drew nigh which was to put professions to the proof and to determine whether the authors of these mutual pledges were ready to seal them in blood. The tidings of Lexington and Concord had no sooner spread than it was universally felt that the time was at last come for action. A spirit pervaded all ranks, not transient, not boisterous, but deep, solemn, determined. War, on their own soil and at their own doors, was, indeed, a strange work to the yeomanry of New England, but their consciences were convinced of its necessity, their country called them to it, and they did not withhold themselves from the perilous trial. The ordinary occupations of life were abandoned; the plow was stayed in the unfinished furrow; wives gave up their husbands and mothers gave up their sons, to the battles of a civil war. Death might come in honor on the field; it might come in disgrace on the scaffold. For either and for both they were prepared. The sentiment of Quincy〔4〕 was full in their hearts. "Blandishments," said that distinguished son of genius and patriotism, "will not fascinate us, nor will threats of a halter intimidate us; for, under God, we are determined that wheresoever, whensoever, or however we shall be called to make our exit, we will die free men."

The seventeenth of June saw the four New England colonies standing here, side by side, to triumph or to fall together; and there was with them from that moment to the end of the war, what I hope will remain with them forever—one cause, one country, one heart.

The battle of Bunker Hill was attended with the most important effects beyond its immediate result as a military engagement. It created at once a state of open, public war. There could now be no longer a question of proceeding against individuals, as guilty of treason or rebellion. That fearful crisis was past. The appeal now lay to the sword, and the only question was whether the spirit and the resources of the people would hold out till the object should be accomplished. Nor were its general consequences confined to our own country. The previous proceedings of the colonies, their appeals, resolutions, and addresses, had made their cause known to Europe. Without boasting, we may say that in no age or country has the public cause been maintained with more force of argument, more power of illustration, or more of that persuasion which excited feeling and elevated principle can alone bestow, than the Revolutionary state papers exhibit. These papers will forever deserve to be studied, not only for the spirit which they breathe, but for the ability with which they are written.

To this able vindication of their cause, the colonies had now added a practical and severe proof of their own true devotion to it, and given evidence also of the power which they could bring to its support. All now saw that, if America fell, she would not fall without a struggle. Men felt sympathy and regard as well as surprise, when they beheld these infant states, remote, unknown, unaided, encounter the power of England, and in the first considerable battle leave more of their enemies dead on the field, in proportion to the number of combatants, than had recently been known to fall in the wars of Europe.

Ⅲ

When Louis〔5〕 the Fourteenth said, "I am the State," he expressed the essence of the doctrine of unlimited power. By the rules of that system, the people are disconnected from the State; they are its subjects, it is their lord. These ideas, founded in the love of power and long supported by the excess and the abuse of it, are yielding in our age to other opinions, and the civilized world seems at last to be proceeding to the conviction of that fundamental and manifest truth that the powers of government are but a trust, and that they cannot be lawfully exercised but for the good of the community. As knowledge is more and more extended, this conviction becomes more and more general. Knowledge, in truth, is the great sun in the firmament. Life and power are scattered with all its beams.

We may hope that the growing influence of enlightened sentiments will promote the permanent peace of the world. Wars to maintain family alliances, to uphold or to cast down dynasties, and to regulate successions to thrones, which have occupied so much room in the history of modern times, if not less likely to happen at all, will be less likely to become general and involve many nations, as the great principle shall be more and more established that the interest of the world is peace, and its first great statute that every nation possesses the power of establishing a government for itself. Let us thank God that we live in an age when something has influence besides the bayonet, and when the sternest authority does not venture to encounter the scorching power of public reproach. Any attempt of the kind should be met by one universal burst of indignation; the air of the civilized world ought to be made too warm to be comfortably breathed by any one who would hazard it.

If the true spark of religious and civil liberty be kindled, it will burn. Human agency cannot extinguish it. Like the earth's central fire, it may be smothered for a time; the ocean may overwhelm it; mountains may press it down; but its inherent and unconquerable force will heave both the ocean and the land, and at some time or other, in some place or other, the volcano will break out and flame up to heaven.

And now, let us indulge an honest exultation in the conviction of the benefit which the example of our country has produced and is likely to produce on human freedom and human happiness. Let us endeavor to comprehend in all its magnitude and to feel in all its importance the part assigned to us in the great drama of human affairs. We are placed at the head of the system of representative and popular governments. Thus far our example shows that such governments are compatible, not only with respectability and power, but with repose, with peace, with security of personal rights, with good laws, and a just administration,

We are not propagandists〔6〕. Wherever other systems are preferred, either as being thought better in themselves or as better suited to existing conditions, we leave the preference to be enjoyed. Our history hitherto proves, however, that the popular form is practicable and that with wisdom and knowledge men may govern themselves; and the duty incumbent on us is to preserve the consistency of this cheering example, and take care that nothing may weaken its authority with the world. If, in our case, the representative system ultimately fail, popular governments must be pronounced impossible. No combination of circumstances more favorable to the experiment can ever be expected to occur. The last hopes of mankind, therefore, rest with us; and if it should be proclaimed that our example had become an argument against the experiment, the knell of popular liberty would be sounded throughout the earth.

These are excitements to duty; but they are not suggestions of doubt. Our history and our condition, all that is gone before us, and all that surrounds us, authorize the belief that popular governments, though subject to occasional variations, perhaps not always for the better, in form, may yet, in their general character, be as durable and permanent as other systems. We know, indeed, that in our country any other is impossible. The principle of free governments adheres to the American soil. It is bedded in it, immovable as its mountains. And let the sacred obligations which have devolved on this generation and on us sink deep into our hearts. Those are daily dropping from among us who established our liberty and our government. The great trust now descends to new hands. Let us apply ourselves to that which is presented to us, as our appropriate object. We can win no laurels in a war for independence. Earlier and worthier hands have gathered them all. Nor are there places for us by the side of Solon〔7〕 and Alfred and other founders of states. Our fathers have filled them. But there remains to us a great duty of defense and preservation; and there is opened to us, also, a noble pursuit, to which the spirit of the times strongly invites us. Our proper business is improvement. Let our age be the age of improvement. In a day of peace, let us advance the arts of peace and the works of peace. Let us develop the resources of our land, call forth its powers, build up its institutions, promote all its great interests, and see whether we also, in our day and generation, may not perform something worthy to be remembered. Let us cultivate a true spirit of union and harmony. In pursuing the great objects which our condition points out to us, let us act under a settled conviction and an habitual feeling that these twenty-four states are one country. Let our conceptions be enlarged to the circle of our duties. Let us extend our ideas over the whole of the vast field in which we are called to act. Let our object be, our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country. And, by the blessing of God, may that country itself become a vast and splendid monument, not of oppression and terror, but of wisdom, of peace, and of liberty, upon which the world may gaze with admiration forever.

注　释

〔1〕Venerable men, forty old soldiers, veterans of the war of the Revolution, seated before Webster when he delivered this address.

〔2〕Prescott, Putnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, Pomeroy, Bridge, American officers in the war of the Revolution, who fought at Bunker Hill.

〔3〕Him, the first great martyr, General Joseph Warren, who was killed in the battle of Bunker Hill.

〔4〕Josiah Quincy (1744-1775), an American patriot and orator.

〔5〕Louis XIV. (1638-1715), king of France, called the Great. His ambition was to make France prosperous and the monarchy absolute. His policy is summed up in this saying quoted by Webster.

〔6〕Propagandists, persons who devote themselves to spreading certain systems of principles.

〔7〕Solon (B.C. 638?-558?), a Greek sage and lawgiver.

34

THE GREATNESS OF GOD'S WORKS

FROM THE BOOK OF JOB

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said,

Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?

Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.

Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare if thou hast understanding.

Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it?

Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof;

When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?

Hast thou commanded the morning since thy days; and caused the dayspring to know his place;

That it might take hold of the ends of the earth, that the wicked might be shaken out of it?

It is turned as clay to the seal and they stand as a garment.

And from the wicked their light is withholden, and the high arm shall be broken.

Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea? or hast thou walked in the search of the depth?

Canst thou bind the sweet influence of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?

Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? or canst thou guide Arcturus〔1〕 with his sons?

Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? canst thou set the dominion thereof in the earth?

Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that abundance of waters may cover thee?

Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go and say unto thee, Here we are?

Who hath put wisdom in the inward parts? or who hath given understanding to the heart?

Who can number the clouds in wisdom? or who can stay the bottles of heaven,

When the dust groweth into hardness and the clods cleave fast together?

Wilt thou hunt the prey for the lion? or fill the appetite of the young lions,

When they couch in their dens and abide in the covert to lie in wait?

Who provideth for the raven his food? When his young ones cry unto God, they wander for lack of meat.

Hast thou given the horse strength? hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?

Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible.

He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men.

He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted; neither turneth he back from the sword.

The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield.

He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage: neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.

He saith among the trumpets, Ha, Ha! and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.

Doth the hawk fly by thy wisdom, and stretch her wings toward the south?

Doth the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high?

She dwelleth and abideth on the rock, upon the crag of the rock, and the strong place.

From thence she seeketh the prey, and her eyes behold afar off.

Her young ones also suck up blood: and where the slain are, there is she.

注　释

〔1〕Arcturus, a fixed star in the constellation Bootes; the name Arcturus is sometimes used for the constellation itself, or for the constellation of Ursa Major.

35

SONNETS

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

William Shakspere (1564-1616): The greatest English dramatic poet, one of the greatest poets of the world. Among his principal plays are "Hamlet," " Othello," "King Lear," "Macbeth," "Julius Cæsar," and "The Merchant of Venice." A sketch of his life will be found in the Fifth Book of the "Graded Literature Readers."

Here are two sonnets from a collection of poems in the sonnet form, dedicated by Shakspcre to a mysterious "W. H.," whose identity critical research has not been able to discover.

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless〔1〕 cries

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves or none or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the deathbed whereon it must expire,

Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

注　释

〔1〕Bootless, unavailing; profitless.

36

HEROES OF THE MUTINY

BY FLORA ANNIE STEEL

The Indian Mutiny in 1857 threatened, for a time, the overthrow of British power in India, but was finally put down. The British force in India was 36,000; the native soldiers numbered 257,000, most of whom were in rebellion. The direct cause of the mutiny was the giving to the native soldiers cartridges greased with the fat of pigs and cows—the first, an abomination to the Mohammedans, the second, sacred to the Hindus — by which they believed that their caste and religion were attacked. The indirect cause was the jealousy excited by the extension of British rule, especially by the annexation of Oude.

On the 10th of May, the native troops at Meerut mutinied and went to Delhi to seize the magazine and restore the old royal dynasty. This story tells how the magazine was defended. All the Europeans at Delhi—except a few who succeeded in escaping—were massacred, and the native garrison and mutineers from other places took possession of the city in the name of the old king. On the 8th of June, a small British force took position on the Ridge about two miles from the city; it was reenforced in September and it then stormed the city.

Ⅰ

"Close the gates! Close the gates! Close the gates! " The cry rose from the palace, the city, the little knot of Englishmen looking down the Meerut road. Yet no one could compass that closing. Recruits swarmed in through Selimgarh to the palace. Robbers swarmed in through the Rajghat gate to harry the bazaars. Only through the Kashmir gate, held by English officers and a guard of the 38th, no help came. The collector arriving therein, hot from his gallop to cantonments〔1〕, found more wonder than alarm; for death was dealt in Delhi, on the eleventh of May, 1857, by noiseless cold steel. And, since the main guard had to be kept in order to secure retreat and safety to the European houses around it, no one had been able to leave it. Besides, all around was still peaceful utterly, even the roar of growing tumult in the city had not reached it.

The collector, galloping past it, scorned the suggestion that it was needless risk to go further, replying briefly that he was the magistrate of the town.

But as he neared the Calcutta gate, he could scarcely press through the growing crowd, which, led by troopers, was beginning to close in behind the knot of waiting Englishmen. Once more they looked down the Meerut road when they heard that some time must elapse ere they could hope for reenforcement. The guns could not be got ready at a moment's notice, nor could the Kashmir gate guard leave the post. But the 54th regiment should be down in about—in about what? No one asked; but those waiting faces listened as for a verdict of life and death. In about an hour. An hour! And not a cloud of dust upon the Meerut road!

"They can't be long, though, now," said the eldest there, hopefully. "If we go into the guardhouse, we can hold our own till then, surely."

This map shows the situation of places mentioned in this story, and in Lord Roberts' account of the storming of the city.

"I can hold mine," replied a young fellow with a rough-hewn, homely face. He gave a curt nod as he spoke to a companion, and together they turned back, skirting the wall, followed by an older, burlier man. They belonged to the magazine, and they were off to see the best way of holding their own. And they found it, found it for all time!

About six hundred yards from the main guard of the Kashmir gate stood the magazine, to which the two young Englishmen, followed by a burlier one, had walked back quietly after one of them had remarked that he could hold his own, — since there were gates to be barred, four walls to be seen to, and various other preparations to be made before the nine men who formed the garrison could be certain of holding their own. And their own meant much to others, for with the stores and the munitions of war safe, the city might rise, but it would be unarmed; but with them at the mercy of the rabble, every pitiful pillager could become a recruit to the disloyal regiments.

"The mine's about finished now, sir," said Conductor Buckley, saluting gravely as he looked critically down a line ending in the powder magazine. "And, asking your pardon, sir, mightn't it be as well to settle a signal beforehand, sir, in case it's wanted? And, if you have no objection, sir, here's Sergeant Scully here, sir, saying he would look on it as a kind favor—"

A man with a spade glanced up a trifle anxiously for the answer as he went on with his work.

"All right! Scully shall fire it. If you finish it there in the middle by that little lemon tree, we shan't forget the exact spot. Scully must see to having the portfire ready for himself, I'll give the word to you, as your gun will be near mine, and you can pass it on by raising your cap. That will do, I think."

"Nicely, sir," said Conductor Buckley, saluting again.

"I wish we had one more man," remarked the headof-the-nine, as he paused in passing a gun to look to something in its gear with swift professional eye. "I don't quite see how the nine of us are to work the ten guns."

"Oh! we'll manage somehow," said his second in command; "the native establishment, perhaps —"

George Willoughby, the head-of-the-nine, looked at the sullen group of dark faces lounging distrustfully within those barred doors, and his own face grew stern. Well, if they would not work, they should at least stay and look on—stay till the end. Then he took out his watch.

"Twelve! The Meerut troops will be in soon—if they started at dawn —" There was the finest inflection of scorn in his voice.

"They must have started," began his companion. But the tall figure with the grave young face was straining its eyes from the bastion〔2〕 they were passing; it gave upon the Bridge-of-boats and the lessening white streak of road. He was looking for a cloud of dust upon it, but there was none.

"I hope so," he remarked as he went on. He gave a half-involuntary glance back, however, to the stunted lemon bush. There was a black streak by it which might be relied upon to give aid at dawn or dusk or noon; high noon it was now.

The chime of it echoed methodically as ever from the main guard, making a cheerful young voice in the officer's room there say, "Well! the enemy is passing, anyhow. The reliefs can't be long— if they started at dawn."

Ⅱ

As the sun began to slant, the head-of-the-nine at the magazine stood looking contemptuously at a paper brought by the Palace Guards from the King of Delhi and passed under the door, ordering its instant opening. George Willoughby laughed; but some of the eight talked of people's impudence! Yet, after the laugh, the head-of-the-nine walked over, yet another time, to that river bastion to look down at that white streak of road. How many times he had looked already Heaven knows, but his grave face had grown graver, though it brightened again after a glance at the lemon bush. The black streak there would not fail them.

"In the king's name, open!" The demand came from Mirza Moghul himself this time, for the palace was without arms, without ammunition; and if they were to defend it according to the queen's idea, against all comers, till there was time for other regiments to rebel, this matter of the magazine was important. A scout sent by the queen had returned with news that no English soldier was within ten miles of Delhi, and within the last half hour an ominous word had begun to pass from lip to lip in the city.

"Helpless!"

The masters were helpless. Past two o'clock and not a blow in revenge! Helpless! The word made cowards brave and brave folk cowards. And many who had spent the long hours in peeping from, their closed doors at each fresh clatter in the street, hoping it was the masters, looked at each other with startled eyes.

Helpless! helpless!

The echo of the thought reached the main guard, still in touch with the outside world, whence, as the day dragged by, fresh tidings of danger drifted down from the Ridge where men, women, and children lay huddled helplessly in the Flagstaff Tower, watching the white streak of road. It seems like a bad dream, that hopeless, paralyzing strain of the eyes for a cloud of dust.

But the echo won no way into the magazine, for the simple reason that it knew it was not helpless. It could hold its own.

"Shoot that man Kureem Buksh, please, Forrest, if he comes bothering round the gate again. He is really very annoying. I have told him several times to keep back; so it is no use his trying to give information to the people outside."

For the head-of-the-nine was very courteous. "Scaling ladders?" he echoed, when a native superintendent told him that the princes, finding him obdurate〔3〕, had gone to send some down from the palace. "Oh! by all means let them scale if they like."

Some of the eight, hearing the reply, smiled grimly. By all means let the flies walk into the parlor; for if that straight streak of road was really going to remain empty, the fuller the four square walls round the lemon bush could be, the better.

"That's they, sir," said one of the eight, cheerfully, as a grating noise rose above the hum outside. "That's the grapnels〔4〕." And he turned to his gun. All the nine waited, each to a gun, and of course there was one gun over, but, as the head of them had said, that could not be helped. And so the rifle-triggers clicked and the stocks came up to the shoulders; and then? — then there was a sort of laugh, and some one said under his breath, "Well!" And his mind went back to the streets of London, and he wondered how many years it was since he had seen a lamplighter. For up ropes and poles, on roofs and outhouses, somehow, clinging like limpets, running like squirrels along the top of the wall, upsetting the besiegers, monopolizing the ladders, was a rush, not of attack, but of escape! Let what fool who liked scale the wall and come into the parlor of the nine, those who knew the secret of the lemon bush were off. No safety there beside the nine! No life insurance possible while that lay ready to their hand!

Would he ever see a lamplighter again? The trivial thought was with the bearded man who stood by his gun, the real self in him, hidden behind the reserve of courage, asking other questions too, as he waited for the upward rush of fugitives to change into a downward rush of foes worthy of good powder and shot.

It came at last—and the grape came, too, mowing the intruders down in bunches. And these were no mere rabble of the city. They were the pick of the trained mutineers swarming over the wall to stand on the outhouse roofs and fire at the nine; and so, pressed in gradually from behind, coming nearer and nearer, dropping to the ground in solid ranks, firing in platoons〔5〕; thus by degrees hemming in the nine, hemming in the lemon bush. But the nine were busy with the guns. They had to be served quickly and that left no time for thought. Then the smoke and the flashes and the yells filled up the rest of the world for the present.

"This is the last round, I'm afraid, sir; we shan't have time for another," said a warning voice from the nine, and the head of them looked round quietly. The intruders were not more than forty yards now from the guns; there was barely time, certainly, unless they had had that other man! So he nodded, and the last round pealed out as recklessly, as defiantly, as if there had been a hundred to follow, a hundred thousand, a hundred million. But one of the gunners threw down his fuse ere his gun recoiled, and ran in lightly toward the lemon tree, so as to be ready for the favor he had begged.

"We're about full up, sir," came the warning voice again, as the rest of the nine fell back amid a desultory rattle of small arms. The tinkle of the last church bell, as it were, warning folk to hurry up, — a last invitation to walk into the parlor of the nine.

"We're about full up, sir," came that one voice.

"Wait half a second," came another, and the head-ofthe-nine ran lightly to the river bastion for a last look down the white streak for that cloud of dust.

How sunny it was! how clear! how still!—that world beyond the smoke, beyond the flashes, beyond the deafening yells and cries. He gave one look at it, one short look—only one—then turned to face his own world, the world he had to keep. Full up, indeed! No pyrotechnist〔6〕 could hope for better audience in so small a place.

"Now, if you please!"

Some one in the thick of the smoke and the flashes and the yells and the groans, heard and raised his cap —a last salute, as it were, to the school and the schoolmaster—a final dismissal to the scholars, a thousand of them or so, about to finish their lesson of what men can do to hold their own. And some one else, standing beside the lemon bush, bent over that faithful black streak, then ran for dear life from the hissing of that snake of fire flashing to the powder magazine.

A Last Saluts

A faint sob, a whispering gasp of horror, came from a thousand and odd; but above it came a roar, a rush, a rending. A little puff of white smoke went skyward first, and then slowly, majestically, a great cloud of rosered dust grew above the ruins, to hang—a corona〔7〕, glittering in the slant sunbeams—over the school, the schoolmasters, and the scholars.

It hung there for hours. To those who know the story it seems to hang there still, —a bloody pall for the many; for the nine, a crown indeed.

__________

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls:

Who steals my purse steals trash; 't is something, nothing;

'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he that filches from me my good name

Robs me of that which not enriches him

And makes me poor indeed.

—Shakspere

注　释

〔1〕Cantonments, in India, permanent military stations or towns; usually, temporary quarters for troops.

〔2〕Bastion, a projection from the main part of a fortification.

〔3〕Obdurate, stubborn; unyielding.

〔4〕Grapnels, instruments used to grapple or hold; usually, small anchors with four or five claws.

〔5〕Platoons, bodies of soldiers.

〔6〕Pyrotechnist, a person who displays fireworks.

〔7〕Corona, a crown or garland, especially one given as a reward for distinguished services.

37

THE STORMING OF DELHI

BY LORD ROBERTS

Lord Roberts

Lord Roberts(1832-1941): An English general who has served with distinction in India and Africa. Among his military achievements was the relief of Kandahar in 1880, with a force ofonly nine thousand men. In 1899, after the English had sustained a series of reverses in the war against the Boers, Lord Roberts was put in command of the British forces in South Africa and conducted the campaign with wisdom and success.

You have had an account of the Indian Mutiny. Here is a description by Lord Roberts of the taking of Delhi. It is from a volume of reminiscences entitled "Forty-one Years in India."

At sunset on the fourteenth of September only a very small portion of the walls of Delhi was in our possession. The densely populated city remained to be conquered. The magazine, the palace, and the fort of Selimgarh, all strongly fortified, were still in the hands of the enemy. The narrow strip of ground we had gained had been won at severe loss. Three out of the four officers who commanded the assaulting columns had been disabled, and 66 officers and 1104 men had been killed and wounded.

The night of the fourteenth was spent by the general and staff in "Skinner's House," close to the church. Rest was badly needed, for almost every one in the force, officers and men alike, had been hard at work, night and day, for a week. That night, luckily, we were allowed to be at peace, for whether it was that the rebels were as tired as we were, or that they were busy making preparations for further resistance, they did not disturb us; and when day broke we were all refreshed and ready to continue the struggle. At one time, indeed, early in the evening, the enemy appeared from their movements to be preparing to attack us, but just at that moment the band of the Fourth Punjab Infantry struck up "Cheer, Boys, Cheer!" upon which the men of the regiment did cheer, most lustily, and other regiments caught up and continued the inspiriting hurrahs, which apparently had the effect of disconcerting the mutineers and keeping them quiet.

On the morning of the fifteenth the situation was reviewed and preparations made for the conquest of the city. Order was restored amongst the troops, who had become somewhat demoralized by the street fighting. Regiments and brigades were got together; raids were made on all the store shops within reach, and every bottle of beer and spirits was broken. Some of the liquor would doubtless have been of great use in the hospitals, but there was no means of removing it, and the general wisely determined that it was best to put temptation out of the men's way. Guns and mortars were placed into position for shelling the city and palace, and a few houses near, where the enemy's sharpshooters had established themselves, were seized and occupied. We soon, however, gave up attacking such positions, for we found that street fighting could not be continued without the loss of more men than we had to spare, and that the wisest plan would be to keep the soldiers under cover as much as possible while we sapped〔1〕 from house to house. A battery commanding Selimgarh and part of the palace was constructed in the palace gardens, and a breach was made in the wall of the magazine, which was captured the next morning with but slight loss.

We worked through houses, courtyards, and lanes until, on the afternoon of the nineteenth, we found ourselves in the rear of the Burn bastion, the attempt to take which on the fourteenth had cost the life of the gallant Nicholson and many other brave men. We had with us fifty European and fifty native soldiers, the senior officer of the party being Captain Gordon of the 75th Foot. A single door separated us from the lane which led to the Burn bastion. Lang of the Engineers burst this door open and out dashed the party. Rushing across the lane and up the ramp〔2〕, the guard was completely surprised, and the bastion was seized without our losing a man.

Early the next day we were still sapping our way toward the Lahore gate, when we suddenly found ourselves in a courtyard in which were huddled together some forty or fifty banians〔3〕, who were evidently as much in terror of the sepoys〔4〕 as they were of us. The men of our party nearly made an end of these unfortunates before their officers could interfere, for to the troops—native and European alike — every man inside the walls of Delhi was looked upon as a rebel worthy of death. These people, however, were unarmed, and it did not require a very practiced eye to see that they were inoffensive. We thought, however, that a good fright would do them no harm and might possibly help us, so for a time we allowed them to believe that they were looked upon as traitors, but eventually told them their lives would be spared if they would take us in safety to some place from which we might observe how the Lahore gate was guarded. After considerable hesitation and consultation amongst themselves, they agreed to two of their party guiding Lang and me, while the rest remained as hostages with the understanding that, if we did not return within a given time, they would be shot.

Our trembling guides conducted us through the houses, across courtyards, and along secluded alleys, without our meeting a living creature, until we found ourselves in an upper room of a house looking out on the Chandni Chauk, and within fifty yards of the Lahore gate.

From the windows of this room we could see beneath us the sepoys lounging about, engaged in cleaning their muskets and other occupations, while some, in a lazy sort of fashion, were acting as sentries. I could see from the number on their caps that these sepoys belonged to the 5th Native Infantry.

Having satisfied ourselves of the feasibility of taking the Lahore gate in rear, we retraced our steps.

The two banians behaved well throughout, but were in such a terrible fright of anything happening to us that they would not allow us to leave the shelter of one house until they had carefully reconnoitered the way to the next, and made sure it was clear of the enemy. This occasioned so much delay that our friends had almost given us up and were on the point of requiring the hostages to pay the penalty for the supposed treachery of our guides, when we reappeared on the scene.

The troops were then brought by the route we had just traversed and drawn up behind a gateway, next to the house in which we had been concealed. The gate was burst open, and rushing into the street we captured the guns and killed or put to flight the sepoys whom we had watched from our upper chamber a short time before, without losing a man ourselves.

This was a great achievement, for we were now in possession of the main entrance to Delhi, and the street of the city leading direct from the Lahore gate to the palace and Jama Masjid. We proceeded up this street, at first cautiously, but on finding it absolutely empty, and the houses on either side abandoned, we pushed on until we reached the Delhi Bank. Here there was firing going on and round shot flying about from a couple of guns placed just outside the palace. But this was evidently an expiring effort. The great Mohammedan mosque had just been occupied by a column under the command of Major James Brind; while Ensign McQueen, of the 4th Punjab Infantry, with one of his own men, had pluckily reconnoitered up to the chief gateway of the palace and reported that there were but few men left in the Moghul fort.

The honor of storming this last stronghold was appropriately reserved for the 60th Rifles, the regiment which had been the first to engage the enemy on the banks of the Hindun, nearly four months before, and which throughout the siege had so greatly distinguished itself. Home, of the Engineers, first advanced with some sappers and blew in the outer gate. At this, the last struggle for the capture of Delhi, I wished to be present, so attached myself for the occasion to a party of the 60th Rifles, under the command of Ensign Alfred Heathcote. As soon as the smoke of the explosion cleared away, the 60th, supported by the 4th Punjab Infantry, sprang through the gateway; but we did not get far, for there was a second door beyond, chained and barred, which was with difficulty forced open, when the whole party rushed in. The recesses in the long passage which led to the palace buildings were crowded with wounded men, but there was very little opposition, for only a few fanatics still held out. One of these—a Mohammedan sepoy in the uniform of a grenadier of the 37th Native Infantry—stood quietly about thirty yards up the passage with his musket on his hip. As we approached he slowly raised his weapon and fired, sending the bullet through McQueen's helmet. The brave fellow then advanced at the charge and was, of course, shot down. So ended the twentieth of September, a day I am never likely to forget.

At sunrise on the twenty-first a royal salute proclaimed that we were again masters in Delhi, and that for the second time in the century the great city had been captured by a British force.

注　释

〔1〕Sapped, undermined; proceeded by mining.

〔2〕Ramp, inclined plane.

〔3〕Banians, Hindoo merchants; traders.

〔4〕Sepoys, native troops of India employed in the service of a European power, especially of Great Britain.

38

ULYSSES

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

It little profits that an idle king,

By this still hearth, among these barren crags,

Matched with an aged wife, I mete〔1〕 and dole〔2〕

Unequal laws unto a savage race

That hoard and sleep and feed and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink

Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed

Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those

That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when

Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades

Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;

For always roaming with a hungry heart

Much have I seen and known; cities of men

And manners, climates, councils, governments,

Myself not least, but honored of them all;

And drunk delight of battle with my peers,

Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

I am a part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough

Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades

Forever and forever when I move.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,

To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!

As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life

Were all too little, and of one to me

Little remains: but every hour is saved

From that eternal silence, something more,

A bringer of new things; and vile it were

For some three suns to store and hoard myself

And this gray spirit yearning in desire

To follow knowledge like a sinking star,

Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus〔3〕,

To whom I leave the scepter and the isle

Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill

This labor, by slow prudence to make mild

A rugged people, and through soft degrees

Subdue them to the useful and the good.

Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere

Of common duties, decent not to fail

In offices of tenderness, and pay

Meet adoration to my household gods

When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:

There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners

Souls that have toiled and wrought, and thought with me—

That ever with a frolic welcome took

The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed

Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;

Old age hath yet his honor and his toil;

Death closes all: but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,

'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order smite

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles〔4〕,

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

__________

Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

— Philippians iv. 8

注　释

〔1〕Mete, measure.

〔2〕Dole, deal out in small portions.

〔3〕Telemachus, the son of Ulysses. After Ulysses had been from home nearly twenty years, Telemachus set out in search of him. At Sparta he heard a prophecy which induced him to return home, where, in the meantime, his father had arrived.

〔4〕Happy Isles or Isles of the Blest, fabled islands somewhere in the west, to which the favorites of the gods were conveyed after death, there to dwell in everlasting joy.

39

TENNYSON〔1〕

In Lucem Transitus, October, 1892

BY HENRY VAN DYKE

Henry Van Dyke (1852—1933): An American clergyman for many years pastor of the "Brick Presbyterian Church" of New York. In 1899 he became professor of English literature at Princeton. He is the author of "The Reality of Religion," "The Poetry of Tennyson," "The Gospel for an Age of Doubt," "Little Rivers," "The Toiling of Felix and other Poems," etc.

From the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendors of the moon,

To the singing tides of heaven, and the light more clear than noon,

Passed a soul that grew to music till it was with God in tune.

Brother of the greatest poets, true to nature, true to art;

Lover of Immortal Love, uplifter of the human heart,—

Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall sing, if thou depart?

Silence here—for love is silent, gazing on the lessening sail;

Silence here—for grief is voiceless when the mighty minstrels fail;

Silence here—but, far beyond us, many voices crying, Hail!

注　释

〔1〕From "The Poetry of Tennyson," copyright, 1889, by Charles Scribners Sons,

40

MICHAEL ANGELO AND CELLINI

BY J. A. SYMONDS

John Addington Symonds (1840-1893): An English author. This characterization of Michael Angelo and Cellini is from Symonds's principal work, "History of the Renaissance in Italy." He also wrote, "Introduction to the Study of Dante," "Life of Shelley," "Shakspere's Predecessors in the English Drama," several volumes of poems, and other works.

The life of Italian artists at the time of the Renaissance may be illustrated by two biographies. Michael Angelo Buonarroti〔1〕 and Benvenuto Cellini〔2〕 were almost opposite in all they thought and felt, experienced and aimed at. The one impressed his own strong personality on art; the other reflected the light and shadow of the age in the record of his manifold existence. Cellini hovered, like some strong-winged creature, on the surface of human activity, yielding himself to every impulse, seeking every pleasure, and of beauty feeling only the rude animal compulsion. Deep philosophic thoughts, ideas of death and judgment, the stern struggles of the soul, encompassed Michael Angelo; the service of beauty was with him religion. Cellini was the creature of the moment—the glass and mirror of corrupt, enslaved, yet still resplendent, Italy. In Michael Angelo the genius of the Renaissance culminated〔3〕; but his character was rather that of an austere republican, free and solitary amid the multitudes of slaves and courtiers. Michael Angelo made art the vehicle of lofty and soul-shaking thought. Cellini brought the fervor of an inexhaustibly active nature to the service of sensuality, and taught his art to be the handmaid of a soulless paganism. In these two men, therefore, we study two aspects of their age. How far both were exceptional need not here be questioned, since their singularity consists not so much in being different from other Italians of the sixteenth century, as in concentrating qualities elsewhere scattered and imperfect.

Michael Angelo was born in 1475 at Caprese, among the mountains of the Casentino, where his father, Lodovico, held the office of podesta〔4〕. His ancestry was honorable; the Buonarroti even claimed descent, but apparently without due reason, from the princely house of Canossa. As he grew, the boy developed an invincible determination toward the arts. Lodovico, from motives of pride and prudence, opposed his wishes, but without success. Michael Angelo made friends with the lad Granacci, who was apprenticed to Domenico Ghirlandajo〔5〕, and at last induced his father to sign articles for him to the same painter. In Ghirlandajo's workshop he learned the rudiments of art, helping in the execution of the frescoes〔6〕 at Santa Maria Novella, until such time as the pupil proved his superiority as a draughtsman to his teacher. The rupture between Michael Angelo and Ghirlandajo might be compared with that between Beethoven〔7〕 and Haydn. In both eases a proud, uncompromising, somewhat scornful student sought aid from a master great in his own line, but inferior in fire and originality of genius. In both cases the moment came when pupil and teacher perceived that the eagle could no longer be confined within the hawk's nest, and that henceforth it must sweep the skies alone. After leaving Ghirlandajo's bottega〔8〕 at the age of sixteen, Michael did, in truth, thenceforward through his life pursue his art alone. Granacci procured him an introduction to the Medici〔9〕, and the two friends together frequented those gardens of San Marco where Lorenzo had placed his collection of antiquities. There the youth discovered his vocation. Having begged a piece of marble and a chisel, he struck out the Faun's mask that still is seen in the Bargello. It is worth noticing that Michael Angelo seems to have done no merely prentice work. Not a fragment of his labor from the earliest to the latest was insignificant, and only such thoughts as he committed to the perishable materials of bronze or paper have been lost. There was nothing tentative in his genius. Into art, as into a rich land, he came and conquered. In like manner the first sonnet composed by Dante is scarcely less precious than the last lines of the "Paradiso."

Lorenzo de' Medici discerned in Michael Angelo a youth of eminent genius, and took the lad into his own household. The astonished father found himself suddenly provided with a comfortable post and courted for the sake of the young sculptor. In Lorenzo's palace the real education of Michael Angelo began. He sat at the same table with Ficino〔10〕, Pico〔11〕, and Poliziano〔12〕, listening to dialogues on Plato and drinking in the golden poetry of Greece. Greek literature and philosophy, expounded by the men who had discovered them and who were no less proud of their discovery than Columbus of his passage to the Indies, first molded his mind to those lofty thoughts which it became the task of his life to express in form.

At the same time he heard the preaching of Savonarola〔13〕. In the Duomo〔14〕 and the cloister of San Marco another portion of his soul was touched, and he acquired that deep religious tone which gives its majesty and terror to the Sistine〔15〕. Much in the same way was Milton educated by the classics in conjunction with the Scriptures. Both of these austere natures assimilated from pagan art and Jewish prophecy the twofold elements they needed for their own imaginative life. Both Michael Angelo and Milton, in spite of their parade of classic style, were separated from the Greek world by a gulf of Hebrew and of Christian feeling.

It seems that Michael Angelo's flight from Rome in 1506 was due, not only to his disappointment about the tomb〔16〕, but also to his fear lest Julius should give him uncongenial work to do. Bramante〔17〕, if we may believe the old story, had whispered that it was ill-omened for a man to build his own sepulcher, and that it would be well to employ the sculptor's genius upon the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Accordingly, on his return to Rome in 1508,this new task was allotted him. In vain did Michael Angelo remind his master of the months wasted in the quarries of Carrara〔18〕; in vain he pointed to his designs for the monument, and pleaded that he was not a painter by profession. Julius had made up his mind that he should paint the Sistine. Was not the cartoon〔19〕 at Florence a sufficient proof that he could do this if he chose, and had he not learned the art of fresco in the bottega of his master, Ghirlandajo? Whatever his original reluetance may have been, it was speedily overcome; and the cartoons for the ceiling, projected with the unity belonging to a single great conception, were ready by the summer of 1508.

The difficulty of his new task aroused the artist's energy. If we could accept the legend, whereby contemporaries expressed their admiration for this Titantic labor, we should have to believe the impossible—that Michael Angelo ground his own colors, prepared his own plaster, and completed with his own hand the whole work, after having first conquered the obstacles of scaffolding and vault-painting by machines of his own invention, and that only twenty months were devoted to the execution of a series of paintings almost unequalled in their delicacy, and surpassed by few single masterpieces in extent. What may be called the mythus〔20〕 of the Sistine〔21〕 Chapel has at last been finally disproved, partly by the personal observations of Mr. Heath Wilson, and partly by the publication of Michael Angelo's correspondence.

Though some uncertainty remains as to the exact dates of the commencement and completion of the vault, we now know that Michael Angelo continued painting it at intervals during four successive years; and though we are not accurately informed about his helpers, we no longer can doubt that able craftsmen yielded him assistance. On May 10, 1508, he signed a receipt for five hundred ducats advanced by Julius for the necessary expenses of the undertaking; and on the next day he paid ten ducats to a mason for rough plastering and surface finishing applied to the vault. There is good reason to believe that he began his painting during the autumn of 1508. On November 1,1509, a certain portion was uncovered to the public; and before the end of the year 1512 the whole was completed.

No one but Michael Angelo could have done what he did in the Sistine Chapel. The conception was entirely his own. The execution, except in subordinate details and in matters pertaining to the mason's craft, was also his. The rapidity with which he labored was astounding. Mr. Heath Wilson infers from the condition of the plaster. and the joinings observable in different parts, that the figure of Adam, highly finished as it is, was painted in three days.

Nor need we strip the romance from that time-honored tale of the great master's solitude. Lying on his back beneath the dreary vault, communing with Dante, Savonarola, and the Hebrew prophets in the intervals of labor, locking up the chapel doors in order to elude the jealous curiosity of rivals, eating but little and scarcely sleeping, he accomplished in sixteen months the first part of his gigantic task. From time to time Julius climbed the scaffold and inspected the painter's progress. Dreading lest death should come before the work were finished, he kept crying, "When will you make an end?" "When I can," answered the painter. "You seem to want," rejoined the petulant old man, "that I should have you thrown down from the scaffold." Then Michael Angelo's brush stopped. The machinery was removed, and the frescoes were uncovered in their incompleteness to the eyes of Rome. Entering the Capella Sistina, and raising our eyes to sweep the roof, we have above us a long and somewhat narrow oblong space, vaulted with round arches, and covered from end to end, from side to side, with a network of human forms. The whole is colored like the dusky, tawny, bluish, clouds of thunderstorms. There is no luxury of decorative art, — no gold, no paint-box of vermilion or emerald green, has been lavished here. Somber and aerial, like shapes condensed from vapor, the phantoms evoked by the sculptor throng that space.

Nine compositions, carrying down the sacred history from the creation of light to the beginning of sin〔22〕 in Noah's household, fill the central compartments of the roof. Beneath these, seated on the spandrels〔23〕, are alternate prophets and sibyls〔24〕, twelve in all, attesting to the future deliverance and judgment of the world by Christ. The intermediate spaces between these larger masses, on the roof and in the lunettes〔25〕 of the windows, swarm with figures, some naked and some draped—women and children, boys and young men, grouped in tranquil attitudes, or adapting themselves with freedom to their station on the curves and angles of the architecture.

In these subordinate creations Michael Angelo deigned to drop the terrible style, in order that he might show how sweet and full of charm his art could be. The grace of coloring realized in some of those youthful and athletic forms is such as no copy can represent. Every posture of beauty and of strength, simple or strained, that it is possible for men to assume, has been depicted here. Yet the whole is governed by a strict sense of sobriety.

The Sistine Chapel

To speak adequately of these form-poems would be quite impossible. Buonarroti seems to have intended to prove by them that the human body has a language, inexhaustible in symbolism—every limb, every feature, and every attitude being a word full of significance to those who comprehend, just as music is a language whereof each note and chord and phrase has correspondence with the spiritual world. It may be presumptuous after this fashion to interpret the design of him who called into existence the heroic population of the Sistine. Yet Michael Angelo has written lines which in some measure justify the reading. This is how he closes one of his finest sonnets to Vittoria Colonna〔26〕: —

"Nor hath God deigned to show Himself elsewhere

More clearly than in human forms sublime;

Which, since they image Him, compel my love."

Therefore to him a well-shaped hand, or throat, or head, a neck superbly poised on an athletic chest, the sway of the trunk above the hips, the starting of the muscles on the flank, the tendons of the ankle, the outline of the shoulder when the arm is raised, the backward bending of the loins, the contours of a body careless in repose or strained for action, were all words pregnant with profoundest meaning, whereby fit utterance might be given to the thoughts that raise man near to God.

But, it may be asked, what poems of action as well as feeling are to be expressed in this form-language? The answer is simple. Paint or carve the body of a man, and, as you do it nobly, you will give the measure of both highest thought and most impassioned deed. This is the key to Michael Angelo's art. He cared but little for inanimate nature. The landscapes of Italy, so eloquent in their sublimity and beauty, were apparently a blank to him. His world was the world of ideas, taking visible form, incarnating themselves in man. One language the master had to serve him in all need—the language of plastic human form; but it was to him a tongue as rich in its variety of accent and of intonation as Beethoven's harmonies.

In the Sistine Chapel, where plastic art is so supreme, we are bound to ask the further question. What was the difference between Michael Angelo and a Greek? The Parthenon with its processions of youths and maidens, its gods and heroes, rejoicing in their strength, and robed with raiment that revealed their living form, made up a symphony of meaning as full as this of Michael Angelo, and far more radiant. The Greek sculptor embraced humanity in his work no less comprehensively than the Italian; and what he had to say was said more plainly in the speech they both could use. But between Pheidias and Michael Angelo lay Christianity, the travail of the world through twenty centuries. Clear as morning, and calm in the unconsciousness of beauty, are those heroes of the youth of Hellas. All is grace, repose, strength shown but not asserted.

注　释

〔1〕Michael Angelo Buonarroti (1475-1564), an Italian painter, sculptor, and architect, one of the greatest artists of the world.

〔2〕Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1570), an Italian artist, celebrated especially as a worker in metals.

〔3〕Culminated, reached the highest pitch of glory.

〔4〕Podesta, mayor or magistrate of an Italian town.

〔5〕Domenico Ghirlandajo (1450?-1495), a celebrated Italian painter.

〔6〕Frescoes, paintings executed on plaster before it is dry.

〔7〕Ludwigvan Bee'tho ven (1770-1827), an eminent Prussian musical composer, who was during his youth the pupil of Joseph Hay'dn (1732-1809), a celebrated German musical composer.

〔8〕Bottega, studio.

〔9〕Medici, a noble family of Florence, whose members were patrons of art and literature. Lorenzo de'Medici (1448-1492), called the Magnificent, the patron of Michael Angelo, was himself a poet and scholar.

〔10〕Ficino (1432-1499), an Italian scholar and philosopher.

〔11〕Picodella Mirandola (1463-1494), an Italian theologian and philosopher.

〔12〕Poliziano or Politian (1454-1494), a celebrated Italian classical scholar and poet, the intimatefriend of Michael Angelo.

〔13〕Girolamo Savonarola (1452-1498), a famous Italian religious reformer.

〔14〕Duomo, cathedral.

〔15〕Sistine, a chapel in the Vatican at Rome, decorated with fresco paintings by Michael Angelo and Raphael.

〔16〕The tomb, of the Pope Julius Ⅱ., the plan of which had been abandoned.

〔17〕Bramante, a famous architect of the time.

〔18〕Carrara, famous marble quarries.

〔19〕Cartoon, a design or study drawn of the full size of the projected fresco or tapestry.

〔20〕Mythus, myth.

〔21〕Capella Sistina, Sistine Chapel.

〔22〕Beginning of sin, Genesis ix.

〔23〕Spandrels, the irregular triangular space between the curve of an arch and the inclosing right angle.

〔24〕Sibyls, women supposed to be endowed with the power of prophecy.

〔25〕Lunette, any surface of semicircular or segmental form.

〔26〕Vittoria Colonna, a lady to whom Michael Angelo addressed a series of sonnets.

41

THE CASTING OF THE STATUE OF PERSEUS

BY BENVENUTO CELLINI

Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1570): An Italian artist, celebrated as a sculptor, engraver, and goldworker. He worked in Paris for Francis I. and in Florence for Cosimo de'Medici. His autobiography is an entertaining and curious work. In it he gives this interesting account of the casting in bronze of one of his masterpieces, "Perseus and Medusa."

I strengthened my heart, and with all the forces of my body and my purse, employing what little money still remained to me, I set to work. First, I provided myself with several loads of pine wood from the forests of Serristori. While these were on their way, I clothed my Perseus〔1〕 with the clay which I had prepared many months beforehand, in order that it might be duly seasoned.

After making its clay tunic, for that is the term used in this art, and properly arming it and fencing it with iron girders, I began to draw the wax out by means of a slow fire. This melted and issued through numerous airvents I had made; for the more there are of these, the better will the mold fill. When I had finished drawing off the wax, I constructed a funnel-shaped furnace all round the model of my Perseus. It was built of bricks, so interlaced the one above the other that numerous apertures were left for the fire to exhale at. Then I began to lay on wood by degrees, and kept it burning two whole days and nights. At length, when all the wax was gone and the mold was well baked, I set to work at digging the pit in which to sink it. This I performed with scrupulous regard to all the rules of art. When I had finished that part of my work, I raised the mold by windlasses and stout ropes to a perpendicular position, and suspending it with the greatest care one cubit above the level of the furnace, so that it hung exactly above the middle of the pit, I next lowered it gently down into the very bottom of the furnace, and had it firmly placed with every possible precaution for its safety. When this delicate operation was accomplished, I began to bank it up with the earth I had excavated; and, ever as the earth grew higher, I introduced its proper air-vents, which were little tubes of earthenware, such as folk use for drains and such like purposes. At length I felt sure that it was admirably fixed, and that the filling-in of the pit and the placing of the air-vents had been properly performed. I also could see that my workpeople understood my method, which differed very considerably from that of all the other masters in the trade. Feeling confident, then, that I could rely upon them, I next turned to my furnace, which I had filled with numerous pigs〔2〕 of copper and other bronze stuff. The pieces were piled according to the laws of art, that is to say, so resting one upon the other that the flames could play freely through them in order that the metal might heat and liquefy the sooner. At last I called out heartily to set the furnace going. The logs of pine were heaped in, and what with the unctuous〔3〕 resin of the wood and the good draft I had given, my furnace worked so well that I was obliged to rush from side to side to keep it going. The labor was more than I could stand; yet I forced myself to strain every nerve and muscle. To increase my anxieties, the workshop took fire, and we were afraid lest the roof should fall upon our heads; while, from the garden, such a storm of wind and rain kept blowing in, that it perceptibly cooled the furnace.

Battling thus with all these untoward circumstances for several hours, and exerting myself beyond even the measure of my powerful constitution, I could at last bear up no longer, and a sudden fever of the utmost possible intensity attacked me. I felt absolutely obliged to go and fling myself upon my bed. Sorely against my will having to drag myself away from the spot, I turned to my assistants, about ten or more in all, what with master founders, hand workers, country fellows, and my own especial journeymen, among whom was Bernardino Mannellini of Mugello, my apprentice through several years. To him in particular I spoke: "Look, my dear Bernardino, that you observe the rules which I have taught you; do your best with all dispatch, for the metal will soon be fused. You cannot go wrong; these honest men will get the channels ready; you will easily be able to drive back the two plugs with this pair of iron crooks; and I am sure that my mold will fill miraculously. I feel more ill than I ever did in all my life, and verily believe that it will kill me before a few hours are over." Thus, with despair at heart, I left them, and betook myself to bed.

The Statue of Perseus

While I was thus terribly afflicted, I beheld the figure of a man enter my chamber, twisted in his body into the form of a capital S. He raised a lamentable, doleful voice, like one who announces their last hour to men condemned to die upon the scaffold, and spoke these words, "O Benvenuto! your statue is spoiled, and there is no hope whatever of saving it." No sooner had I heard the shriek of that wretch, than I gave a howl which might have been heard from the sphere of flame. Jumping from my bed, I seized my clothes and began to dress. The maids, and my lad, and every one who came around to help me, got kicks or blows of the fist, while I kept crying out in lamentation: "Ah! traitors! enviers! This is an act of treason, done by malice prepense〔4〕! But I swear by God that I will sift it to the bottom, and before I die will leave such witness to the world of what I can do as shall make a score of mortals marvel."

When I had got my clothes on, I strode toward the workshop; there I beheld the men, whom I had left erewhile in such high spirits, standing stupefied and downcast. I began at once and spoke: "Up with you! Attend to me! Since you have not been able or willing to obey the directions I gave you, obey me now that I am with you to conduct my work in person. Let no one contradict me, for in cases like this we need the aid of hand and hearing, not of advice." When I had uttered these words, a certain Maestro Alessandro Lastricati broke silence and said, "Look you, Benvenuto, you are going to attempt an enterprise which the laws of art do not sanction and which cannot succeed." I turned upon him with such fury and so full of mischief that he and all the rest of them exclaimed with one voice: "On then! Give orders! We will obey your least commands, so long as life is left in us." I believe they spoke thus feelingly because they thought I must fall shortly dead upon the ground. I went immediately to inspect the furnace, and found that the metal was all curdled; an accident we express by "being caked." I told two of the hands to cross the road, and fetch a load of young oak wood, which had lain dry for above a year. So soon as the first armfuls arrived, I began to fill the grate beneath the furnace. Now, oak wood of that kind heats more powerfully than any other sort of trees; and for this reason, where a slow fire is wanted, as in the case of a gun foundry, alder or pine is preferred. Accordingly, when the logs took fire, oh! how the cake began to stir beneath that awful heat, to glow and sparkle in a blaze! At the same time I kept stirring up the channels, and sent men upon the roof to stop the conflagration, which had gathered force from the increased combustion in the furnace; also I caused boards, carpets, and other hangings to be set up against the garden, in order to protect us from the violence of the rain.

When I had thus provided against these several disasters, I roared out first to one man and then to another: "Bring this thing here! Take that thing there!" At this crisis, when the whole gang saw the cake was on the point of melting, they did my bidding, each fellow working with the strength of three. I then ordered half a pig of pewter to be brought, which weighed about sixty pounds, and flung it into the middle of the cake inside the furnace. By this means, and by piling on wood and stirring now with pokers and now with iron rods, the curdling mass rapidly began to liquefy. Then, knowing I had brought the dead to life again, against the firm opinion of those ignoramuses, I felt such vigor fill my veins, that all those pains of fever, all those fears of death, were quite forgotten.

All of a sudden an explosion took place, attended by a tremendous flash of flame, as though a thunderbolt had formed and been discharged amongst us. Unwonted and appalling terror astonied〔5〕 every one, and me more even than the rest. When the din was over and the dazzling light extinguished, we began to look each other in the face. Then I discovered that the cap of the furnace had blown up, and the bronze was bubbling over from its source beneath. So I had the mouths of my mold immediately opened, and at the same time drove in the two plugs which kept back the molten metal. But I noticed that it did not flow so rapidly as usual, the reason being probably that the fierce heat of the fire we kindled had consumed its base alloy. Accordingly, I sent for all my pewter platters, porringers, and dishes, to the number of some two hundred pieces, and had a portion of them cast, one by one, into the channels, the rest into the furnace. This expedient succeeded, and every one could now perceive that my bronze was in most perfect liquefaction, and my mold was filling; whereupon, they all with heartiness and happy cheer assisted and obeyed my bidding, while I, now here, now there, gave orders, helped with my own hands, and cried aloud: "O God! Thou that by Thy immeasurable power didst rise from the dead, and in Thy glory didst ascend to heaven!" even thus in a moment my mold was filled; and seeing my work finished, I fell upon my knees, and with all my heart gave thanks to God.

After I had let my statue cool for two whole days, I began to uncover it by slow degrees. The first thing I found was that the head of Medusa had come out most admirably, thanks to the air-vents; for, as I had told the duke, it is the nature of fire to ascend. Upon advancing farther, I discovered that the other head—that, namely, of Perseus—had succeeded no less admirably; and this astonished me far more, because it is at a considerably lower level than that of the Medusa. Now the mouths of the mold were placed above the head of Perseus and behind his shoulders; and I found that all the bronze my furnace contained had been exhausted in the head of this figure. It was a miracle to observe that not one fragment remained in the orifice of the channel, and that nothing was wanting to the statue. In my great astonishment I seemed to see in this the hand of God arranging and controlling all.

I went on uncovering the statue with success, and ascertained that everything had come out in perfect order, until I reached the foot of the right leg on which the statue rests. There the heel itself was formed, and going farther, I found the foot apparently complete. This gave me great joy on the one side, but was half unwelcome to me on the other, merely because I had told the duke that it could not come out. However, when I reached the end, it appeared that the toes and a little piece above them were unfinished, so that about half the foot was wanting. Although I knew that this would add a trifle to my labor, I was very well pleased, because I could now prove to the duke how well I understood my business. It is true that far more of the foot than I expected had been perfectly formed; the reason of this was that, from causes I have recently described, the bronze was hotter than our rules of art prescribed; also that I had been obliged to supplement the alloy with my pewtercups and platters, which no one else, I think, had ever done before.

Having now ascertained how successfully my work had been accomplished, I lost no time in hurrying to Pisa, where I found the duke. He gave me a most gracious reception, as did also the duchess; and although the major-domo had informed them of the whole proceedings, their excellencies deemed my performance far more stupendous and astonishing when they heard the tale from my own mouth. When I arrived at the foot of Perseus, and said it had not come out perfect, just as I had previously warned his excellency, I saw an expression of wonder pass over his face, while he related to the duchess how I had. predicted this beforehand. Observing the princes to be so well disposed toward me, I begged leave from the duke to go to Rome. He granted it in most obliging terms, and bade me return as soon as possible to complete his Perseus.

注　释

〔1〕Perseus, according to Greek mythology, a son of Jupiter and Dan?, who slew Medusa, a monster who turned into stone all who looked upon her.

〔2〕Pigs, oblong masses of cast iron, lead, or other metal,

〔3〕Unctuous, fat; oily.

〔4〕Malice prepense, malice previously and deliberately entertained.

〔5〕Astonied, astonished.

42

L'ALLEGRO

BY JOHN MILTON

John Milton

John Milton (1608-1674): One of the greatest of English poets. His prose works, also, are models of dignified, vigorous English. Milton's literary life divides itself into three periods; during the first of which he wrote his lighter poems, including the masques of "Comus" and "Arcades," and "L'Allegro" and " Penseroso," two exquisite companion pictures of mirth and melancholy. During the second period, he was devoted to the defense of Puritanism and wrote "Areopagitica," "Defense of the English People," "Tractate on Education," and other prose pamphlets. During his last years, Milton, blind and in political disfavor, found relief in poetical meditation, and produced "Samson Agonistes," and the sublime epics, "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Regained."

Hence, loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus〔1〕 and blackest Midnight born,

In Stygian〔2〕 cave forlorn,

'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks and sights unholy!

Find out some uncouth cell,

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,

And the night raven sings;

There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,

As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian〔3〕 desert ever dwell.

But come, thou goddess fair and free,

In heaven ycleped〔4〕 Euphrosyne〔5〕,

And by men, heart-casing Mirth,

Whom lovely Venus at a birth,

With two sister Graces more,

To ivy-crowned Bacchus〔6〕 bore.

Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee

Jest and youthful Jollity,

Quips〔7〕 and cranks〔8〕 and wanton wiles,

Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles

Such as hang on Hebe's〔9〕 cheek

And love to live in dimple sleek;

Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,

And Laughter holding both his sides.

Come, and trip it as ye go

On the light fantastic toe;

And in thy right hand lead with thee

The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty.

And, if I give thee honor due,

Mirth, admit me of thy crew

To live with her and live with thee,

In unreproved〔10〕 pleasures free;

To hear the lark begin his flight,

And singing startle the dull Night

From his watch-tower in the skies,

Till the dappled dawn doth rise:

Then to come in spite of sorrow

And at my window bid good-morrow,

Through the sweetbrier or the vine

Or the twisted eglantine〔11〕,

While the cock with lively din

Scatters the rear of darkness thin,

And to the stack or the barn door

Stoutly struts his dames before;

Oft listening how the hounds and horn

Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,

From the side of some hoar hill,

Through the high wood echoing shrill;

Sometime walking, not unseen,

By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green,

Right against the eastern gate,

Where the great sun begins his state,

Robed in flames and amber light,

The clouds in thousand liveries dight〔12〕;

While the plowman near at hand

Whistles o'er the furrowed land,

And the milkmaid singeth blithe,

And the mower whets his scythe,

And every shepherd tells his tale〔13〕

Under the hawthorn in the dale.

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures

While the landscape round it measures

Russet lawns and fallows gray

Where the nibbling flocks do stray,

Mountains on whose barren breast

The laboring clouds do often rest,

Meadows trim with daisies pied〔14〕,

Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.

Towers and battlements it sees

Bosomed high in tufted trees,

Where perhaps some beauty lies,

The cynosure〔15〕 of neighboring eyes.

Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes

From betwixt two aged oaks,

Where Corydon and Thyrsis〔16〕 met

Are at their savory dinner set

Of herbs and other country messes〔17〕

Which the neat-handed Phyllis〔18〕 dresses;

And then in haste her bower she leaves,

With Thestylis〔19〕 to bind the sheaves,

Or, if the earlier season lead,

To the tanned haycock in the mead.

Sometimes with secure〔20〕 delight

The upland hamlets will invite,

When the merry bells ring round,

And the jocund rebecs〔21〕 sound

To many a youth and many a maid,

Dancing in the checkered shade;

And young and old come forth to play

On a sunshine holiday,

Till the livelong daylight fail;

Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,

With stories told of many a feat:

How fairy Mab〔22〕 the junkets〔23〕 eat;

She was pinched and pulled, she said,

And he, by friar's lantern〔24〕 led,

Tells how the drudging goblin sweat

To earn his cream-bowl duly set,

When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,

His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn

That ten day-laborers could not end;

Then lies him down the lubber〔25〕 fiend,

And, stretched out all the chimney's length,

Basks at the fire his hairy strength;

And crop-full out of doors he flings,

Ere the first cock his matin rings.

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,

By whispering winds soon lulled asleep.

Towered cities please us then,

And the busy hum of men,

Where throngs of knights and barons bold

In weeds〔26〕 of peace high triumphs hold,

With store of ladies, whose bright eyes

Rain influence, and judge the prize

Of wit or arms, while both contend

To win her grace whom all commend.

There let Hymen〔27〕 oft appear

In saffron robe, with taper dear,

And pomp and feast and revelry,

With mask and antique pageantry;

Such sights as youthful poets dream

On summer eves by haunted stream.

Then to the well-trod stage anon,

If Jonson's learned sock〔28〕 be on,

Or sweetest Shakspere, Fancy's child,

Warble his native wood-notes wild.

And ever, against eating cares,

Lap me in soft Lydian〔29〕 airs,

Married to immortal verse—

Such as the meeting soul may pierce

In notes with many a winding bout

Of linked sweetness long drawn out,

With wanton heed and giddy cunning,

The melting voice through mazes running,

Untwisting all the chains that tie

The hidden soul of harmony;

That Orpheus' self may heave his head

From golden slumber on a bed

Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear

Such strains as would have won the ear

Of Pluto to have quite set free

His half-regained Eurydice〔30〕.

These delights if thou canst give,

Mirth, with thee I mean to live.

注　释

〔1〕Cerberus, a three-headed, serpent-tailed dog which guarded the entrance to Hades.

〔2〕Stygian, pertaining to the river Styx, in the region of shades; hence, hellish; infernal.

〔3〕Cimmerian, pertaining to the Cimmerii, a people fabled to live in a land of utter darkness.

〔4〕Ycleped, called; named.

〔5〕Euphrosyne, one of the three Graces, the attendants of Venus.

〔6〕Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and revelry.

〔7〕Quips, smart turns or jests; taunts.

〔8〕Cranks, twists of speech consisting in changing the form or meaning of a word.

〔9〕Hebe, the goddess of youth, at one time the cupbearer of the gods.

〔10〕Unreproved, blameless.

〔11〕Sweetbrier, eglantine, the sweetbrier and the eglantine are the same plant. Milton probably applies the name eglantine to the honeysuckle.

〔12〕Dight, dressed; ornamented.

〔13〕Tells his tale, tells or counts the number of his flock.

〔14〕Pied, variegated with spots of different colors.

〔15〕Cynosure, any thing to which attention is strongly turned; a center of attraction.

〔16〕Corydon and Thyrsis, names of two shepherds in Roman pastoral poetry.

〔17〕Messes, dishes of food set on a table at one time.

〔18〕Phyllis, the name of a country girl in Roman pastoral poetry; hence, any country girl.

〔19〕Thestylis, a female slave mentioned in Greek pastoral poetry; hence, a country girl.

〔20〕Secure, free from care; confident.

〔21〕Rebecs, musical instruments somewhat like the violin.

〔22〕Mab, the queen of the fairies.

〔23〕Junkets, sweetmeats; delicate food.

〔24〕Friar's lantern, will o'the wisp.

〔25〕Lubber, awkward; clownish.

〔26〕Weeds, garments; clothing.

〔27〕Hymen, the Roman god of marriage.

〔28〕Jonson's learned sock, if one of Jonson's comedies is being acted. In the classic drama the sock and buskin were the respective footgears of comic and tragic actors. Ben Jonson (1584-1637) was one of the greatest of English dramatic poets.

〔29〕Lydian, one of the three Greek modes or keys, the music in which was soft and pathetic.

〔30〕Eurydice, the wife of the musician Orpheus. After her death he followed her to Hades, and so charmed Pluto with his music that Pluto consented to let Eurydice return to the upper world, on condition that she would not look back before reaching it. She failed, however, to comply with the condition, and had to return to the land of shades.

43

A NATION IN ITS STRENGTH

FROM "AREOPAGITICA," BY JOHN MILTON

Lords and commons of England; consider what nation it is whereof ye are, and whereof ye are the governors—a nation not slow and dull, but of quick, ingenious, and piercing spirit; acute to invent, subtile and sinewy; to discourse〔1〕, not beneath the reach of any point the highest that human capacity can soar to. Therefore, the studies of learning in her deepest sciences have been so ancient〔2〕 and so eminent among us, that writers of good antiquity and ablest judgment have been persuaded that even the school of Pythagoras〔3〕 and the Persian wisdom took beginning from the old philosophy of this island. And that wise and civil Roman, Julius Agricola〔4〕, who governed once here for Caesar, preferred the natural wits of Britain before the labored studies of the French.

Behold now this vast city, — a city of refuge, the mansion house of Liberty, — encompassed and surrounded with his protection; the shop of war hath not there more anvils and hammers working, to fashion out the plates〔5〕 and instruments of armed Justice in defense of beleaguered Truth, than there be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious lamps, musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith to present, as with their homage and their fealty, the approaching reformation; others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting to the force of reason and convincement〔6〕.

What could a man require more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge? What wants there to such a towardly〔7〕 and pregnant〔8〕 soil but wise and faithful laborers, to make a knowing people, a nation of prophets, of sages, and of worthies? We reckon more than five months〔9〕 yet to harvest; there need not be five weeks, had we but eyes to lift up; the fields are white already. Where there is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making. Under these fantastic terrors of sect and scism〔10〕, we wrong the earnest and zealous thirst after knowledge and. understanding which God hath stirred up in this city. What some lament of, we rather should rejoice at, should rather praise this pious forwardness among men to reassume〔11〕 the ill-deputed care of their religion into their own hands again.

This is a lively and cheerful presage of our happy success and victory. For as in a body, when the blood is fresh, the spirits pure and vigorous, not only to vital but to rational faculties, and those in the acutest and the pertest〔12〕 operations of wit and subtlety, it argues in what good plight and constitution the body is; so when the cheerfulness of the people is so sprightly up as that it has not only wherewith to guard well its own freedom and safety, but to spare and to bestow upon the solidest and sublimest points of controversy and new invention, it betokens us not degenerated nor drooping to a fatal decay, but casting off the old and wrinkled skin of corruption to outlive these pangs and wax young again, entering the glorious ways of truth and prosperous virtue, destined to become great and honorable in these latter ages.

Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant〔13〕 nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks; methinks I see her as an eagle mewing〔14〕 her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam, purging and unsealing her longabused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in their envious gabble would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms.

__________

O mighty-mouth'd inventor of harmonies,

O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity,

God-gifted organ-voice of England,

Milton, a name to resound for ages;

Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel,

Starr'd from Jehovah's gorgeous armouries,

Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean

Rings to the roar of an angel onset.

—TENNYSON

注　释

〔1〕Discourse, the power of the mind to reason.

〔2〕So ancient, reference is here made to the learning of the Druids, the ancient British priests.

〔3〕Pythagoras (580?-500? B. C.), a Greek philosopher.

〔4〕Julius Agricola (37-93), a Roman general who was governor over Britain.

〔5〕Plates, armor.

〔6〕Convincement, conviction; the state of being convinced.

〔7〕Towardly, tractable; docile.

〔8〕Pregnant, fruitful.

〔9〕Five months, see John iv. 35; Milton here probably refers to the anticipated success of the parliamentary army over the royal army in the next year's campaign.

〔10〕Scism, division, especially a permanent division in the Christian church.

〔11〕Reassume, resume.

〔12〕Pertest, liveliest.

〔13〕Puissant, powerful.

〔14〕Mewing, changing or moulting its feathers.

44

JOHN MILTON

BY J. R. GREEN

JOHN RICHARD GREEN (1837-1883); An English historian and clergyman. He described the condition and development of the people, instead of giving mere accounts of kings and wars according to the plan of former historians. The scheme of his work is indicated by the title of his books; "A Short History of the English People," "A Larger History of the English People," and "The Making of England."

This account of the great Puritan poet is taken from the "History of the English People."

Milton is not only the highest but the completest type of Puritanism. His life is absolutely contemporaneous with his cause. He was born when it began to exercise a direct influence over English politics and English religion; he died when its effort to mold them into its own shape was over, and when it had again sunk into one of many influences to which we owe our English character. His earlier verse, the pamphlets of his riper years, the epics of his age, mark with a singular precision the three great stages in its history.

His youth shows us how much of the gayety, the poetic ease, the intellectual culture of the Renaissance lingered in a Puritan home. Scrivener〔1〕 and precisian〔2〕 as his father was, he was a skilled musician; and the boy inherited his father's skill on lute and organ. One of the finest outbursts in the scheme of education which he put forth at a later time is a passage in which he vindicates the province of music as an agent in moral training. His home, his tutor, his school, were all rigidly Puritan; but there was nothing narrow or illiberal in his early training. "My father," he says, "destined me while yet a little boy to the study of humane letters〔3〕, which I seized with such eagerness that from the twelfth year of my age I scarcely ever went from my lessons to bed before midnight." But to the Greek, Latin, and Hebrew he learned at school, the scrivener advised him to add Italian and French. Nor were English letters neglected. Spenser gave the earliest turn to the boy's poetic genius. In spite of the war between playright and precisian, a Puritan youth could still in Milton's days avow his love of the stage,

"If Jonson's learned sock be on,

Or sweetest Shakspere, Fancy's child,

Warble his native wood-notes wild."

and gather from the "masques and antique pageantry" of the court revel hints for his own "Comus" and "Arcades." Nor does any shadow of the coming struggle with the church disturb the young scholar's reverie, as he wanders beneath

"The high embowed roof,

With antique pillars, massy proof,

And storied windows richly dight,

Casting a dim religious light,"

or as he hears

"The pealing organ blow

To the full-voiced choir below,

In service high and anthem clear."

Milton's enjoyment of the gayety of life stands in bright contrast with the gloom and sternness which strife and persecution fostered in Puritanism at a later time, In spite of "a certain reservedness of natural disposition," which shrank from "festivities and jests in which I acknowledge my faculty to be very slight," the young singer could still enjoy the "jest and youthful jollity" of the world around him, its "quips and cranks and wanton wiles"; he could join the crew of Mirth, and look pleasantly on the village fair,

"Where the jolly rebecs sound

To many a youth and many a maid,

Dancing in the checkered shade."

There was nothing ascetic in his look, in his slender, vigorous frame, his face full of a delicate yet serious beauty, the rich brown hair which clustered over his brow; and the words we have quoted show his sensitive enjoyment of all that was beautiful. But his pleasures were "unreproved." From coarse or sensual self-indulgence the young Puritan turned with disgust; "A certain reservedness of nature, an honest haughtiness and self-esteem, kept me still above those low descents of mind." He drank in an ideal chivalry from Spenser, though his religion and purity disdained the outer pledge on which chivalry built up its fabric of honor. "Every free and gentle spirit," said Milton, "without that oath, ought to be born a knight." It was with this temper that he passed from his London school, St. Paul's, to Christ's College at Cambridge, and it was this temper that he preserved throughout his University career. He left Cambridge, as he said afterward, "free from all reproach, and approved by all honest men," with a purpose of self-dedication "to that same lot, however mean or high, toward which time leads me, and the will of heaven."

During the Civil War Milton was engaged in strife with Presbyterians and with Royalists, pleading for civil and religious freedom, for freedom of social life, and freedom of the press. At a later time he became Latin Secretary to the Protector〔4〕, in spite of a blindness which had been brought on by the intensity of his study.

The Restoration found him of all living men the most hateful to the Royalists; for it was his "Defense of the English People," which had justified throughout Europe the execution of the king〔5〕. Parliament ordered his book to be burned by the common hangman; he was for a time imprisoned; and even when released, he had to live amidst threats of assassination from fanatical cavaliers. To the ruin of his cause were added personal misfortunes in the bankruptcy of the scrivener who held the bulk of his property, and in the fire of London〔6〕 which deprived him of much of what was left. As age drew on he found himself reduced to comparative poverty, and driven to sell his library for subsistence. Even among the sectaries who shared his political opinions Milton stood in religious opinion alone, for he had gradually severed himself from every accepted form of faith, and embraced Arianism〔7〕, and had ceased to attend at any place of worship. Nor was his home a happy one. The grace and geniality of his youth disappeared in the drudgery of a schoolmaster's life and amongst the invectives of controversy. In age his temper became stern and exacting. His daughters, who were forced to read to their blind father in languages which they could not understand, revolted against their bondage.

But solitude and misfortune only brought into bolder relief Milton's inner greatness. There was a grand simplicity in the life of his later years. He listened every morning to a chapter of the Hebrew Bible, and after musing in silence for a while pursued his studies till midday. Then he took exercise for an hour, played for another hour on the organ or viol, and renewed his studies. The evening was spent in converse with visitors and friends. For lonely and unpopular as Milton was, there was one thing about him which made his house in Bunhill Fields a place of pilgrimage to the wits of the Restoration. He was the last of the Elizabethans. He had possibly seen Shakspere, as on his visits to London after his retirement to Stratford the playwright passed along Bread Street to his wit combats at the Mermaid. He had been the contemporary of Webster〔8〕 and Massinger〔9〕, of Herriek〔10〕 and Crashaw〔11〕. His "Comus" and "Arcades" had rivaled the masques of Ben Jonson. It was with a reverence drawn from thoughts like these that men looked on the blind poet as he sate, clad in black, in his chamber hung with rusty green tapestry, his fair brown hair falling as of old over a calm, serene face that still retained much of its youthful beauty, his cheeks delicately colored, his clear gray eyes showing no trace of their blindness.

But famous, whether for good or ill, as his prose writings had made him, during fifteen years only a few sonnets had broken his silence as a singer. It was now, in his blindness and old age, with the cause he loved trodden under foot by men as vile as the rabble in "Comus," that the genius of Milton took refuge in the great poem on which, through years of silence, his imagination had been brooding.

On his return from his travels in Italy, Milton spoke of himself as musing on "a work not to be raised from the heat of youth or the vapors of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amorist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite, nor to be obtained by the invocation of Dame Memory and her Siren daughters: but by devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out His seraphim, with the hallowed fire of His altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom He pleases." His lips were touched at last. In the quiet retreat of his home in Bunhill Fields he mused during these years of persecution and loneliness on the "Paradise Lost." The poem was produced in 1667, seven years after the Restoration, and four years later appeared the "Paradise Regained" and "Samson Agonistes," in the severe grandeur of whose verse we see the poet himself "fallen," like Samson, "on evil days and evil tongues, with darkness and with danger compassed round." But great as the two last works were, their greatness was eclipsed by that of their predecessor. The whole genius of Milton expressed itself in the "Paradise Lost." The romance, the gorgeous fancy, the daring imagination, which he shared with the Elizabethan poets, the large but ordered beauty which he had drunk in from the literature of Greece and Rome, the sublimity of conception, the loftiness of phrase which he owed to the Bible, blended in this story

"Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world and all our woe."

It is only when we review the strangely mingled elements which make up the poem that we realize the genius which fused them into such a perfect whole. The meager outline of the Hebrew legend is lost in the splendor and music of Milton's verse. The stern idealism of Geneva〔12〕 is clothed in the gorgeous robes of the Renaissance. If we miss something of the free play of Spenser's fancy, and yet more of the imaginative delight in their own creations which gives so exquisite a life to the poetry of the early dramatists, we find in place of these the noblest example which our literature affords of the majesty of classic form.

注　释

〔1〕Scrivener, a person whose business it is to draw contracts.

〔2〕Precisian, Puritan. The Puritans of England were so called from their prim and precise manner.

〔3〕Humane letters, polite or elegant learning; the term was applied to the language, history, and literature of Greece and Rome.

〔4〕Protector, Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of the English commonwealth.

〔5〕King, Charles I., king of England, who was deposed and beheaded in 1649 by authority of the Puritan or Roundhead party.

〔6〕Fire of London, the "great fire" of London in 1666 raged four days and destroyed thirteen thousand houses.

〔7〕Arianism, the doctrines of the Arians, or followers of Arius, who taught that Christ was inferior to God the Father, though the first and noblest of all created beings.

〔8〕John Webster, an English dramatist who flourished in the seventeenth century.

〔9〕Philip Massinger (1583-1640), an English dramatist.

〔10〕Robert Herrick (1591-1674), an English poet.

〔11〕Richard Crashaw (1613?-1649), an English poet.

〔12〕Geneva, the stronghold of the reformed religion, the home of John Calvin, the great Protestant reformer.

45

KUBLA KHAN

BY S. T. COLERIDGE

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): An English poet and critic, who possessed rare genius, but lacked "the reason firm, the tempered will." He wrote "The Ancient Mariner," "Genevieve," "Kubla Khan," and a few other poems of exquisite beauty and imaginative power. "Christabel," like most of his projected work, is a fragment. His conversation, or rather monologue, was fluent and eloquent. Several volumes of his "Literary Remains" and "Table Talk" were published after his death.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan〔1〕

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And here were gardens bright with sinuous〔2〕 rills

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Infolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast, thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:

And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering〔3〕 with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:

And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated mid way on the waves,

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid,

And on her dulcimer〔4〕 she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those eaves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, "Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise."

注　释

〔1〕Kubla Khan (-1294), an able ruler who made himself master of a vast empire, including China and almost the whole of Asia.

〔2〕Sinuous, winding; bending in and out.

〔3〕Meandering, winding; turning.

〔4〕Dulcimer, a musical instrument having wire strings which are beaten with two light hammers.

A great consideration governing the choice of all selections has been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to read is to minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children, should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

— Harry Pratt Judson

(The 2nd president of the University of Chicago)

出版策划：神鸟文化

责任编辑：伍绍东

芝加哥大学校长哈里·P·贾德森

为美国学生选编的经典文学读本

This series of literature readers is edited by the president of the University of Chicago Harry Pratt Judson, as to supply almost the only reading of many children, and stimulate their taste for good literature and awaken interest in a wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as early as possible, and the classical tales and fables are largely used. Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict accuracy.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different part of the United States, including some of the most successful teachers of reading in primary, intermediated, and advanced grades.

We believe that Graded Literature Readers disclose a broader knowledge of literature, better taste and judgment in its selections.

010-62627373

Table of Contents

目录

版权页

第1册目录

作者简介

插图

第1册扉页

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

60

61

62

63

64

65

66

67

68

69

70

71

72

73

74

75

76

77

78

79

80

81

82

83

84

85

86

87

88

89

90

91

92

WORDS IN FIRST READER

相关内容

概述

第2册目录

作者简介

插图1

插页

第2册扉页

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 THE LARKS AND THE FARMER

2 THE GOOD SOLDIER

3 LITTLE KITTY

4 A BIRD'S STORY

5 THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER

6 THE NEW MOON

7 CHICKEN-LITTLE

8 THE ROBINS

9 THE VOICE IN THE WOOD

10 THE STORY OF A LEAF

11 THE WIND AND THE LEAVES

12 THE LITTLE PINE TREE

13 IN A MINUTE

14 SHEEP

15 GOOD-BYE, PRETTY BUTTERFLY

16 BESSIE AND THE BIRDS

17 ONE GOOD TRICK

18 THE THREE BILLY GOATS GRUFF

19 THE GOOSE AND THE GOLDEN EGGS

20 HOW TO DO IT

21 THE WAY TO HAVE A GOOD GAME

22 A USEFUL ANIMAL

23 THE COW

24 A KIND BROTHER

25 THE CAT, THE MONKEY, AND THE CHESTNUTS

26 BIRD THOUGHTS

27 LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

28 TWO LITTLE KITTENS

29 JAMES AND HIS ARMY

30 FEATHERS

31 THE CLUCKING HEN

32 A KIND GIRL

33 HABITS OF FLOWERS

34 THE BEE AND THE FLOWER

35 THE DOG AND HIS SHADOW

36 ONLY A SNAIL

37 LITTLE DUCKS

38 THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE

39 BOATS SAIL ON THE RIVERS

40 TOO MANY DOLLS

41 THE LOST DOLL

42 THE SNOW MAN

43 LITTLE WHITE LILY

44 WASPS

45 THE WASP AND THE BEE

46 THE SONG OF THE BEE

47 THE THREE BEARS

48 MY SHADOW

49 THE GARDEN SPIDER

50 THE YOUNG ARTIST

51 LITTLE THINGS

52 HALF CHICK

53 WHERE GO THE BOATS?

54 FROGS

55 PICCOLA

56 A TALK ABOUT REDCOAT

57 WHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST?

58 THE SHOEMAKER AND THE ELVES

59 A SPRING MORNING

60 THE TOWN MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE

61 JOHN'S NEW HORSE

62 LADY MOON

63 LITTLE GEORGE WASHINGTON

64 AMERICA

65 THE MILKMAID

66 THE GOLDEN TOUCH

67 SWEET AND LOW

WORDS IN SECOND READER

插图2

相关内容

概述

第3册目录

作者简介

插页

第3册扉页

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 THE DOVE AND THE ANT

2 GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING

3 THE BAG OF WINDS

4 THE WIND

5 THE SEA

6 O SAILOR, COME ASHORE

7 THE STORY OF COLUMBUS

8 HANS, THE SHEPHERD BOY

9 THE MOON

10 BIRDS—BILLS

11 WHEN

12 BENJY IN BEASTLAND

13 MARY ALLERTON—THE STORY OF A LITTLE PILGRIM

14 THANKSGIVING DAY

15 A GOOD SHOT

16 BIRDS—FEET

17 THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE

18 THE FOX WHO LOST HIS TAIL

19 HOW LULU GOT LOST

20 SEVEN TIMES ONE

21 THE WOLF AND THE LAMB

22 THE SKYLARK'S SPURS

23 THE FAIRIES

24 BIRDS—TRAVELS

25 SO-SO

26 THREE COMPANIONS

27 ATALANTA'S RACE

28 UNION GIVES STRENGTH

29 SOWING SEEDS

30 A DUTCH LULLABY

31 THE UGLY DUCKLING

32 THE DERVISH AND THE CAMEL

33 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

34 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH

35 BEES

36 THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

37 JACK IN THE PULPIT

38 CAPTAIN SMITH AND POCAHONTAS

39 HERCULES AND THE WAGONER

40 LEAVES

41 THE TREE

42 THE BOY WHO HATED TREES

43 MARCH

44 CIRCE

45 HIAWATHA'S HUNTING

46 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AS A BOY

47 THE DOVE

48 THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THEIR DONKEY

49 ROBERT OF LINCOLN

50 THE FOX AND THE CROW

51 HAWAIIAN CHILDREN

52 WORK

53 LITTLE DAFFYDOWNDILLY

54 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

55 FAREWELL ADVICE

WORDS IN THIRD READER

相关内容

概述

第4册目录

作者简介

插图

插页

第4册扉页

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN (THE BROTHERS GRIMM)

2 SEPTEMBER (HELEN HUNT JACKSON)

3 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

4 TRAVEL (ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON)

5 TRAVELERS' WONDERS (DR. JOHN AIKIN)

6 ANTS

7 THE FOUR SUNBEAMS

8 SIFTING BOYS

9 THE FOUNTAIN (JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL)

10 LEWIS CARROLL

11 WHAT ALICE SAID TO THE KITTEN (LEWIS CARROLL)

12 THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

13 THE SNOW-IMAGE (NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

14 LITTLE BY LITTLE

15 THE HOUSE I LIVE IN

16 JEFFERSON'S TEN RULES

17 THE PET LAMB (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

18 THE STORY OF FLORINDA (ABBY MORTON DIAZ)

19 THE EAGLE (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

20 PSALM XXIII

21 TILLY'S CHRISTMAS (LOUISA M. ALCOTT)

22 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE (WILLIAM SHAKSPERE)

23 OUR FIRST NAVAL HERO

24 HIAWATHA'S SAILING (HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW)

25 SHUN DELAY

26 THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER (LEWIS CARROLL)

27 THE STORY OF PRINCE AHMED AND THE FAIRY PERIBANOU (FROM "THE ARABIAN NIGHTS")

28 THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE (WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT)

29 SIR ISAAC NEWTON (NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

30 LUCY (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

31 TO A SKYLARK (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

32 TOM GOES DOWN TO THE SEA (CHARLES KINGSLEY)

33 PSALM XXIV

34 A GOOD SAMARITAN (GEORGE MACDONALD)

35 THE SPARTAN THREE HUNDRED

36 THE FAIRY LIFE (WILLIAM SHAKSPERE)

37 CHARLES DICKENS

38 LITTLE CHARLEY (CHARLES DICKENS)

39 TRAY (ROBERT BROWNING)

40 THE GOLDEN FLEECE (NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

41 THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER (FRANCIS SCOTT KEY)

42 MY NATIVE LAND (SIR WALTER SCOTT)

43 HUNTING THE GRIZZLY (THEODORE ROOSEVELT)

相关内容

概述

第5册目录

作者简介

插图

第5册扉页

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 A FAREWELL APPEARANCE　(F. ANSTEY)

2 TO-DAY　(THOMAS CARLYLE)

3 THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL　(NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

4 SIDNEY LANIER

5 SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE　(SIDNEY LANIER)

6 THE FOUR MACNICOLS　(WILLIAM BLACK)

7 THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS　(FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS)

8 THE BOSTON MASSACRE　(NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

9 CONCORD HYMN　(RALPH WALDO EMERSON)

10 EPPIE　(GEORGE ELIOT)

11 CHARLES AND MARY LAMB

12 THE MAGPIE'S NEST　(CHARLES AND MARY LAMB)

13 THE FRAMEWORK OF THE BODY

14 THE BUGLE SONG　(ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

15 ROBINSON CRUSOE GETS SUPPLIES FROM THE WRECK　(DANIEL DEFOE)

16 THE TIGER　(WILLIAM BLAKE)

17 THE BATTLES OF CRECY AND POITIERS　(CHARLES DICKENS)

18 THE SNOWSTORM　(JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER)

19 BALL BEARINGS

20 THE IRISH WIDOW'S MESSAGE TO HER SON IN AMERICA　(ELLEN FORRESTER)

21 THE LARCH AND THE OAK　(THOMAS CARLYLE)

22 SELF-CONTROL　(JOHN HENRY NEWMAN (CARDNAL NEWMAN))

23 CALEB AND BERTHA　(CHARLES DICKENS)

24 TO A BUTTERFLY　(WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

25 TO THE DANDELION　(JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL)

26 THE CHIEFTAINESS AND THE VOLCANO　(CHARLOTTE M. YONGE)

27 KAPIOLANI　(ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

28 AN ASCENT OF KILAUEA　(LADY BRASSEY)

29 THE SKELETON IN ARMOR　(HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW)

30 THE STORY OF WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

31 FOREST SCENE—FROM "AS YOU LIKE IT"　(WILLIAM SHAKSPERE)

32 THE STORY OF "THE TEMPEST"　(CHARLES AND MARY LAMB)

33 ANIMAL MIMICS　(HENRY DRUMMOND)

34 THE CLOUD　(PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY)

35 SIR WALTER SCOTT

36 THE ARCHERY CONTEST　(SIR WALTER SCOTT)

37 THE FRIGATE AND THE GALLEYS　(A. T. QUILLER-COUCH)

38 ABOU BEN ADHEM　(LEIGH HUNT)

WORD LIST

相关内容

概述

第6册目录

作者简介

插图

插页

第6册扉页

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 AMONG THE SHOALS (J. F. COOPER)

2 RAIN IN SUMMER (H. W. LONGFELLOW)

3 A DROP OF WATER ON ITS TRAVELS (ARABELLA BUCKLEY)

4 A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP (NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE)

5 DAFFODILS (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

6 THE CAPTURE OF TICONDEROGA (ETHAN ALLEN)

7 TO A WATERFOWL (W. C. BRYANT)

8 GULLIVER IN LILLIPUT (JONATHAN SWIFT)

9 THE TWO BREATHS (CHARLES KINGSLEY)

10 PSALM XCIII

11 THE LADY OF SHALOTT (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

12 THE FALL OF THE LEAF (M. R. MITFORD)

13 THE FIRST NEWS MESSAGE BY TELEGRAPH (STEPHEN VAIL)

14 THE SHELL (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

15 THE CRATCHIT'S CHRISTMAS DINNER (CHARLES DICKENS)

16 PATRICK HENRY'S SPEECH IN THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION

17 EACH AND ALL (R. W. EMERSON)

18 MOSES GOES TO THE FAIR (OLIVER GOLDSMITH)

19 WINNING THE VICTORIA CROSS (RUDYARD KIPLING)

20 THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

21 POOR RICHARD'S SAYINGS (BENJAMIN FRANKLIN)

22 THE USES OF MOUNTAINS (JOHN RUSKIN)

23 THE AMERICAN FLAG (J. R. DRAKE)

24 THE MARVELOUS TOWER (WASHINGTON IRVING)

25 SONNET (WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

26 AN ACCOUNT OF INDIAN CUSTOMS (CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH)

27 WORK (THOMAS CARLYLE)

28 MR. WINKLE ON SKATES (CHARLES DICKENS)

29 THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS (O. W. HOLMES)

30 ABOUT THE STARS (CAMILLE FLAMMARION)

31 TO THE EVENING STAR (WILLIAM BLAKE)

32 HOME-THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD (ROBERT BROWNING)

33 STORY OF A STONE (D. S. JORDAN)

34 TO A SKYLARK (P. B. SHELLEY)

35 SIR KENNETH AND THE FLAG (SIR WALTER SCOTT)

36 SONG ON A MAY MORNING (JOHN MILTON)

37 GOOD BOOKS (JOHN RUSKIN)

38 SILVIA (WILLIAM SHAKSPERE)

39 WONDERS OF THE DEEP SEA (REV. THEODORE WOOD)

40 SIR GALAHAD (ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON)

41 ON AMERICAN TAXATION (WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM)

42 IN PRAISE OF WISDOM (PROVERBS III. 13-26)

43 STORMING A MEXICAN TEMPLE (W. H. PRESCOTT)

44 THE POET (RALPH WALDO EMERSON)

45 THE LANDING OF COLUMBUS IN THE NEW WORLD AND HIS RETURN TO SPAIN (WASHINGTON IRVING)

WORD LIST

相关内容

概述

第7册目录

作者简介

插页

第7册扉页

INTRODUCTION

1　AN AWKWARD TWENTY MINUTES（SIR SAMUEL W. BAKER）

2　THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE（CHARLES WOLFE）

3　CATHERINE'S DISCOVERY（JANE AUSTEN）

4　THE CONFEDERATE SOLDIER（H. W. GRADY）

5　MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS（ROBERT BURNS）

6　AN ESCAPE FROM THE PRESS GANG（THOMAS HARDY）

7　ANNABEL LEE（E. A. POE）

8　THE DISCOVERY OF PERU（W. H. PRESCOTT）

9　A PERUVIAN TEMPLE（WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT）

10　WATERLOO（GEORGE, GORDON, LORD BYRON）

11　THE SKY（JOHN RUSKIN）

12　LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY（WASHINGTON IRVING）

13　BATTLE OF THE BALTIC（THOMAS CAMPBELL）

14　THE DEATH OF NELSON（ROBERT SOUTHEY）

15　YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND（THOMAS CAMPBELL）

16　THE MIGHT OF THE LORD（FROM PSALM CIV）

17　CHAMPLAIN AND THE INDIANS（FRANCIS PARKMAN）

18　COURAGE IN THE USE OF TALENT（SYDNEY SMITH）

19　ORPHEUS WITH HIS LUTE（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

20　THE POETRY IN WORDS（R. C. TRENCH）

21　THE COUNSEL OF POLONIUS TO HIS SON（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

22　QUEEN MARY'S ESCAPE FROM LOCHLEVEN（SIR WALTER SCOTT）

23　THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD（Theodore O'Hara）

24　THE PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS OF GREECE（G. S. HILLARD）

25　ATHENIAN LITERATURE（LORD MACAULAY）

26　THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB（GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON）

27　FAREWELL ADDRESS（GEORGE WASHINGTON）

28　FORTITUDE（MARCUS AURELIUS）

29　THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD（H. W. LONGFELLOW）

30　THE BATTLE OF THE ANTS（HENRY D. THOREAU）

31　RECESSIONAL A VICTORIAN ODE（RUDYARD KIPLING）

32　ON NATIONAL PREJUDICES（OLIVER GOLDSMITH）

33　OLIVER GOLDSMITH（W. M. THACKERAY）

34　SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT（WILLIAM WORDSWORTH）

35　SOME ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE（MIGUEL DE CERVANTES）

36　GETTYSBURG ADDRESS（ABRAHAM LINCOLN）

37　O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!（WALT WHITMAN）

38　THE MILKY WAY（R. A PROCTOR）

39　THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH（H. W. LONGFELLOW）

40　THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS（ROBERT WACE）

41　TO THE OCEAN（GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON）

42　THE SUN（CAMILLE FLAMMARION）

43　ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD（THOMAS GRAY）

44　A DISSERTATION UPON ROAST PIG（CHARLES LAMB）

45　THE PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE（HOMER）

46　SONNET: ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S "HOMER"（JOHN KEATS）

47　THE RENAISSANCE（M. J. GUEST）

相关内容

概述

第8册目录

作者简介

插页

第8册扉页

INTRODUCTION

CLASSIFIED CONTENTS

1 HEARTY READING（SYDNEY SMITH）

2 THE COMING OF ARTHUR（ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON）

3 KING ARTHUR AND EXCALIBUR（SIR THOMAS MALORY）

4 NORSE STORIES（THOMAS CARLYLE）

5 THE NORTHMAN（JOHN HENRY, CARDINAL NEWMAN）

6 THE FORSAKEN MERMAN（MATTHEW ARNOLD）

7 SONNET ON HIS BLINDNESS（JOHN MILTON）

8 THE VALLEY OF DESOLATION（G. W. CURTIS）

9 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE（CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE）

10 REPLY TO MARLOWE'S "THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE"（SIR WALTER RALEIGH）

11 A BRILLIANT GEOGRAPHICAL CONTRAST（JOHN RUSKIN）

12 HENRY V. BEFORE BATTLE（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

13 THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT（MICHAEL DRAYTON）

14 AGINCOURT（JULES MICHELET）

15 A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY（JOHN DRYDEN）

16 THE BIRD（JOHN RUSKIN）

17 THE FLIGHT IN THE HEATHER（R. L. STEVENSON）

18 LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI（JOHN KEATS）

19 FALSTAFF AND THE THIEVES（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

20 SWALLOW-TIME（RICHARD JEFFERIES）

21 SOHRAB AND RUSTUM（MATTHEW ARNOLD）

22 VINDICATION OF IRELAND（R. L. SHEIL）

23 CAIRO FIFTY YEARS AGO（E. B. G. WARBURTON）

24 SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY（GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON）

25 A FORMIDABLE VASSAL（SIR WALTER SCOTT）

26 LOUIS XI.（CHARLES WHIBLEY）

27 A DISCOURSE UPON CERTAIN VICES AND VIRTUES OF KING LOUIS THE ELEVENTH（PHILIPPE DE COMINES）

28 AN ADVENTURE OF THE RED CROSS KNIGHT（EDMUND SPENSER）

29 THE TEACHER'S VOCATION（HENRY, LORD BROUGHAM）

30 THE FAMOUS MR. JOSEPH ADDISON（W. M. THACKERAY）

31 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY（JOSEPH ADDISON）

32 TRIUMPH OF CHARIS（BEN JONSON）

33 FIRST BUNKER HILL ORATION—A SELECTION（DANIEL WEBSTER）

34 THE GREATNESS OF GOD'S WORKS（FROM THE BOOK OF JOB）

35 SONNETS（WILLIAM SHAKSPERE）

36 HEROES OF THE MUTINY（FLORA ANNIE STEEL）

37 THE STORMING OF DELHI（LORD ROBERTS）

38 ULYSSES（ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON）

39 TENNYSON（HENRY VAN DYKE）

40 MICHAEL ANGELO AND CELLINI（J. A. SYMONDS）

41 THE CASTING OF THE STATUE OF PERSEUS（BENVENUTO CELLINI）

42 L'ALLEGRO（JOHN MILTON）

43 A NATION IN ITS STRENGTH（FROM "AREOPAGITICA," BY JOHN MILTON）

44 JOHN MILTON（J. R. GREEN）

45 KUBLA KHAN（S. T. COLERIDGE）

相关内容

概述